Disclaimer: Much as I wish it was true, it unfortunately isn't; I don't own Hetalia. I do, however, own America's glasses (My OC, Texas) and his spares, as well (My other OC, Alaska).

Alfred F Jones

Montreal, Quebec

December 3, 2163

"LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE, YA MANKY WANKER! WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU? BLOODY FUCK; I UNDERSTAND CHASING SOMEONE YOU LIKE BUT I KNOW THAT YOU DON'T LIKE ME THAT WAY! SOD OFF AND LEAVE ME THE HELL ALONE!" he shrieked, his voice shooting up an octave (or three).

I watched as he ran, almost wanting to chase after him but freaked out by his tone (I mean, really; that could've scared BELARUS). I sighed and began chasing him, quickly making up for lost ground as I tried to find him, which is harder than it sounds, believe it or not.

I chased after him and skidded to a stop in front of a white Victorian style house. I wondered where he'd gone for a moment until I heard something... a soft whimpering.

I looked around and spotted a bit of black peeking out of a bush in front of the house. I shifted the leaves and found England and- Were those tears in his eyes...?

...shit...

I must have messed something up... because no one else ever made him cry like that.

He looked into my eyes like he was a trapped animal; I felt like reaching out and hugging him close, but I knew that he would freak out because he couldn't remember.

"England... why are you crying...?" I asked, my voice soft.

He took a while before murmuring, "...it's none of your concern." He looked away from me.

"ENGLAND. You're my best friend; I want to know what if anything is wrong with you."

"As I said; it's none of your concern. There's nothing wrong, so screw off, wanker."

"Arthur... I want to know if you're hurting..."

"I'm not," England said, glaring into my eyes.

"ARTHUR KIRKLAND," I said, putting stress on the name. "You're my best friend and if you lie to me, I can't help you-"

"AND WHO SAID I WANTED HELP?" he shouted, his face red. He fought his way out of the bush (which made me wonder how he'd gotten in there in the first place) and glared at me, panting slightly. He continued to speak but more calmly, "I'm absolutely fine, America. And stop calling me 'Arthur'; you haven't earned that right."

"But, England, I-"

He cut me off, "SHUT IT!"

"Englan-"

"I TOLD YA TO SHUT YA FECKING TRAP, YANKEE!" he shouted, his normally sophisticated accent sounding sort of... off.

He left me standing there and I realized that I was never listening to him... I was always paying attention to something else when he talked to me. Whenever he tried to talk to me outside of meetings, I would say I had something else to do because I did want to endure the awkward silence that seemed to come around whenever we spoke to one another. I never read his messages; No Notes, No Emails, No Letters. I didn't answer my phone if it was him because he only ever wanted to talk about business (and I HATE talking about business). If I checked my messages and he'd left me one, I would delete it without even listening to the message.

...I was trying not to think of him...

I chased after him yet again. "England, wait!" I called.

He turned towards me, "...what is it, Yankee...?" he asked, still glaring at me but not with cold eyes... with tired eyes.

"England..." I tried to find the right words. "...do you... like me...?" ...not smart... not suave... not funny... but very 'Alfred'... I thought, waiting for his answer.

"...I don't hate you... but... it's annoying when you hang around me like a love-sick schoolgirl because I know that you don't like me that way, it makes no sense and is rather a waste of time."

"...and you would know how I like you... how?"

"You told me, git!"

"What exactly did I say?"

"'Even if you're an old man, I think you're the best friend a guy could ask for.'"

Internally, I was slapping my common sense across the face ('HOW DARE YOU FAIL TO DO YOUR JOB!') while, externally... "...England, that's not what I meant to say. I didn't say what I wanted to because I thought you would smack me upside the head with a tree branch or some awesome pirate shit like that."

"...if I had smacked you... it would've been with a length of drift wood, a rattan cane, a birch-rod or the Captain's Daughter-"

"How do you hit someone with a person?"

"Believe me, there are ways, America-" He broke off, shuddered, then continued, "Anyway, the Captain's Daughter was used on Naval Vessels."

I stared at him blankly.

"...sailing ships that have Navy men on them."

...what...?

He sighed (even I would be exasperated with me at this point), "it's those ships from which I took your men and made them part of my navy."

"Oh! I remember that; we created the marines in response to that!" …yeah, in case you couldn't already tell, I'm a total dunce cap.

"...It was also used on pirate ships," England said.

He slowed a bit and we walked side by side, not quite touching but almost. He seemed tense...

"America... two days ago... what was it you wanted to say...?" he was trying to get the conversation back on track, but I was hesitant to say what I had almost said.

I sighed, "...I wanted to say that you were the best boyfriend a guy could ask for... but that would've been awkward since, strictly speaking, we aren't together."

I smiled slightly as he blushed.

"What? Why are you embarrassed? It's completely true!" I said, walking beside him.

"I-I'm not embarrassed!" he said quickly.

"Then are you flattered? You're red as a tomat-"

"NEVER say that... EVER."

"...Okay..."

He was silent for a moment, "...you like me... and I don't hate you..."

"...Can I call you Artie...? or maybe... Iggy...?"

"...No nicknames," he said flatly. "You can call me Arthur if you like, but I will not consent to nicknames."

"Fine... you call me Al since Arthur is the best I'm gonna get..."

"...Okay..."

"...so... are we... together?"

"We're walking side by side, you have permission to call me Arthur, I have permission to call you Al, you like me and I don't hate you," he paused and took my hand, blushing a bit, "What do you think?"

"...I guess we're together...?"

"I dunno... are we?" he asked, smiling nervously.

"...We are," I said with absolute certainty.

His smile widened a bit, cheerful for once, "I'm glad, then."

A/N~ They are finally together! However, it might end badly; if you haven't voted on the poll, please do so.

With the way that the poll is going (with 7 votes out of 19 people who added this to their story alert), I may just use my opinion instead of asking what you want.

Anyway, I'm warning you guys ahead of time that M-preg will happen in this story; if you don't like it...

...well, let's not get into what'll happen if you don't like it.

I'm already planning for summer break (even though, as I'm typing this, it's just after the end of spring break) and I will be updating more (even though I have summer school and driver's ed this year).