Character notes- Alistair (Scotland), Arthur (England), James (New Zealand) and Jett (Australia)

Chapter 2 - Meeting some Bakers

February 19th, 1803

It had been about two weeks since Alistair was saved by Arthur. He had been cooped up in the small cabin ever since then and was starting to get twitchy. Not only was he not able to leave, he hadn't even been allowed to leave his room! I really needed to get out of here before I go crazy, he told himself. Alistair threw the blankets off his body, exposing himself to the cold air. Lifting himself into a sitting position. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed with a groan. His body was stiff from not moving for so long. It's a good thing Arthur's gone. He'd probably get all pissy if he found out I was up and about. My wounds are healed enough, so I don't understand what the big Idea is, he thought bitterly. Sliding himself off the bed, he attempted to stand but his legs gave out, and he fell onto the not so soft floor with a string of curses. Wincing, he pushed himself back up, this time holding onto the wall as he did.

"Ok. Let's try this again" he muttered and slowly started to hobble along the wall towards the door. Pushing it open, he entered a large room that looked like both a sitting room and a kitchen. The sitting room had two armchairs on the left side of the room facing a small, stone fireplace. The kitchen, on the other hand, looked like it was barely touched. Up against the far wall of the kitchen there was a small black stove. Next to it was large wooden tub. On the wall to the right, there was a cabinet filled with china. A table with a couple of chairs was in the center of the room. Hmmm I wonder why the kitchen looks so new... maybe he's a clean freak.

Turning back around he headed towards his room. He was about to go back in when he noticed there was another door next to his own. Curiosity took over and he slowly inched toward it, pushing the door open just enough to poke his head through. It was another bedroom, Arthur's.

"This must be the lad's room. Hmm. Looks exactly like mine... way tae have variety Arthur," he mumbled to himself. "Well, now that I'm up I might as well get dressed."

Alistair closed the door behind him and shuffled back to his room next door. Upon entering the room he went over a chest at the end of his bed. Kneeling down in front of it he quickly he pulled it open the lid, revealing an assortment of clothing. After rummaging through the chest, he eventually pulled out a dark blue jacket and tan pants. These will have to do, he thought. He then reached over and grabbed his boots, sliding into them as well.

"All ready to go." He walked over to the front door and opened it, revealing a not so happy looking Arthur.

"And where the hell do you think you're going?" the Brit hissed. Alistair took a sharp breath. Shit! I was so close to freedom!

"I'm going out tae stretch my legs, ye can't keep me in here forever." He watched as the Brit's face went red with anger before returning to normal. Well that was weird.. but it is Arthur.

Arthur took a deep breath before answering. "Fine, I guess you have a point. Don't start rejoicing just yet though, because I'm going with you." he added, earning him a groan from Alistair.

"Oh, don't even start," Arthur snapped. "I will not tolerate you acting like child."

He decided to ignore Arthur's "child" comment. He really didn't feel like starting an argument when he was in one of his rare good moods. "As long as I'm not inside that prison you call a home, I'm good." The Brit, pleased with the Scot's answer, turned on his heel and set out down the path, Alistair in tow. With Arthur's back turned to him, Alistair let a small smile slip as they headed into town. He too can act like a child when he wants to... he snickered, watching the younger man trudge through the snow, cursing every time it found its way into his boots.

The pair walked towards the town of Wilshire. He had asked Arthur a few days after he arrived what the towns name was, it surprised him that he had never heard it before. From what he had been able to gather from Arthur, it was a well off town. He followed Arthur around town while the Brit pointed out different buildings and listed off people he was close to and that Alistair would eventually meet. They neared one building when Arthur suddenly stopped. "I need to pick up something here." he said abruptly. Alistair nodded and watched as the Brit rushed into the store. He ran a hand through his red hair, peering up at the sign above, Bakery. What the hell does the lad need here? he wondered.

A bell chimed overhead as Arthur pushed open the door. As he entered, he was greeted by the familiar sound of arguing.

"Jett I don't care if you were busy, the bread is still burnt either way!" a man yelled.

"I'm sorry Kiwi. I'll make a new batch right away" The man, Alistair assumed was Jett whined.

He heard the other man sigh. "Fine but make sure they aren't burnt this time."

Alistair stood there in the doorway, stunned until Arthur suddenly appeared next to him, snapping him out it. "I don't know how those two can fight like that and still live together," Arthur said with a sigh. "It confuses me..."

"I don't even know them and I'm already confused," Alistair responded. Just then a man appeared from the back of the bakery. He had light brown hair that curled upward at the ends, almost like rams horns and a set of blueish green eyes. He wore a white shirt with gray pants and shabby brown shoes.

The man seemed to lighten up when he saw who was there. "Oh! Hello, Arthur. I apologize for the wait. Jett seems to have burnt some of the bread," he said, rolling his eyes and giving a small smile as he noticed the Scot. "You must be Alistair. Arthur has told me a lot about you," he said as he greeted Alistair with an outstretched hand. Alistair stared at him for a moment before taking the hand and shaking it.

