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Disclaimer: I don't own hetalia...
"Needless to say, we are no longer on speaking terms." the Brit explained.
"Fascinating. Do you mind doing something about that?" Francis said, pointing to the the tea in Arthur's hands. "It's kinda freaking me out."
"Yes, I do mind. I like him, he's like my own version of Chip from Beauty and the Beast. Isn't that right Chippy?"
"Yeah!" Chippy (the tea) replied.
"You do know that Chip was the actual cup right? Not the tea inside." the Frenchman pointed out.
"Yes, I know that, but until you can tell me how to bring tea cups to life, Chippy will do."
" You do you realize that you look madder than the Mad Hatter talking to that drink of yours?"
"Do you really think so? I've always considered him as a role model," Arthur said to the blond who was now shaking his head. "Let's advance to my tenth dish, shall we? He and I actually got along pretty well."
"Did you refer to your dish as a 'he'?"
"Really? You realize this now? I've called every single one of my dishes by a pronoun." The Brit responded incredulously. "But nevermind that, let's get back to the story."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~flashback~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Please don't come to life, please don't come to life, the Englishman chanted as he placed his neon orange dish on the picnic table.
"Well, howdy sir," His meal greeted in a southern accent. Damn it, Arthur thought plopping in a chair.
"So, how come you have that accent?" the Brit asked.
"Remember when you put those cowboy boots put in me?"
"Oh yeah," The brit said, recalling the event. "So, what do you wanna do now?"
"Well aren't you gonna eat me?"
"Contrary to popular belief, I actually don't enjoy eating foods that can talk."
"Well, then why do you make all your dishes like that?"
"I don't plan on it, it just happens!"
"Woah, cool down pal. Wanna talk about it over tea?" the meal offered motioning to the teapot beside it.
"Sure," The Englishman then proceeded to pour the tea into two cups, giving one to it's dish. "Do you mind if I call you Sam? I just want to be able to call you something."
"Actually, I'd prefer it if you call me Jett. It's is my given name afterall."
"That's a cool name. Which parent decided to call you that?"
"Oh, well that was my father," Jett said in a hush tone.
"Why did you whisper that?"
"'Cause I don't like to talk about him, much less even mention his name. But I shouldn't even be talking about this. A true southern gent would never trouble anyone with their problems."
"No, I want to hear about. In fact, I insist you tell me."
"Well, I mean if you want me to, then I guess I could. A few years ago, my father and I had a heated argument and haven't talked since."
"Have you ever called him to apologize?"
"No, but he has called me. I've just been too stubborn to even pick up the phone and hear him out."
"You know what you should do then? You should go visit your father and hear him out in person."
"I don't know if I could do that. I mean, we haven't talked to each other in a really long to time. How will I be sure if he wants to see me?"
"He's your father, he'll always want to see you," the Brit reasoned.
"You know what? You're right, I'm going to go see him. I'm going to go see him right now." With that, Jett jumped off the table and started to head for the fence gate.
"Wait!" the dirty blond cried, catching up to the yellow figure. "Call me after you talk to your dad. My number is 834-3390."
"I'll make sure to do so," Jett said. "Thanks for all the help."
"No problem. Now go on, the sooner you go, you sooner you get reconcile with your father."
"You're right." Jett swiftly unlocked the gate, and was on his way.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~end of flashback~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"I hope he makes up with his father," Chippy called out.
"So do I," Arthur agreed, smiling at the drink.
"How the hell did Jett have an argument with his dad years ago if you made him two minutes beforehand?" the Frenchman questioned
"That's not the point. The you point is that I helped somebody and you didn't. Making me a better person than you are."
"Quoi? How does that have-"
"Anyway," the Brit interrupted. "my eleventh one was the most heroic."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ flashback ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
How the hell is this dish snow white? Arthur thought, staring down at his dish. I literally threw dirt in this. The Englishman, not paying attention to where he was walking, accidently bumped into a barrel of toxic waste and threw his inside. He starred as the toxic waste started to boil. Well, that one's gone. Guess I should start working on my twelfth one. He was just about to go back to the cauldron, when he something emerged from the barrel and shot into the sky. He looked up and saw it was his dish in a super hero pose with a purple cape hanging from it's neck.
"I am Toxic Sludge!" it proclaimed. Arthur was still attempting to process what just happened when a purple TS highlighted the sky. The Brit quickly realized what was happening and knew that someone, somewhere needed Toxic Sludge so he cried to him, "Go! Go Toxic Sludge, they need you out there!". The super sludge hugged the Brit and whispered to him, "I'll never forget you," then he was off. I'll never forget you too, Arthur thought as he watch his dish fly away.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ end of flashback ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
