"If I see one more hamburger in my life, I'm going to die," Arthur sighed as he watched his friend scarf down yet another Big Mac. The sheer sight of it made his stomach ache; just one of those things had over one-fourth of a day's worth of calories, and Alfred had already inhaled six. Not to mention the large heap of French fries that glittered from all of the salt.

"What was that?" Alfred looked up at him, his mouth full.

Arthur shifted his eyes away to prevent the urge to vomit, and picked up his cup of tea. "You're going to die of Type Two diabetes before anything else, I swear."

Gulping down a good portion of the Pepsi that sat beside his food, Alfred swallowed the rest of his burger and exhaled happily. "I can't help it, dude, I'm American," Alfred chuckled. "It's pretty much sacred food."

"That worries me deeply for the fate of your country," Arthur said sarcastically before taking a bite of the scone in front of him.

"On the other hand," Alfred grinned. "How can you eat those? They taste like burnt shit!"

"Shut up! I use my mum's recipe!"

"And I'm sure Mama Kirkland's scones were great," Alfred began munching on the last of his Big Macs. He smirked. "But that cooking talent seems to have skipped a generation!"

"You bloody prat!" the Brit slammed his hands on the table, causing a few heads to turn his way. He blushed slightly, straightened his tie and sunk in his seat, causing his friend to burst out laughing.

"Oh god, dude, you're too much!" he cackled before taking a handful of fries. After collecting himself, he spoke again. "Did I tell you what my mom has been trying to do?"

"No?"

"She's been trying to convince me to join the military," Alfred stated, sipping his drink. "She thinks it'll be good for me to serve my country, seeing as she doesn't think I'll go to college or get a job anytime soon and probably doesn't want me to stay at home, using up resources."

Arthur could feel his stomach twisting. His best friend was joining the military?! He would never see him again!

"And," Alfred went on. "I'm considering joining. I don't really have a life, you know? I might feel like I'm actually doing something with my life if I join."

"You could start by getting off your lazy arse and limit your trips to McDonald's to less than seven times a week," Arthur said. "You don't need to join the military."

"Why not?"

"Well...uh, you see..."

"Dude? You're turning red. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine!" Arthur waved his hands in front of him. He sighed. "It's just... If you join the military, I won't see you anymore. And as you probably know, I don't have many friends aside from you and Kiku."

"What about Francis?"

Arthur almost spit out his tea. "That skanky berk?! I'd rather hang out with Ronald McDonald than that French arsehole!"

Laughing, Alfred finished his burger and drank the last of his Pepsi. "Anyway, dude, if you think you'll be lonely, you should join with me!"

"I'm not even an American!"

"No, but you do have a green card and I'm pretty sure you'd fit all of the requirements," Alfred said as he stood up, the last few of his fries in his hand. "I don't wanna leave you, man, but I do wanna join whether you do or not." He threw his garbage in the trash and shoved the fries in his mouth. "Besides, even if I went without you, I wouldn't be gone forever."

"Unless you got bloody killed!"

"True, true..." Alfred thought aloud. "I'll tell you what. I'll think about it over the next week and I'll make up my mind by next Friday. You do the same."

"Fine," Arthur stood and followed Alfred to the door. "And if you do go without me, promise me you won't die!"

"We'll see," Alfred pushed the door open and the wind flapped his hair back and forth. "You're making it seem like I want to die or something."

"Voluntarily joining the army is basically the equivalent of a death wish!"

"Whatever dude, just give me time to think. I'll make up my mind by next Friday. See you around! Call me if you want to have lunch again," Alfred called over his shoulder as he made his way down the street toward his house.

"Will do!" Arthur yelled back, turning the opposite direction and jogging toward his flat.

He unlocked his door and quickly went inside, shutting the door behind him. He fell back onto the couch and groaned. "That wanker better not leave me or I'll be sure to send him some scones..." With the thought of Alfred leaving him on his mind, he drifted off to sleep, still dressed in his suit and tie.

.

.

.

"Now that I've seen it, you were right," Alfred admitted. "This shit sucks."

"And you dragged me into it, you twit," Arthur said almost sarcastically, a smirk on his face. "You wanted to serve your country so here you are, but now you want to go running back to your mummy."

"I've seen some fucked up shit, dude, you can't blame me," Alfred wiped a smear of blood from his glasses and ducked deeper into the foxhole. He held his rifle by his side. "I'd rather be back at McDonald's, with my Big Macs—"

"Hey, maybe now you won't die of diabetes," Arthur laughed.

"Alright, alright," Alfred lowered his voice. "Enough fooling around. We're gonna get killed here if you crack another joke; the enemy will hear us laugh."

"So now I'm funny? Thanks for the compliment," Arthur smiled and got onto his knees, peeking out of the foxhole. "They're gonna invade here any time now. Be on guard."

"Yes sir," Alfred straightened his helmet and stared out into the thick forest.

Moments after, the first bomb hit.

"Take cover!" one of the soldiers yelled. Alfred and Arthur sunk deeper into the hole, and the fear in Arthur's eyes was plainly visible. Alfred wrapped his arms around him.

"Stay alive, dude," he whispered in his ear. "It's gonna be okay."

Nodding, Arthur looked up at Alfred, whose eyes had softened and there was a sincere smile on his face.

Alfred leaned forward and quickly pecked Arthur on the lips before adjusting his position, ready to storm out of the foxhole. "I love you, man."

Blushing furiously, Arthur grinned. "I love you too, you wally."

Around them, soldiers were beginning to leave their foxholes and charge toward the enemy soldiers. A few stayed behind to act as snipers in the ground.

"You stay here and shoot; I'm going out," Arthur demanded before jumping up onto the soil and charging forward.

"Be careful, idiot!" Alfred called just as a bullet grazed him and knocked off his glasses. Cursing under his breath, he looked up to see who the damned shooter was, but the soldiers just looked like dark blobs and their uniforms looked the same. Glancing down he could see that his glasses were shattered and there was no hope for them now. He picked up his rifle and held it, ready to shoot, and pulled the trigger. He saw someone in the distance fall down thanks to his bullet.

However, the scream was all too familiar.

"Shit!" Alfred yelled and sprang out of the ground. Ignoring the bombs and bullets that whizzed by him, he rushed toward the motionless body on the ground. When he was within a few feet of him, he squinted his eyes and his heart sank.

He fell to his knees and pulled Arthur into his lap, shaking him violently. "You idiot...you wanker...isn't this when you would call me a wally or a twat or whatever other fucking British words?! Get the fuck up so I can hear them again!"

Arthur remained still, his eyes half-open.

Clutching the Brit's blood-soaked uniform, tears fell down Alfred's face. "I want to hear you insult me again... Nag me again for eating fast food, say you love me again; just saysomething, dammit!"

The sound of a gun cocking caused Alfred to look up. There stood an enemy soldier, their pistol pointed to his head. Alfred slowly leaned down and kissed Arthur's forehead before rising back up to his enemy. "Go ahead," Alfred whispered. "Let me be with him."

And the opposing combatant complied.