Today it was raining over Camp Hetalia.

Arthur got up from his place on the bottom bunk and quietly got dressed, as his three cabin mates didn't seem to be stirring yet.

I wonder how this will affect the camp dynamic, Arthur thought, as he shrugged on the navy blue camp hoodie. He was sure that any outdoor activities that had been planned could easily be changed to give them something to do inside – it was the leisure time he was wondering about. Twenty-seven boys forced to stay indoors, with no TV, computers, or video game consoles, as such things weren't allowed at Camp Hetalia. He was sure a couple of boys must have brought cards or dice or something, but it was only a matter of time until they ended up killing each other.

I could blame it on cabin fever…Arthur mused, an uncanny smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. But who to take out first: Bonnefoy, Braginski, or Jones…

Suddenly, the door of his cabin burst open so violently that as it swung back and hit the wall, the force of it made the door bounce back and slam shut again. There was a cry of "RAIN – ", before the mystery guest was cut off by the door slamming into his face as he stepped into the doorway. Then there was an "OOOOOW!...OW! OW! OW!" and the door knob turned much more slowly.

A sheepish Alfred poked his head in , clutching his nose. "Artie, the door hit me in the face!"

Arthur found himself falling into the pose his body naturally took when facing Alfred F. Jones: arms crossed, one thick eyebrow raised into his fringe, tapping his foot. "Serves you right for being so inconsiderate. We're trying to sleep in here."

"No you're not. You're all dressed and everything!" Alfred pointed out. Arthur scoffed and looked to the side.

"Is there a reason you decided to barge in like lunatic?"

"Yeah!" smiled Alfred, lowering his hands from his nose to pump his fists excitedly. "Rainy day games!"

"What?" asked Arthur, fearing the answer but still curious nonetheless.

"It's awesome!" explained Alfred, going to examine his nose in the mirror by the door. "Whenever it rains at Camp Hetalia we play 'rainy day games'. There's not much to do when we can't go running around in the forest, so Mattie and Kiku invented this little tournament thing that we can do inside. It goes on all day, and there's all sorts of challenges – and prizes if we ever get round to buying anything. Most of the time we don't, but if it encourages you to play I promise we'll get prizes. You'll join in, right?"

"Who's playing?" asked Arthur, deciding to humour the boy until he could make up his mind as to how deadly it would be to participate.

"Everyone!" said Alfred happily, his eyes shining like the child he was. "All the campers join in! They don't all play every game, since there are so many. But we just see who wants to play each game and then battle it out."

"How do we know who wins if not everyone competes in everything?" Arthur wondered, his competitive side rearing its very ugly head.

"Most of the time, people only join in when they're super bored," Alfred explained, making himself comfortable on Arthur's neatly made bed. "There's only a few of us who actually do every challenge, so we just keep score for ourselves."

"And what sorts of challenges are they?" Arthur finally had to know. If it really was Kiku who had invented these games (and was 'Mattie' that shy blonde boy with glasses?) then they might not be that bad.

"Oh, all kinds! There's cards, dice, paper games, chicken – you can make some up too, if you want. Come on, it's so fun!"

Arthur stood looking down at Alfred's hopeful face appraisingly. "I…suppose I can do a few. When I'm bored."

"YES! This is gonna be so awesome!" Alfred breathed, doing another fist pump. "Okay, now hold out your hand."

Arthur looked at him for a moment before the order registered. He hesitantly held out his hand, palm up. Alfred grabbed it and turned it over, whipping a pen out of his pocket and scribbling something hard on the back of Arthur's hand.

"OW! That's my hand you dipshit! Don't press so hard!"

"Sorry, this pen sucks."

Alfred let go of Arthur's hand, and the shorter boy held it up to examine Jones' work. "'Zap!'" he read aloud, questioningly.

"Rainy day game number one!" Alfred announced proudly, standing up and placing his hands on his hips. "Whenever somebody says your name, you have to immediately tell us something about yourself. Then you can carry on talking normally."

