It was a crisp Saturday morning when England stood outside America's front door. The air was freezing cold and he shivered despite the fact that he had fished his coat out of his luggage and wrapped a rather thick woolen scarf around his neck. Looking around, he pondered his surroundings for a moment. When his boss had given him America's location he had been rather surprised. He had expected the idiot would be staying somewhere like Orlando or Los Angeles-away from all the dreary weather. Instead, he was spending winter vacation in a house on the northeast coast-which really wasn't the place with the most sublime weather during this time of year and in this country. The house itself was quite nice however, it was built colonial style, green-colored with maroon shutters, and little evergreen shrubs dotted the driveway. It was similar to the other residential houses that were built nearby, although America's house was set a little apart from theirs. Countries tended to keep a certain distance from their people when they chose a place to live, that way confidential things like calls with their boss or other secrets could be kept secret. Arthur glanced at his watch, it was eight thirty-five, he'd promised Alfred he'd be there by eight-thirty, but he hadn't received any texts or calls from the nation as to where he was, so he assumed he just didn't care. The chill bringing him to the present, England made his way to the front entrance, setting down his boxes and then his luggage on the steps and brought his fist up to the door.

Knock knock

There was no response.

Knock knock

Was he even awake?

Knock knock

England kept knocking for a full twenty minutes, his calm slowly ebbing away each time he rapped the door. He could hear his knocks echoing inside the house. Soon, his knuckles felt raw, not only from knocking, but also from the biting cold; and then resorted to other methods of opening the door.

"America?"

Knock

"America are you there?"

Knock knock

Oh great, here he was once again standing alone, outside in the freezing weather, with his box of paperwork and luggage at his feet. It reminded Arthur of last night-and Arthur must certainly did not enjoy being reminded of the events of last night. His stomach churned at the very thought of it, and his knocking increased in volume. Gradually he began to yell.

"Open up Alfred!"

His shout was met with utter silence, which only served to infuriate him further.

"America! I have lost all patience with you! You hear me?! ALL PATIENCE! You had better come down here right now and open this bloody door! Bloody idiot do you realize how rude it is leaving someone such as myself stranded outside your door like a piece of soggy cabbage?! As a gentleman I consider this extremely inappropriate-no, absolutely ridiculous! If you don't open up I'm going to make all your radio stations play pigeon noises twenty-four seven just like I did to those damn macaroni brothers! And are you even listening to me?!"

From the outside viewer it would have looked like the blonde Brit was lodging a verbal attack against the front door instead of his intended victim.

While a certain Englishman was driving himself to his wits end at the front door, America has been sleeping off the effects of his late-night gaming. His alien companion lay sprawled next to him on his bed. After Arthur had called, he had stayed up even later relating his plans of mischief to Tony on what pranks he could play on the uptight so-called gentleman. He himself had laughed at some of the particularly good ones and he went to sleep looking forward to the arrival of the Brit. But now that he had gotten some rest...he didn't really feel like waking up. Alfred was slowly beginning to drift from consciousness once again when suddenly he heard some muffled noises coming from the front door. Must be some UPS guy dropping of a delivery of some sort. He moaned and snuggled further underneath his covers. The noise continued, and gradually increased, he could hear someone speaking. Oh right, England was coming over. He cracked an eye open at the electric clock that sat on his nightstand, it was already almost nine, England was supposed to arrive at eight-thirty... At this point the man must be really angry with him right now. He should probably get up, but it felt so warm and safe in his bed, and the pillow so soft...did he really have to?

Outside on the front steps, England was furious, he was beyond pissed. His face had turned crimson and his eyebrows bristled like storm clouds over his green eyes, which glowed with rage. Fists clenched at his sides, it took all the remaining restraint within himself not to toss his boxes of paperwork at the windows of the house. Arthur could not stand waiting in the cold for Alfred to door any longer. England yelled, England shouted, England roared.

"ALFRED FOSTER JONES!"

The house shook from its foundation as Arthur's voice rang through the neighborhood. Alfred tumbled out from his bed, oh crap England must be really pissed. He hurriedly grabbed his pajama pants and pulled them on, thankfully, he'd left his shirt on when he went to bed last night. Then Texas was shoved onto his face. America scrambled to his feet and dashed out to the front door, waking his alien friend in the process.

