I'm sorry to the reviewer who wanted Spain, but I'd already planned for France to be there! He is my favourite member of the BTT so, yeah...

I don't own Hetalia, neither do I own the information from any manuals!

The British Are Coming. So Are The French

Shopping with both America and Italy was both fun, and stressful. Italy mostly stuck by me, but he wouldn't stop talking and pointing out everything he saw that seemed fascinating. I didn't mind so much, since I'm not much of a talker anyway.

America, on the other hand, would run ahead of me, fascinated by whatever it was that had caught his eye, and then sprint back to me to ask if he could buy one thing or the other. He was like a yoyo. One that could talk. I felt like a mother with two hyperactive kids. The second we stepped into the convenience store, we started attracting a lot of attention. Either from girls who were wondering about the cute guys, or shop workers who were watching to make sure neither of them broke and/or stole anything.

I grabbed a basket and wandered over to the dairy aisle. "Ve~ sorella!" I looked up. Italy shoved a box of lasagne pasta in my face. "Let's get this, please?"

"Hey, hey, sidekick!" I turned and America held up a book of superhero posters and stickers. "Can we get this? It'll look totally awesome in my room!"

I stared at the two of them, and sighed. "Fine, we can get these," I took the things out of their hands and threw them into the basket. "Now stick near me. No going off to grab things you don't need!" I tossed some milk, cheese and yoghurt into the basket, and then we found more bread, some bacon, sausages and I even bought ice cream (rocky road and cookies 'n' cream) for America and I. finally, I bought a pack of new paints for Italy.

Thank god this store has a bunch of random stuff for sale, I sighed as the guy at the cash register totalled up everything and put it in a bunch of plastic bags. America grabbed the bags before I could. "Don't sweat it, sidekick!" He grinned down at me as he carried the five or so bags like they weighed nothing. "I got this!"

"Ve~, thank you for buying us things, sorella!" Italy hugged me tightly. Aw, shucks, you guys are adorable!

I smiled back at them. "You're welcome, Feli," I said. "And thanks for carrying the bags, Alfred." Luckily, the store wasn't too far from the house, which was why I could see the large, mint green truck parked outside my house. "Merde," I muttered. "Merde, merde, merde…Shawn!" I glared at the man unloading not one, but two crates. "YOU WERE JUST HERE YESTERDAY!" I grabbed him by the shoulders and began shaking him hard. "WHY ARE YOU HERE AGAIN? GO AWAY!"

"Ve~, sorella!" Italy ve-ed in a panicked manner, which made me release Shawn in favour of hugging him tightly and cooing apologies for scaring him. "Ve~…"

In that space of time, Shawn recovered from my attack. "Whoa, no need to attack me!" He held up his arms defensively. "I just deliver the things!" I scowled, but signed for the crates nonetheless, and then I opened the door. I made my way to the kitchen to put the groceries away, while he and America carried the crates into the house. Italy stayed to watch them out of curiousity.

"Who did we get this time?" I grabbed the manuals from the table.

Congratulations! You are now the proud owner of an ARTHUR KIRKLAND Unit!

Congratulations! You are now the proud owner of a FRANCIS BONNEFOIS Unit!

"Looks like we got England and France," I wasn't sure whether or not to panic, or just roll with it. France was a pervert, but I did have a bat. I could handle one member of the BTT, couldn't I? England was relatively alright, if a bit temperamental.

I felt something else inside France's envelope, and found a book with the title How To Stop the French From Invading Your Bed.

I sweatdropped. What the hell? "Who do we open first?"

"Iggy's in there?" America grinned. "Let's open him first!"

"Ve~, let's open big brother France's crate!" Italy cheered.

"How about we open them up randomly?" I suggested. Both crates looked the same, so I wasn't sure who was in which. I quickly scanned through the methods of waking them up. "Huh, I guess we could do the singing methods," I murmured. "I know the French national anthem pretty well…"

America pouted at me. "Hey, why does my citizen and sidekick know the French anthem anyway?" He whined.

"I had to do a language in high school, and my school only offered Spanish or French. I chose French," I poked his cheek to make him feel better, and he cheered up instantly. Honestly, he could never stay mad for long. "Just give me a minute…" I ran upstairs and grabbed my bat from inside my wardrobe, and then I ran back. "Okay, let's get this over with," I rested the bat on my shoulder and cleared my throat. "Allons enfants de la patrie, le jour de gloire est arriv..."

I wasn't even halfway through the first verse when I heard humming coming from inside the crate on the left. I stopped singing, but the humming continued. I went to go find a knife to open the crates, while Alfred started singing the American national anthem in a horrifically off-key manner.

As it turned out, I didn't need go find a knife to open England's crate because, suddenly, a hand broke through the crate and shot out of the top. "TURN THAT BLOODY SHIT OFF YOU BLOODY GIT!"

