DING -DONG!

I woke up with a start and scratched my head, stopping dead when I saw a handsome guy sleeping soundly in a make-shift bed on my bedroom floor. I started cursing up a storm but realized that is was Alfred F. Jones, the unit I supposedly ordered online a few days ago.

DING-freaking-DONG!

"I'm up already, God," I mumbled, getting up lazily and being meticulous not to step on the over-patriotic American clone. I walked slowly, barely noticing as Mikey slipped between my legs as I stomped across the kitchen floor. I heaved a great, sad sigh and opened the door to find another, yet another box at my doorstep.

"Why can't you just leave me alone?" I whined, wiping the sleep from my eyes. One unit was enough, but two? I couldn't comprehend the person that would accidentally send two units to the same address.

Letting go of my building up anger for a second, I picked up the manual for the unit cautiously and stared, speechless, at the writing on it.

ARTHUR KIRKLAND: User Guide and Manual

I may seem like a normal, innocent-yet-perverted teenager, but I was immune to one thing: Britain. Man, the British accent was one of my largest fetishes. God, if I heard that in real life, I'd either be on the floor laughing (don't ask why) or saying 'humina humina humina' at light speed. So I fangirled, giggling uncontrollably and pacing my feet up and down at a speed that would get me pulled over by a local cop (sorry officer, I was just fangirling).

"What's with the box?" Alfred's annoying, loud voice drifted into the room and my mind went to yaoi. I did not like it, and I certainly did not read it, but come on, after hearing so much about the USUK pairing who wouldn't think about that? I ignored Alfred, however, and kept reading the manual for how to wake him up.

Alfred unexpectedly got close to me and started to read the manual from my shoulder. Pissed off, I swatted him in the face with my back hand. It wasn't a bitch slap, but it was pretty close.

"Ow, ow, ow!" Alfred moaned, holding his face with his hands. "That hurt!" With 'hurt', the hamburger-lover brought it up a couple of notes, momentarily ticking me off a little more. I heard the box shake more violently. I should get Arthur out of there before he comes out in berserker mode…

Alfred began singing "The Star-Spangled-Banner" and I stared at him in utter horror.

"What the heck do you think you're—"

"Turn that damn racket down!"

A perfectly fitted British accent sounded from the box, and I heard scratches coming from the box. I wondered if Alfred heard, and apparently he did because he sang even louder.

"O SAY DOES THAT STAR SPANGLED BANNER YET WAVE! FOR THE LAND OF THE FREE, AND THE HOME OF THE—"

"SHUT THE BLOODY FUCK UP ALREADY, ALFRED!"

BAM!

Out came the most gorgeous man I had ever seen (the accent helped), looking as angry as Taylor Swift secretly was at the MTV Music Awards when Kanye West upstaged her. His eyes resembled fury, his hands clenched until his knuckles were white—you get the idea. This was one pissed off motherfucker.

"Alfred, shut the hell up already you fucking Yankee!" He roared, and then noticing the cowering (but admiring) teenager below him, his anger receded.

"Um, hello there." He said, giving a nervous wave. I couldn't help it; I smiled. He furrowed his thick eyebrows at me. "Why are you smiling?"

I giggled, yes, I giggled. Both of the units looked at me strangely. What? Lust Objects did that to you.

"Sorry, it's just…" I tried picking the right words to cover up the fangirl grin. "It's kinda funny how you cursed so openly in front of me."

Arthur blushed, and I forced myself not to squeal. "Oh, right, sorry about that, love." I restrained myself from fainting at 'love'.

I nodded. Alfred chose that moment to smash the friendly atmosphere, yelling, "Dude, Arthur, you gotta check out the channels this chick has! She even has BBC America!"

Arthur's face brightened at that. "Really?" He looked excited, but glanced down at me for permission.

What a gentleman, I thought, swooning, but managed to blurt out "Sure, go ahead" as he raced to the living room couch. Suddenly life didn't seem so bad after all.

Wait a second, did I just jinx myself?

The next few hours I spent reading manuals and deciding what they'd eat for lunch, which would probably turn into dinner the way the clock moved. While sandwiches didn't sound half-bad, I could imagine Alfred flinging mayonnaise across the kitchen just because he could and it was 'heroic'. So I decided take-out pizza would be enough.

I picked up the phone, not hitting me until now if a 14-year-old could even order pizza. Screw that, no way was I gonna let Alfred order, and I had a feeling that Arthur would probably just get confused about the conversions of American dollars to Euro, so I had to do it myself.

