A/N: Holy shit. Is this really happening? Am I finally updating after all of these months? Yeah, I am. Wow. Sorry for the super-hiatus. I was struck with a horrible writer's block and a sudden urge to make a chapter long, but by the looks of this chapter it's no longer than any other one that I've posted. Oh, well. Hopefully it's not bad.
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. Or else I would have heavily parodized the French Revolution.


Alfred lazily opened his eyes and blinked away some of the remaining drowsiness. He sat up, glanced around, and immediately reached for his glasses on the nightstand beside the guest room bed. What was a hero without his glasses? Unluckily for Alfred, he went to grope around for them, but he felt nothing. Panicked, he leaned in closer to the nightstand. Still no glasses. At this point, Alfred stood up and stumbled around the room, opening drawers and doors, but not finding his glasses. He did, however, manage to take a shower and get in some decent clothing. I did say I was going to be ready before Iggy. It's only… Alfred leaned in toward the clock on the nightstand. About 6:30 in the morning. He wouldn't be ready to leave yet, right? The meeting doesn't start until 8 and it only takes 10 minutes to get to the building from here… America shook his head– now was not the time to be thinking about beating Arthur to getting ready. He had to find his glasses. Alfred continued to rummage through his belongings, finally spotting his spectacles perched atop his suitcase. Right in plain sight… but I swear that's not where they were before. He thought, placing the specs on his face and transforming the world into a clear landscape instead of a bundle of blurs. Feeling satisfied, he walked down to the kitchen to prepare breakfast.

Upon his arrival in the kitchen, he spotted Arthur, looking completely ready to go. He was sitting in a chair at a table for four, sipping tea casually. The Brit smirked as he glanced in Alfred's direction.

"I knew I'd be ready before you."

"I definitely would've been ready if I had found my glasses sooner!" Alfred declared.

"You say that, but you were sleeping not 10 minutes ago."

"And how did you know that?"

Alfred watched as Arthur's cheeks reddened. "I-I walked past the room and the door was shut. I could hear you snoring."

"The hero doesn't snore! You probably walked in to check on me." Alfred remarked, looking smug.

Arthur spluttered. "I-I did not go into your room to check on you."

"Then why are you blushing?"

"I'm not blushing, it's hot in your house!"

"You're just saying that because you're a cold-hearted Brit~!"

"I am not cold-hearted! Who was it that left me when they were a colony?"

"I wasn't being cold-hearted then, I was being rational!"

"Rational? Did you ever think how broken-hearted you'd left me? I loved you, you git!"

Alfred paused in the argument and watched as Arthur's eyes widened in shock.

"L-loved you like a brother, th-that is. Let's not waste any more time. We'll be late for the meeting. When you're ready, I'll be in the car. I'll drive us." With that, Arthur turned abruptly on his heel and sped out of his house, closing the door firmly. Alfred let the last few words sink in, but over it all he could only think one thing: Didn't Arthur say he would leave without me?

-:-

The ride to the meeting was silent and incredibly uncomfortable for both nations. Alfred, however, found the silence to be particularly strangling, especially seeing as Arthur looked incredibly troubled in the driver's seat next to him. His cheeks were flushed a harsh shade of pink– a look that Alfred told himself was not cute at all– and his knuckles were practically white from gripping the steering wheel so hard. Contrary to his appearance, Arthur was still driving the speed limit. Of course he'd still obey the law under stress, Alfred thought to himself. Honestly, he really would have liked to be bugging the Brit at that very moment, but Alfred was afraid that if he said anything, he'd startle Arthur into swerving off the road to their untimely demise. So Alfred continued to fiddle with his iPhone on the surprisingly long drive to the meeting hall. Pulling up the Notes application, he took another sideways glance at Arthur. If he had to guess, he would say that England was definitely worried about something– but what? Was it the meeting? Arthur was presenting something at the meeting– or, at least, he was supposed to. With the way meetings usually went among the nations, he doubted they'd get past the first sentence of the first person to present. Arthur caught Alfred's gaze for a moment, but quickly turned his eyes back to the road, his cheeks visibly flushing.

"Why are you staring at me so intently?" He asserted.

"It's not my fault that your caterpillars attract the wrong kind of attention, Iggy." Alfred responded, watching with a small smile as Arthur's features turned a lovely shade of scarlet, his brow furrowing.

"Don't call me that. And they are not caterpillars!"

"Are you kidding? You could land a plane on those suckers!"

"It'd be an awfully small plane. Perhaps the size of your brain."

