Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. Sad day…
…
Arthur Kirkland had decided that today was a good day. The rains London was famous for had stayed away and he had spent the morning in the garden giving some much needed care to his plants. Now, he had a cup of Earl Gray and was getting ready for an afternoon of reading.
"Let go of me you fucking perverted Frenchy! Help! Fire! Rape! Damn it, those are supposed to bring people running. Bomb! Taliban! Al Qaeda! Holy shit, put me down!"
The distressed shrieks were, unfortunately, coming from his front lawn. He set his tea and book to the side going to the door to see what the commotion was about, although he had a sneaking suspicion.
The door opened before he reached it revealing one of his least favorite people. France was smiling triumphantly holding a girl in a fireman's carry. She was obviously the one who had been screaming though she had desisted for the moment at least opting for glaring murderously at the back of France's head.
"Angleterre!" France called.
"I'm right here frog, you don't have to shout," England replied. "Good God, France, you can't woo them anymore so you decide to kidnap them?"
"Non mon cher. I…oof!" That was as far as he got as the girl in question had decided at that moment to kick the Frenchman in the stomach causing him to drop her. She landed in a half crouch from which she quickly sprung pulling the front door open.
Another blonde stood outside, his right arm raised as if he was knocking. He readjusted his glasses as violet eyes took in the scene through the open doorway.
"Hello…" Canada began. Kumajirou was already lumbering inside.
"Shit fuck damn they're multiplying!" The girl did an about face and ran for the back door.
Arthur, tired of having a panicked American (at least that's what he assumed from her clothing and accent) running around his house, grabbed her arm hoping to talk to her.
A fist flew towards his face. Acting on instinct built up from countless wars, the Brit blocked the blow twisting her arm behind her back so she couldn't hit anyone else. He had no intention of hurting her, but he didn't fancy getting punched in the face either.
The girl however, still had a lot of fight left. She stomped on his foot and rammed the back of her head into his nose. He cursed like the pirate he used to be as she slipped from his grasp sprinting for the back door.
Something was wrong though. She slowed, swaying unsteadily. The three nations watched as she unexpectedly crumpled laying unconscious on Arthur's kitchen floor.
They stared at her dumbfounded for a few moments before England turned on the one responsible for this whole mess. "France!"
…
"I'm sorry…Iggy."
Evelyn jerked awake clutching an unfamiliar comforter in her hands. It took a few moments before the previous day's events caught up with her. She bolted upright flinging the covers off and taking in her surroundings.
The room was simple, but well furnished. She was sitting on a twin-sized bed in the center with a trunk at the foot. To the left was an armoire and to the right was a window. In the corner was a desk with a lamp; a piece of paper was set against the lamp where she would see it.
Ignoring the paper, the American found her wallet and iPod sitting on top of the trunk next to her boots on the floor. Evelyn checked her wallet for her parents' picture and then pocketed both items slipping on her boots.
If only she hadn't passed out earlier. She had been so close; the door had been in reach and then her vision had gone black and all she could think was "Not now, please oh please not now!" Unfortunately, her episodes never listened to her pleas and her escape was cut short.
She went to the window pushing aside the dark green curtains looking out at the garden below. She could climb down, difficult in heeled boots (why did she have to wear them today, yesterday? How long had she been out?), but not impossible. Evelyn got as far as opening the window, but the next thought to cross her mind stopped her.
Where would she go? She was in a foreign country (as the Frenchman had informed her when she woke in the car), she didn't have enough money for a plane ticket home much less a hotel room and even if she did, her passport was back in America. Evelyn hung her head in defeat closing the window.
Might as well go downstairs and face her kidnappers.
…
Arthur was in the kitchen when his wholly unexpected guest came downstairs. Francis had informed him that she had episodes and they seemed to be normal for her. She didn't look any worse for the ordeal.
After the girl had passed out, France had explained why she was here claiming England had raised America once, so he should be able to again. The Frenchman had left quickly after that leaving Arthur to deal with the mess.
Thankfully, Matthew had helped him. They took the girl upstairs tucking her into bed in the guest room. She twitched in her sleep clutching at the blankets. Matthew had gasped and Arthur had been surprised as well—as the girl's dreams intensified, so did her nation aura. It was almost nonexistent when she had been awake, but now it swelled; while still nowhere near the strength of a true nation, it was recognizable and could not be ignored.
Now the girl was awake again and the aura was gone. Arthur didn't know what to think. She looked ready to bolt at any moment; the Englishman took pity on her and motioned for her to sit.
"I see you read my note." He poured another cup of tea as she sat resting her elbow on the table and her chin in her palm.
