Disclaimer: Hetalia and its characters belong to our papa, the troll king: Himaruya.

Summary: Young heir of a multi-million dollar company, Alfred F. Jones' hedonistic way of life was threatened by the arrival of his parents' newest watchdog in the form of a traditional British butler. Of course, resentment quickly turned into infatuation when he found out that Arthur the butler, despite being older a few good years than him, was a man with boyish good look and adorable hissy personality perfect for Alfred's teasing pleasure. US/UK.

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The Butler

Chapter 3

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Blurry red digital-light somewhere above him was displaying 5:00 AM. Alfred automatically yawned before rubbing his eyes and straightening his position a bit. It had been around three hours since Gilbert and Mathias left the apartment, and Alfred was still in the same spot the two had left him: sprawled on the carpet with his back resting on the side of the bed frame. A few bottles, snacks, and empty fast-food containers were scattered around him, solid proof that there was some kind of social drinking going on earlier. But the mess hardly mattered right now, since he had a mission to do. Alfred got up slowly, his legs a little wobbly from staying in the same position for too long. He dragged himself to his bedroom door, stood there while pressing his ear to the cool surface of said door, and listened hard.

Somewhere across the hall, water was running. Then a door creaked from being opened. Light footsteps fell one after another, heading towards the living room. Alfred could already imagine a certain butler in the midst of his morning routine. It always started with Arthur turning on the tap and letting the hot water run slowly into his bathtub. While waiting for it to fill, the Englishman would lavish his attention to his beloved potted roses in the balcony outside the living room. The whole ordeal would take about five minutes. Alfred knew this little fact, because sometimes the noise of Arthur moving around the apartment would wake him up. No, he did not try to wake up early just to catch the butler in thin cotton pajamas and a pair of fuzzy unicorn slippers, no matter how adorable the sight was. A-anyways, moving on.

This meant that the young Jones only had five minutes to carry on with his revenge plan. He thought this one up just tonight with Gilbert and Mathias. The three men were pretty pissed that Alfred was treated like some fucking Cinderella and was forbidden to go to this mad party on the other side of the city ("You have an eight o'clock meeting in the morning, sir. So no parties, I'm afraid." Insert a whip crack here). The butler even had the audacity to recruit the number one security guard of the apartment, Vash Zwingli, to monitor the building's entrance and make sure the heir did not slip by. However, Arthur did not take the precaution of people coming into the building, hence the late night visit of Gilbert and Mathias. In addition, Arthur was quite a heavy sleeper. So any additional noises after the man had gone to bed were usually ignored.

Back to the plan, the trio had stolen Arthur's entire tea collection, including the rare ones that he got from his world-wide network of tea lover friends, from the kitchen cabinet. They wrapped the stolen goods using Alfred's leather jacket, and went back to the room in badly-covered giggles. So now, after hours of waiting, Alfred was left to do the final deed of the plan.

After the sound of Arthur's steps had disappeared, indicating he was probably out in the balcony, Alfred sprung into action. The bubbly blond cracked open his door, peered into the empty hallway, and immediately stormed into Arthur's room while carrying the tea leaves-filled leather jacket on his shoulder like Santa's sack. His thought of revenge was derailed for a few seconds when he noticed Arthur had not yet made his bed. The comforter was halfway thrown to the side, revealing a simple white bed sheet still creased from movements during slumber. The pillow laid slightly askew next to a shabby green winged-bunny stuffed toy, a dent still visible from where the Briton's head rested for the night. The American wondered if Arthur's heat or scent still lingered there. He was half-tempted to just lie down on the mattress and bury his face on its soft surface, immersing himself in what was remaining of Arthur's presence. But the sound of water hitting cold, ceramic floor snapped him back into reality.

The tub was already overflowing when Alfred stepped into the adjacent bathroom. The rising steam greeted him with a warm puff on his face. Not wasting another time, the young man opened his bundle and dumped all the tea leaves inside into the bathtub. With a maniacal glee, he watched as the clear liquid began to turn reddish brown. The scent that wafted through the air was strongly Arthur, and Alfred found himself wanting to drown in it once again.

Well, he would quite literally drown by Arthur's hands if he did not move his ass out before the butler returned to the bathroom. So off he went, making a mad dash to the front door.

"Young master?"

He bumped into Arthur in the hallway. The exit was already visible, just a few feet behind the Briton. Alfred gave him a shit-eating grin, and in a rush of a rather foolish bravery, he swooped down and pecked Arthur on the cheek.

