Hey everyone! So I've got fifty reviews now~ and that means that after I post this, I'll post another one to celebrate. That one WON'T be a request, but something I wrote a bit ago that I've just found a reason to post.

This one was requested by Little Patch of Heaven! Give them a hand.

Title: Trapped

Pairing: USUK, and implied fem!USUK. 'Cause that's how it's gotta work.

Rating: T, for language and mention of alcohol.

Genre(s): Angst, Crime, Hurt/Comfort, Romance

Dedications: MataHari-Chan, Veldargone, Little Patch of Heaven, Choco-Pocky-Usa-Chan, ShowGirl999, MirrorTearz16, tintenstern, and anyone who fav'd and alerted~

Inspiration: The request for rapper/gangster!Alfred and punk!Arthur. I tried, I really did…it's not quite that, but it's sort of that, so I guess it's okay…?

Summary: Alfred's been captured, and forced to work. When he stumbles upon something he really shouldn't have, he finds himself becoming the hero for the one who's keeping him there in the first place.

Disclaimer: I got something in my Spam today saying, 'Click here and own Hetalia!' and I didn't click on it. So I don't own Hetalia.

And, begin!

"Dammit!" swore Alfred F. Jones while he rode to the police station. "Dammit, dammit, dammit!"

It had all been a setup. He'd gone to pick something up for Francis—he wasn't sure what it was, Francis wouldn't say—and then a bunch of cops jumped out of nowhere and suddenly he was handcuffed and in a police car. Fucking fantastic.

The driver, named Wang Yao, was also having a bad day. Arthur would be so pissed when he found out Francis had sent some random kid to pick up the fake package. He just hoped that kid wouldn't notice that they weren't going to the police station until they actually got to where they were going.

Luckily for the Chinese driver, Alfred didn't notice until he got out of the fake cop car. "Hey, where are we?" he asked, confused about the whole situation. Yao ignored him and led him inside the large building that served as base.

"Hey, I asked you a question! Now, where are—"

"Yao, who is this?" drawled a cold British voice.

"I-I'm sorry, aru, it seems Francis sent this boy to pick it up, aru…"

A man with disheveled blonde hair and menacing green eyes walked into the light. He also looked pretty pissed, Alfred noticed. He turned to glare at our American. "The frog sent this kid?"

"We don't know who he is, aru. We were going to interrogate him, aru."

"Oh, I know who he is. This is Alfred, Alfred F. Jones, our frog's baby cousin."

"H-How did you—"

Arthur interrupted him. "I know all there is to know about that Frenchman, which means I obviously know about you and that little brother of yours. He's obviously the smart one, staying out of this business. What's his name again? Matthew?" His lips curved up in a sarcastic smile. "What a shame it would be if something were to happen to him."

"You leave him out of this!" shouted Alfred, pulling away from Yao. He aimed a kick at the Brit's face, a kick that was very easily blocked.

"Of course," replied Arthur smoothly. "But it'll cost you."

"What do you want me to pay?" asked Alfred, narrowing his eyes.

Arthur laughed. "Your service."

Alfred was disgusted. He'd been working for four days, mostly doing easy stuff, like washing windows and cooking dinner (under constant supervision, of course), but this?

"Clean my bathroom. I want it spotless in an hour," Arthur had ordered, and then he went off to do something else.

He started immediately, turning on Arthur's CD player. It started playing a mix of old Green Day and the Sex Pistols and other punk bands. So the guy liked that kind of thing. Huh.

Why were there tampons in this bathroom?

He looked over the feminine products curiously. He hadn't seen one since he was a kid and he'd tried to set one on fire…that wasn't the best day. Why did Arthur have these? He wasn't…no, that was impossible. And he hadn't seen any girls around, so…?

He shrugged. Might as well throw 'em out.

Just as he was about to stuff the package into the trash bag he'd brought with him, the door opened. "I left my contact solution—what the hell are you doing with those."

"Oh, well, I was just gonna throw 'em out, seeing as there are no girls here, so—"

"Throw them out and I'll rip your balls off and feed them to Minty," threatened Arthur.

(Minty was Arthur's pet bunny. She didn't look vicious, but apparently, if anyone besides Arthur got too close to her, something horrible would happen to them.)

