Hey guys. Here's my newest installment of I Dare You! I hope y'all like it! B.T.W, since school is starting again next week I'll probably only once (possibly twice) a month, so sorry about that in advance. I'll try my hardest to keep this story alive during the year!

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia...

"And we're here," Francis said, stopping his car in front of the woods he had dropped Arthur off yesterday. "You know, sooner or later I'm going to find out where you live."

"Really? Because I don't plan on telling you," the Englishman stated, unbuckling his seat belt.

"You'll have to if we continue dating."

"And who says we're going to?"

"Um.. you did," the Frenchman explained, confused. "I offered to take you out on another date a few minutes ago. I literally asked you during this car ride."

"Oh. Well, that was only because you said you'd take me to a restaurant. I never turn down free food."

"Oh come on, Arthur. You enjoyed being with me today. I can see it in your eyes. Why can't you just admit that, mon lapin?"

"You can see it in my- stop looking into my eyes then!" the Brit cried, averting his eyes to stare out the window. "They're obviously lying to you! And will you stop calling me that stupid goddamn name?"

"What? Arthur? Well, I agree it's not the best name, but what can you do?" the blond shrugged.

"No! Mont Lappin or something like that! It's bloody annoying as hell!"

"Do you mean mon lapin? But I think it's a cute name, and it describes you so well."

"No! It does not!"

"Stop getting so angry, mon lapin, it does look good on you."

"I said stop it!" The dirty blond turned his head to glare at Francis. "If you keep calling me that I'll call you a slimy frog bastard! Huh, how does that feel?" The Frenchman paused as he thought about it for a second.

"I've been called worse," he merely shrugged.

"What? No! That's not fair!"

"How is it not fair? You can call me what you want and I can call you what I want."

"But you're not offended!"

"So? Are you trying to offend me? That's not very nice."

"I don't give a fuck!"

"But I thought you wanted to try something new."

"Yeah well, I've run out of bloody patience with you to try being kind anymore! I'm out of here!" the Englishman declared, opening the car door but before he could get out he felt a tender touch on his arm. He looked back and saw that the blond had out his hand on his wrist. For a moment his anger seemed to falter as he enjoyed the warming sensation on his arm. But only for a seconds. after that he sent walls up again and shot daggers to the man.

"The Hell?!" he asked. "You can't just put your hands on people!"

"Well no one's ever complained before," the Frenchman smirked.

"Then those people were perverts too!" the Brit claimed, removing the hand from his arm although he slightly missed the physical contact.

"I'm not a pervert. I just wanted to ask for your number before you got out of the car."

"And why in the Earth would I give you my phone number?!"

"Umm... so I can call you?"

"What for? I have nothing to talk to you about!"

"I just want to be able to set up our next date properly, you know give you the details and what not."

"No! I refuse to give you my number!"

"Why?"

"Why? Isn't it obvious? First, you ask for my number innocently enough, saying you need it to set up our date, so I give it to you. Then you go home and go on your laptop and find a way to track my phone so you know my whereabouts every single second of the day as long as I have it on me! You'll be able to stalk me till the day I die! That's how they get you!"

"Oh mon Dieu," Francis groaned. "I knew I shouldn't have as- wait, till the day you die? Do you never replace your phone?"

"That's not the point! The point is that you're a stalker!"

"Okay fine, how about I give you my number instead? That way we can still set up our date but you don't have to give me your number."

"Hmmm. That seems okay."

"Really?" asked the Frenchman, slightly taken aback.

"Yes, why do seem so surprised?"

"It's just that I didn't expect you to agree with one of my ideas so easily. I thought you'd have at least five more 'that's how they get you' rants before we finally came to a compromise."

"I don't know what you're talking about. I don't do that."

"You don't do th- okay," Francis chuckled to himself, shaking his head. "Okay."

"Okay what? What's so funny?"

"Nothing. It's nothing, just forget it."

"How can I forget it when you're bloody laughing your ass off?! Just tell me."

"It's nothing."

"Tell me!"

"Okay fine, umm," The blond tried to think of another reason he could've been laughing. "It's just a joke I heard the other day."

"Well, go on with it. Tell me what it is?"

"You don't want to hear it."

"Don't tell me what I want and what I don't want to hear! You're not the boss of me! Tell me the joke, you frog."

