A/N: Eh, ended the last chapter badly (I think), but whatever. Anyway, now we'll introduce some more madness into England-the-dog's life. ^^ We all know he secretly loves the attention he's getting from Alfred ^^ Anyway, thank you so much for the support for last chapter. I have written much in the Hetalia section, so I didn't know how much attention this would get. So please, keep the reviews coming! (Seriously, please?)

"So wait, bro, you're coming over? No, do not bring the frog over! And what do you mean I sound like Iggy? Ok, yes, he also calls Francis 'frog'. Well it's true! Oh, he's on the airplane with you? Hey, Francis, buddy-" Arthur let out a sigh as he walked alongside Alfred, who was chatting into his cellular like it was glued to his hand. It probably would make things easier for him if it was, since he was trying to hold onto a packet of chips, eat those chips, hold onto Arthur's leash, and talk on his phone all at the same time. If it had been anyone besides America, England would have been amazed. As it was, he was just disgusted and somewhat disappointed. Honestly, I taught the lad better manners, he thought.

At least my collar isn't on tight, he added. Though, being on a leash being held by Alfred was something he probably wasn't going to live down. He had a sinking feeling that this was going to be one of those moments in his (long) life that his brothers constantly annoyed him about. Well, I'll bloody show them. I'll turn them all into newts; see how they like that, England thought. As soon as I get turned back, everything will be fine, he told himself.

"Listen, for the last time, no, I didn't kidnap England. No, I have no idea why his note mentioned Norway. And no, I would not like to fuck England!" Alfred said the last part practically shouting, earning him strange looks. If Arthur had been a human, he would have looked like one of Spain's tomatoes. As it was, he only whined in complaint. This conversation was one he did not need to be listening to.

"Ah, mon cheri England will be heartbroken to hear his dear America doesn't love him~" France said on the other end, the phone doing little to make his voice sound any better. Alfred made a sound that was between a dying cat and a drowning elephant.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He asked, accidently yanking on Arthur's leash. He let out a yelp as he was pulled into Alfred's leg, glaring at the blond. "Oh, sorry Artie. Francis is being a meanie," he said, leaning down and patting the top of Arthur's head. England let out a snort at America's childish speech. Honestly, what did the boy expect? France was always being a git…

"Isn't it obvious? Ah, the smell of unknown amour…. It lies heavily around you and Arthur. Don't you agree, Mattieu?" Francis said. England couldn't hear this Mathew's reply, but France laughed, so he didn't like it. "See, Amerique? Your brother even agrees with me!" America looked like he was torn between hanging up or trying to knock some sense into France. He chose to hang up.

"Ha, those idiots. There's nothing going on between me and your master, Artie, nothing…" Arthur didn't think he had ever seen such a confused and somewhat disappointed look on the nation's face before.

After a quick lunch break (for America, anyway) the duo decided to walk around Central Park. Actually, Alfred decided that Arthur (the dog) should get as much time walking around in the 'fresh American air' and that Central Park was 'the bomb'. So the two took a walk around, crossing paths with other dogs (and leading to Arthur being sniffed in those regions more then he would have liked) and other humans. Most of the time the dogs were with humans, after all.

"Don't you like the smell of New York in the afternoon?" America asked, laughing as the two sat down on a park bench. Alfred just sat down, but Arthur jumped up and decided to rest a little, laying his head on the wooden bench. It wasn't very comfortable, even though he had plenty of room to stretch out. "Hey, you can use my leg as a pillow if you want," Alfred offered. Reminding himself that the nation thought he was a dog and not the country that raised him like a brother, Arthur shifted so his head rested on America's leg. It was much more comfortable then the bench, though he would never admit that in present company.

"Aw, your dog is so cute!" A voice cried out. Arthur looked up and, yes, he was the only dog in the area. Moments later he was being hugged by some girl who looked like Ukraine, only with longer hair and smaller chest. But… Still, a big enough chest for Arthur to panic. "I love border collies! They're so smart, and they're so soft!" She said, smiling at both Arthur and Alfred.

"Ah! Oh, yeah, I know, right?" America said, startled by his citizen's sudden appearance. Now the girl ran her hands through Arthur's fur, cooing and awing over his expression (which, had he been human, would have been both frightened and perplexed). "I'm actually watching him for a friend," Al mentioned.

"Oh, really? He's so nice! He doesn't even care that I'm petting him," The girl exclaimed. Actually, he does mind, but he doesn't want to bite one of America's citizens, England thought curtly. A cell phone started to ring and the girl frowned. "He's a cutie, that doggie is! I've gotta go, handsome," she said, running off. Alfred frowned and looked at Arthur.

"Did she just call me handsome?" Yes she did, England thought. How rude… Even if it's somewhat true, England thought. He shook his head, clearing it of those thoughts. It was just the girl making him think that way, nothing else.