"Why?" Arthur asked, a withering look on his face as he wondered why Alfred would possibly think he would stick to a foolish rule like that.

"Because! That's the game."

"Alright, then, give me your hand," Arthur commanded, reaching out for Alfred's wrist.

"No way!" the other teen laughed, scooting away from Arthur towards the door. "You were dumb enough to give me your hand. And I totally got Mattie and Kiku while they were all groggy and just waking up. If you want to 'zap' my hand, you have to be smarter than that."

Oh, Arthur was going to 'zap' him alright. Stupid bloody arrogant git.

"Okay. So. The games are going on all day. I'll let you know when one of them starts, and ends and stuff. And if you think of any let me know! It would be so cool to add more games in. You're gonna love it, Aaaartie."

Arthur frowned at Alfred's expectant stare, wondering if there was something stuck to his face. "What?"

"I said your name. You have to tell me something about you. Something good."

"That isn't my name so I don't have to tell you any – "

"Fine, Arthur, nicknames don't count. I can go with that."

Arthur glared and looked down at the floor, wondering what he should say. He was certainly not going to indulge the brat in anything interesting. "I like tea."

"Artie! That's – I mean, Arthur, that's lame. Try again."

"I…I've always wanted to come to Camp Hetalia. But it's not what I expected."

Alfred looked shocked, which made Arthur blush in embarrassment. Actually, it was probably irritation. Had that come out wrong? No, it was perfectly neutral. So why was – "

"I wish you could have come here for years like us, too," smiled Alfred. Arthur felt himself, most unfortunately, blushing even more. "But you're here now, so it's all good. And what do you mean it's not what you expected?"

"I'll save that one for later. Now can you please bugger off so I can finish getting ready."

"Sure thing, Arthur!"

"I hate you."

- ~ * Summer Camp * ~ -

It was only 9 o' clock. 9 o'clock in the bloody morning and he was already on challenge number six.

Arthur was starting to rue the day (well, today) when he had agreed to this stupid tournament.

So far he had had to compete in who could get their toothpaste spit in the sink from the furthest away; referee who could shower the quickest (this had been between Eduard, Raivis, Matthew, Lovino and Aontonio); participate in who could eat their breakfast the fastest; and test to see who (if anyone) could manage to get seconds from the dinner lady.

Then, of course, there had been a race to the cabin where their morning Critical Thinking workshop was going to be held.

Arthur was feeling ill. So very, very ill. The hurried breakfast followed by the running, not to mention the constant adrenaline rush in trying to win everything, oh, and let's not forget the ongoing humiliation of having to blab something about himself whenever someone said his name…Arthur felt like he was going to be sick, and the rainy day games had only been going on for half an hour.

Arthur went to sit down in his usual seat by the front door (as the new kid on day one, he had not wanted to claim a prime position in class for fear of drawing attention to himself), but to his surprise, Alfred grabbed his arm and dragged him over to the window on the other side of the room, where the American usually sat.

"You need to sit behind me, so I can pass you notes about the rainy day games in class."

"In class?" Arthur gasped, scandalised. "I will not be playing your stupid games in class; I want to pay attention. Do you know how good an opportunity we get here at Camp Hetalia – and you're just wasting it!"

"Dude, I come here every year. I know it looks good on our university applications and helps us do better at school and whatever," Alfred said, raising his eyes in exasperation, as if it was a speech he had had to give many times. "But it's summer camp, for crying out loud! We should get to have fun, too!"

"This is fun for me!" Arthur pleaded, but to no avail. Alfred pushed him down into a chair, then went to sit at the desk in front. To Arthur's surprise, he immediately whipped out a notebook from his bag and began intently scribbling on a blank page.

"Do not worry," Kiku comforted him, twisting around in his seat in the row next to Alfred. "We have been doing this for a long time. We know which games are possible to play in class without getting caught."