"Jesus, okay!" Alfred set the tampons on the toilet. "But why? Are they special collector's tampons or something? Are they made of money?"

Arthur gave him a weird look. "No, it's nothing like that. They belonged to…someone who died," he said awkwardly, and wondered why he was telling Alfred at all. Maybe because he sort of looked like her…?

"Oh. Okay. I won't touch 'em except to put 'em back where they belong." He smiled reassuringly at Arthur, his first smile since being captured.

"O-Okay…" the Brig stammered. "J-Just hurry it up!" He grabbed the small bottle of contact solution off the counter and left, slamming the door behind him.

Alfred went back to cleaning, not quite able to shake the thought of Arthur's red face the whole time.

Later, while he was cooking dinner with Yao, he asked the Chinese man about the woman who died.

"Aiyah, where did you hear about her, aru?" asked Yao, shocked at the American's question.

"Arthur," replied Alfred simply. "I was cleaning his bathroom and I almost threw out his tampons and he told me not to 'cause they belonged to some dead chick."

"I guess it couldn't hurt to tell you, aru…okay. A few years ago, Arthur took over, aru. Our boss used to be a man named Gilbert, but he retired, aru. Anyway, Arthur opened us up to female members at about that time .Only one passed, aru, and her name was Amelia Williams. She and Arthur used to argue a lot, aru, but eventually they got over all that, and they sort of…fell in love, I guess, aru."

"OH! I get it. So then how did she di—"

"I was getting to that, aru!" snapped Yao. "After a few months, Amelia had to go out to buy some tampons. She was walking down an alley at night, and someone recognized her and shot her, aru. The thing was, aru, she didn't really need the tampons, since there were already some in the cabinet, aru," said Yao sadly. "He keeps them as a reminder of her, because they're sort of the reason that she's dead, aru."

"Oh. I…think that's kind of stupid," muttered Alfred. "Seriously. Tampons? And how long has it been?" he demanded.

"T-Three years, aru."

"Exactly. He should just get over her," he said as he took a pizza out of the over.

Something flew just over his head and smashed behind him on a wall. "You don't know what yer talkin' abou'…" grumbled a British voice, "so stop talkin' abou' it…" Heavy footsteps plodded off.

Yao sighed. "Drunk again, aru. He should really stop doing that, aru…it's so bad for his health…"

"Hm." Alfred frowned to himself.

"I'll finish dinner, aru. You go check on him, aru," ordered Yao suddenly.

"Why meeeeeeeee?" whined Alfred. "He hates my guts right now!"

"That's why, aru. Now go." Yao pointed a large, black spoon toward the door.

Grumbling, Alfred followed after the Brit, his apron still on. When he arrived at Arthur's bedroom door, instead of knocking, he just walked in. There was an empty bottle of rum on the ground, and the American sincerely hoped that Arthur hadn't drunk it in the space between throwing that glass thing at Alfred and now.

"Whozere?" slurred Arthur. Alfred winced. Oh, he probably had, hadn't he? "Hey. Who're you?"

"It's me, Yao told me to—"

"SHHHHH." Arthur turned around and stared the American in the face. " 'Melia?" he whispered.

"Uh, no, I'm Alfred—"

"'MELIA." Arthur tackled Alfred. "Ah knew ye'd come back!" He planted a kiss on Alfred's mouth. "Hm, did you get a haircut?" he asked.

"Uh…"

"Doesn't matter. Yer still beautiful." And then he passed out right on top of Alfred.

The American struggled to get out from under Arthur, and then picked him up and carried him to his bed. He left, closing the door gently behind him.

The next morning, before he could even think of waking up, he was hustled into handcuffs and blindfolded. Someone drove him to his house and then left him there on the front porch. Luckily, his brother was home, and he helped him get inside.

"Where have you been?" Matthew kept asking.

Finally, after some pancakes, Alfred replied, "Got captured. Washed windows. Cooked dinner. Cleaned a bathroom. Got to be a hero."

Then he smiled.

AN: And, that's a wrap. In about an hour, I'll have finished my dinner and I'll post the 50 review special. I'll have to type it up and check it and stuff, but it'll be up tonight, and if it's not, you can pelt me with flying mint bunnies. (Though I may keep one as a pet.)

This was requested by Little Patch of Heaven, as I said before. I hope you liked it.

Thank you for reading!