Now he wished he had bitten the girl.

Canada being closer to America then England (only geographically wise, since Arthur was convinced he knew Alfred better then anyone), Mathew and the frog arrived at JFK only two hours after their conversation with Alfred over the phone. And, of course, the perverted frog gave America those bloody three kisses like the Frenchie he was. Arthur resisted the (ever present) urge to rip Francis's throat out.

"Ah, mon cheri! We are here to help get Angleterre back, oui? And oh, what a dog he has. My, my, I can't believe that Arthur could have any kind of taste," Francis said, reaching down to pet Arthur's head. He drew his hand back quickly, after being snapped at. He shrugged. "A very… English dog, apparently," he commented.

"Hello, Al..." A soft voice said.

"Oh, Mattie! Didn't see yah there," Alfred exclaimed, pulling his brother into a hug, dropping Arthur's leash on accident. France didn't stop looking at the border collie, much to England's annoyance. What was he looking at? What he didn't realize was that his eyebrows had stayed with him, in the form of dark lines over his green eyes.

"You look much like your owner," Francis muttered. Arthur was starting to realize that France of all people might be the one to figure out what had happened, when the playboy turned away to cop a feel of America's butt. "Hm… A nice ass, Amerique. Are you available, tonight-" France didn't get any farther then that, because America jumped away from him like he was on fire.

"Dude, like, no touching my ass. You aren't allowed to do that. Like, bad touch!" He shouted as loudly as possible. Arthur would have grit his teeth in pain, the sound echoing in his sensitive ears. Of course the loud American wouldn't realize that his voice was so loud that it hurt Arthur's ears. He probably wouldn't even care, the stupid git… "Hey, what did you do to my dog, Francis? He looks like he's going to faint," Alfred suddenly said, looking down. Arthur felt like he was going to faint, from the combined idiocy of two of his least favorite nations.

"Hm? Non, I did not do anything to Angleterre's dog. Perhaps he is simply feeling sick from the smell of those hamburgers you always eat?" And the smell of France's cologne, which smelled disgustingly like roses, in a bad way that only France could achieve.

"What? What's that supposed to mean? Artie loves my hamburgers!" No I don't, I was just too hungry to care.

"Bah, those things are just as bad as England's food! And kill just as many people, too." "What? My food does not kill people. They just don't have good taste."

"Um, guys?"

"Huh? Hamburgers don't kill people. I mean, duh. And I think Iggy hasn't killed anyone. Yet. He nearly killed Prussia, that one time."

"Guys?" Where was that voice coming from? Arthur looked around but couldn't see anyone except for the frog and the American. Luckily they were in America's private hanger, or else they might have been dragged away by security.

"Oui. England cannot cook to save his life, a skill you have inherited."

"Oh, come on! My cooking is better than England's any day! Besides, at least I didn't inherit anything from you." At this, both Arthur and Alfred shuddered. The idea of America being French? Horrifying.

"Guys!" Suddenly the owner of the voice appeared, and it took Arthur a few moments to realize that, no, America had not developed cloning technology, it was actually Canada. "We need to go. Didn't you say you wanted to contact Norway?" He asked his brother. America blinked in surprise and then nodded.

"Oh, yeah, hey bro. Where'd you come from? I didn't see you there earlier!" Ignoring his brother's muttered 'I've been here all the time', Alfred continued. "Yeah, in the note Iggy left me it said something about Norway, so I figured we should get to the guy as soon as possible. So, we'll all head back to my New York penthouse for some awesome American food, ok?" With that the North American nation walked off, completely ignoring the three stares.

"Amerique is… Different, oui?" Francis muttered. Canada looked at his former mentor, then back at his brother. Arthur, though he hated to admit it, thought the frog had a point. Alfred's usually cocky walk was a little less cocky, and the way he talked… It was even more idiotic then usual, like he was making up for something.

Whether Arthur liked it or not, apparently his disappearance was actually concerning to Alfred. England wasn't sure whether to be touched or terrified. Because, after all, everyone knew that when America was concerned, you got out of his way or were rolled over by the huge tank he wished he could drive everywhere.

Chewing the head of his frog-shaped chew toy was almost as satisfying as actually attacking the frog, Arthur decided. His mood was poor, whether from the multiple attempts France made to grab America's butt, or the perverted comments that flew right over Alfred's head he couldn't be sure. All he knew was that he was damn glad that the frog and Canada (who wasn't as invisible when you were a dog) would be staying in a separate hotel. It would help save what was left of his sanity.

"Are you mad? We can't call Norway, it's nighttime over there," Canada cried out as his brother reached for the phone. Alfred frowned, like the idea of time zones was new to him. If not for the fact that he dealt with time zones all the time with his states, Alfred probably wouldn't have known what time zones were.