Arthur nodded, and waited. With dread.

Alfred at least let their critical thinking class get under way (which, as always, involved the traditional admonishments from their counsellor that only a select few had done their required reading) before Arthur found him placing a folded up piece of paper on the corner of his desk.

It was very intricately folded and Arthur had to dedicate all his attention to figuring out how to open it so that he could close it properly again afterwards.

'Rainy Day game number…5/6 (can't remember)

Pass the note around class until someone gets caught. You have to write something on the paper so I know you joined in. Otherwise, no points for you!

P.S. don't sign your name. Remember what happened that first time?

I'm the hero.'

Arthur wasn't sure how Alfred was keeping track of the Rainy Day Game points system, if he was at all. More likely he would just announce himself the irrefutable winner at the end of the day.

Arthur scribbled 'Francis is a prick ' underneath 'I'm the hero', re-folded it with some difficulty, and carefully placed it on the desk behind him.

As he heard the paper being unfolded once again he had a sudden idea for a new, much more enjoyable Rainy Day Game.

He pulled his paper closer and bent his head down as he quickly scrawled a new note. Then he folded it like the first one, into a little square envelope, and tapped Alfred on the shoulder with it.

Alfred turned his head curiously, saw the note in Arthur's oustretched hand, and frowned in confusion. He probably thought Arthur hadn't understood the rules of the other game and was passing the note back. Arthur nudged it into his shoulder again and nodded silently. Alfred took the note and turned back to his seat.

Arthur sat waiting, a smug grin on his face, knowing that Alfred would love his new challenge.

'Rainy day game number EIGHT:

See who can get Francis in trouble first. We could probably extend this to 'see who can get Francis in trouble most and/or worst' throughout the entire day. He won't tell on us, because of yesterday.'

He watched Alfred's back, waiting for a sign that the new challenge was on. Sure enough, the tall blonde turned his head just slightly, so that Arthur could see him wink over his shoulder.

Challenge accepted.

Arthur wasted no time at all. All this note passing had given him an idea. It must just be something about writing, coupled with getting Francis in trouble – he was feeling practically giddy.

Arthur tore off yet another piece of blank paper, feeling bad that his critical thinking notes had been completely ignored for the past few minutes. But it didn't stop him from scribbling away once again at something entirely not class related.

Once the new note was folded, he sat back and surveyed the room.

He could see Mathias trying to pass the original note to a very uninterested Nikolai, everyone else staring off into space or doodling. One or two (three might have been pushing it) were actually paying attention.

His problem was that Francis was all the way on the other side of the room. He, Gilbert and Antonio had three desks at the back, so that they could goof off a bit more without getting noticed. Francis was in the very corner, looking preoccupied. Gilbert and Antonio were leant towards each other, whispering creepily about something, but Francis was staring down at the pencil in his hands, twirling it round on the desk morosely.

Still feeling bad his actions yesterday, I hope, thought Arthur. Still, what with him being in the corner, Arthur supposed he could just launch his note over and nobody else would risk picking it up.

He decided to do a practice run, to get the French boy's attention. He broke off a piece of his eraser (the word he had swiftly learned to substitute for 'rubber' when he arrived at camp) and chucked it at Francis' head.

He cheered inwardly when the eraser hit its mark, bouncing off Francis' temple as the long-haired teen sat up straight and looked around. His eyes fell on Arthur, who was staring pointedly at him.

Arthur held up the little note in his hand, pointed at Francis, and then threw that over to him as well. But this time, he deliberately missed, so that it landed on the ground, and Francis had to bend beneath his desk to pick it up.

As soon as the French boy's head disappeared under his desk, Arthur shot his hand up in the air and waved it around to get their counsellor's attention.

She had been preoccupied with writing on the board when Arthur made his move throwing the rubber and paper to Francis. But she had just turned round, and now spotted one of the campers waving frantically.

