Chapter 1

It had started out as an ordinary winter day. Freezing would be a better word, actually. America had gotten out of bed, and tried to find his glasses. Unfortunately, this was easier said than done, because he could barely see without them when there was light, let alone complete darkness. After many attempts and much swearing from bumping into walls and doors such, a crunch met his ears. He quickly picked up the source of the noise, and found his glasses at last. With a rare bout of good luck, he had trampled the end of frame, and the glass was still intact. Happy that he could see, he found the warmest clothes he had, which might not have been that warm, since basically all his clothes besides his ancient US Army Air Force uniform and leather jacket were from thrift shops. Well, there was that, and the fact that he was still shaking like a leaf. With low hopes, he opened the mini-fridge that was in the corner. It didn't really surprise him to see that, besides half-drained jug of milk, it was empty. Sighing, he took a sip, and after finding his keys, he tossed on his dusty jacket and stepped outside. He regretted it within the first minute.

It was the kind of cold that made a person want to curl up in a blanket next to a roaring fire, with maybe a cup of hot chocolate. Of course, going back inside was probably retarded, considering that it was nearly as chilly in his house. With the comforting thought that it was probably warmer there, he began the long journey to McDonalds. After nearly ten minutes of walking, he finally arrived at the door. Inside, he was blessed with warmth that brought strength back to his freezing bones. He went in back to the kitchen, where he quickly spotted his boss. Not his actual boss, mind you, he was too cold-hearted. No, he meant his job's boss, who was kind and had some decency to her employees. Tapping her on the shoulder, she turned around and nodded hello, handing him a bag and a cup that was steaming, like she always did when winter came around. She mouthed the word cashier, and gestured to the empty one, before continuing to receive somebody's drive-thru order. America quickly changed in the bathroom. Starting from the moment he buttoned up his uniform that said Alfred F. Jones on the tag, America was Alfred, and shall be referred to as such.

Alfred walked back over to the counter and dropped the bag with his clothes by his feet. In the first few hours, there were a lot of people streaming in for a quick bite to eat before heading to work. But after rush hour had passed, fewer people came in. It was the same way every day.

"Hey Alfred, you going to the game?" Jonathon asked him, startling Alfred. He had been working on his report for the upcoming World Meeting. Of course, there wasn't really much in it yet. He had to stop by the library after work to get the information about Global Warming he needed, since his actual boss, not his job boss, hadn't told him anything, which might have stung just a little.

"Hm?" Alfred replied, slightly confused. Jonathon was about to tell him about it, when the door opened, surprising everyone and interrupting the many discussions taking place. It was a rare occasion when somebody came in at that time of day. The somebody in particular had extremely bushy eyebrows, green eyes, and was wearing a chocolate brown coat on top of a dark lime green Royal Air Force uniform. His name was England, or Arthur Kirkland. Arthur walked right up to Alfred.

"Bloody American's not having tea…" Arthur muttered under his breath. "Ah, well let's see, I guess a small hot cocoa is okay, Alfred," he said. Alfred worried that Arthur knew it was him, but decided that maybe he had just read his tag.

"Here or to go?" Alfred asked the British gentleman.

"Here," he said.

"That will be 2.51," Alfred replied. Arthur gave him $3 and told him to keep the change. Since there were no other customers, Arthur's drink was done in about a minute. He sat down and, to Alfred, seemed to be staring at Alfred.

"Hey, do you know that guy?" Jonathon whispered, pointing to Arthur.

"H-he looks like a friend of mine," Alfred whispered back, worry evident. Of course, it was a lie. No one else could have the same bushy eyebrows. The two continued to chat, forgetting about the British spy watching them. Arthur had finished his drink, but was still sitting there with a newspaper, pretending that there was still the warm liquid in his cup. Soon, Alfred's shift was over, and as much as he hated it, he had to go back outside. Back into the cold. He changed back, walked back outside, and was about to head home, when a hand landed on his shoulder. It was England's.

Done. Okay, thanks for all the reviews, people. I swear I woke up this morning, and when checked my e-mail, I had over 10 e-mails about this story. So this must have potential. Sorry about leaving you guys in suspence. Um... oh yeah, for all you strangers Arthur=England, Alfred=America. They are the same people. I didn't come up with the human names, I don't who did and how they got the ideas. Oh. Dark Lime Green is a real color, in case your wondering. Look it up on Bing. Happy Memorial Weekend!