"No, actually, I didn't."
That was surprising. He placed the cup in front of her and took a seat himself. "Then may I ask what you are still doing here? Usually, a kidnapped person would do everything in their power to escape especially if said person isn't being held in any way."
She sighed. "I don't have my passport, phone or enough money to get home. I don't know where I am or why I'm here. The police most likely won't believe my story because I hardly believe it. By the way, if you guys are looking for ransom, you definitely took the wrong girl."
He nodded unable to argue with her logic. "It was not I who kidnapped you; I didn't even know of your existence until the frog dropped you in my house. I apologize for my colleague's actions however. He's not the most intelligent of people and mistook you for someone else." He took a sip from his tea before setting it down. Internally, he was cursing the damned Frenchman for putting him in this situation, but he wouldn't let his "guest" see that. "My name is Arthur Kirkland. I can send someone for your passport if you would like and offer you my hospitality until it arrives."
She blinked dumbly at him for a few moments. Whatever she had been expecting, it wasn't that. "Er…thank you. You really didn't want to kidnap me?"
He met her uncertain gaze. "No, I did not. I have better things to do than kidnapping strangers."
…
Evelyn didn't really know what to think of the British man in front of her, but she didn't think he was lying. She held out her hand and he took it after a moment of surprise.
"I'm Evelyn Summers. It's nice to meet you Artie."
The Englishman furrowed his prominent eyebrows in clear annoyance. "It's Arthur."
"Right, sorry." Evelyn rubbed the back of her neck embarrassed. She didn't mean to give him a nickname, but it came out before she could stop it. Her stomach growled noticeably and she blushed, embarrassment intensifying as she looked up at her host; she didn't know the last time she ate.
The Englishman's indifferent expression didn't change. It was the same mask he put on for the rest of the world to convince them he was truly fine and that he had moved past the loss of his former colony. "Would you like something to eat?"
"Yes please."
Arthur nodded going to retrieve food. "I haven't poisoned the tea."
"Huh?" She looked at the full cup of cooling tea in front of her. "Oh. To be honest, I don't really like tea."
Evelyn could've sworn she heard him mutter, "Just like an American." He returned shortly with a plate of something resembling charcoal squares. Thinking it just looked worse than it was, the American picked one up with her fingers taking a tentative bite. She blanched and downed the tea she had previously shunned.
"Oh my god Artie, has anyone ever told you that you can't cook?"
Arthur, who had returned to his own tea a moment before, looked like he was contemplating wringing her neck.
…
The rest of the morning passed in what could only be called awkward silence punctuated only now and then by a hesitant question from Evelyn and increasingly less patient answers from Arthur.
Evelyn was still wary of the entire situation. The Brit had told her they were on the outskirts of London and, she had to admit, it was a very nice house. She was given free reign as long as she stayed out of the basement (which only made her curious) and didn't cause trouble.
It wasn't long until she found the library. Her eyes lit up as they scanned the rows of leather bound volumes, many of them first editions, but she managed to quell the squeal of excitement at the amount of books the Englishman owned. Tentatively, as if they might crumble to dust, the American took down the first volume of Sherlock Holmes and curled up in the nearest armchair to read.
That's where Arthur found her a couple hours later completely oblivious to the world around her so caught up in the story. He nodded in approval and retrieved his own book enjoying the moment of peace.
…...
England woke abruptly the next morning. Someone was moving around downstairs and, judging by the smell, they were cooking something. It took him another moment to remember his American guest, but why would she be cooking this early? As far as he knew, Americans hated getting up early; it was one of the reasons that idiot was always late for meetings.
Dressing quickly, Arthur made his way to the kitchen. The smell only got stronger the closer he got and, he had to admit, it smelled good. When he reached the hall, he could hear soft singing coming from the stove area.
Arthur rounded the corner examining the scene before him. Evelyn was leaning against the counter by the stove, spatula in one hand, singing to herself to some song on her music player if the ear buds were any indication.
"Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars?" she flipped a pancake in the pan continuing. "I could really use a wish right now, right now." Waiting a few more seconds, she moved the finished pancake to a plate already stacked high. She turned off the stove and grabbed the plate as she turned, jumping when she saw him.
"Good morning," he greeted.
"Artie! You startled me."
His eye twitched at the nickname, but he ignored it for now. "Perhaps if you removed the earphones, you might've heard me."
She smiled removing the pieces of technology as requested and placing them in a pocket. "Pancakes?" she held up the plate invitingly.
He nodded going to make tea. "You didn't have to make breakfast. You are my guest after all."