Arthur's face colored in record time, "W-w-what are you—?"

But Alfred already slipped past with a "Bye, Artie!", and ran off to freedom and to safety of the outside world.

Alfred stood on the side way of the main road as his chest heaved in an uneven pattern. He was still trying to catch his breath after climbing down through several sets of fire escape stairs, opting not to use the elevator in case Arthur tried to catch up with him. So far, he saw neither the horrendous eyebrows nor the cute ass of Arthur Kirkland. The blond took a deep breath and whistled a harsh tune that every cab driver in New York would recognize. All he needed to do now was to stay low-key at Kiku's place until the whole thing had blown over. Shouldn't be too long; it was only tea, after all. How mad could Arthur be?

A loud yell of 'America, fuck yeah!' alerted Alfred of an incoming text message. He groped around his jeans and finally pulled out the cell.

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From: England's finest ass

[Look up.]

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Alfred complied, looking up just in time to see an object rushing down to fulfill gravity's call. With a yelp, he instantly jumped to the side, narrowly missing the object that had shattered upon meeting the hard concrete.

"What the—" He gazed down at the remains. The shiny, black thing with broken screen and several chunks chipped off of it looked rather familiar. W-was that his PSP? The American swallowed a lump on his throat as he shifted his look upward again. He could somewhat make out Arthur's figure, standing on the balcony of their apartment. There was something on the man's hand. Oh, look, he let it go.

"…"

Well, shit.

With another yelp, he scrambled away from where he was standing. The unidentified thing broke on the spot with frightening precision just a few seconds after. It was his Wii. It seemed like Arthur was using his consoles as ammo. Then what would come next was probably…He confirmed his suspicion as Arthur returned to the balcony with his Xbox 360. Alfred's eyes grew big, especially when the butler was balancing the gadget on the balcony's railing.

"OH GAWD, ARTHUR, PLEASE DON'T DO IT!" Both his hands instinctively clutched on his chest. This was too brutal. His poor heart couldn't take it. "MY BABY IS INNOCENT!"

Arthur only cackled, "YOU DROWNED MY TEA, I DESTROY YOUR BABY!"

As ignorant as Alfred sometimes could be, he knew a killing intention when he saw one. Plus, there was hardly anyone on the street, so no eyewitness. This was the perfect crime scene. Alfred blew another harsh whistle, thanked God when a cab finally screeched to a halt beside him, and immediately jumped into the vehicle right when his poor electronic soul mate met its tragic end.

"Holy Jeezus!" He breathed out, while looking back at the ruins of his beloved game consoles as the cab drove away. Who knew Arthur would go apeshit because of some fucking tea leaves like that? But then again, Arthur was English, wasn't he? And weren't all English people absolutely crazy about their tea? Still, that didn't make it right for Arthur to murder his children like that.

Yeah, it wasn't his fault, the American decided stubbornly. Arthur was the one who started it by being all controlling and shit. Although it is his job as my butler, his treacherous mind supplied. He let the inner battle raged on as he glared at the passing view, both hands firmly crossed on his chest.

"The girlfriend seems kinda angry back there, asere."

"Huh?"

The cab driver glanced back with a small smile, "Your girlfriend. She's angry, no?"

Alfred couldn't help but chuckled at that. "Yeah, I guess…she...kinda is."

"Ah, then it's good that you left. Give time to think, yes?" The dark-skinned, dreadlocks-haired driver grinned at his young passenger through the rear view mirror. There was an exotic accent slipping through his English. "When I get into a fight with the wife, I would take a drive or a walk around the park. After all the anger is gone, then we can start talking rationally, and put ourselves in each other shoes. You have to be willing to do that to make a relationship work, asere. If you're having even the tiniest idea that you're better than your other half, well, nothing will ever be resolved. Nada."

"I know I'm not a better person." The blond sighed heavily, running his fingers through his hair. "I guess it's kinda hard to admit that certain things might really be my fault."

"At least you know that some things can be your fault. That's a good start." The driver winked.

"So dude," Alfred pushed himself up and leaned closer to the driver's seat. "If you want to apologize to your wife, what do you usually do?"

Thinking back, Alfred really should've known better than to trust the love child of his, Gilbert's, and Mathias' brains, especially after those rounds of shots that pretty much robbed the three of their common senses. The prank was childish and uncalled for, he admitted that. So here he was now, standing nervously in front of his own apartment door with a bouquet of red roses in one hand, and a medium-sized cake in another. He gave the cake a quick look, silently wishing the bright green icing of 'I'm sorry, Arthur. Smile again please?' and the bright yellow smiley face with three lines for each eyebrow underneath the writing would be sufficient to appease the butler.

