Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia, but that's pretty obvious.

Alfred couldn't help but feel ridiculous crouched down at the door staring up at a man who was glaring down at him like he had just pissed on his lawn.

It felt like an eternity that they were like that, where Alfred honestly thought that he was finished. However, finally the young man threw his hands up, muttered something in French (or so Alfred assumed because he really didn't know, the only language he thought worth knowing was American) and turned around, calling out something else into the house. Another voice, this one deeper, said something back.

A man appeared from around the corner of a hall or room. He looked remarkable like the man who opened the door. He had the same wavy hair andslight build but looked older and had a slightly scruffy beard growing. The two were perhaps brothers or cousins. Whatever they were, they clearly knew each other well from the looks of how they talked.

It was at this point that Alfred really wished he knew what they were saying. The only words he managed to catch were stupide and Americancoming from the younger blond. It didn't take a genius to figure out what he was saying.

Suddenly he found himself being ushered inside and being directed to a couch by the older blond while the man who opened the door went around the living room peeking through the closed curtains, presumable to make sure no one saw Alfred enter the house.

"Common t'apple tu?"

"Uh, pardon?" French, Alfred would soon learn was his nemesis.

"What is your name mon ami," The older man asked with a heavy, but intelligible accent.

"Staff Sergeant Alfred F Jones of the United States Army Air Force"

"What part of America?"

"Uh, why does this matter?"

"Just answer the question" The younger man, who was leaning against a nearby wall, snapped. Surprisingly he didn't have an accent. This day kept getting weirder.

Alfred ended up answering all of the questions. Some which were rather strange, like about his home town.

"Seriously, why do you need to know this?" Alfred asked getting impatient, hungry, and tired. It looked like the sun was starting to rise from the light filtering through the curtains!

"Because if you answer them wrongly then we will kill you. Fortunately we have decided that you aren't a spy monsieur Jones." The older man said in all seriousness.

"Well that is fortunate," Alfred said dryly, still not feeling very fortunate with the information that he was almost killed just because he might have forgotten the name of a convenience store.

"It is monsieur Jones. Others have not been so lucky." The French man said in all seriousness before abruptly changing moods and getting up "Now, you must eat, there is going to be a long journey ahead." The pilot, once again was ushered to another part of the small farm house where his interrogator got him some food.

The 'meal' Alfred was expecting didn't exactly live up to what he got. It was a little more than some dry bread, some wine, and watery stew. He had half the mind to complain he noticed the other two weren't eating at all.

"Don't you have anything to eat uhm...?" Alfred asked realizing that he did not know either of their names.

"My name if Francis Bonnefoy* and my rather icy friend whom is still in the living room is called Mathieu Williams. And to your questions no, we don't have any food. Mathieu and I were just going to be leaving this safe house soon anyways." Francis explained.

Alfred hesitated but when his stomach gave a loud growl couldn't put off eating any more.

When he finished eating, Alfred leaned back with a content sigh. He must not have eaten for more that twelve hours and had no sleep for even more. He wanted to go to bed but was curious about the other man, Mathew as Francis had called him. Alfred also wanted to know what he did to piss him off so much.

"So..." Alfred started casually (but in reality failing at that badly) "Are you and Mathieu related or something?"

"Oui, Mathieu is a distant relative that joined to help out with the Resistance Effort.**" Francis replied watching the American carefully, as if to try and figure out what he was at.

"Oh...So, what does he like?"

Francis laughed abruptly. "Amérique***, if you are curious in him then I could always set up some alone time to make L'Amour"

"W-what?" Alfred felt his cheeks go red. While he didn't know what 'l'amour' was, it sounded very suggestive. Especially the way Francis said it. "I just wanted to try and make it up to him for pissing the guy off so badly!"

The French man raised a disbelieving eyebrow but let it go anyways. "Ah, Mathieu is just...annoyed at the moment. He didn't want to be assigned on this job of as he called it 'hold some dumb pilot's hand while I get them out of the country'. He has come across several pilots that have almost gotten their cover blown that is all." Francis sighed "Unfortunately there is nothing you can probably do."

Alfred crossed his arms, almost instinctively in the face of a challenge. A challenge was what it seemed to be. He was interested in the young spy. Why? Alfred could not say. Perhaps it was the way Mathew held himself that got Alfred's respect or the fact.

The pilot mulled this over while he laid in the makeshift bed Francis arranged for him. Alfred knew

he should be catching up on sleep while they waited for nightfall but he was busy trying think of ways to warm up to Mathew. Slowly though, Alfred drifted off to a fit full sleep of planes and running and blonds glaring down at him.

Alfred awoke to someone tentatively trying to shake him awake. He opened his eyes to see Mathew looming over him.

Instantly he knew something was wrong. For starters it was still day and more importantly, Mathew had a very worried look on his face. He appeared to be trying to hide it but the air of danger was unmistakeable.

Before he could ask anything Mathew put a hand on Alfred's mouth and whispered

"There are German soldiers here."

*What is your name (awwwww yeah I still remember some French)
**In reality this would not happen. Spies would never give out this information, buuuut for story purposes I'm going to do so anyways.
***No, they are not the countries, I decided America would be a nickname Francis would call Alfred
Incase you are wondering, spies would grill downed pilots on abitrary things just to make sure that it wasn't a German spy.

Urrrrrrrrrrgh, I didn't like this chapter...Mattie! Where were you? You are suppose to be a main character QwQ I promise next chaper things will start happening!

Reviews are great and constructive criticism is welcome!