Arthur meanwhile, had been continuing his tirade.

"You wanker open up! OPEN UP RIGHT NOW! I am sick and tired of standing like this all the time! You git open the bloody door or I'm going to-"

The door slid open, revealing a very tired Alfred.

"Going to do what?"

There was a pause as both men took in each other's appearance. The Brit green eyes scanned Alfred's bleary face, his sleepy blue eyes, and Nantucket drooping on his forehead. His T-Shirt (which looked wrinkled) said: "French fries are a vegetable". Likewise, blue eyes looked over the messy blonde standing before him. Arthur's face was still flushed from his outburst, and although he wore a neatly cut jacket with a rather nice scarf, he looked disheveled and also could use some sleep.

"...burn down your house." Arthur finished lamely

"Pffft" Alfred chuckled, drawing a glare from Arthur, "how would you do that?"

"I have powers beyond your imagination!"

"Yeah yeah whatever."

"What do you mean 'whatever'?! It's true!"

"Mhm. Right." America was trying his hardest to hide the smug look on his face, to no avail, and his gaze fell on England's left arm, "Dude, you look terrible."

"Speak for yourself, idiot."

"At least I don't have chunks for eyebrows."

"Excuse me?!"

"You're excused."

"Why you-!"

"What happened to your arm?"

England quickly put his arm behind his back, hiding it from view.

"It's none of you business, git. Now if you will be so kind. Please let me in."

"Not until you tell me what happened."

"Do I have to tell you now?"

"No time like the present."

"Fine, I burned my arm alright? Let me in."

"You burned it? But how..." Alfred's eyebrows scrunched together in concentration as he shivered from the cold temperature outside, and also ignored the rising impatience from Arthur, "...no not that...wait...your cooking?"

The venomous look from England confirmed his question.

"It is! Oh my God that's hilarious! I knew it was going to happen someday but I-" He broke into fits of laughter

Arthur gathered what was left of his dignity and gave Alfred a kick, then walked over to his boxes and luggage.

"Shut up, you bloody idiot."

He reached down and picked up a box, wincing at the pain his arm as he did so, when suddenly two hands reached over and lifted his burden. Alfred grinned at him, his face a little pink from laughing, and flashing pearly teeth.

"Here I'll take it."

"A-Are you sure?"

"Yeah! A hero like me can't let someone injured like you do this kind of work!"

Was he trying to be...nice?

"Besides you're getting to old for this stuff anyway."

Nope.

There was a loud "Ow!" from America as England give him a sharp blow to the shin, and had he not possessed that idiot superhuman strength, he would have dropped the box he was holding. Arthur could kick hard, and he wasn't going to let America forget it either. But in a few minutes the two were able to get all of England's paperwork into his guest room, and all that was left on the front steps was his luggage. While England was away checking to make sure that his papers had all safely reached their destination, America winked at Tony, who was nearby, and gave him the thumbs-up to start their 'operation'. The alien winked back and immediately got to work unzipping England's green suitcase. In a matter of seconds the alien had managed to fit himself in, and the suitcase was closed. No one could tell that the Brit's luggage had just suffered an alien invasion.

"America?"

Alfred jumped a little, and then turned around to face England, trying his best to smother his foolish grin. "Yeah?"

"I'll take my luggage," Arthur walked over and picked up his suitcase with his good hand, "thanks for the help, and I'll be in my room most of the time trying to finish my paperwork. Just try not to distract me, alright?"

"Sure thing dude."

"Right, let me know when supper...or dinner's ready."

"'Kay. I'll let you know when breakfast is ready too, since I haven't eaten any myself."

"Thanks." and with that, England headed up to his room and closed the door. America walked back to his couch to find a TV show to watch until breakfast, but he turned the volume low so that he could hear how his plans of mischief were going. However all he could hear was some silence and then the sound of papers being shuffled. Probably England getting out his papers, when would he open his suitcase? The America listened intently for a good ten minutes, but when nothing happened, he was just about to turn away to the game he was watching when he heard the sound of something being unzipped.