"Fine," groaned the Frenchman reluctantly. "What do you call a nosy pepper?" he asked, remembering a joke Antonio had told him the yesterday. Arthur thought about it for a second but couldn't think of anything.

"What?"

"Jalapeno business."

"Jalapeno business?"

"Yeah."

"Ja-la-pe-no bus-iness?" the Englishman repeated again, stressing each syllable this time.

"Yeah, jalapeno business." The Brit turned to stare out the window for a few moments then looked in front of him then back to his date.

"Well, that has got to be the absolute worst joke I have ever heard."

"I didn't think it was th-"

"Like I am ashamed to be in the car while you said it. That's how bad it was."

"I told you that you wouldn't want to hear it," Francis argued.

"But that was before you told me the joke. You have to warn people next time."

"Whatever, can I just give you my number now?"

"I mean, I guess so. I'm not even sure I want it anymore after that joke."

"It wasn't that bad!"

"It was bloody horrible! What? Do you think I just exaggerate or make that up? Are you calling me a liar? Is that what you think of me?!"

"No, it's just..." The Frenchman sighed. "Just forget it. My number is 708-98-"

"Whoa? Slow the fuck down! Do I look like a fucking phone book? Let me get my cell out so I can write it down! God." Arthur reached into his back pocket but felt that it was empty. The memories of him smashing his phone to the ground came rushing back to him as he felt his other pockets and felt that they were vacant also. "Damn it," he muttered.

"What?"

"Nothing," he said, looking back up at the blond. "At least nothing you need to worry about."

"Um okay. Are you going to take your phone out then?"

"No."

"No? Why not?"

"Because...Because... Because I just realized something, that's why," the dirty blond said, thinking of an excuse. "If you give me your number and I call you from my cell, you'll find out my number anyway."

"So, don't call me from your cell."

"That's beside the point. You know, back in the olden days people didn't have phones and still managed to set up meetings by letter or simply by talking about it in person."

"Good thing we're not in the olden times then."

"What, no! I was implying that we just set up our date right now."

"But I don't know what days I'll be free this week without checking my schedule or what restaurant I can get a reservation at yet."

"Well that's your fault. You should've known that before you asked me out again."

"Why? I can just call you later."

"Why? Out of decency that's why. You don't just go asking people out haphazardly. You need to know these things."

"But-"

"No buts! When do you think you'll be free this week?"

"Umm... I have a photo shoot Friday morning, so I most likely won't have anything planned for that afternoon."

"Excellent. How about the restaurant?"

"Well, I know this quaint little French bistro that rarely has a lot of people, so I won't need to make a reservation."

"Great. See, that wasn't too hard now, was it? You can pick me up here at seven."

"Here? In the woods again? We cannot just make this your spot, you know. Can't you just give me your actual address?"

"So I can be stalked for the rest of my life? No thank you. I'll see you here on Friday. Bye." The Englishman was about to exit the car when he felt a hand on his arm again "Stop bloody doing that!" he cried, turning back around.

"Aren't you going to kiss me goodbye?"

"Kiss you goodbye? Hell no! In your dreams, frog! Now, let go off me!" The Brit swatted the hand off him before getting out of the vehicle, slamming the door behind him. He was about to enter the woods when he felt a pair of eyes burning a hole through his shirt. He turned back around and saw Francis sitting in his car staring at him.

"Hey!" Arthur yelled, tapping on the car window. "What do you think you're doing?!" Francis rolled down the window before replying.

"What do you mean?"

"You! You were staring at me! I know you were trying to see which route I took so you could follow me home!"

"Follow you home? That forest is so crowded with trees and moss that I'm surprised you can see which route you take to go home! I can't see anything!"

"Uh huh, that's what they all say!"

"All? How often do you do this often?"

"I don't need your sass! Just go!" instructed the Briton, motioning to the open road.

"Fine," Francis agreed, taking his car out of park before driving away.

Hmm. He must take me for a complete fool, the Englishman thought, staring at the car until it disappeared in the distance.

"Okay, well it's one-thirty," Matthew said, looking at the wall clock above the cafe's entrance before taking off his apron. "Time for my lunch break."

"You know, I still don't think it's fair you get yours before I do," Lovino complained, capping an iced coffee.

"I got to work first today."

"And I got to work second today. What? Are we just naming random facts now?"

"What, no. It's th- you know what? Just forget it," the blond dismissed, walking out from behind the counter. "You can take your break your when I get back. I should take about thirty minutes."