"Aw, don't be so cold-hearted, Iggy."

England had no retort, much to Alfred's pleasure. He returned to browsing through the random notes on his iPhone- most of them were about new TV shows broadcasting, and there were a few that his boss had written about what to say at the meetings in which he was called upon to present something. Finding the notes to be boring, he chose to put his iPhone away and stare at the scenery. America could honestly say that if you really stopped and looked around, England was a very attractive place. Sure, a lot of the buildings looked decrepit, but sometimes Alfred thought that was what gave England some of its charm. As they came closer to the meeting hall, and essentially the center of London, he noted that the buildings looked newer and the people, younger. Pulling up to the meeting hall, Arthur looked at his former colony.

"Well? What are you waiting for? We're here."

Alfred snapped out of his reverie and stepped out of England's car. "I knew that! I was just distracted because your car's so old." After receiving a glare from Arthur, the two nations walked inside the building and rode the elevator to the top floor, where the meeting room was. The pair walked to the room in a stiff silence, Arthur seemingly looking at anything that wasn't America. The latter, however, seemed to be glancing back and forth between England and the path ahead of them. Alfred had to wonder why the Brit was being so unnaturally quiet. Usually the two couldn't keep from bickering– and it usually started with Arthur telling Alfred that he needed to watch his posture, or his weight, or less TV. All of this, Alfred ignored, of course. Still, it puzzled the American to see the Englishman so... on edge. Not only did it baffle Alfred, it downright worried him– almost more than the Brit losing his memory (however, he rationed that nothing could ever freak him out more than that- not even a horror film.) Before Alfred knew it, the two had arrived before the grand double-doors of the main conference room. He opened the door, and motioned for Arthur to walk in.

"I can hold open a door for myself, you know," The Englishman retorted.

"Well, excuse me for trying to do a close friend a favor."

Alfred missed the light pink dusted on Arthur's cheeks as they sat in their respective seats. Soon after, the meeting began, and everything flowed as usual. Well, that would be true if things 'flowed' at all in their world meetings. 'The usual' consisted of Feliciano bugging Germany about when they were eating pasta, France molesting Spain, Romano getting pissed at Spain for not noticing that he was being molested, Belarus trying to get Russia to marry her, Ukraine bawling, Latvia trembling, China complaining to Alfred about "unpaid debts, aru," Cuba mistaking Canada for America, and Hungary bashing Prussia's face in with a frying pan.

Yes. The usual at these world meetings was… well, rather hectic, to put it lightly. At this particular meeting, the usual carried on for quite a while until England dodged Francis on his way to the front of the room to silence everyone. Surprisingly, they obliged quickly and gave England some of their attention.

"Well, thank you for your attention. Now," England shuffled some papers at the podium, looking nervous. "I have an announcement concerning the oil spill…" Many nations groaned at the sound of that, including America. Arthur had been making countless excuses in the past few weeks to cover up for the little to no help he had provided to the spill in the Gulf of Mexico. "We're doing all we can, and it's difficult. We have some of the best scientists in the world, and even their first trial failed. We just need a few more days-"

"You said you needed a few more days a few days ago. England, how long is this going to take?" America stood, giving England a hard glare.

"My boss said just a few more days and we'll work something out-"

"I think that's absolute bull, England! You don't really care at all! You say you have the best scientists but really that's just a lie."

"I'm not lying, Alfred, really, we're doing the best we can-"

"Then why couldn't you have planned ahead back when you were planting this rig in my front yard? Are you really that careless?"

"Alfred F. Jones, I am not careless!"

"You sure seem to not care for this spill at all!"

"Are you absolutely daft? Do you not realize that I want to do the most I can to help you?"

"Then tell me, England, why was that paper concerning this issue labeled 'Unimportant' on your desk?"

"That was my boss! He's the one restraining me!"

"Sounds kinky, mon cher." France interjected. England shot him a glare.

"You stay out of this, frog."

"It was only a comment, l'Angleterre. Don't get so worked up."

"I am not getting worked up."

"Ve~ I'm hungry. When are we going to eat?" Italy whined.

England, being the host of the meeting, sighed heavily. "Well, I suppose now is a good time for a lunch break. I expect all of you to be back within the hour."