"Yes, Arthur?"

"Counsellor Helena, Francis keeps trying to get my attention – I think he's trying to pass me a note. It's very distracting."

Francis had just reappeared above the table, note in hand. Everyone turned to look at him, and Counsellor Helena scowled.

"Mr. Bonnefoy, if what you have to say to Mr. Kirkland is so important that you feel the need to disrupt him in class, I will allow you to read it aloud to him before I send you out of the room for the rest of the workshop."

Francis looked terrified, having guessed that Arthur must have planned on this and would have written something incriminating or embarrassing inside the note.

"Non, it is not so important," Francis said, his voice slightly pleading, as if begging Counsellor Helena not to push the issue.

No such luck.

"Then please allow me," said the young woman, who was looking more and more beautiful to Arthur as she humiliated Bonnefoy just as he had hoped.

Francis had no choice but to hand over the note, the eyes of all the other campers following his every movement. Counsellor Helena brushed her long dark plait off her shoulder and stood up straight to read the letter.

" 'Cher Arthur,

Who is your favourite camp counsellor? I think Helena is the sexiest. I particularly like her sweet little derriere. But Legolas has such long beautiful hair - I'm quite envious. I just want to brush it and stroke it.' "

Counsellor Helena's reaction would have been worth it even if Francis wasn't going to get into a shitload of trouble. Arthur was in so much pain trying to contain himself it almost felt like he was getting punished, too. But he almost needn't have bothered – the roars from the rest of the campers would have drowned out his laughter quite easily.

Arthur noticed with delight that Alfred had collapsed over his desk, and actually seemed to be crying. Seeing that made it worth it, too.

I mean, just because he had made Alfred cry. Which was so stupid. He would definitely tease him about it later.

- ~ * Summer Camp * ~ -

Rainy day game number 12:

"We're gonna have a game of 'snap'. Okay, Arthur?"

"I don't care what anyone says, I like sweater vests." (At least this stupid 'zap' game had encouraged Alfred to drop the ridiculous nickname habit.) "'Snap'? As in the most simple of all card games? Throwing cards on the floor and slapping your hand on the pile when you see a pair? That 'snap'?"

"Yup. We'll be doing poker and stuff later, but since this is just a short break…" Alfred pulled out a deck of cards and began shuffling them.

The two of them, plus Kiku, Heracles and Matthew (which was apparently that other blonde boy's name, and Arthur was really trying to make it stick this time) were lounging in Kiku's cabin during a break in between their morning activities. It was still raining, and there was no end of the rainy day games tournament in sight.

"We'll do a round robin, okay, guys? Face off against each other in two-on-two, and then work our way up to an overall winner. Which is totally gonna be me." The others all nodded.

Arthur beat Matthew, whose delicate reflexes rather suggested 'snap' was not his best game. He also beat Heracles, whose heart didn't really seem to be in it since he barely made any move to slam his hand down when he saw a pair. Arthur felt somewhat awkward playing such a stupid game with Kiku, but they got into it and Kiku won.

Alfred plonked down on the floor, kneeling and bent close over the pile, and tensing as if he were about to begin a sprint. Arthur sighed, and tried to get in a similar position so he could at least have a chance of beating the American.

They each began throwing cards down, and at the first pair of Aces both slammed their hands down shouting "SNAP!"

Arthur was ridiculously uncomfortable with the way he became excited and nervous at touching Alfred's hand like this. It was just adrenaline, he told himself. Just because they were in competition.

Even though he hadn't felt that way when Kiku's or Matthew's hands had knocked against his in their games.

Arthur practically tore his hand away, completely oblivious to the fact that he had won the pile that time. Alfred was just laughing, and it seemed far more annoying than usual. Like he didn't care that Arthur was…

God dammit. What had changed since yesterday? Why did Alfred suddenly…stand out so much to him?

Shut up. Forget about it. Just ignore it. Doesn't matter. Didn't happen. Anyway. There we go. What's next?