"Ve~!" Italy jumped behind me in terror. "Sorella save me!" I blinked as a man with short blonde hair, green eyes and rather large eyebrows climbed out of the broken top of the box. He glared at America, who stopped singing and beamed at him happily.

"Yo, Iggy!"

"DON'T CALL ME THAT, YOU WANKER!"

Just as he looked like he was about to attack America and choke the younger nation with his glasses, I remembered France. "Angleterre?" A thickly accented voice came from the other crate. "Angleterre, is that you? Would someone be so kind as to open this box, s'il vous plait?"

"Hold on," I skipped over to the crate and carefully removed the nails holding the top. As soon as I did, I found myself staring into a pair of gleaming blue eyes. "Wah!" I jumped backwards, not expecting the close proximity, and found myself face to face with a France doppelganger.

He climbed out of the box. "Merci," he smiled at me with all the charm he possessed, which was a lot let me tell you. "Bonjour, mademoiselle," he took my hand and kissed it. "Je m'appelle Francis Bonnefois, ma petite chaton, et toi?"

Before I could answer, England immediately tackled France away from me. "Get away from her, you perverted frog!" He yelled. "She doesn't understand your disgusting language!"

"Actually, je m'appelle Alexandra, mais vous pouvez m'appeler Alex," I smiled brightly at the two of them, who were both staring at me in shock. France's shock soon turned to amusement.

"Ohonhonhon~," he chuckled and started making bedroom eyes at me from the ground. "J'aimerais vous entendre parler ma langue dans son lit."

Whoa, dude, you have only known me all of five minutes. I immediately pointed my bat at his face in a threatening manner. "If you come so much as a foot near me with such thoughts I will crush you with this bat," I smiled at him brightly. "Am I clear?" His eyes widened in fear and he nodded several times, although I was sure his terror wouldn't last too long.

England started laughing, and then he smiled at me. "Please excuse my boorish behaviour earlier," he said in the smoothest British accent I had ever heard. "I am Arthur Kirkland, and you are?"

Well frick-frack, British accents are hot. I smiled at him and returned the bat to my shoulder. "My name is Alexandra, but you can call me Alex, or any other random assortment of non-insulting nicknames. I live with my twin, but he isn't here right now so I guess you'll meet him later." I gestured to their crates. "Do you guys want to take your things upstairs, or are you hungry?"

"Ve~," Italy hugged me from behind happily. "You'll like living here, big brother France!" He chirped. "Sorella is really pretty and she makes really good food and she cuddles me whenever I'm upset! Ve~…"

You adorable piece of humanity you. "And she's my sidekick now!" America ruffled the top of my hair while laughing his usual America laugh. "Her power is being super cute but still being able to kill you with a bat!" I like that power. Thanks America. France's eyes widened at that. Yeah, I wasn't joking about that. Fear me in all my below-average-height glory!

England was the first to speak. "I'd like to pick my room first, if it's not too much trouble love," Arthur said. France nodded as well.

I shrugged and nodded. "Alright, grab your things," I led them upstairs. "That's my room, that's Eric's room, that's America's room, and that's Italy's room," I pointed at each room in turn with my baseball bat. I was running out of space in this house, although Italy's room was virtually not in use since he had pretty much declared his preference of sleeping in my room. "Okay, you can pick your own rooms now."

"I'll take this one, love," England chose one of the rooms closer to the end of the corridor.

"Then I will have this one," France pointed to a door.

I stared at him weirdly. "Um…that's my room…"

"I know~"

Either England really didn't like France's continuous and perverted come-ons, or he just liked fighting France, but the next second later the two were involved in a scuffle with words like 'frog', 'eyebrows', 'wine pervert' and 'hideous' being tossed around. I sweatdropped and walked away. They'd make up on their own.

When I got downstairs, Eric was just walking into the house. "Allie, I'm home!" I jogged down the last few steps and skipped to the door. Eric hugged me, and then he stiffened. "Allie, why are there to people I don't know in our house?"

Apparently the two of them had made up faster than usual, or maybe they were just curious about my twin. "Uh, yeah…these are two more units," I introduced them. "This is Arthur Kirkland, and that is Francis Bonnefois."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," England greeted politely. Eric stared at him for a second, and then transferred his eyes to Francis.

His eyes narrowed. "You wouldn't happen to be French, would you?"

"Ah, oui monsieur," Francis smiled.

"ALLIE, WHY IS THERE A FRENCH GUY HERE? I WAS FINE WITH THE AMERICAN, AND THE ITALIAN, AND I AM FINE WITH THE ENGLISH GUY! YOU KNOW HOW I FEEL ABOUT YOU BEING AROUND GUYS AND NOW ONE OF THEM IS FRENCH?"

I sweatdropped. Eric didn't like me being around guys, and he believed the stereotype of all Frenchmen being handsome sex freaks. While I didn't completely believe all stereotypes, I knew Francis was kind of like that.

