AN: So this is my new story. It won't be as humorous as my usual fare, so fair warning. This is a little more serious and dramatic, more like an actual romance novel. It's told mostly from Arthur's point of view. Sorry about starting something new before finishing "In the Company of Scoundrels." I couldn't help myself. I got the idea and work and it just kind of blossomed really fast.

As always, I do not own Hetalia or any of the characters. I only own the story.

Liz is Elizabeta (Hungary)

CHAPTER ONE: MEET CUTE

Arthur Kirkland stood on the sunny sidewalk, clutching his large cat to his chest and staring in shock at the broken window of his bookstore. The day was starting off just like he expected: horrible. The front window of the shop was completely busted in, glass shards sticking out at random angles. The door was wide open and even from the sidewalk, Arthur could see a few bookshelves knocked onto their sides.

Setting his cat, Crumpet, down at his feet, Arthur pulled out his mobile and dialed the police. When he was finally connected with a dispatcher, he was somewhat embarrassed at how shaky his voice sounded when he said, "I believe my shop has been robbed."

"We'll have someone there within five minutes sir," the dispatcher's voice was calm and soothing. "Would you care to stay on the line?"

After assuring the dispatcher that he was fine and would not enter the store or touch anything, Arthur hung up and immediately picked up his cat, cuddling the large creature to his chest. He spent the next several minutes pacing outside on the sidewalk, bemoaning his luck and stroking his cat.

A few minutes passed and he finally saw a black and white police car pull up to the curb, parking legally and turning off its engine. There were two policemen in the car, from what he could see and Arthur craned his neck to get a better glimpse of them. They sat in the car for a moment before they both exited the vehicle, walking over to him with a determined air.

For a moment, Arthur was stunned. The man standing before him who had exited the driver's side was a complete god. He was tall and tanned, with golden blonde hair and bright blue eyes. Wire-rimmed spectacles sat on the bridge of his nose and he had a perennially sunny smile as he walked up to Arthur. The Englishman was so distracted he failed to notice that the second police officer was a slender female with her hair pulled back until she spoke.

"Something about a break in sir?" the female officer asked.

"Yes," Arthur stammered, still staring at the male. "Yes, my shop, you see," he gestured vaguely towards the broken window with one hand.

The male police officer whistled. "Wow, they really did a number on that window," he said. "Were you here when it happened Mr…"

"Kirkland," Arthur finally found his voice. "Arthur Kirkland. And no, I wasn't here. I came in to open up this morning and found it like this."

"You must be the owner then," the female officer said, gesturing to the sign reading 'Kirkland Books.'

"Yes," Arthur nodded. "I own and operate the store. My apartment is upstairs."

"And you didn't hear anything?" the blonde male officer cocked his head.

"No I didn't Officer…" Arthur trailed off in an attempt to learn the handsome officer's name. He may have been a robbery victim, but his wit was sharp enough to do a little prying himself.

"Jones. Alfred Jones."

'So beauty had a name after all,' Arthur thought. He gulped. "No Officer Jones, I didn't hear anything. I wasn't home last night. I just arrived this morning and picked up my cat. When I came downstairs, I saw the window was broken and immediately called."

Alfred nodded wisely. "May I ask where you were last night?"

Arthur blushed a pale pink. "I was out for drinks with a friend and then stayed the night at his place. I was a little out of sorts."

"What's this friend's name?" the female officer spoke up.

"Francis Bonnefoy."

"And he can confirm that you were with him all night?" she questioned.

"What is this? Some sort of inquisition?" Arthur snapped. "My shop was robbed and you're acting like I'm a suspect."

"Everyone is a suspect Artie," Alfred said.

"The name's Arthur."

"Artie suits you," Alfred grinned and his smile made Arthur's knees weak. "We have to ask all these kinds of questions to make sure there wasn't any negligence on your part. Now, I'm assuming you lock up the shop every night?"

"Yes," Arthur sighed. He resumed stroking his cat and trying to project a calm demeanor.

"Well," Alfred chirped. "This is Liz," he pointed to the female officer. "And she's gonna take your finger prints. That way we know which ones don't belong."

Liz smiled at him and held up a small metallic briefcase. "Don't worry," she said. "It doesn't hurt."

"It's a shop," Arthur said, "There's bound to be thousands of prints from customers."

"I'm gonna check the broken windows and anything that looks vandalized or broken into first and we'll go from there. Don't worry Artie. We'll figure out who broke into your shop."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Fine. Do what you must."

While Liz was readying the fingerprint kit on the hood of the black and white, Alfred stepped through the door of the shop, careful not to disturb any of the broken glass. Arthur watched the muscles of his butt bunch as he stepped over the threshold and he had to hold in a sigh. Truly those uniform pants should be illegal.

