Me: Hi! This is my first Hetalia fanfiction so I'm pretty nervous about how it'll turn out. Anyway, R&R minna~

Ember: HarmonySoundown does not own Hetalia and the manuals belong to LolliDictator. But she owns Ember, her OC

Me: That's you, idiot! Anyway, I'm trying to make Ember as like the real life me as possible (except that I can't really cook and I don't have my own house. And I don't have a stream in the backyard and I don't have THAT much pocket money /shot)

I was alone in the house. My parents were off on a business trip for the summer. I had my cottage to myself. Finally.

The cottage was a house, really, that my great-granddad left to me in his will. My mom never let me stay there for overnight until now, probably because she didn't want me to wreck her house AGAIN. Like that time how I flooded the bath.

The cottage had a fridge, a kitchen, just everything. And INTERNET.

And I could finally live there! Myself!

But then I realized I couldn't survive there with just my pocket money to eat in restaurants every day.

I decided that I would go to the stream. It was only half a minute's walk away. And it was my favorite place.

I walked slowly, taking my time. The playful breeze tickled my cheeks. I smiled, but then I thought with a pang, alone. Again.

It was this joke of mine, really. I like company as much as the next person, but I love being left alone too. Like now.

I reached the stream. I slipped off my flip-flops and placed them next to me. I sat down.

I dangled my feet into the water, swishing them gently in the clear, flowing stream. Stretching my hand into the water, I picked up a smooth river pebble.

It flashed and winked in the sun, glistening with dripping water. Turquoise blue. A rare stone for this stream, considered lucky by the townspeople around here.

I spied a floating white bag in the water. Trash. I frowned at it and scooped it up.

It was sealed in a water-proof bag. I shook the paper out. It seemed to be an instruction sheet. Skimming through it, I went back to the first line:

ARTHUR KIRKLAND.

ARTHUR KIRKLAND.

I laughed so hard I almost fell in. Arthur Kirkland! That's England of Hetalia. I dismissed it, until…

A little note read:

Your unit is waiting at your doorstep.

I gulped. That was creepy. I tried to convince myself that it was a prank.

I waded a bit in the stream, and decided to head back.

I almost screamed when I realized that there was, indeed, a human sized box waiting at my doorstep. It had wheels on the bottom. Assuming it was mine, I dragged it into the house.

In the living room, I fished out the manual I had unconsciously stuffed into my pocket.

"Hm…" I skimmed through it again. Waking "Arthur Kirkland" from his box with the Star Spangled Banner seemed pretty interesting. Ok, I went with that.

As soon as I played the first bar of it I heard a shout. "TURN THAT DAMN RACKET DOWN!"

I giggled. It was just like what the manual said. Then I immediately stopped it when I heard scratching noises from the box. Trying to claw his way out.

He did finally manage to, though, but when he realized that I was the only one there, he paused.

"I'm terribly sorry for my ghastly behavior, Ms…"

I giggled again. Arthur was SO cute when he was formal. "Ember. Ember Silverton. Nice to meet you, Arthur." I shook his hand.

"Ms Ember Silverton." He smiled. "Finally, someone with manners and a British accent."

"You mean you want me to speak like this?" I joked, using an American accent.

Arthur clapped his hands over his ears.

"Don't use that foul accent. It ruins the Queen's language."

Turning away to giggle at his formality, I said, "No offense."

"None taken."

My eyes followed him as he wandered around the cottage, inspecting various items, like my mom's china.

"Neat house," he commented.

"Thank you. I'm living here for the rest of the holidays. But… I… don't know how to cook." Oops. Shouldn't have said that. I bet Arthur would cook me something HORRIBLE.

I tried to fix it up. "But I can't just let you do all the cooking, because I have to learn it too, right?"

He nodded. "Mm. Where's the kitchen? I'm making some scones."

I gulped. Scones. The things Alfred declared as 'petrified sofa stuffing'.

Later, in the kitchen, I followed Arthur's recipe. "Ok. So we need flour, baking powder, butter…"

"Eggs, sugar, salt and milk," I finished.

Following Arthur's lead, I did everything as he told. But when we got to the part where we could put in raisins, we had an argument.

"I'm not putting raisins," I pouted.

"Yes you are!" Arthur retorted. "That makes scones special."

"No they don't! I HATE raisins!"

"Well I like scones with raisins so I'll make mine with them."

"Fine!"

After a while, the oven went "ding". I took the two batches out of the oven. I sniffed.

"This smells delicious," I grinned gleefully. As I picked one up, Arthur stopped me.

"That's my batch, Ember," Arthur protested. "It smells better."

I stopped and looked at him, breaking the scones into two halves. "You're the one who likes raisins, Arthur," I shoved it in his face.

He staggered back. "Ok! OK!"

He went to the other batch and I could hear him mutter, "This one still smells better."

I couldn't help giggling.

After he tasted one of his, Arthur asked me if he could have one of his. I nodded and handed him one, actually enjoying the taste of a homemade cone.

He bit into it and sputtered it out. I had to clap – actually, more like slap his back to make him stop choking.

"What?" I asked, worried. "Too hot?"

He shook his head. "How?" he wailed.

"Huh?" I asked, confused.

"How does it taste so much better than mine?" the blonde wailed. I suppressed a giggle.

"You followed my recipe, though…"

"Maybe because I did mine without raisins and I didn't make my scone that HUGE?"

Arthur sat down on the kitchen chair and sulked.

I walked over. "Don't worry. Maybe I can teach you how to make it my way. And you can always talk to your friend the flying mint bunny or the leprechaun."

His face brightened.

"If you don't make disgusting food without my permission, Iggy," I said teasingly.

I watched as his face went red.

"Don't –" he stopped. Clearly he was going to tell me not to call him Iggy, but oh well.

"Fine. I'll call you brother then. Or maybe Arthur."

His smile reappeared.

Me: I- *hides in corner of bad fanfic writers

Ember: COME OUT.

Arthur: Hey! I make the most delicious scones!

Me: Really.

R&R minna! Also, feel free to suggest the next few characters that come up.

P.S. This story is set in this weird place of a combination of a city and one of Enid Blyton's story settings /shot