Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.
How did she keep getting herself into these situations? Evelyn thought to herself as she put everyday of P.E. she had into effect. How hard was it to stay out of trouble like Arthur said? Obviously harder than Arthur and she had thought or she wouldn't be madly running through London. Her foot caught on something or nothing and she frantically regained her balance as shouts sounded behind her. Despite the burning in her thighs and stomach she couldn't help her mind wandering back to Arthur.
She hadn't seen Arthur go into work. He had left her at the fountain in a business park. She had assumed one of the buildings was actually the one he worked in, but she hadn't seen him go into any of them. Evelyn was almost positive he worked for the government; she had overheard him talking to the Prime Minister after all! Today though, he said he had an important meeting to attend and would be gone all day. He told her where he would be and then said she was free to wander as long as she stayed out of trouble and they had parted ways.
Trouble really had been the last thing on her mind when she discovered the street market by the Thames. She had been browsing the different wares when she came upon a group of three boys harassing another smaller one. One petty insult had led to another and another. Of course, being the oldest and most mature, Evelyn had won the petty match of wits making her feel rather smug. The boys hadn't taken too kindly to her smirk which was why she was now mindlessly running through the streets of London franticly keeping familiar streets and buildings in her sights. This led her straight back to where she had parted with Arthur. The boys' angry shouts and taunts followed her getting ever closer. Making a split second decision, she headed for the closest building to their meeting place.
Evelyn burst through a heavy set of glass doors with the boys' jeers behind her. She didn't stop once she was inside and didn't realize the doors had slowed the boys down. Instead, she kept going, her adrenaline-riddled brain urging her forward. Two men in blue uniforms appeared before her and she jumped around them continuing away from her pursuers with angry shouts echoing through the lobby.
She was on the third floor before she slowed ducking through the first set of doors she saw. The American leaned against them hoping the guards would pass her by and then she could call Arthur and explain what happened and…
"Evelyn?" Well speak of the devil and he shall answer.
Broken from her frantic panic (as they hadn't really been boys chasing her, but two burly guys with arms as big around as she and the boy being tormented was really a wimpy office worker and damn was London dangerous!), she took a moment to look around her surroundings wide-eyed. She was in a large occupied conference room. The occupants were of all different nationalities, which was weird enough, but they were all staring at her like she was the strange one. She was only an American in London; what could be more normal than that? She made a face at her own stupid thoughts—they weren't normal for her. A movement of someone standing caught her attention.
Arthur was the one who had spoken; he was near the head of the table closest to her. Francis wasn't too far away; he blew her a kiss, she flipped him off completely forgetting the room full of people. For some reason, a brunette beside him started frantically waving a white flag and crying. A blonde at the head glared at her British guardian.
"Evelyn!" Arthur reprimanded her. Hopefully it wasn't for the rude gesture since the Brit had given her almost express permission to insult the Frenchman whenever possible. However that permission didn't extend to just bursting into his very important meeting, out of breath and without warning.
Damn her thighs hurt. Her gym teacher would have been proud; she might've been able to get an A out of the bastard. He was kind of strict…like Arthur…who was looking at her expectantly…
Oops.
He marched toward her his eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. "What are you doing?" he demanded.
Evelyn bit her lip, thinking. "I was, uh, running?" She attempted a smile that was more of a grimace.
He was trying hard to contain his temper. "Why were you running?" The only way to describe his voice was tight as he physically bit back his temper with a stiff jaw and the shaking in his white knuckled fists.
"There were these guys picking on a smaller kid," it came out before she could stop it. Well, her version anyways, Arthur wouldn't have like the real version and he already looked like he was on his way to a stroke; she wasn't going to be the one who pushed him over the edge. "You should've seen this kid; he looked so pathetic that I couldn't just leave him there, so I told them to back off. They told me to stay out of it and called me a stupid American. Well, I couldn't just let that slide, so I said I rather be stupid than someone who's too cowardly to pick on someone their own size and…er, there might've been something else…" She didn't feel like she was twenty-one anymore, but fifteen trying to explain why she punched the kid at school.
"What else?" His voice was low, an exasperated growl.
"Um, well, I know how sensitive you get about it so I thought it might work with them too. I kind of told them that the Americans kicked their asses once and I would be happy to do it again." There was that mature argument from earlier. Somehow the more she looked back at this, the more she should have just talked to a cop or something more rational. What was with her and the not-like-her decisions?
Arthur let out a deep breath as he pinched the bridge of his nose waiting for her to continue. His shoulders slumped a little so that meant she was winning, right?
"That's when they took out their knives and I'm not dumb enough to stick around after that, so I started running and I ended up here. That's it." Arthur moved towards her and the door. Hopefully he would reprimand her someplace more private, i.e. not the conference room.
Francis burst out laughing. "She has a bit of a hero complex, non?"
"Shut up frog!" Arthur snapped releasing enough of his anger to make Francis cower.
That must be some evil glare, Evelyn thought absently.
He turned back to Evelyn opening the door and stopping a security guard who had been looking for the girl who had infiltrated the building. He gave Evelyn a warning look before addressing the guard. The American had yet to see the fury on his face but it must have been terrible since the poor guard was shaking as he escorted her to Arthur's office standing outside to keep her there.