Setting his cat down once more, Arthur turned his attention to Liz who had the fingerprint kit open and ready for him. As she dipped his hands in the ink, Arthur couldn't help but feel sorry for himself.

"This is bloody degrading," he mumbled.

Liz laughed. "I know, but it will help us in the investigation."

A few minutes later she was finished and handing him a wet napkin to clean his hands. His fingers were stained. Arthur looked down at his hands and felt like a criminal. He hadn't done anything wrong, but the feeling was still there, buried deep in his gut.

Alfred stepped back through the door, "Hey Artie, you keep any cash in the register overnight?"

Arthur nodded, wiping his hands together. "Not much, only about fifty dollars." He replied.

"Well, it's gone," Alfred shook his head glumly. "The register has been pried open."

Liz tsked as she put away the fingerprinting supplies. "Probably the same people," she said, glancing at Alfred.

"What people?" Arthur raised a rather impressive eyebrow.

"We've been having a run of break ins in the area," Alfred walked over to where Arthur and Liz were standing and bent down to pet the cat. "We think it's kids, cause most of the time it's just vandalism, but lately they've been breaking into registers and taking petty cash. It's never very much."

"And why haven't you informed the local businesses?" Arthur demanded.

"We have been," Alfred looked up from the cat. "We've been putting flyers in everyone's doors."

"This used to be such a nice area," Arthur said glumly, looking down the street. It was a quaint little main street of an equally quaint little town and he was hard pressed to believe that there were vandals running rampant. At least he hadn't kept a lot of cash in the drawer overnight. Thank god for small favours.

"It still is nice," Alfred stood up. "We'll get our crime scene guy down here to dust for some prints and then we'll be out of your hair. I'm really sorry Artie."

"It's Arthur," the Englishman said half-heartedly. He couldn't really find fault with a handsome young man who seemed to be friendly with him. "Thank you," he mumbled.

Within the hour, someone had come and dusted for fingerprints, and Arthur found himself soothed by the continued presence of Alfred who stayed by his side the entire time. Just as the crime scene investigator was packing up, a flurry of blonde hair rushed up to Arthur enveloping him in a tight hug and air kisses on both cheeks.

"Mon ami," the newcomer said breathily. "I just heard what happened and had to rush down here and see you."

"Hello Francis," Arthur said grumpily, stepping out of the Frenchman's embrace. "The shop was broken into."

"I know," Francis shook his head and glanced at the mess of Arthur's front window. "I am here to help you in any way I can."

Arthur blushed a bit and looked at his feet. "Thank you Francis."

"You must be Francis Bonnefoy," Alfred spoke up. He held out his hand to the Frenchman with a blinding grin.

"Oui," Francis raised an eyebrow. "And who are you?"

"Alfred Jones," the American police officer smiled. "I got Artie's call and came right over. I'm hoping we figure out who's doing this soon."

"We can only hope." Francis deadpanned.

"So," Alfred toed at the ground with his boot. "Artie was with you last night?" Francis nodded slowly and glanced sharply at Arthur. "Are, um," Alfred stumbled with his words. "Are you two like, dating?"

"Good god, no!" Arthur shouted at the same time that Francis burst into laughter.

"Not in the least," Francis shook his head, giggles bubbling up into his voice. "We are just good friends."

"Acquaintances," Arthur amended.

Alfred nodded his head, smiling. "Oh. That's cool. I should go see if Liz needs me," and the handsome American backed away rather awkwardly.

Francis turned a leering smile on Arthur. "Oh ho," he said. "Are you flirting with the handsome man of the law?"

"I am not," Arthur snapped. "He's not that bloody handsome anyway."

"Arthur my dear," Francis placed a hand on the Englishman's shoulder. "That is the most attractive man I have seen in years. He seems interested in you, calling you Artie and staying behind to help with the investigation."

"It's his job," Arthur pointed out.

"Still," Francis' eyes slid over to where Alfred and Liz were leaning against their cop car. "I would suggest taking some action and asking him out."

"I shall do no such thing," Arthur said primly.

"Your loss," Francis sighed. "He can't seem to take his eyes off you, can he?" the Frenchman observed, smiling at Arthur. They both turned and looked at the handsome young police officer.

Alfred waved over at them and shouted, "We're all done here guys; you can go inside now if you want."

Arthur nodded his head politely and scooped up his cat. He made his way to the door with Francis trailing behind. "This will take forever to sweep up," the Frenchman moaned.

"You don't have to help," Arthur said as he stepped through the door of his broken and destroyed shop.

"Nonsense mon ami," Francis clapped a hand on his back. "What are friends for?"

Arthur set down his cat on the counter which was relatively clear and turned his gaze back to the broken window. He watched through the glass shards as Alfred entered the police car and drove away. Something in his chest felt hollow.

