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Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.


Save the Drama for the Stage, Chapter 2

"Oh, blast it- where is he?!" The gruff, angered voice of Arthur Kirkland carried up to the high ceilings of the theater lobby as he paused in his pacing for the first time in nearly five minutes to practically snarl at the door, which dutifully remained closed.

"U-Um, sir, he did say he was going to be here at noon-"

"Yes, Matthew, and now its twelve o'three. He's late!"

Matthew visibly flinched, shrinking behind his clipboard and biting his lip. Arthur caught sight of this and sighed roughly, violently running a hand in his messy blond hair.

"I-I'm sure he'll be here soon, sir."

"He'd better be. Do you realize how unprofessional it is to show up late to your first day of work? You may as well not show up at all!"

"Y-Yes, sir…-"

"It's an insult to your employers! If he wasn't our last resort, I would fire him the moment he arrives! If he ever does arrive, that is."

"But sir-"

"Yo, Captain Kirk, what's up?" Gilbert strode into the lobby, throwing an arm around Arthur's shoulder and completely ignoring the murderous look he was thrown. He didn't even blink when Arthur violently shoved his arm away, even though it looked to Matthew as if the force of it could blow Gilbert's arm right out of the socket.

"Hey man, calm down. What's got you all worked up?"

"H-He's waiting for Mister Bonnefoy," Matthew supplied, as Arthur was apparently too busy pacing again to answer. "M-Maybe it's best if you don't bother him right now-"

"Bullshit! The old man still hasn't given me, the awesome Gilbert, a part in his stupid play, even though everyone here knows I'm the actor with the most star potential!"

Matthew was fairly certain he'd seen janitors with more star potential (not that he meant to offend Antonio), but wisely chose to keep that comment to himself.

"T-That may be the case, but-"

"Wait, so you agree with me, then, that I should be the star of this show?" Gilbert rounded upon Matt with a beam that the intern felt could send his cousin Alfred's brightest smile crying for a dentist, and the blond hoped that his cheeks weren't as pink as they felt.

"Hey, wait a minute," Gilbert started suddenly, a hand under his chin and his eyebrows furrowed intently, crimson eyes focused on Matthew. "Are you new here?"

Whatever Matt was expecting, that was certainly not it. His features twisted in confusion as he tilted his head. "I've been working here for two weeks now. I'm Berwald's nephew, remember? You, um, inducted me on my first day here…"

And it had been the single most humiliating moment of Matt's nineteen year old life; the snarky voice in his mind snapped that Gilbert had better remember it.

"Oh, right, you're the guy I managed to convince into Felik's old Little Bo Peep costume! You have nice legs for a dude, you know." A moment of shocked silence dropped on the duo, until Gilbert finally realized what exactly he'd said. "I-I mean, not that I was looking or anything, because that's such a gay thing to do, but you know that's what Eli told me and she's such a girl that she notices these things and then likes to tell me about them as if I actually care if Toris is hiding a six-pack or Feliciano looks good in a skirt or if Alfred could pass for a male model, hehe no siree, not me, I could give less about-"

"Oh would you kindly shut up and get out of here already!" Arthur bellowed, and Matthew was secretly relieved when Gilbert didn't hesitate to scurry out of the lobby and up the stairs to the cast and crew's bedrooms. Part of him was left wondering how monstrous Gilbert's lung were to be able to say all that without pausing for air, and he decided to focus on that instead of the odd sting in his chest at hearing the albino talk about the other crew members.

Of course, Arthur didn't leave Matthew much time to do either, turning back to his apprentice with a firmly locked jaw.

"If he does not come in five minutes I am going to go back inside and cast you-"

"Bonjour, mes amis!" Matthew was probably never more relieved in his life than he was in the moment when the theatre door swung open and a tall, blonde Frenchman walked into the lobby. He barely managed to contain a heavy sigh as he retreated to the door into the theatre, deciding it wasn't a bad idea to be ready to take cover.

Arthur, however, was far less pleased by the actor's arrival; he turned to the other male without bothering to clear away his angry expression.

"You're late."

"Je suis desolé, monsieur. My name is Francis Bonnefoy, and yours?"

Arthur stared at the offered hand with disgust, before ignoring it and glaring back up at the Frenchman.

"My name is Arthur Kirkland. I'm the writer of this play, as well as the director, and I'll have you know I don't take nonsense from anybody." He snapped, crossing his arms over his chest as if to prove a point.

"You'll have to forgive me for my lateness, then. I spotted a lonely young woman who looked as if she could use some company, and it appears I lost track of time."

At first Matthew thought it was impossible for Arthur to get any angrier, but he soon found he was completely mistaken as he could practically feel the hate coming off of the other from across the room. Francis, however, seemed to be only unaffected as he only raised an eyebrow in confusion.

"You mean to tell me that you were late because you were flirting?"

"Not flirting, mon ami, seducing. There is a slight difference, which I would not mind teaching you, if you were interested."

There was no mistaking the slightly alluring tone Francis' tone had taken on, and Arthur caught himself about to gape at the other, completely speechless. Hoping that it had not been too obvious in the moment that it took for him to recover, Arthur threw the other a last sharp glance before turning away and stomping off.

"Matthew! Take him inside and introduce him to the others." He barked, and the younger blond froze for a moment.

"Where are you going, sir?"

"I need to have a talk with Tino."


"Wait, so he was five minutes late-"

"Seven minutes late."

"Right. He was seven minutes late, and you want to fire him for it?"

Arthur nodded once, forcefully, and Tino rubbed at the beginnings of a migraine.

"Alright, it's not as ridiculous as you make it sound. He was late because he was flirting, that's hardly a good first impression!"

Tino sighed. "Say we do fire Mr. Bonnefoy, who could possibly replace him at this point?"

"Matthew. Alfred. Anyone. I'd even settle for Gilbert at this point…"

"Matthew? Alfred? You would really cast one of Berwald's nineteen-year old nephews as the star of your production?"

Arthur huffed, crossing his arms and rubbing his shoe into the hardwood floor. "No… but I'm sure there is some other actor out there looking for work!"

Tino hummed, bending over to pick up his fluffy white puppy, who was having fun yelping and nuzzling his leg, and looked back at Arthur with an expression the other couldn't identify.

"There might be, but I'm afraid that Berwald and I haven't been able to find any. Mr. Bonnefoy is the only one who answered our calls."

"What? Why?"

This time Arthur could place the rueful smile Tino gave him. "Well, I'm afraid you've earned yourself a reputation. None of the actors in London will give us even a minute of their time when they hear your name."

Arthur froze, and for a moment he looked as if he'd been slapped in the face. Tino bit his lip, but just as he opened his mouth to speak again Arthur put a hand up and shook his head.

"I see. Well, then… if you'll excuse me."

And without another word from either of them, Arthur rushed down the hall to his room and shut the door behind him.


How are things going to go from here? Who knows, you'll just have to stick around and find out ;) Thank you all for reading, and to all those people who watched, faved, and reviewed the last chapter!

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