England paused at the door still not facing the rest of the nations as he reeled in his temper. He had thought she was in serious trouble when she came bursting through the door like the IRA was after her. It had sparked an old feeling of rage in him—something eerily similar to his Empire days when another country had wanted a piece of America. He needed to redirect his anger.
France laughed again catching his attention and allowing him to turn his anger into the familiar annoyance for the French nation. He would have to thank him later or just not hurt him as much for the rest of the day.
The Englishman tuned back to the other nations present. He knew his eyes were livid by the way Italy crawled under the table to sob on Germany's boots while waving his white flag. He took a deep breath and, temper back in control, moved to the table with France making a pass at his ass as he passed him. He resisted the urge to strangle the frog for the simple joy of it. It would help immensely towards improving his mood, but it would go against his non-verbal thanks to France. Said nation caught his eye and gave him a stern nod.
Bloody frog reading his mind.
The English nation had never met anyone who could get into so much trouble and give him such a headache…no, that wasn't true. He just hadn't met someone else in over thirty years.
"England-san, if I may ask, who was that?" Japan's quiet voice carried through the sounds of Italy's sobbing Evelyn's entrance had resulted in.
How to answer that question? He wasn't sure if he believed it himself.
"Poor Angleterre is still coming to terms with my discovery of petite Amerique."
The stupid snail eater was far too pleased with himself.
"She's America?" Germany questioned skeptically. "She doesn't have the nation aura."
Canada answered. "She does, but it's weak. It's more noticeable when she's dreaming." England had kept the Canadian up-to-date with the situation. Alfred had been Matthew's brother after all; the boy deserved to know what was happening.
"Dreaming?" Italy asked. "So, she's only a nation when she's asleep?"
"Non," France answered. "Her dreams are America's memories. She is still unaware of their true significance however and Angleterre is quite adamant about not telling her."
"We're still not entirely sure," England spoke up. "After all, she's shown no sign of truly recognizing any of us."
"Oui, but her dreams, her actions…"
England shook his head. "…Could be something else entirely."
"What if we let her sit in on the meeting? Perhaps she would remember more?" Japan suggested.
It met with mixed reactions.
Arthur's office resembled a Captain's quarters on an old fashioned ship than the stereotypical offices she had seen on T.V. Dark wood paneling covered the floor and walls giving the room a rich feeling of comfort. A huge polished desk was the center focus when walking into the room. Piles of paper were stacked in an order that only Arthur knew and yet, for being in the twenty-first century, there was no sign of a computer or laptop. Maybe he had one of those fancy computers built into the desk.
She moved over to the desk peeking around it like someone might attack her for looking. No build in computer. She looked up out of the window situated behind Arthur's desk only to blink dumbly. It wasn't a window at all but a huge painting of the ocean. She should have noticed something was off when she had seen the blue sky and the wooden ships. On either side of the frame, stood two flags: the Union Jack and England's own St. George's Cross; between the flags was an old timey globe. Tasteful waist-high bookshelves connected the corner of the picture frame to the walls. Looking up and around she could see the hidden lights that had been used to make it look like light was coming from the painting.
Other pictures hung on the walls above the shelves, but the images were too small for her to see without being right on them.
Evelyn spun around in a full circle her eyes landing on the real window in the office. It had a window seat complete with crocheted pillows. She idly wondered which little old lady had made them for him. She had always wanted a window seat, of course, hers would be more modern not the horrid floral pattern with the embroidered pillows someone's grandma had given him. Either way, window seats seemed like the perfect place to curl up and read in, especially after today's ordeal. It looked like Arthur thought the same because there was a book sitting invitingly on the cushion.
She picked it up curling herself into a comfortable position in the window. The book was a well-loved copy of Hamlet. It wasn't her favorite of Shakespeare, but it wasn't her least favorite either. She opened the cover and began to read.
Arthur stormed into his office, slamming the door open, mouth already pulled into a firm frown. He paused upon looking at the room, face morphing into one of slight confusion at not seeing his charge, but then he heard the turning of a page and he noticed her sitting in the window intently reading his copy of Hamlet. His eyebrows furrowed irritably.
"Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are dead," she informed him before setting the play aside and hugging her knees to her chest.
"As they should be for being gits and not standing by their friend's trust." Arthur quipped scolding the reckless girl in his own way. He reaffixed the frown on his face giving her a rather unhappy, almost disappointed, look. She had nearly given him a heart attack after all.
Taking a deep breath, she said, "I'm sorry for interrupting your important meeting, like, really sorry and I know you told me to stay out of trouble, but I just…"
He sighed, shoulders slumping in defeat. He held up a hand to stop her rambling. "You did the right thing." Arthur rolled his eyes before turning his back to her and crossing to his desk. She left the window seat following slowly and hesitantly hoping to talk to him. Taking a seat in a high-backed chair that looked like something from an evil villain movie, he swiveled to face her. "Since it seems I can't leave you alone for even a day without trouble, you'll be attending the meeting with me." She knew this was meant to be some sort of punishment, but a weird gleam in Arthur's eye made her think might be more of a revenge thing.