It was probably easier to shut up and forget about it when it didn't happen over and over again as they worked their way through a deck of cards.

After he and Alfred were finally done, and the round-robin called for them to play each other again, Arthur remembered that he had to go and make sure his bed was made properly, so he couldn't play anymore.

- ~ * Summer Camp * ~ -

Rainy Day Game number 23:

"You're gonna love this one, Arthur!"

Arthur lifted up his hand to remind Alfred that he had washed the 'zap!' off at the beginning of lunch. Apparently you weren't allowed to deliberately wash it off – you had to wait until you needed to go the bathroom, then it was allowed.

"Oh, right," said Alfred sadly. "Anyway, game number…whatever: chicken."

"Oh, God."

"All you have to do is go in there, grab Ivan's pillow, bring it out here and hug it so I can make sure you actually do it, then go put it back."

"But…" Arthur stammered, not wanting to sound too scared of the giant boulder of a teenager who had, not even 24 hours ago, helped try and murder him. Well, sort of.

The two blondes were standing underneath a tree out of the rain, with Ivan's cabin right in front of them – its open doorway looking like a big, dark mouth ready to swallow Arthur whole. "But what if he can smell me on the pillow when he goes to bed later?" Arthur whispered, leaning away from the cabin towards Alfred. "And he comes to get me?"

"You'll just have to risk it," Alfred grinned down at him. "Or forfeit. But if you forfeit I get to zap you again, and you have to tell me embarrassing stuff when I say your name this time!"

"Why am I the only one doing this? Don't you have to play chicken, too?"

"I'll do mine during our next break. We can't go at the same time."

Arthur grumbled to show his displeasure, but decided that after yesterday's impressive show of bravery he was not going to let himself down.

The adrenaline was rushing through him so powerfully that he barely registered what he was doing. Somehow, in his trance-like state of nervousness, he figured out which one was Ivan's bunk, grabbed the pillow and headed back to the doorway. Alfred stood waiting for him underneath the tree and nodded for him to carry on with the next bit of the plan. Arthur hugged the pillow and Alfred clapped his hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter. "Hurry!" he choked out, and Arthur didn't need telling twice. He ran back in shoved the pillow back in its original spot before whirling round and darting towards the door.

But just as he did so, Yao entered the cabin.

"What are you doing in here, aru?" he asked, not looking too suspicious, but in Arthur's head Yao knew everything and was going to tell Ivan and he was going to be murdered!

"It was totally my fault!" Alfred called. Arthur peered round Yao and saw the American leaning into the room, with one hand on either side of the doorframe. "Heracles borrowed something from me and then forgot to give it back, so I asked Arthur to go get it for me. But he didn't know where it was. So yeah. We'll just be going now."

He jerked his head to point back outside, and Arthur suddenly remembered how to move. He practically ran out of the cabin – pride be damned.

"I didn't really do much when I came to your rescue yesterday," Alfred said out of nowhere. Arthur looked up him his wide eyes. "So that was to make up for it."

He looked bashful, and Arthur really, really didn't like it. Not one bit. It meant…too much.

"You were fine yesterday," he tried to reply breezily. "You must have fought off two whole camp teams to get to the train tracks in time. That's not so bad. And you stopped the train all by yourself."

Alfred's eyes got their sparkle back. "Yeah! I was totally a hero! Even though you talked your way out of it in the end, I still fought off the bandits!"

Arthur rolled his eyes, and the two of them headed back to the cabin for the still drawing class which would be substituting their basketball game that afternoon.

- ~ * Summer Camp * ~ -

Arthur was now certain that Alfred was not keeping track of the points for these challenges. Most of their little games were almost impossible to measure, anyway.

Like: count how many times Lovino swears at Antonio throughout the day. Arthur had honestly tried, but gave up quicker than he'd ever given up anything in his life before.