"Really? I was not aware of that," Alistair replied, peering over his shoulder to give the Brit a cold stare. Arthur shrank back slightly, trying to avoid his gaze. Yeah you better feel guilty! Alistair thought bitterly.

"My name is James, by the way," The man said before turning around as another man appeared from the back, carrying a decently sized bag. "And that is Jett," he added, gesturing to the other man. Jett had dark brown hair that stuck up slightly in the front and forest green eyes. He was wearing brown shirt, gray pants and study brown boots.

"Nice ta meet ya! The names Jett!" Jett exclaimed, setting down the bag to shake the Scot's hand, a big smile on his face. "Are you this 'Alistair' we've been hearin' about lately?" he asked.

"Aye," the Scot nodded.

"Jett do you mind being a bit quieter, for the sake of their ear drums please!" James pleaded, a slight edge to his voice.

Jett drew James into a big hug. "Ok. I'll try Kiwi," he promised. James was struggling to free himself from Jett's grip but soon realized it was no use. "I'm sorry about being loud, mate" Jett apologized, releasing James to pick up the forgotten bag.

"Here's what you ordered Arthur. I hope It's to your liking," Jett said, his bright and cheery smile still plastered on his face.

"Don't worry, I always love your food," Arthur reassured, giving both of them a soft smile. Huh. I guess Arthur really can be nice to people... Alistair thought.

The sun was already setting as they said their goodbyes to Jett and James and headed back to the cabin. Alistair walked beside Arthur, the silence between them beginning to bother him. After all, he did have one question that had bugged him ever since they left the bakery.

"I'm jus' wondering, what kind o' weird friendship do Jett an' James have?" he asked Arthur, breaking the silence surrounding them.

Arthur's eyes focused on him for a few moments before shifting back to the view ahead. "You know, I've got no clue..." he admitted.

Alistair smiled at the response, the Brit giving him a glare. They stared at each other for a few seconds before both of them suddenly burst out laughing. They had no idea why they were laughing, but who was there to stop them? At that moment Alistair chose to savor Arthur's true smile and laughter because who knew when they would show themselves again.

Arthur

Arthur walked into the cabin, taking off his boots as he went. Hanging up his coat he chuckled lightly, watching the ridiculous display of Alistair hooping on one foot as he struggled to pry his boot off. When the Scot heard him he shot him an unamused glare, shutting up the Brit instantly. Arthur walked over to the kitchen, retrieving some firewood and a match. Making his way over to the sitting room he knelt in front of the fireplace, placing each piece of wood in so they overlapped each other. Then he lit the match, making sure to tuck it under the wood and gently blew on it so it would catch.

The fire roared with life, filling the room in its warm glow. Arthur stood, walking over to an empty armchair, Alistair doing the same and sitting in a chair beside him. The Brit was silent, staring into the fire, watching as the flames licked the sides of the wood. He was in a trance almost, in his own little world, all outside noise jumbled and quiet. His trance was suddenly interrupted when he felt something poke him, and not in a gentle way either. Arthur snapped out of it, whipping his head around to see Alistair leaning toward him.

"Why did you do that?!" the Brit demanded. Alistair's scowled as he leaned back into his chair, his eyes still trained on Arthur.

"Well I had tae get ye back down tae earth some how," the red head smirked.

Arthur snorted. "You could have just called my name or waved a hand in front of my face, but I guess a barbarian like you doesn't have the capability of doing such an easy and harmless task."

Alistair glared at him. "Oh, does a prissy little Englishman like yerself not approve o' my actions? Does it go against that rule book o' yers, what do ye call it again? Bein' a Gentleman?" He sneered, baring his teeth like a wild animal.

"Don't you dare start making a mockery my culture. Yours on the other hand, is just revolting. The way you drink all the time and how you smoke to the extent that you may as well be mistaken for a smokestack! Your people are the definition of vulgar, they aren't capable of correct pronunciation, it is simply horrid and it shouldn't even be called English- should I go on or is that enough verbal abuse for one day?" the Brit taunted, a sly grin on his face.

Alistair growled, his eyes laced with anger. "I will rip off that shit eating grin o' yers and shove it up yer arse if ye don't drop it," he threatened, his voice thick with malice.

Arthur gulped, noting how Alistair had full intent of carrying out his threat if he didn't stop. "Ok ok I'll stop, happy now? I guess you can't handle my teasing," he said, putting his hands up in surrender.

The Scot grunted, turning his head away from the blonde. Arthur sighed, shaking his head slightly. This is going to be a long night, he thought.

A/N: Hello! In this chapter the boys met some interesting people, Jett and James. There will be pairings in this story but its more in the background and won't effect the story in anyway (so far... haven't decided). The pairings I have in the story are... DenNor, Prucan, Spamano, LieBel and slight Australia/New Zealand. Also just so you guys are clear, their are no boyxboy (not including Jett and James) or girlxgirl pairings, so there is Fem!Norway, Fem!Canada, Fem!South Italy and Male!Belarus.

In the next chapter Arthur may have forgotten to tell Alistair something very important...