In reality, the other nations had decided that Evelyn should attend hoping the familiarity of the meetings would spark a memory. England was against it, but he couldn't find a good reason why he was.
"What? Oh, come on, I said I was sorry and I promise to stay out of trouble."
Then again, it would be just as much torture for her as it would be for him. "You're coming with me and that's final." He grinned. "Besides, you might just learn something."
Evelyn grumbled sinking into the nearest chair. "Fine, but now comes the important question."
Arthur raised an eyebrow questioningly.
"What am I going to wear?"
Arthur groaned already feeling a hole forming in his pocket book.
The Englishman groaned again as they entered another store. The fifth store to be exact, but who was counting. He really should have just purchased the outfit they had found in the first store, but the price! He wouldn't get vacation time for another ten years if he had purchased that suit.
"Hey Artie, what about these?" Evelyn appeared from behind a rack of clothes holding a pair of black slacks which were wrinkling horribly from the way she waved them around.
"I cannot see them while they are balled up and being used as a flag," Arthur retorted his patience seriously being tested and a dull ache starting in his head.
"Oh yeah." She gave a nervous laugh before letting the slacks unfold and holding them up by the waistband for him to see.
He gave them a quick once over wrinkling his nose at what he saw. He really did not know all that much about women's fashion especially when it came to teenage girls, but he was sure the article of clothing he was currently examining was inappropriate. They were black flaring at the ankles. The waistline looked far too low.
"The zipper is not even five centimeters long!" he exclaimed. "I will not have someone who is living under my roof dressed as a harlot." He had been to clubs (he went out drinking with Prussia and Denmark after all) and noticed the clothes the girls wore there, but something like that was not at all appropriate for a business setting.
"Geez, you sound like such a dad. Lighten up old man." She put the slacks back looking for another pair that would pass his inspection.
"I'm not old," Arthur protested crossing his arms. Evelyn muffled her snickering with a hand using the rack of clothes to hide.
He looked around the store trying not to think about the "dad" comment. It was a hopeless endeavor however as his thoughts strayed back to those memories. He had often scolded Alfred for his appearance especially when the boy had come running into the house covered from head to toe in mud, clothing ripped from recklessly charging through the bushes or climbing trees on some new adventure.
"How about these?" Evelyn interrupted his musing holding up another pair of slacks making sure to straighten them out this time. This pair had a considerably higher waist, were black and seemed much more appropriate for a World Meeting.
"Better." He nodded his assent groaning as the girl pulled out another similar pair draping both over her arm. "How much will this cost?" He wanted to make sure she looked presentable, but, with the economy the way it is, he was on a budget.
"Relax, they're on sale." She pointed to the sign on the rack before moving to another one, this one holding blouses.
Arthur was getting tired of shopping. He hadn't gone with her the first time she bought clothes, just gave her enough cash to buy what she needed. That reminded him: he needed to get France to pay him back for the expense since it was the frog's fault for kidnapping the girl.
"Oh, this is cute." She held up dark blue button up turning to a mirror to see how it looked. The blouse itself was rather simple and he had no complaint with it. Then she held up another. It was cream colored and looser than the other one, however the material was sheer, almost translucent.
"Absolutely not!"
"I would wear a cami under it." Evelyn pouted her lower lip sticking out slightly and giving him puppy-dog eyes so similar to America's he could feel himself giving in.
"No," he replied adamantly drawing on past experience. "I told you, you will not look so unprofessional while you are living under my roof."
"Technically, I think you said harlot." She pointed out petulantly.
He gave her a don't-test-me glare holding it until she put the article of clothing back. Evelyn grabbed a few more tops holding each one up for his inspection then retreated to the changing rooms.
Satisfied everything fit and was up to the Englishman's standards, they went to check out. Arthur nearly had a heart attack when he saw the final price—why were women's clothes so much more expensive than men's?—but still gave the cashier his credit card.
Evelyn grabbed the bags leading the way out. She was practically bouncing in excitement. "Thanks again Artie! Oh look, an ice cream shop. Can we get some? Pretty please?" She clasped her hands in front of her like she was begging, the gesture masked by the two shopping bags still in her hands.
Arthur looked between the shop and the girl for a minute. Giving out an exasperated and defeated sigh, he nodded. "Very well, but only a small treat."
She cheered nearly hitting an innocent passerby with a bag without realizing. She ran off for the ice cream shop leaving Arthur to apologize for his charge's behavior before he followed hoping to keep her from getting into more trouble.
A/N: College is a bitch. That's all I'm going to say about that.
Anyhow, thank you to my beta Fall in Snow…even though she completely tore this chapter apart and yelled at me for lack of fluff in the last part (it was seriously shorter, by like a lot, and I had to expand it).
Thank you also to all my reviewers/faves/alerts! You guys make me ridiculously happy whenever I see that little notice in my e-mail. I love you all!
As always, reviews are loved. I use them to poke my beta into editing faster. Whether it works or not…eh, depends on her mood.
Ciao for now!