A/N: Just wanted to post this old drabble I wrote however long ago.
Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.
"Goodness gracious," Arthur huffed. A white cat squirmed in his hands and he struggled to find a firm grip on its dark brown colored scruff. The cat wailed loudly as it announced its displeasure from being removed from underneath the couch. "What on earth have you been eating?"
The cat ceased moving and bawling as Arthur neared the kitchen. It snuggled up to his chest and Arthur could feel the vibrations of it purring. He shook his head with a smile. Of course the overgrown feline would enjoy the smell of food.
"Alfred, have you been feeding America correctly?" Arthur questioned as he placed the cat on the floor.
Alfred gave a hearty laugh as he placed cat food in the bowl. "Of course I do, Artie. I give the same amount twice a day like the vet suggested," he placed the bowl by Arthur's own cat that waited by his feet patiently. "Why? Does he look too thin?"
"Quite the opposite actually – good heavens!" Arthur gasped. "Are you feeding America McDonalds?"
Alfred gave him a look as he placed a hamburger filled bowl in front of America. "Of course I am. He likes it."
"How could he like something that is meant for humans to eat? This is exactly why he is getting fat!"
America suddenly stopped eating and Alfred quickly covered the cat's flattened ears. "America is not fat! Just because he's larger than England does not mean he's overweight. Say sorry to him!"
"I am not saying sorry to a bloody cat, Alfred."
"But Artie, look at his face. He looks so sad."
Arthur willed himself not to look at the cat. He failed. "Fine, I'm sorry. Now eat your bloody fast food."