"Hey guys," I yelled to Alfred and Arthur as they played Dead Space (my step-dad's) on the X-Box (also his), "what do you want on your pizza?"

"We're having pizza?" Alfred asked, his tongue curled around his teeth as he talked. "I want everything!"

"And I'll have the same," Arthur agreed as one of the giant aliens blew up. "Damn it, Alfred, I was gonna get that one!"

"Sucks for you!" Alfred teased, shouldering Arthur's person into a black hole.

"Why you little-" Arthur began to punch Alfred as Alfred laughed, finding a lone space explorer being sucked up into a giant black hole hilarious.

"Okay, but I'm only getting one pizza!" I said, trying to yell over the two fighting. How France or Canada could put up with them was besides me…even if Arthur was drop-dead hot (Alfred's not bad either).

They either didn't hear me or didn't care, but I went on ordering anyway. By the time the order was done Arthur had made a barricade from the couch pillows between him and Alfred, and I giggled my fangirl giggle silently.

"So when will the pizza be here?" Alfred, as always, ruined my moment of fangirling over Arthur.

"When you stop breaking my mirrors and giving me seven years of bad luck!" I snapped, receiving a curious look from Arthur and a hurt look from Alfred. I ignored Alfred and went on, "It should be here in fifteen minutes."

"You know you're in America when your pizza gets to your place faster than the ambulance," Arthur cackled, and I gave a short laugh before descending into the ever-growing work of house cleaning.

Fifteen minutes later the doorbell rang for the umpteenth time that morning. I glided across the now spotless bathroom floor of my parents' room and opened the door to find a teenager, not much older than me balancing a pizza on his arms. I quickly paid him and dropped the pizza off at the kitchen table, making Alfred bounce gleefully over to it and Arthur walk calmly over, trying very hard to ignore the American as he devoured a piece of pizza. Arthur grabbed a piece and began eating, trying to eat more politely than his younger brother from another mother.

"Are you not going to eat?" He inquired, eating the last of the cheese from a slice of pizza. The pizza was Little Caesar's, and once you ate the cheese off the pizza you usually only got the sauce, which was pretty nasty.

"You didn't eat yesterday either," Alfred pointed out between eating double pizzas.

I shrugged, my stomach growling. "I don't have time to eat with all the work I have to do."

"But the house is totally clean."

I sighed, rubbing my hand across my forehead, "Look, I don't wanna get into eating habits now, okay? Just let me go into my room for some peace and quiet."

Alfred shrugged and kept eating while Arthur gave me one last, hard look before eating another piece before Alfred could get it.

I sunk gladly into the swivel chair in my room and turned my laptop on, humming along to the greeting melody as it did. I swiftly signed into my profile and browsed DA, YouTube, and Mangafox for a couple of hours before falling asleep to the hour long Nyan Cat video.

In my dreams, all I thought of was how cute yet weird Nyan Cat was as the music went through my head and found myself walking (or running, I guess) beside it as I dreamed. And no, I wasn't on acid. Space flew by me in a flash, and I had already seen the Big Dipper seventeen times.

"So Nyan Cat," I asked the eternally smiling cat, "what do you think I should do with these units, or whatever they're called?"

The music went on and I didn't get an answer. I sighed inwardly and vainly kept up with Nyan Cat, whose speeding pace stayed unbearably consistent. I was about to ask again, not caring if I got an answer or not, when the gray cat finally responded:

"I think you already know, Erica. You already know, you already know, you already know, you already-"

"BRO!"

My eyes flipped open to Alfred staring intently-not to mention closely-at me. My face turned red and I stared back, my perverted thoughts coming back at a fast pace. I closed them off and pushed Alfred's head back, rubbing my temples from the minor pain of watching Nyan Cat for a whole hour.

"Dude, you were so knocked out! But anyway Artie wants to know where he's supposed to sleep, even though it's only eight." Alfred informed me, walking side-by-side with me as I walked into the living room trying to find the Brit. I passed by the home phone the way there and stopped dead, Nyan Cat's words ringing in my head. Of course, why hadn't I thought about it before? I picked up one of the manuals, dialed the number on my home phone and walked over to lean against one of the kitchen cabinets.

"Hello, this is the Flying Mint Bunny Corporation. If you have called to order another unit, press one. If you have called to get a new manual for your current unit, press two. If you have received the wrong unit by mistake and want a replacement, press three-"

"Hey, um, er…Erica! Where am I supposed to sleep?" Arthur's voice rang out, above the noise of the Flying Mint Bunny Corporation answering machine.