"Yeah, well I'm just telling you now," the Italian began as gave a customer his drink. "If you not back in exactly half an hour or less I'm still going to get lunch whether you're here not."

"You can't be serious. What if I the line at the restaurant is longer is expected or a situation arises and I can't be back until later. Are you really just going to just leave the cafe unmanned?"

"Hell yeah! Just do what you have to do to get back on time."

"Fine, whatever Lovino," the Canadian sighed, before he turned around walked out of Morning Joe. He was three minutes into his stroll to the nearest iHop when he heard somebody mumbling curses nearby. He stopped moving and looked around him. His eyes stopped when he saw an albino with his head shoved into a bush along the sidewalk.

"Hello?" Matthew asked cautiously as he approached the man. "Is something wrong?"

"Fuck, " the man groaned, peering into the shrub. "Where the hell are you?"

"Hello," the blond repeated louder, figuring the male hadn't heard him. "Can I help you?"

"What?!" questioned the albino bitterly, looking up. "Go away! Can't you see I'm bus- Oh." His face instantly softened once he recognized the Canadian. "It's you."

"You're right, I'm sorry," the blond apologized frantically, slowly walking away backwards. "I shouldn't have interrupted you. I'll just go n-"

"Wait Mattie, don't go," Gilbert said, reaching out and grabbing the violet-eyed man's hand to keep him from moving away any farther. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled at you. It's my fault."

"Wait, aren't you that guy I hired as the new barista?" Matthew asked, recognizing the silverette.

"Yeah," the albino grinned. "Glad you recognized me this time. I must be warming up on you."

"What's your name again? Gilbart?"

"Gilbert," the German sighed. "But at least you're getting closer."

"Gilbart right, sorry about that," the blond said. "I'll learn it eventually." The two stood in silence for a few moments before Matthew realized that the taller man was still holding his him. He blushed slightly as took his hand hand out of Gilbert's grip.

"So, what were you doing with you head in the bush?" the Canadian asked casually.

"What? Oh right." The German looked back the shrub. "Well, I was just taking a walk with Gilbird when he flew off into bush here. Now, I can't find him."

"Who's Gilbird?"

"He's my pet bird."

"Well, maybe I can find him," Matthew offered, walking toward the plant but was stopped by the albino putting hand in front of him.

"I don't think you'll want to do that," the silverette warned.

"Why not?"

"He doesn't take to kindly to strangers."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, when he first met my friend Francis, he attacked him and gave him a black eye."

"Wait... your pet bird gave someone a black eye?"

"Yeah, Francis wanted me to get rid of Gilbird after that. Saying that he should be able to come to visit me without the fear of some bird ruining his perfect face or something like that."

"I think that's a bit harsh."

"Right? That's why the awesome me totally kept Gilbird. No one can tell me what to do anyways." Matthew was about to respond when he heard a rustling noise coming from the bush.

"I think I just heard Gilbird make a noise," he said, pushing past the albino's hand and walking in front of the shrub. He took a peek inside the plant. "I see something moving."

"Wait Mattie, don't do that," Gilbert said, turning around to look at the barista. "I know I ignored Francis's complaint but I don't really want Gilbird to mess your cute face."

"My cute face?" the Canadian repeated, glancing at the German. "You think I'm cute?"

"Um yeah. I thought that was pretty obvious."

"Oh." The blond didn't expect him to be so straightforward. "Thanks then."

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"Don't you want to say something to me now?" Gilbert asked, obviously fishing for a compliment.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, don't you have something to say about my appearance?"

"Oh. Ummmm..." Matthew thought about it for a second. "You kind of have something in your hair."

"What?" The silverette reached into his hair and pulled out a green leaf. "When did that happen?"

"It must've got caught in there when you were looking for Gilbird. That reminds me, I wanted to help you find him." The blond bent over and peered inside the bush.

"Mattie, don't do th-"

"Ha ha, that tickles," Matthew giggled.

"Huh? What does?" The violet-eyed man took his head out of the bush and Gilbert could see Gilbird resting in his yellow locks, pecking at the strands.

"Gilbird. I think he's trying to eat my hair or something."

"He didn't try to attack you?"

"No. He just kinda leaped onto my hair. It's kind of adorable."

"Adorable? That's not a word people use to describe Gilbird."

"Well, what words do people use?"

