Alfred walked around the corner, checking behind his shoulder to make sure he wasn't being followed. His dad wanted him to take his school work more seriously, and actually dedicate time to doing it. But he didn't need to. He always got perfect scores, and all of his teachers love him. He was supposed to be with his brother Mattie, at the military base his father worked in. But he had felt like a walk, so he told Mattie to cover for him, and left.

Now he was wandering the streets of Ann Arbor, doing one of his favorite things: people watching. As he swept his gaze across the street, he fingered his dog tags. They gave him almost complete access to any military base in America, signified his extreme importance as one of Lieutenant Jones' sons, and got him out of any issue with the local authorities. Within reason of course.

His eyes jumped from one person to the next, until they landed on a mop of messy blond hair. He looked down a bit and saw thick, dark eyebrows above bright emerald green eyes. Alfred stopped in his tracks, muttering a quick sorry to those who walked into him, as he stared at the boy those beautiful eyes belonged to.

He was wearing a dark blue cardigan and matching slacks, with brown Oxfords peeking out from underneath. He was walking quickly down the street, but Alfred saw a familiar crest next to his right lapel. This boy went to Hetalia High, a prestigious international private school. He and Mattie had gotten a letter about it, but they both preferred to be alone, and opted to continue their private studies together instead.

But if this angel went to Hetalia High, maybe it was worth it. Alfred was dismayed when the boy turned into an old bookstore. He looked both ways, and then crossed the street, walking to the store. He looked at the sign, and laughed. It was called Cur Non, which Alfred effortlessly translated from Latin to mean Why Not. He shrugged, and pushed open the door.

Stepping in, he was surprised by what he saw. Very dark hardwood floors were partially covered with old looking rugs, and the store was crammed with bookshelves. Thick tomes, leather bound books, newer brightly colored paperbacks and hardcovers were arranged neatly on what looked like roughly carved dark wood bookcases that stretch to the tall ceiling. Antique lamps hung from chains, casting a low light in the room. Big, overstuffed chair and small coffee tables completed the look, with a register pushed into the far corner of the back wall.

Behind it sat a girl with brown hair, a big smile, and, a porcelain bowl of what looked like cereal? His eyes found the boy, who stood accepting a pile of books from the girl. They talked a bit, and Alfred heard her call him first Arthur, and then Mr. Kirkland. He smiled happily at knowing his angels name. Arthur. Arthur Kirkland. It suited him, Alfred decided. His smile faded a bit when he saw Arthur disappear into a nook formed by three bookshelves.

He heard a nonchalant, "Hey dude." and looked over at the girl, who was eating another bite of cereal. She added, "Nice tags. They could get you anywhere, right?" He raised his eyebrows. Wow. How did she know about his tags?

He walked over to the register and asked, "Pardon?" keeping his expression guarded.

She smiled, and replied, "My apologies. I am pretty good at noticing details." She steepled her fingers, and nodded her head towards the window looking outside. Then she added, "Your government friend looking for you after you played hooky?"

Alfred's eyes widened, and he spun around, scanning the street outside, until he spotted them. An agent from the military base, clearly trying to blend in, and failing. He figured that his dad had sent him to collect him. He also figured that his best bet was to hide out here and wait for him to leave. Preferably with Arthur.

He turned back around, smiling widely at the girl, who looked back with an amused look on her face. "May I hide from him in this fine establishment?" he asked, pouring charm into his voice. With luck she would get the message.

She did, as she mock groaned, and jerked her thumb at the nook where Arthur was sitting. Not bothering to mask his delight, he quickly crossed over to the chair adjacent to Arthurs, and randomly pulled a book from the shelf behind him.

The girl was still talking, he vaguely realized. Listening, he heard her talk about how his Arthur didn't notice people staring at him while reading, or something like that. Grinning a bit, he lifted the book up slightly, and peered at Arthur from above it.

After a few moments, he heard the girl clear her throat loudly. He looked up, Arthur ignoring her, and she said, "Pardon me, but they really want to find you. It seems that they are checking stores and that we are next." Alfred started to rise, figuring it best if he wasn't dragged away by the apparently more than one agents his dad had sent before he even introduced himself to Arthur.

But the girl dispelled his worries with her next words. "However, I have this thing, where I hide possible fugitives in my store at least once a week, and am totally happy to keep you hidden, Anne Frank."

Alfred looked at her, confused, as she dramatically cried out, "Give me your name if you want to live!"

He made a split second decision to trust her, and said, "Alfred F. Jones."

She smiled, and said, "Excellent. Now Alfred, you are about to see why I call this the Anne Frank room. I must remain you not to make a sound, please. I haven't sound-proofed it yet." She stood up, moved a stack of books, and ran her fingers along the surface. A piano riff sounded in the air, and Alfred looked around, confused. The girl pointed to some tracks in the floor that he hadn't noticed before. To his amazement, one of the bookcases started to slide in front of him, creating a closed room.

Arthur glanced up, his eyes meeting mine. He immediately looked back down at his book, but not before Alfred saw a slight blush paint his pale, perfect, cheeks. Alfred took the opportunity to study him. Sandy blond hair fell messily across the top of his forehead, brushing the tops of his large eyebrows. To call them large was an understatement though. They were enormous. Alfred didn't think they detracted from his appearance at all though. Moving down, he tried to catch a glimpse of those breathtaking eyes again, but they remained downcast and hidden by long blond eyelashes. He had extremely pale skin, like alabaster, and it was perfectly smooth and unblemished.

He sighed a bit, and cleared his throat, hating to stop gazing secretly at Arthur, but wanting to talk to him. Arthur looked up, surprised, and Alfred momentarily lost himself in those luminescent eyes.

Shaking his head, he gave Arthur a million-watt grin, and said, "Hi! As you probably heard, my name is Alfred." Would you like to be my boyfriend? He added in his mind.

Arthur nodded his head, and politely responded, "Hello Alfred. My name is Arthur."

Alfred's jaw dropped. Sweet liberty, Arthur was British. Alfred had a thing for accents, British ones in particular. Mattie had always teased him about it, but Alfred knew that he had a thing for German accents for some reason. Alfred ran through possible things to say next, mind racing, but Arthur saved him.

He pointed to Alfred's book and asked, "What book are you reading?"

Alfred looked down at the book. He had no idea. He closed it and looked at the cover. Killer Angels. He almost laughed. He had read this book before. This is great! He would actually be able to hold an intelligent conversation about books with Arthur.

"Yeah, it's Killer Angels. It's a Civil War book. I personally love it, because it gives so many different perspectives, and really reminds us about the people that fought the war." he said, mentally congratulating himself on his success when Arthur looked at him with a renewed interest.

They chatted about the book for a while, which Arthur had actually read, and eventually turned to books in general. Sensing that Arthur had warmed up to him, Alfred decided to go for the most cliché pick-up line in the book.

"So," he said, going for casual. "You come here often?"