Yay! Chapter 4! Well, being the crappy author I am, I decided to do a time skip...Didn't want to keep writing the same boring stuff, so I skipped ahead ^^ and guess what? This chapter is longer! Yaaay~ :D Not by much, but hey, at least it is ^^
Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia ^^
It was finally the day that Alfred would be release from the hospital. Arthur was thankful for that for many reasons. Mainly because he was glad to see his little Alfred was alright and that flying from the UK to the U.S. was quite trying.
Now his worries was getting Alfred back to normal. Not to mention informing America's boss of the current situation that he had so reluctantly ignored. I wasn't that he didn't want to tell the others boss right away, but the fact that if he did, there would be even more drama to deal with, adding to his already high stress level, and he didn't want to deal with that. but he will do it soon!
As of right now, both nations stood in the plain white bathroom in the hospital. As always, it smelt of bleach and air fragrance.
"Artie! I can dress myseeeeelf!" The now young teen complained as Arthur pulled the new shirt over Alfred's head. Due to his change in size, Arthur had to measure Alfred and run of to the store and buy sets of clothes for him.
"I know, but you would take to long." Arthur giggled. Alfred puffed his cheeks and looked away, "Would not." He huffed. Arthur laughed at the cute-ness. When he finished, he straightened his back and looked at the young nation. He picked out what he thought Alfred would like ; blue jeans, and band t-shirts of sorts. He knew that the American would complain non-stop if he bought him kahkis and button up shirts.
Both nations walked out of the bathroom, walking casually to the front doors of the hospital that he almost become accustomed to. Alfred blinked multiple times as the sun light hit his eyes. He adjusted to the brightness that he hadn't been under in a few weeks. Arthur chuckled and lead the way to the car he borrowed from America.
When they settled in the car, he drove the familiar way to Alfred's rather large house, occationally glancing at America as he starred in amazement outside.
"So, you say that I am 'America'. Does that mean that I own all of this?" He was flabbergasted. It seemed as if the land just continue on, and on and on. It almost all seemed so...familiar. But when he tried to think more about it, his head began to hurt. He rubbed his temple, trying to ebb away the pain.
"As a matter of fact, you do. You are the land," He caught the movement, and looked over at him curiously, noticing he was rubbing his temple. "Are you alright, lad?"
"Yeah..My head hurts a little." He replied, but was already distracted as they pulled into the driveway of a rather expensive looking mansion. "Wow.." He said, looking at the house in amazement. Suddenly an imagine appeared in his head, of a boy, that happen to look a lot like him, wiping sweat off his forehead, but only managing to smudge it with dirt. The boy, or rather, young man, was looking at the house that looked oddly just like the one Alfred just pulled into, but this one looking new.
"-fred? Alfred!" Alfred blinked and shook the image away from his head, a little confused why such a picture would randomly come up.
"Yeah, Artie?" He smiled as he got out of the car and followed his brother.
"Are you sure your alright?" Arthur opened the door to find the house looking the same as normal. The living room was dirty but it wasn't spike and span either. There was a blanket thrown over the back side of the couch and a couple of pillows lay on the floor. Otherwise, the living room was clean.
"'M fine! Just got distracted.." He looked around the large living room. He was liking it so far. It was nice, but nothing to fancy or uptight. Nice but relaxed. He wanted his house to be like this when he grew up. Which reminded him- "Is this your house, Arthur?"
"What? My house? Oh no! My house is all the way back in England." Arthur chuckled, walking into the kitchen, planning on making them something to eat. Surely Alfred would be hungry, having to eat mostly hospital food. Ew.
"Who's house is it then?" He asked, confused. If it wasn't Arthur's, then did that mean they were breaking into someones house? He hoped not.
"This is your house. You built it a long time ago. Long time ago. Though you added and refernished it since you built it." Arthur answered, while digging through the pantry to find the flour. Did America ever keep any actual cooking ingredients?
"M-my house? And I built this? No way! I don't know how to build anything.." He looked around, noting it did look a little familiar, but nothing jumping out at him. Surely he would remember building a whole house! Especially one that was so big. (A/N: That's what she said, lol!) He sighed, a little frustrated that he couldn't remember anything.
"Maybe we can find something that will trigger your memory. Has nothing at all seemed slightly familiar?"
"Well, when we first got here, I got this image in my head. And the house seems familiar."
"Really? Great! Tell me what you saw!" Arthur spun around eagerly, happy that they were actually making some progress so far. Maybe this woudl be over and done with before they knew it. That would be such a relief.
"Um, it was a boy, er well young man, a little older looking than me, that looked a lot like me, and he was wiping his forehead with his arm. He was a dirty and sweaty looking, but he was smiling at a house that looked a lot like this one...That's all I saw." Arthur looked thrilled. So he did remember the house, even without knowing it.
"That young man was you, Alfred. This is great! I'm happy that your already getting some memories back." He smiled, and turned back to what was now dough for his famous scones. He honestly didn't get why nobody liked them. They were delicious!