When he realised the flaw in these games, Arthur suggested changing the rules to something more of a betting challenge. They could pick a time limit, make a guess for how many times the thing happened, and then see who was closest.

When word spread among the campers about this much more simple and feasible method of playing Alfred's Rainy Day Games, many more of the boys joined in.

So far they had gambled and taken bets on:

- How many times Lovino would swear at Antonio in a quarter of an hour (it had originally been a whole hour, but they found themselves losing track at the exorbitant number pretty swiftly)

- How long Alfred could be quiet (Arthur tried to use the term 'epic fail' sparingly, but this was a perfect occasion to break it out)

- How many times Francis would touch people inappropriately in an hour (Arthur was sure it would be higher, but the French boy was still rather subdued after his humiliation this morning)

- How often Heracles would wander over to be near Kiku during art class (this was just a bet between the other members of Team Alpha Dog, who had made sure the two teens in question were placed on opposite sides of the room)

- How many times Gilbert used the word "awesome" in thirty minutes

- And then a simple yes or no bet as to whether Feliciano could stay concentrated on his drawing or whether he would mention dinner

"So you made up these Rainy Day Games a previous summer?" Arthur asked Kiku as they tidied up their drawing supplies.

"Nn," Kiku nodded. "One summer it rained for the first ten days of camp, and Alfred was…a little…"

"I understand," said Arthur, feeling truly sorry for what the poor campers must have gone through, with Alfred F. Jones driving everyone to distraction by being cooped up for so long.

"We do a similar thing on long car rides," said Matthew shyly. "Alfred's always been like that, so Mom and Dad have to play all sorts of games with him in the car to keep him busy."

"Oh!" Arthur exclaimed. "Are you telling me you two are brothers? I had no idea!" Matthew and Kiku both looked at him as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Uh – I mean, I'm sure somebody told me, but I must have forgotten. Since you two are so different."

"Yeah, that happens a lot," Matthew sighed, and Arthur could tell his reaction had been fairly typical.

Now that he thought about it, he supposed they did look sort of similar. But Alfred was always so lively and exuberant, and Matthew so quiet and reticent, that their faces never held the same expressions and it was easy not to notice the family resemblances.

"Anyway," said Arthur. "What you're saying is, you had to invent a day-long tournament just to keep a seventeen year old boy occupied on rainy days?"

"Um, yes. That is correct."

"I swear to God – "

"Hey, Artie, I need to try something. Give me your hand for a second."

Arthur felt a jolt of…No! There was nothing! No electricity whatsoever. Some moron just grabbed his hand tightly that was all. It didn't make him nervous or anything at all.

Arthur was so busy ignoring anything his body tried to tell him that he forgot to be suspicious of what Alfred was doing.

And that was how he found himself with 'Zap!' written on his hand once again.

- ~ * Summer Camp * ~ -

Rainy Day Game number 39:

"It's a shame there are no girls, or we could play the Pocky game," said Alfred, wistfully.

"I won't even ask. But I have a game."

"Oh, yeah? What is it, Arthur?"

Arthur glared. "I believe in the once and future king," he said, cryptically. "I don't know, you might not be able to handle this game, Jones. It requires lots of – "

"I can do anything! I'm a hero. Just lay down the rules."

Arthur pointed him towards the window, raindrops streaming down the outside and making a pattern of streaks and dots all over the surface.

"We stand by the window. And each of us picks a raindrop at the top." Arthur smiled at the intense look on Alfred's face as he stared at the glass. "And whosever raindrop gets to the bottom of the window frame first is the winner."

"So it's like betting on a race!" Alfred said excitedly, looking at Arthur for confirmation. Arthur nodded. "Sweet! Okay. You say when we start."

"Okay, on three, we each pick a raindrop up here. One…two…three!"

They each pointed at their respective raindrops and spent a surprisingly loud and competitive minute or two watching them race each other to the bottom.