This was turning out to be quite a morning. Arthur hadn't even started on his paperwork, and already he was exhausted from his raging fit at America's front door. He should probably try to keep his anger issues in check more often but...it's not like America was really helping. Anyways he had to get to his paperwork. The burning pain in his arm still hadn't gone away (in fact, the cold had made it worse) but it hadn't affected his writing, so his work was still able to be done without conflict. He picked up his pen and began to write. All he could hear was the scritch-scratch of his pen against the surface of the paper and soon he found his mind drifting off into other places. He paused and looked around him. America's house was actually rather nice. The walls of his room were a pale, soft yellow. The bed was a deep evergreen and the room was otherwise rather neat. This rather impressed him, because he had seen that the rest of the house wasn't exactly in that good of condition. The video games, left over snack bags, clothes, and other nick-knacks lying around the house hadn't escaped his notice at all. All the same, he was grateful that at least his own room was clean. Arthur resumed his writing until he began to feel his hand getting sore. Funny, it hadn't gotten sore this quickly last time. He walked over to his suitcase to see whether there was anything in it that could be of any help. His hands were slowly unzipping the luggage when he stopped a little. His luggage seemed...bulkier? I must be getting delirious... England resumed opening his suitcase.

And he could barely contain his surprise when a gray, red-eyed alien suddenly popped out from his luggage.

England instinctively leapt back at the unexpected appearance, almost knocking over his chair, he opened his mouth to shout for America when he was cut off by a loud "Haiiya!" from Tony as the creature struck a ninja pose and narrowed its ruby eyes, looking like it was ready to karate-chop the Englishman. Said Englishman stood staring at the alien, his jaw unhinged.

"...What the bloody hell?"

Was he seeing things?

All doubts were cast aside as Tony leapt onto him, sending him crashing to the ground. Arthur was genuinely shocked by the sudden attack, but he wasn't a former empire-or pirate for no reason, he quickly regained his composure and grabbed Tony's thin wrist, which had been preparing for a strike. The tide of the battle immediately changed, and soon it was England kneeling over the alien, pinning the creature's arms to the ground. As the alien struggled England was about to once again yell for America, because the bloody idiot certainly had some explaining to do, when Tony grabbed on hard to his left arm. England let out a yell of pain and let go of Tony and the fight resumed. Papers flew in the air and furniture tipped dangerously as the two fought, while Arthur was bigger in stature and more experienced, his left arm and fatigue wasn't doing him much good, while the alien was small, flexible, and hard to catch. The alien would dodge in and out of his grasp, one minute he would be bouncing on the bed, and in the blink of an eye, would be standing on his desk sticking out its tongue. Arthur was wise and decided not to move all around the place and instead, threw blows in multiple directions from the center of the room.

That plan was rather effective...until Tony suddenly changed to an altogether, very different, tactic.

It began throwing things at him.

The Englishman's jaw was once again left slack in disbelief as the tiny creature began hurling at him anything it could get its hands on. At first, it was the glossy ebony fountain pen that flew past Arthur's cheek, small loss. He dodged that one easily. England was about to step forward again when a heavy copy of Studies in Archaeology ,which had been lying on his desk when he came in, was sent hurtling at him also. This didn't particularly bother him either-since it wasn't a book he was particularly interested in, and frankly, he had been surprised to find it in America's house. More things came flying at his face, an eraser narrowly missed his left eye, and a pink stress ball was also thrown at him, followed by a shower of paper clips. Despite Tony's best efforts however, England's process was not halted in the least, and he was only a few steps away when the alien made a last-ditch effort and did something that pushed Arthur's level of annoyance up a whole notch.

No sooner had he reached out his hand to grab the daft little thing and end the entire fight (if you could even call it a fight) once and for all, Arthur's gasped as Tony's gray fingers closed around the piece of paper that was lying on his desk, and crumbled it into a ball. The little paper projectile made a pit noise as it bounced off England's head. The green-eyed man only stood stock-still, puzzling the alien enemy. A few more crushed balls of paperwork was tossed at him, and Arthur felt his ire rising up.

How dare that...that creature scrunch up the precious papers that he had toiled over for days like it was worth little more than a piece of old scrap paper!

Moreover, why were these things happening to him, and him alone?

Why did life always had to be just one fat joke for Arthur Kirkland?