"Oh, yeah. So, you guys wanna watch a movie or something? I've got some killer horrors just out of Hollywood!" Alfred exclaimed. Francis, from where he leaned against the dinning room wall, sighed. America's lack of ability to watch horror movies without terrifying himself was infamous. Obviously the nation didn't want anything to do with one of Alfred's moods.

"Actually, I need to check into the hotel, and so does Francis. Maybe you could watch with Arthur's dog?" Mathew asked. Oh bloody hell no, Arthur thought. He gave his frog chew toy an even harder bite. It was hard enough to comfort the bloody bastard as a human; there was no way he was doing it as a canine.

"Oui, that sounds like a good idea," Francis said, standing up. Of course he would agree, the bloody French frog… France eyed Arthur warily, having watched him chew the head of the frog for a good fifteen minutes (most of which were spent with Alfred trying to convince Mathew that England had been kidnapped by aliens). Obviously France wanted to keep his distance from the border collie. Good, I don't want that nation anywhere near me, Arthur thought.

"Aw, guys don't leave me and Artie! Mattie, come on… Wait, Mattie?" Alfred's protests fell to deaf ears, Canada and France leaving without even a glance back. Arthur let out a satisfied grunt as he, finally, managed to rip the head off the frog. Alfred sighed and, running a hand through his hair, looked down at his new 'dog'. "Eh. I guess we can watch it ourselves!" He said, his childish excitement back. Arthur let the frog head fall out of his mouth and proceeded in trying to burry his head in his paws.

This was not happening. He was not watching a horror movie with America, and as a dog! This was ridiculous. He was Untied Bloody Kingdom! Ok, he was also, currently, a dog without thumbs or even proper vocal cords, but those were minor details. He was still a nation, God damn it. And he had better things to do then-

His thoughts were cut off as America, in all his inhuman strength, picked up Arthur with one hand. His other held a container of pre-popped popcorn, covered in butter and who knows what else. Arthur let out a sharp whine, but he still found himself sitting next to Alfred as the teenaged nation (he acted like a bloody teenager) turned on the TV and, of course, dimmed the lights.

"Now, this is supposed to be a super scary movie, but I'm a hero, so you'll be safe!" America shouted, punching the air with half of his normal excitement. This is going to be torture, Arthur thought. He sighed as the movie started, shifting so his head was resting quite comfortably on his paws.

He didn't do anything for the whole movie, except for yelp when he realized Alfred was holding onto him for dear life. Some things never change, he thought. But, for whatever reason, he never made a move to shift Alfred off of him.

So that, Arthur told himself, was how he ended up being used as some kind of pillow on Alfred's bed, the blonde's head resting on Arthur's chest.

"What does he mean, he needs something for Artie's?" Alfred asked the room, brushing some sleep out of his eyes. He had, finally, woken up at noon. Norway's e-mail, Arthur read, said that he could try to find Arthur using a tracking spell, but he'd need something of Arthur's. "I don't have anything of his here. I mean, why would I?" Arthur sighed. Leave it to America to be a complete idiot… After all, he knew they should have stayed in England. But no, the bloody idiot had to fly them across the ocean to his New York penthouse.

Arthur sighed as he sat on Alfred's bed, still remembering the feeling of being used as a pillow. It wasn't entirely uncomfortable, but it had been strange. Alfred hadn't used him as a pillow since before the Revolutionary War, and it had brought back a lot of bittersweet memories…

"I don't think I have anything Iggy has used recently… Ah, no, that's right." Alfred turned his seat around and looked at Arthur, beaming. "We're going to D.C!" He said excitedly. Wait, Arthur thought, what in the world can he have in there? He didn't have time to think about it, because Alfred had pulled out his phone and was, no doubt, calling his boss and making various arrangements. "I guess I'm going to leave you here, but you'll be all right on your own, right?" Arthur let out a sharp whine of protest.

No, no, no! You're bringing me with you, whether you want to or not, he thought. He leapt to his feet and actually started barking. Alfred's face morphed into a look of confusion, then he nodded slowly.

"Oh, ok. I get it. You want to be with the hero!" Alfred shouted, jumping onto the bed and tackling Arthur. England let out another yelp as he found himself in a wrestling match with the younger nation. Bloody hell, this is ridiculous…. Stupid nation, with his 'I'm a hero!' shouts….

The two of them ended up on the bed, Arthur lying on Alfred's chest, his tail wagging slowly. Both of them were panting, though Alfred made a bigger deal out of it then Arthur.

"Ugh, dude, dog breath!" Arthur wanted to say something about Alfred's breath being poor, but seeing as he lacked vocal cords… That was something that would have to wait for later. "Today we'll be on a road trip!"

Arthur, if that was physically possible, facepalmed.