"Mean, rude, the devil in the shape of the bird," Gilbert shrugged. "You know, the usual."

"Well, that's not very nice," the blond commented, taking the canary out of his hair and smiling at the bird. "Is it, birdie?"

"Cheep, cheep!" Gilbird chirped in reply.

"Birdie?" questioned the albino.

"Yeah, I thought it'd be a cute name."

"I like it, but I think it suits you better than Gilbird."

"Really?"

"Yeah, it's perfect."

"But I already have a nickname: Mattie."

"So? This will my special name for you then."

"I don't think you can just give me a special name."

"Looks like I just did."

"No. Just because you say something doesn't make it so."

"Okay, fine. How are you today, Birdie? There, I just called you it so it's official. It's your nickname." Matthew simply grinned as he shook his head.

"You're... you're something else you know that?"

"Is that a good thing?"

"Maybe," the Canadian smirked.

"Maybe? Are you toying with me, Birdie?"

"Birdie? Sorry, I don't know anybody by that name," the blond lied, shaking his head. "But if you want to I, Mattie, can talk to you instead."

"You don't know anybody b- whoa. Did you just become sassy on me, Birdie?"

"Again, I don't know anyone named Birdie. I don't know why you keep bringing it up," Matthew said, before his watch alarm went off. "Oh maple," he cursed, turning off the sound his watch was emitting. "I spent my entire break here talking to you. I've got to go back to work now."

"Well, if you ask me it was time well spent."

"Yeah, okay. Ummm... here's your bird back," the blond said, handing the animal back to its owner. As soon as Gilbird landed in the German's hand, he flew out and landed right back on the violet-eyed man's hair again.

"Cheep!" it cried assertively. "Cheep, cheep, cheep!"

"No Gilbird, you have to get out of his hair,"Gilbert instructed. "He has to get back to work now."

"Cheep! Cheep! Cheep!"

"I am not having this conversation with you again, mister! You have to listen when I talk to you!"

"Cheeeeeeeeep!" the canary screamed, before turning his head to look away from it's master.

"Well I never! Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?! Look at me when I'm talking to you!"

"Chep," the bird said simply.

"What? Am I not even worth a full word anymore?!"

"Cheep."

"Maybe?! Are you serious?!"

"Cheep."

"You like Mattie's hair better than mine and want to stay with him for the rest of the day?" the silverette said, repeating the bird's words.

"Cheep."

"And that I can just pick you up later because after all I am going to be at the coffee shop for work anyways at around 6?"

"Cheep," Gilbird nodded.

"Wait," Matthew interrupted, a little bit confused. "You can understand what he's saying?"

"Um yeah. Can't you?" the red-eyed man questioned. "He's speaking clear as day."

"Riiiiight. Look, I've really got to go now so..." The blond took Gilbird out of his hair again and looked at him. "You can't come flying back to me this time, okay? It's was nice meeting you." He put the canary back to the German and this time he stayed put.

"Well he listens to you apparently," the albino commented, looking down at his pet.

"I guess he likes me," the blond shrugged. "I'll see you later at work," he said, waving goodbye as he walked past the paler man.

"Bye Birdie."

Matthew simply smirked to himself. As he was walking away he could hear Gilbert talking to his pet.

"You know, I really hope you didn't scare him away. I like him."

"Cheep! Cheep!"

"Yes you! The awesome me could never scare anyone away."

"Cheep!"

"Oh we are so having a conversation about his when we get home, mister!" After that, he was out of hearing distance and continued on his stroll back to work. When he arrived a few minutes later he saw a line that formed inside inside the coffee shop to all the way outside. What the hell? he thought. The Canadian managed to get past the sea of people and entered the cafe. He rushed back to his workstation and quickly put on his apron.

"Lovino, what's happening? I know it's the lunch rush but this is just crazy. You might have to take your break later." When he didn't hear a response, he looked up beside him and saw no one was there.

"Lovino?"

"Hey man, can you talk to your imaginary friend later?!" a customer at the front of the line complained. "We're waiting for coffee here!"

"I'm not talking to my imaginary friend. Did you see a brunet here earlier?"

"Yeah, he left ten minutes ago saying his break had started and that he didn't care if Mattie was here or not. I'm guessing you're Matthie?" He actually left? Did not see that one coming.

"Yeah, I am," the Canadian said, fixing his glasses. "So, what can I get you?"

Please Review! Ta ta for now!