Arthur lunged at Tony, who was in the process of crumbling another piece of his work, taking it by surprise. The chair nearby crashed as the furious Englishman knocked the alien from its perch on the desk, and the situation became as it was before. This time, Arthur made sure the wriggling alien wouldn't be able to grab his burnt arm. But he didn't account for it to suddenly jerk upwards and bite it instead. England was barely able to suppress a scream. He scrambled up from the ground and hit the wall, unable to ignore the pain sinking into this skin. All he could feel was his nerves screaming, and for a moment, he stood there with his back to the wall, unable to move.

That pause gave Tony the opening it was looking for.

Before he knew what was happening, the alien had grabbed his legs, and with more strength than the Brit thought it could possess, lifted him up. The world spun in alarming way, Arthur reached out his right arm to catch himself. He never got the chance. Wood flooring greeted England's vision as he came smashing down onto the ground, most of the impact brought onto his suspended arm, and Arthur's eyes widened.

When he heard the: "Haiiya!" from Tony, America knew that the fight had begun. He was looking forward to listening to a good brawl between Tony and England. America dearly wished that he could open the door and witness the scene, but that would have ruined the entire thing. A grin stretched onto his face and he fought the urge to burst out laughing whenever he heard the screech of furniture or the rustling of paper. Not laughing was particularly hard when he could hear the Englishman making angry noises in the room. Banging, crashing, and all sorts of sounds came out from the room, but Alfred was not the least bit concerned, it was all for the fun of it, and he could always help Arthur clean it up later. There were a few times when he heard painful noises issuing from the other nation, but he was pretty sure Arthur could take care of himself. The fight had managed to entertain the American for quite a while until he noticed it had already been a good measure of time since the fight began.

He was about to get up and stop the fight when he heard a loud crash, then a terrible crack-and England yelling:

"AUGH!"

The yell was followed by a string of colorful language and the smile left Alfred's face as he hurried towards Arthur's guest room. He flung open the door, and was met with the sight of a devastatingly messy room, a rather sheepish looking Tony sitting in the corner with its arms behind its back, and England...bent over on the floor. The Brit was cradling his right arm, which hung at a bizarre angle. Small gasps of pain emanated from the blonde.

It was then that Alfred realized that Arthur had broken his arm.

...Oh crap.

A/N: To start, I am very sorry for the long update. I've been having a very busy week, and I was away last weekend, sorry!

I promise next week's update will be on Friday.

You guys are so nice for actually reading this, seriously. Hugs and cookies (and scones, if you want them) to you all! I was really happy when I actually started getting reviews, so I can't thank you enough. Speaking of reviews, I'm just going to reply to them the day I update (unless its an urgent review of some sort) because I'm very busy during the week, and its already quite an effort to find the time to write this, so my apologies for not replying soon enough.

Now about this chapter (as usual, if you don't want to be bothered with the technological crap, you are welcome to move on), yup, I just broke Iggy's arm, and now he's barely able to use both of them, please don't kill me, I love Iggy as much as the next person. I had to look up stuff about broken arms, just because I've never broken any arms myself. America's plans are going a little out of whack, obviously, I can't wait for him to explain to England what the whole Tony-going-ninja thing was about.

Hopefully that Arthur vs. Tony fight was satisfactory, I absolutely suck when it comes to writing about fighting, I can picture it all in my head, but the words just can't come out...so..yeah...I hope it was good! In my head-canon, Arthur is a really good fighter, but his arm's just really not giving him the time of the day.

Let me know if I'm putting too much 'bloody', 'git', 'idiot', and stuff like that. I'm well aware that it can get annoying after a while, so I want to know whether I'm using it to the excessive. Other constructive criticisms are also more than welcome.

I decided to set this in north-eastern America for the sake of the plot, also because I'm familiar with it. And in January, parts of the country, especially further up north, can get really, really, really cold. Just one breath of wind and you feel like your marrow's turned to ice, so you can imagine how pissed Arthur was about standing out there in that sort of weather, sorry Artie. (I just can't stop apologizing now)

Thanks for reading, and hasta la pasta~!

- aquamarinetiger98

(and I forgot this last time)

Disclaimer Unfortunately, Hetalia does not belong to me, it belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya

P.S. FINALLY, I got myself a Hetalia tumblr so that I can rid myself of all the Hetalia posts clashing with my other favorites piling up in my other dash