Alfred liked that one so much that they played it all the way until dinner time.

- ~ * Summer Camp * ~ -

Rainy Day Game number 52:

"Dude! Mattie! We almost forgot about the glasses game!"

Arthur watched Matthew visibly shrink into himself. It was impressively pathetic – no predator could possibly hurt something that sad looking. It would be like kicking a puppy.

Team Alpha Dog was standing on the porch of Matthew's cabin, where they had been instructed to wait for Alfred before he dashed off on some private mission.

The rain was still hammering into the ground and night had fallen early over the forest because of the dark black clouds. The lamps on the covered wooden porch were the only things giving off any light, making everything around the cabin look a muddy orange colour.

Now Alfred had reappeared, clearly bearing a new challenge that was just between the two twins.

"Eduard, Roderich and Berwald don't wanna play, 'cause they're a bunch of douchebags. So it's just me and you, little brother!"

Matthew heaved a sigh that was almost longer than any sentence Arthur had him utter so far. He walked slowly down the steps of the cabin, as one condemned, and went to stand beside his brother in the pouring rain.

Alfred was happily oblivious to his brother's misery. He looked up at his other teammates. "Anyone got a stopwatch?"

"Yeah, how long do you want?" asked Miguel, holding out his wrist.

"Thirty seconds," said Alfred. "Just say when."

Arthur watched in bewilderment, confusion, surprise, interest and so many of those other emotional reactions now associated with Alfred Jones, as the two twins took off their glasses and held them out carefully, with one hand shielding the frames from the rain.

"Okay, ready?...Go!"

Suddenly, Alfred was holding up his glasses and darting about to and fro in the mud, with seemingly no direction in mind. Matthew was standing still and holding his glasses high above his head, leaning his arms one way and the other to try and…Arthur gave up trying to figure it out.

"Who can get the most drops of water on their glasses," Kiku whispered in his ear.

"Good…Lord…"

It was the most ridiculous display Arthur had ever seen. And he couldn't help but double over with laughter.

- ~ * Summer Camp * ~ -

Rainy Day Game number 69:

"I have a new game. Would you like to try?"

"Sure, Iggy! Ah! I mean, Arthur!"

"Too late: you said 'Iggy' first. It doesn't count."

They were sprawled on the floor of Arthur's cabin – the 'quiet cabin', because everyone who roomed there was nice and sensible. Or, as Alfred put it: 'boring.' The camp counsellors, in a merciful display of understanding, managed to group together fairly similar individuals, so that those who liked things nice and peaceful at bed time (like Arthur, Roderich, Vash, Eduard and Ice) shared a cabin, and those who liked to be a complete nuisance at all hours (for example, Alfred, Gilbert, Yong Soo and Mathias) were kept together in the 'loud cabin'. Away from the other poor souls at Camp Hetalia.

They had started out in Alfred's cabin, of course, but the American boy was unusually intent on their rainy day games, and had demanded they move somewhere quieter before he straight-up murdered Mathias for walking all over their hangman paper again.

So now Alfred and Arthur were hanging out in 'the quiet cabin' – whose other occupants were out visiting the other campers, it seemed. Matthew, Miguel, Kiku and Heracles had all disappeared, too. Arthur didn't mind – this must be the first time in years where they could fob the annoying teen off on someone else, and let them deal with him. Arthur rather felt like the babysitter for a couple who had just had a new baby and were taking their first night off.

They were surrounded by piles of crumpled notebook paper. There were games of tic-tac-toe and consequences. Pages and pages of hangman, with answers ranging from "Gryffindor" and "Big Mac meal" to "wanker" and "Miley Cyrus". (In Alfred's defense, it had been a good one – Arthur hadn't been able to figure it out, what with those 'y's and the fact that it was a bleeding tween pop star.)

"Pass me that pen," said Arthur, gesturing to the marker lying half under the bed beside Alfred. Instead of reaching over, Alfred rolled over and over until he was almost under the bed, picked up the pen and rolled back again. He stayed lying down on his back, but held up the pen for Arthur to take from him.