Setting the plate on the table, she replied, "With all due respect, Artie, yeah I did—if I wanted to live at any rate." The last was muttered, but he still heard it.
"It's 'yes' not 'yeah' and there's nothing wrong with my cooking!"
"Not everyone likes charcoal. Come on, there's nothing to be ashamed about; not everyone can cook…"
"Who's ashamed? My cooking's just fine." He sat at the table muttering a "git" in her general direction. She was starting to remind him a little too much of a certain other American; he had just buried those memories and didn't fancy revisiting them.
Evelyn poured syrup over her own stack of pancakes beginning to eat energetically. The Brit sighed. It appeared as if he wouldn't be able to escape those memories no matter how hard he tried. He had actually believed last night that this girl was completely different when she had been quietly reading.
"Hey, how long do you think it will take for my passport to get here?"
Arthur took a sip from his tea before answering. "That would depend on who is available to go get it and the flight schedules."
"So that means I could be here for a few days, right?"
"Yes, it would." He had a feeling she was trying to make a point. "As I told you before, you are welcome to stay here until your passport is delivered."
She quickly chewed and swallowed another mouthful of pancake; at least she had some manners. "That's good and all—thanks, really, because I don't know what I would do otherwise—but, if I'm going to be staying here a while…I mean all I have are the clothes I'm wearing now and, well…" she left it hanging unsure how to continue.
Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose. Bloody hell, he thought, I didn't think about that. The frog had kidnapped her; she hadn't had time to pack for a trip to Europe and he certainly didn't have any spare clothes lying around that would fit her. He could take her shopping—it's not like she would need much—but she had already made it clear she didn't have much money either.
"What would you need?" he asked.
"Huh? Oh, another pair of jeans, a few shirts—just the essential stuff."
He nodded. "There are some stores near here where I can take you. I'll cover the cost."
Her face lit up. "Really? Thanks Artie!"
"It's Arthur!" He had a feeling this was going to be a long day.
At least he could always make the bloody frog pay him back later. With interest.
…
Arthur looked up from his book at the American's sigh. A copy of Sherlock Holmes was sitting open on her lap, but her attention was elsewhere; she stared longingly out the window one foot swinging idly.
She sighed again and, knowing he probably wouldn't get any peace if he ignored her, he asked, "What are you so interested in?"
Her attention snapped to him. "I'm only in one of the oldest and most historically saturated cities in the world and I'm stuck in here unable to see it." She sounded like it was the worst crime anyone could commit.
The Englishman laid his book to the side after marking his place. There were not many who complimented his city and he found himself liking this girl for it although the emotion was tempered by the "old" comment. "You are not 'stuck in here' as I am not keeping you hostage and if seeing the city is that important to you, we can always go out. I've lived here my entire life, so I know a fair amount about it."
Evelyn perked up, her whole body screaming excitement. "Really? You'll take me sightseeing?"
Arthur only nodded and was rewarded with a cheer from his guest. In truth, he loved his capitol and would gladly show it off to anyone who wanted to see. Unlike a certain American he once knew, however, he did not force tours on others especially when those others had seen the sights every visit.
He pulled out a light coat for Evelyn before donning his own and they left with the American chattering happily about the things she wanted to see. They boarded a bus taking them downtown to Arthur's normal stop outside the Parliament building.
"Second star to the right and on 'til morning."
"Peter Pan," Arthur identified the quote.
Evelyn pointed at the clock tower. "Yep, Big Ben. It's the landmark they use as a reference point to get to Neverland. Oh wow! It's Westminster!" She began talking about its history, which he already knew, but he was a bit impressed by her knowledge.
They spent the rest of day touring the city with the American regaling him with each landmark's history; he corrected her when necessary, answering questions when she asked, but otherwise stayed silent. Arthur found himself truly impressed with the girl's knowledge. Most never bothered to learn their own country's history, much less that of another.
He took her back in the late afternoon, after lunch, much to her chagrin.
"But I haven't seen the British Museum or the Tower yet," she whined.
"You can hardly expect to see it all in one day."
"Yeah, I guess," she conceded. Then, she smiled again giving him a rather unexpected hug.
"Wh-what are you doing?" he asked, stunned.
She pulled back. "Thanks for showing me around today. It was awesome." She disappeared up the stairs before he could reply.
Arthur ran a hand through his already messy blonde hair. Damn Americans were all the same…
…...
A/N: Thank you to my wonderful reviewers! Especially to one kind reviewer who pointed out the problems with my French which will be fixed in the future.
Thank you also to all the people who added this story to their faves/alerts! I honestly didn't think this story would be that well received.
Reviews are always welcome and appreciated. Until next time!