"Oh." Was all Alfred said as he watched Arthur make the food. He was curious as to what the English-man was making, but didn't ask. Suddenly bored, he hopped out of the chair he was sitting in and began making his way out of the kitchen, informing his brother that he was going exploring, before he dashed down the hallway, not even waiting another second for the reply.
The first door he came to was only a closet which he found not interest in so he closed it, and headed to the next door. It reveled a large marble bathroom, that seemed covered in mirrors. He closed the door, and caught the sight of a rather cool looking door. He ran down the hall and stopped infront of a door that adorned an American flag painting. He smiled at the awesome-ness before creaking the door open.
The room was absolutely filled with everything American. A large flag covered the whole wall to the left, were the head of the bed was. The bed, also having American flag blankets and pillows. 'Sheesh, this guy sure likes America.' Alfred thought before he flopped down on the bed and caught sight of the picture frame that sat on the side table. He picked it up and examened the picture. In it, was him, Arthur, a boy that looked like him, but with wavy hair and violet eyes, and another who also had wavy hair, but with blue eyes. 'Are these my firends?'
He sat the picture down and looked around the room again, founding more photos in frames, some looking ancient, while others looked very modern. All the pictures he found very interesting, especially the one he found of him, though looking much older, in a thick leather jacket and a weird hat that had goggles on them. He was smiling, standing beside a flustered looking Arthur, and a plane was behind them. At the bottom, a date was scribbled at the bottom. Squeanting his eyes, the date read: September 10th, 1942.
He was about to check the date of today, but suddenly he heard an alarm go off. He sprinted out of the room and down the hall till he reached the kitchen, just in time to see Arthur pulling out something from the stove. Black smoke billowed from the oven and Arthur waved his hands in the air after he sat the burnt things on the stove top. After he cleared out the smoke, he caught sight of Alfred and grinned.
"What happened?" Alfred gasped, slightly out of breath. He was mildly worried that something had caught on fire.
"I was cooking!" Arthur exclaimed, pulling out some plates and placing the scones on them.
"Does that usually happen when you cook?" Alfred asked, sitting at the table as Arthur place the burnt thing in front of him.
"Yes, but I assure you that the food taste perfectly fine. I eat them all the time!" He said, also sitting down. Alfred watched as the English-man took a bit out of the burnt thing. 'Well, if he can eat it without dropping over, the so can I!' He thought, taking a rather large bite out of the scone. immediately he wished he hadn't. The burnt taste filled his mouth and dried it out instantly. He choked it down before looking back at the man.
"What?" Arthur automatically asked, narrowing his eyes at the look Alfred was giving him. Alfred swallowed again and gave him a pitiful look.
"It aah...Tastes wonderful, Artie. T-thank you!" He tried to sound enthusiastic about it, but was obviously failing miserably. Arthur sighed.
"I appreciate the fact that your attempting to be polite, but if you would rather not eat it, then don't. I suppose that I'm the only one who likes them." He grumbled. Alfred immediately felt bad, so to cheer Arthur up, he ate the whole thing, and didn't make one face about. After he finished it, he put on his best smile and hugged Arthur.
"Thank you." He said softly. Arthur stiffened for a moment, before and relaxed and embraced the American.
"Your welcome, Alfred." With that, he pulled away reluctently and ruffled the wheat blonde hair, smiling. Even though he missed the America from before the incident, he was happy that this one was considerate, and ate his food even though he didn't like it. Anybody and everybody would have complained and insulted his food right away, not even giving it a second chance.
Once Arthur finished up, he took both plates to the sink, washed them, and then placed them into the strainer before walking back into the living room, and folding the blankets. After, he picked up the pillows, placing them neatly on the couch before sitting down on the over stuffed couch. He sighed in content, just happy to finally be able to relax for what seemed like the first time in a month.
Suddenly, Alfred came bounding into the living room, jumping over the couch and landing himself beside Arthur. He looked at the older man with bright blue orbs, a million thoughts and questions running through them.
"Hey Artie, what what's the exact date?" Arthur blinked at the question, but answered.
"June 24th, 2012. Why?"
"Well, I seen this picture in the guy-er my room, and it was me, but older and you and it was dated back to 1942! It was suuuuper old! And there was a plane in the background too! Man, it was so cool!" Alfred continued on about the picture and how it kinda reminded him of a hero of some sort.
"Oh really now?" He inquired, raising his thick eye brows. Alfred nodded furiously.
"Yupp! It was really awesome!" He grinned madly at the thought of driving the plane. Arthur was amazed that Alfred acted so. Not that he didn't act hyper and jittery before, but he was like a 5 year old, seeing everything for the first time. It was adorable in some ways.
He was about to say something else, but suddenly the front door burst open, and there he stood. The French bastard himself.
"France has arrived!"
A/N: Okay, I couldn't resist putting that little authors note on the middle of the chapter...I just HAD to! XD I know you all were thinking the same thing! Anyways, cliffhanger! :D Haha not. It was the best I could do...Thought it would be good way to end the chapter :D Sorry is got a little boring :( But oh well :)
As always, review! :D Because I like to read what you have to say...Makes me want to write!