"Thank you. Now hold still."

Arthur knelt forward to lean in over Alfred's face, and cupped his face in one hand.

He completely ignored the victorious little voice in his head that congratulated him on finding and excuse to get that close. He'd been wanting to do that all day!

No he hadn't! Shut up. Don't listen to that. Never mind. Carry on.

Alfred looked shocked, but not horrified. He seemed to calm down as he realised Arthur was just writing something on his cheek, but he didn't stop piercing Arthur with those sky blue...Not that Arthur had really noticed the colour of his eyes. They weren't that unique. And it wasn't like he was avoiding looking back at him right now. Because that would mean he felt nervous to look at him, and he didn't!

Arthur leant back and put the lid of the pen back on, before fiddling with it very intently in his lap.

Alfred rubbed his cheek and went to look in the mirror for Arthur's mirror for the second time that day. "'Pow'?"

"Yes, it's a new game. Whenever somebody calls you a mean name, you have to tell us something about yourself."

"This is a lot like that other game I told you about this morning, wouldn't ya say?" Alfred grinned over his shoulder at Arthur. "In fact, I would go so far as to say they're almost identical."

"This is hardly derivative of 'zap', if that's what you're implying," Arthur smirked in reply. "When playing 'pow' it all depends on when someone doesn't say your name. Do you understand, git?"

"It still seems kind of a rip-off…"

"Oh, so you can dish it out, but you can't take it?" Alfred glared at him, but with a smile on his face. "Is that how it is, git?"

Alfred came and sat back down in front of him. He crossed his legs, rested his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands and leaned in. Challenge accepted.

"I'm so glad you came to Camp Hetalia this year, Arthur."

Arthur suddenly felt very warm, and regretful about his brilliant new game. Now he had to tell Alfred something about him. Well, two could, and would, play at that game, even if they did just go round in circles.

"I'm glad that I came, too, you big moron."

"I'm glad we're friends now, Arthur."

Arthur blanched, but recovered quickly. "I…didn't even notice." This didn't really feel like admitting something, as the rules of the game dictated. But he hoped that Alfred would let it slide – that he would see what Arthur really meant behind it was: 'yes, we are, aren't we.' "How did that happen, tosser?"

"I can win anybody round, Arthur."

"Apparently so. You're…not as bad as I thought at first, you pillock."

"I love your accent and your British insults, Arthur."

Arthur's body was on fire, and his mind was too busy worrying about Alfred noticing his sudden case of the shivers to worry about denying it all.

"I-I like your…" He actually had to gulp. How humiliating! "I like how you were going to sacrifice the trophy for me yesterday. Dumb sod." Oh, it was so embarrassing to admit, even though it had no reason to be.

Alfred's slow, victorious smile was dangerous. At least to Arthur. He had to make a mental note to avoid it in the future, but right now he would enjoy getting one last look at it.

"I don't think you're very good at this 'pow' game," Alfred whispered, leaning forwards in a way that invited Arthur's body to copy him. "You said you would be calling me harsh names – but I know you don't mean any of it really, Arthur."

They were playing a new game now. One that wasn't on their list of rainy day distractions, but they both knew they were playing.

It was thrilling. And tense and terrifying and embarrassing and the stakes were much too high. Alfred could make a fool out of him if he made one wrong move.

So Arthur quit.

Luckily, Alfred couldn't tease him about giving up, since neither of them had acknowledged that they were playing this new game. Arthur could quit, and Alfred couldn't say a word.

"I would like…to go back to the 'loud cabin' and play Yahtzee with everyone."

A/N: I just…I just kept thinking up more and more games and little moments I wanted to write about. This story really just has a love affair with my fingers and the keyboard – I swear, my brain and I have nothing to do with it!

OH NO! I forgot to do the staring contest!