"Sleep in the master bedroom, which is right behind you," I told him, still listening to the caller assistance thing. "Alfred, you're staying in the room next to mine!"

I didn't hear for Arthur's or Alfred's reaction because I had already gotten to the number I wanted. "If you have called because you didn't order any Hetalia Unit, press nine." I pressed nine, my patience rapidly decreasing. "You will be directed to Customer Service."

"Hello?"

The voice sounded heavily southern. I turned on my business tone and replied, "Yes, I got an Alfred F. Jones unit and an Arthur Kirkland unit when I actually didn't order either, and as much as I love Hetalia I'm not the type who likes to entertain house guests if you know what I mean. So please, if you'd just come by and pick them up, refund whatever you're charging me with for these units, than I won't report you to the FBI." I finished off, my voice becoming dark and menacing.

The southern accented employee seemed a bit fazed by my threat. "A-all right, we'll pick them up tomorrow."

"Thank you-"

"Sorry for the trouble and have a great day!"

"You too-"

A click was heard and the call was dropped. I sighed, massaging my forehead a bit before turning around to make sure none of the units had heard. I didn't see any. Sighing with relief, I sat back on the couch and contemplated what chore I'd have to do next before sleeping. My eyes drifted over to the leftover pizza box, sitting leisurely on the kitchen table. I grunted annoyance and threw it in the trash, wondering how I had gotten so used to this mess already. Then again, some people do adapt well in a crisis.

I went back to the couch and turned the TV on, flinching at the sound of the loud welcome message. It had a nice ring, but if Arthur woke up…sure I liked the guy, but I was no stranger to his temper. Amazingly, the first thing that came up was not a movie on the Wild West, or bromance, or secret spies, what I saw was-

"HOLY SHIT ON A MOTHERFUCKING SANDWICH I SEE PEOPLE FUCKING!"

The images were so lewd, so specific; it was burned into my already somewhat corrupted brain. Why did she do that with her tongue? How did he even reach down there? Where is THAT supposed to be-?

"OH DEAR GOD! ALFRED, ARTHUR, GET IN HERE RIGHT NOW!"

At first there was only silence, and I took that moment to change the channel to a late night showing of Burn Notice. Soon my mom's bedroom door was slammed and out came Arthur, his hair tussled and his eyes ablaze.

"I don't care if you're fourteen," Arthur began, coming menacingly my way, "I'm going to bloody kill you for interrupting my sleep!"

Alfred came out around the same time wiping the sleep out of his eyes. The guy went to sleep fast is all I can say. "What's going on? Did Tony finally appear?" He added in an excited voice.

"No," I said, making Alfred slump in disappointment, "but it's come to my attention that one of you likes to watch pornography on my TV." I put emphasize into pornography and Arthur looked, stunned, over to Alfred.

"You told me that you had changed the channel, you twat!" Arthur fumed, glaring darkly at Alfred.

"Hey, I made a mistake, so what?" Alfred defended nonchalantly, only making Arthur and me angrier.

Then, realizing what was said before, I reached up and abruptly stopped Arthur from pummeling Alfred. I could feel my cheeks flare up but honestly didn't care at the moment.

"Wait, you watched this smut with him?" I asked quietly, my grip slightly tightening on his arm.

Arthur, exasperated and embarrassed, said, "Well, a man sometimes has urges, and well, er…"

I released my grip on his arm. Stepping back, I pointed at the kitchen table.

"Sit. NOW."

They obeyed and sat down. I walked over, my hands behind my back, saying, "Now I know that men have urges, but don't you think releasing those urges through the Playboy Channel is a little bit unorthodox?" No response. "Let me lay down some ground rules: one, don't have sex in the house." Arthur looked at me funny and Alfred looked dejected. "Two, don't watch porn without asking me first. Three, I don't care if you have a boyfriend, girlfriend, what have you, just do all the romantic crap somewhere that's NONPUBLIC." This time they both looked at me funny. "Four, remember that if you break any of these rules you will be immediately sent back to your creator. Got it?" No response. "GOT IT?"

"Yes, ma'am," Alfred mumbled.

"Whatever," Arthur spat.

I smiled sweetly. "Good. Now you can back to your wonderful slumber."

Arthur got up and stomped into mom's bedroom, muttering "bloody prick" under his breath. Alfred sighed, gave me a long, puppy-eyed look, and waited. For what exactly?

"Can't I at least do it in the garage? I'm meeting a girl tomorrow and I told her we could use your place-"

"No," I replied, silently wishing the truck would get here as soon as possible tomorrow.