After about two hours of work, Arthur decided that he was going to go mad. The thieves had not only broken his window but they had toppled nearly every shelf in the little used bookstore. His precious books were strewn across the ground and mixed in with dirt and broken glass. Francis declared that it was the perfect time for a break and went to the café a few doors down for some egg salad sandwiches.

Arthur was bending down to pick up some books off the floor when the little bell above the door rang, announcing a guest. "Back so soon Francis?" He turned. It wasn't Francis after all, but Alfred. The young police officer was dressed in jeans and a plain white t-shirt that perfectly accentuated his pectoral muscles and biceps.

"Hey Artie," Alfred grinned.

"What are you doing here?" Arthur stammered, reaching one hand for the counter to brace himself. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the rippling muscles underneath the American's shirt.

"I figured you could use a little extra help," Alfred smiled brightly. "I'm off shift now and I thought I'd swing by and give you a hand."

Arthur felt his cheeks pink up. "That's very kind of you Alfred, but you don't have to."

"Nonsense," the chipper American took a step toward Arthur. "I wanna help. Really."

"Well," Arthur looked down at his shoes. They were black leather and starting to scuff on the edges. "If you insist."

"Give me something to do," Alfred beamed. "Anything at all."

Arthur pointed over to the large broken window. "Would you mind removing the shards of glass from there?" he asked. "Francis didn't want to ruin his manicure and I'm afraid I'll cut myself, I have a tendency to be a bit clumsy."

"Not a problem." Alfred hurried over to the window and began to pry the shards of glass surrounding the window frame loose with care.

When Francis returned with their sandwiches, he immediately smiled at Alfred's presence and insisted on going back for another egg salad for the American cop. "I insist," the Frenchman held up his hands as he backed out of the door. "You are so kind for helping poor old Arthur."

"I'm not old," Arthur muttered from behind the counter where he was unwrapping his sandwich.

The three men ate their food in silence, with only the sounds of chewing and occasionally a moan of delight coming from Alfred. "This is so good," the American claimed. "I haven't had an egg salad sandwich this good in years!"

"Yes," Francis nodded. "The café down the street does wonderful food. I visit whenever I can, which isn't as often as I would like."

After a short amount of time, the trio began their work again, this time with Arthur sneaking glances at the handsome American whenever he could. Stacking books back on their rightful shelves, he couldn't help but be distracted by the buoyant and carefree man slowly picking glass out of his window. He couldn't believe that Alfred had come back. But why? Arthur couldn't think of a logical explanation. Maybe Francis was right and he should make a move. What if the cop wasn't even gay? How embarrassing would that be? Arthur shook his head and tried to concentrate on the task at hand; but it wasn't easy.

After a few hours Francis begged out saying that he had a date and he couldn't cancel. Arthur pretended to be upset but he really wasn't. Once Francis was gone, it was just the two of them, silently working to put the shop back in order. Alfred hummed random tunes and Arthur found himself watching the young police officer more and more. Finally Alfred turned away from the front window and declared it to be glass free.

"Hold on," Alfred grinned as he stepped toward the front door. "I have something that will help."

He exited the store and went out to a large pickup truck parked at the curb. Arthur watched him from the doorway. Alfred hefted a huge piece of plywood out of the bed of the truck and carried it with seemingly no effort back to the store. "We can use this to board up the window until you can get it fixed," he said as an explanation. "I'm gonna need your help though Artie."

"Fine," Arthur nodded, staring at Alfred's bulging biceps as he maneuvered the plywood into the store.

Balancing the wood along the windowsill, Alfred managed to get it to fit almost perfectly over the broken window. Arthur reached out to help him steady the plywood as Alfred pulled a hammer and a few nails from the pocket of his jeans. Arthur watched in fascination as Alfred placed the nails in his mouth to hold them while he hammered one of them in place on the window. The two men worked in silence as they managed to cover the broken window with the heavy wood.

Once every nail was in place, Alfred stepped back and clapped his hands, admiring his handiwork. "This will do," he declared, wrapping an arm around Arthur's shoulder. Arthur's skin burned where they touched.

"Thank you Alfred," he said sincerely. "I couldn't have done all this without you."

"No problem," Alfred beamed down at him. "I love helping people."

"Is that why you became a police officer?" Arthur asked, trying not to feel uncomfortable that Alfred was still half hugging him.

"Mostly," Alfred nodded. "But my family is all cops too, so there was that. I wanted to follow in their footsteps."

Arthur hummed in acknowledgment. It was rather peaceful, standing here with Alfred touching him. He wasn't usually an affectionate man, but this was rather nice. He didn't want it to end. Just as that thought crossed his mind, Alfred stepped away and ran his hand through his golden blonde locks.