After taking a deep breath, he knocked on the door. Seconds ticked by, but nobody was answering. So he moved the bouquet into the crook of his neck, securing it between his cheek and his shoulder. He jammed his hand into his jeans pocket for the apartment key, and with difficulty, he unlocked the door.

"Arthur?"

Again, just silence. A bit worried, Alfred decided to find the elusive butler himself. He walked in and headed towards the kitchen, but paused at the living room as he was passing it.

The Englishman was sitting on the sofa with his head lolled to one side, deeply asleep if the soft snoring was anything to go by. Both his hands were lightly holding Alfred's leather jacket (the thing must've fallen off somewhere during the American's hasty retreat) to his chest. Alfred did not know what the simple act meant, but he knew it stirred his heart.

The heir put down his peace offerings on the coffee table before bending over near Arthur. He was about to position the butler into his arms, and carry him to his room when Arthur stirred. Sleep-glazed green eyes fluttered open, and began to focus on the presence beside him. "Alfred?" His words were still slurred.

"Hi, beautiful." Alfred whispered back, liking the way his name rolled off the other's tongue.

Arthur's mind seemed to have caught up as the man suddenly sat up straight, looking a little bewildered; perhaps because either Alfred was currently gazing down at him intently in close proximity, or because of the term of endearment that was said in a tone fit for a lover.

"Y-y-you're back…" Arthur slowly scooted away from the American. His cheeks were burning up with a blush. "I mean, young master, I…"

"Look, Arthur!" Alfred cut him off, deciding to be merciful and gave Arthur a time to collect his thoughts. "I got ya something." The sunny blond took both the roses and the cake from the table and pushed the two items into the man's arm. Pink was dusting his own cheeks now. "I'm really sorry about your tea."

"I apologize as well, sir." Arthur immediately jumped into the conversation. "I shouldn't have let my temper get the best of me. Perhaps I can pay you back for the games—"

"Shush, Artie..." Alfred placed a finger on Arthur's lips, effectively cutting the butler off once more. "I can just buy the consoles again, but there's something I want more, from you. Now, what do you gentlemen usually say or do when someone gives you a gift?" He grinned as he specifically pointed at the word 'smile' on the cake.

Arthur just stared at him for a second, before both edges of his lips finally turned upward into a genuine gentle smile that was rarely seen on the Brit.

"Thank you."

The next morning, Alfred was surprised by the appearance of a plate of…some sort of snack (he's not too sure, they kinda looked like charcoals) on the floor right in front of his bedroom door. There was a tiny card slipped among the baked goods, displaying 'I'm sorry' in a neat, cursive handwriting. The young Jones smiled as he bent down to retrieve the present. It was then that he saw the Game Stop gift card previously hidden beneath the plate. The amount on the gift card was not much, but his smile automatically got wider.

Arthur just made his day.

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EXTRA:

Remember the day that was made by Arthur's gift? Yeah, it was rather short lived.

His stomach was making that weird rumbling noise again just as he was zipping up his pants. Alfred groaned in defeat and began taking off the piece of clothing for the umpteenth time today. His ass was getting too acquainted with the toilet seat as he would ever want it to be.

"For the love of the Queen, this is why I told you not to eat those horrid fast foods too much. Do you see what happened?" Arthur began to nag on the other side of the bathroom door. "I'll call the office and let them know you're ill." A pause, then he said in a soft almost timid way, "But don't worry, I will take care of you, sir." There was definitely a smile somewhere in that sentence.

Alfred did not have the heart to tell Arthur the true cause of his diarrhea.

TBC

Cuban-Spanish Translation (sorry if there's any mistake):

Asere: buddy

Nada:Nothing

A/N: As usual, big tons of love and thank you to my lovely beta-readers: Eva Hazuki and Star Anise. I don't know how you two can handle all my bad grammars and punctuation mistakes. You guys are like my heroes ;)

Of course, a shower of love to all my readers/reviewers/people who subscribe for alerts/people who favorite this story. Your kind words keep me going with this story (and life, especially when it gets kinda shitty). So I really appreciate it. After all, what's a story without readers, yeah? And thank you for all the wonderful ideas! I haven't manage to include them in this chapter, but hopefully I can do that in the future chapters. There is one idea from Hexa that I believe will go quite nicely into the plot for the next chapter ;) So keep those ideas coming if you have any, guys. They really spark my imagination.