America stormed out of the meeting room, positively fuming. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself down. Perhaps he had been a tad irrational; after all, he only heard about half of what England said. Talking a walk to his favorite fast food eatery of all time, McDonald's, he recollected the recent events in the meeting room. England just sounded like he was passing off the spill like it was nothing! Does he really not care? Alfred wondered, feeling strangely hurt. He didn't know why, though, so he just brushed it off and walked into the McDonald's entrance. Getting his usual order, he planted himself at the booth in the very back of the restaurant by the window, the seat no one ever bothered to sit at. Not that Alfred knew why– that seat in particular gave you a perfect view of the outside world, say you to ok the time to look up from your food long enough. Today, Alfred kept his eyes trained on his food, and some random notebooks that were supposed to be for taking notes at meetings. He remained like this so if any nations happened to be walking past (like Germany, for example) it would seem like was actually working. But really, Alfred couldn't take his mind off of Arthur. Having cooled down enough to rationalize his recent behavior, he realized that he did miss about half of what Arthur was saying; what if the Brit really did care, and America simply didn't hear anything? He shook his head, quickly banishing the thought from his mind. That's impossible. The strange hurt feeling resurfaced itself, and just like last time, America simply did not know why he felt that way. I mean, this is Arthur– he stopped caring just after the Revolution occurred.

Just at that moment, the American heard the bells ring at the door. Probably another human or something coming in for lunch, he rationed, turning back to his half-eaten burger and fries.

-:-

Arthur sighed, rubbing his temples.

"He's quite oblivious, isn't he, mon cher?"

England gave a start at the sound of Francis' voice, looking at him with surprised eyes that soon turned scornful. "What the bloody hell are you still doing here? Shouldn't you be getting lunch?"

"Talk to him."

"Wh-what?"

"Do you not have ears? I said talk to him. Amerique is young, and doesn't understand your feelings for him."

"I have no idea what you're talking about, frog."

"Ah, don't play dumb, Angleterre; that is America's job." England couldn't help but give the ghost of a smile at that remark. "Everyone in the world knows your infatuation with Amerique."

Arthur blushed. Was it really that obvious? "I-I really haven't the slightest clue what you mean-"

"Arthur." Francis gave him a serious stare, one he hadn't seen on the Frenchman in a while. "Don't play dumb with me, mon cher, I know you know what I am talking about. Everyone knows how you feel for Alfred, except for, well, Alfred. You need to give him a clear picture of your feelings for him. But first, you must apologize for your boss' seemingly uncaring behavior. And make sure he listens."

England was taken back by France's words. There was no innuendo, no sexual undertones, no grabbing of his ass- was France dying or something? "Y-yeah, sure." England muttered, turning and walking out the door distractedly, subconsciously heading toward Alfred's favorite eatery, McDonald's. Upon walking inside, he snapped out of whatever daze he was in and looked around, immediately spotting America sitting in a booth by a window that provided a nice view of nature. Pushing back any sort of negativity in his brain, he walked across the restaurant and sat across from him. America looked up immediately, his gaze sharpening.

"Alfred, before you say anything, I wanted to tell you that I… I'm sorry for the way my boss has been acting recently. He's been treating the oil spill like it's nothing, and I disagree with how passive–"

"Don't lie, Arthur," America snapped, glare intensifying slightly. "If you agree with your boss, I don't really care."

-:-

But he did care, and that was the problem. Alfred didn't want Arthur to agree with his boss. He wanted Arthur to tell him to stop being stupid and calling him out for lying when he was telling the truth. Of course, Alfred failed to acknowledge that he had that feeling brewing within him– heroes never had such hopeless wishes, after all– and thus came off as very harsh. He watched the Brit level his intense gaze with a frown.

"I'm not lying," he stated bluntly. "I don't agree with the action my boss is taking. I think the process could be going much quicker."

America's expression morphed into one of pure shock. Of all the things he was expecting Arthur to say, he was not expecting that.

"R-really?" He stuttered out, mentally berating himself for the falter.

He almost smiled as Arthur rolled his eyes. "Yes, really, you impudent git," he muttered. "For the first time in years, I actually agree with you. Don't act so surprised."

But how could he not be surprised? England was agreeing with him on something that was highly controversial amongst even his own people! Alfred shook his head, quickly banishing the thought from his mind– surely England was lying. There was no way… it was too unlikely.

"N-no way, you're lying, there's no doubt about it."

Arthur's brow furrowed deeply in anger, and his fists clenched. "You insufferable, insensitive, proud tosser!" He said through clenched teeth. With that, Arthur turned on his heel and abruptly stormed out of McDonald's, brushing past a few unsuspecting customers who glared at his retreating back.

Alfred only stared, wondering what he had done wrong.