"Calm down, monsieur," Francis smirked. "I won't do anything ma petite chaton doesn't want~…"

"STAY AWAY FROM MY SISTER YOU FROG!" England snickered at the insult.

I grabbed my twin by the face and forced him to look at me. "Eric, chill," I said. "I will be fine. The French aren't perverts for the sake of being perverted, French way of life says that art is everywhere and should me admired, and the human body is the greatest work of art and should be admired in the same way. Besides," I smiled up at him. "I have a baseball bat, remember?"

There was stunned silence after my little monologue, and then Eric huffed and muttered something that sounded like alright. "But I'm watching you," he made the universal sign at France, and then went upstairs to change.

England stared at me curiously. "How do you know all that, love?" He asked me.

"Hmm?" I shrugged. "I read a book on French culture once, and I took a trip to France when I was fifteen. It was pretty beautiful." I couldn't look anywhere without seeing a couple kissing or hugging or holding hands. I even saw a couple kissing while riding a bicycle, which just seemed really dangerous and not romantic at all.

"Chaton!"

"Gack!" I chocked as France suddenly hugged me really tightly. "Hey, what the heck?"

"Tu étais si doux pour moi de défendre!" He cried melodramatically into my hair. "Such a kind heart held inside such a beautiful body!" I sweatdropped at his theatrics, and just decided to go for the thing I normally did in such a situation: I patted him on the head. Which was odd since, according to the manual, he was 26 and therefore about eight years older than I was, but meh. "Allow me to show my gratitude…"

Okay. "No thanks!" I pushed him away and looked at everyone else. "Who's hungry?"

"The hero!" America pumped his fist into the air. "I say we get McDonald's!

"No!" The unanimous, negative call immediately destroyed that choice.

"Maybe I could cook something, love," England suggested. I suddenly flashed back to all the episodes where England's cooking had nearly killed someone. Judging by the looks on everyone else's face, they were also thinking the same thing.

"Uh, no, Arthur," I tried not to sound too desperate. "It's your first day. You don't need to cook. I insist," I added, seeing that he was about to argue. "Really. It's fine. I'll go whip something up in the kitchen."

"Ve~, sorella, can we make pasta again?" Italy skipped into the kitchen after me. "We can make lasagne this time, ve~!"

Mmm, I hadn't had lasagne in ages. "Agreed," I nodded. "You get the pasta and sauce, and I'll get the cheese and spices!"

"Si~!"

England poked his head into the kitchen. "Are you sure I can't do anything to help, love?" He looked so hopeful, so in spite of the frantic head-shakes I was getting from the rest of the nations, I decided to let him cut up the garlic. I mean, he couldn't mess that up, right? How hard could it be to cut up some garli-! "Ouch! Bloody hell!"

The Englishman was glaring at his finger, which now had thin gash from which blood was welling up. Blood? I thought these units were mechanical! This is weird, but this isn't the time to be thinking of that. "England, are you okay?" I walked over to him and grabbed his hand without asking. "It doesn't look too bad, but I don't want it to get infected…Feli!"

"Si?"

"Find me the First Aid box. It should be in the cabinet beside the stairs!" He zoomed off, and soon reappeared with the red and white box.

"Ah, love, this isn't necessary!" England tried to dissuade me. "It's just a little scratch, after all."

"Yeah, but it could become worse," I grabbed a bottle of disinfectant and dabbed it on a cotton pad. "Now, give me your hand…"

"But…"

"Arthur…" I raised my voice a bit and glared at him. "Give me your hand, now. I will not have you walking around with a bloody hand!" The whole thing did make me feel a bit hypocritical, as I had once nearly hacked my finger off and had gone around like nothing had happened, but that was me. Salt and warm water were sufficient. "Now, hold still." I grabbed his hand and carefully dabbed the blood away, and then I grabbed a plain sticking plaster and wrapped it around his finger. "There we go!"

The English unit stared at his bandaged hand. I noticed that he was blushing very slightly. "T-Thank you…"

I smiled back. "You're welcome!" It looked like I was going to be the unofficial cook, nurse, maid and shopper around here. I foresaw a lot of work in my future.

"Ohonhon~, are you blushing mon lapin?"

"SHUT UP YOU BLOODY GIT!"

I ignored the arguing males and quickly packed up the medical things. I wandered back over to the stove. "Feli, how's the lasagne coming along?"

"Ve~, it smells good sorella!"

"You know what would make this even better?" America suddenly appeared with a bunch of glass and squeeze bottles. "Condiments!"

"America, where did you find those? AMERICA, NO! YOU CAN'T PUT MUSTARD IN THE SAUCE!"


Translations:

Je m'appelle Francis Bonnefois, ma petite chaton, et toi? - My name is Francis Bonnefois, my little kitten, and you?

Je m'appelle Alexandra, mais vous pouvez m'appeler Alex - My name is Alexandra but you can call me Alex

J'aimerais vous entendre parler ma langue dans son lit - I'd like to hear you speak my language in bed

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