"I had a real nice time today Artie," Alfred looked at the floor.

"So did I," Arthur said. "Despite how it began of course."

"Yeah," Alfred nodded. "That couldn't have been easy. Waking up to a robbery and all that. I'm really sorry that's how we met," the blonde American lifted his eyes to Arthur's.

"Me too," Arthur agreed.

"But I'm not sorry we met," Alfred's gaze was piercing.

Arthur found himself mesmerized by Alfred's blue eyes. His stare was intoxicating. "I'm glad we met as well," Arthur managed.

Alfred shuffled a bit from foot to foot. He seemed nervous and awkward and Arthur couldn't seem to figure out why. "Would you like to hang out sometime?" Alfred asked suddenly.

Arthur felt his breath catch in his throat. "That would be lovely," he breathed.

"I mean, hang out, like," Alfred muttered. "Like a date."

Somewhat taken aback, Arthur murmured, "That would be even better." He couldn't believe that this handsome young specimen of manhood was actually asking him out. Things like this just didn't happen to Arthur Kirkland.

"Really?" Alfred's eyes lit up.

Arthur nodded slowly. "I would very much like to go on a date with you," he responded. "Very much."

Alfred whooped with joy and flung a fist into the air in a display of childlike happiness. Arthur found himself smiling, a true smile. When he finally stopped his celebration and turned to look at Arthur, they were both blushing furiously. Perhaps Francis was on to something after all.

Over the next few days, Alfred stopped by at random intervals, sometimes wearing his policeman's uniform and sometimes in his casual clothes to simply say 'Hi' to Arthur. The Englishman found the visits to be truly magical. He could feel himself falling for Alfred already and they hadn't even been on an actual date yet. Arthur wasn't sure if he could handle an actual date with the way that the casual visits were already making him feel.

It had been years since the grumpy Englishman had even had the inkling of feelings for another person. He felt like a teenager with his first crush every time the little bell above his shop door rang and Alfred stepped through. It was pathetic and wonderful all at the same time.

That afternoon, Arthur was busy bustling around the shop. The glass installers were coming tomorrow to fix the broken window and Arthur was busy moving shelves out of the way to make their job easier. As he hefted and pulled on a rather solidly built shelf, he heard the little bell chime, announcing someone entering his store.

"Hey Artie," a cheerful voice sounded from behind him.

It was shameful how much he looked forward to these visits. It was as if Alfred had brought the sun into his dreary, grey life. "Hello Alfred," Arthur set down the bookshelf and turned to face the handsome American. "What brings you by today?"

The young police officer was dressed in his uniform and Arthur's breath caught at the way he filled out the polyester suit. He was absolutely breathtaking. Arthur found his gaze wandering to the young man's belt where his handcuffs were dangling. He immediately blushed and looked away.

"I just wanted to stop in and see you," Alfred said. He gestured to the cop car parked out front. "Liz and I are on our lunch break and I thought I'd see what you were up to."

"If Liz is with you, invite her in," Arthur said, ever the gentleman.

"Nah," Alfred shook his head. "She wanted to give me some time with you. It's no big deal. I've done this for her before."

"Really?" Arthur raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, she had a thing for a musician we met a while back and I'd go with her when she wanted to stop by the park he was playing at. So she owes me."

"Still," Arthur said, looking at the ground. "I feel bad that she's waiting in the car."

"Don't worry about it," Alfred grinned. "So," the bright American's smile was spectacular. "When do you want me to pick you up for our date?"

"You're still planning on going out with me then?" Arthur looked directly at Alfred, still a little lost as to why such a charismatic and handsome man would be pursuing him.

Alfred looked shocked. "Of course!" he exclaimed. "There's nothing I want to do more than take you out."

"All right then," Arthur shook his head, still trying to wrap his mind around the concept. Here he was, a grumpy, antisocial British bookstore owner and he was being courted by a devastatingly attractive American police officer. It was like one of those trashy romance novels that he would sometimes read in secret.

"I was thinking this Saturday," Alfred ran his fingers through his hair. "Would that be okay?"

"Saturday sounds fine," Arthur said slowly. "I close up the shop at five. I could be ready by six if you wish."

"Six it is," Alfred grinned. "I'm really excited Artie."

"So am I Alfred."

And with that, the gorgeous police officer gave Arthur a wink and a wave and left the building. Arthur moved to the window and watched him walk to his cruiser. He placed his hand on his chest and felt the rapid beats of his heart. It was as though he was moving too fast and yet, still standing in one place. He didn't like the feeling. But he craved it. All he had to do was hold on until Saturday. He could make it that far. Abandoning his work for the moment, Arthur went to call Francis. He needed to hear someone tell him that this wasn't a dream.