So.. I said this would be uploaded the next day but it wasn't because I was busy (read: lazy). Obviously this isn't a twoshot- the plot just keeps getting more twisted in my mind so who knows; you might just have yourselves a real story here XD

But at the moment it's planned to be about 5 chapters. And.. Francis is introduced! Will he destroy their relationship?! (of course not, its USUK for a reason...)

AAAAnyways, I do not own Hetalia (contrary to popular belief), because If I did I would make all the characters do horrible (read: wonderful) things to each other ;)

Enjoy!

As soon as they entered, she let her eyes sweep across the room, noting the well-dressed staff and the background music. She turned to her date, impressed. This was certainly a well reputable place, from what she had seen, and she was flattered that he had gone through all the trouble to get a spot, after only just barely meeting her a week before.

"Aw, c'mon. It wasn't that big of a deal," he said, almost reading her mind. She blushed and looked down, embarrassed that her expression of awe was so obvious on her face.

"It's just that I don't eat at nice places a lot." She mumbled quietly.

He laughed. "Really, even though you live in London?"

She was about to reply, when a waiter came sauntering over, wearing a haughty expression of someone who had already determined their worth, and decided that it wasn't much.

"Ah, reservation for Mr. Jones?" his eyes flicked back over the two of them, waiting impatiently for an answer. He was pretty, Alice realized. Pretty but mean.

"Yeah, uh. My name's actually Alfred" She could tell that he was uncomfortable here, in this high class London restaurant.

The waiter narrowed his eyes, and motioned them over to a fairly private booth. "Here you are… Mr. Jones." He emphasized the name, clearly expressing his displeasure at the informality.

They both sat awkwardly, and the waiter gave them two menus before leaving with another conceited look.

She breathed a sigh of relief. "By Jove, that man was unpleasant."

"Yeah," Alfred chucked dryly. "I guess it's better to be formal here in England."

"Of course." She shook her head, chuckling. "You'll find us to be a bit more, ah, disagreeable than your country."

"Naw," he waved her comment away. "It's just as bad in New York, I promise. Besides," he cocked his head sideways and gave her a reassuring nod, "I like you!"

She hid her face away, trying not to smile again. He was childish, cute in an innocent sort of way. Not normally what she would go for, but pleasant nonetheless.

They were interrupted by a waiter clearing his throat. She whirled around, expecting the unpleasant man from before. Instead, a lovely man stood before them, smirking. He greeted them with a flourish. "Tonight I will be your waiter. I am Franciscious, but if that is difficult to remember, just call me Francis."

This time it was her studying the waiter, and not the other way around. Tall and blonde, he seemed to create an aura of friendliness and charm all around him. Not as friendly as Alfred, but more classy. It seemed natural on him.

"Do you know what you're ordering tonight?" He asked, breaking her out of her thoughts.

"Uh, not really…" Alfred began, pointedly looking down at the menu, which was written in cursive, old English and French. Alice stifled a laugh. Truly, he did not know culture.

Turning back to the waiter, she gave him the brightest smile she had, without making it flirty.

"We'll take whatever you recommend," knowing that likely, in this kind of place, everything would be good.

His eyes seemed to light up in a way that was brighter than Alfred's could ever be. "Ah! I am delighted. Might I suggest le boeuf de feux rouges brillants? It is special, from my home of France, also."

"Of course," she nodded sagely, pretending to understand. Truthfully, while she could likely make out details on the menus, or perhaps say a few words, she had forgotten most of the French she had learned in school, preferring instead to focus on the beauty of her native language of England. But that was embarrassing, and so she just continued smiling, hoping he would buy it.

Picking up their menus, the waiter continued talking. "I hope dear Rodreigh hasn't put you off already?"

She shared a knowing glance with Alfred. "Was that perhaps, the man who greeted us at the door?"

His face twisted sourly, though it was still beautiful. "Indeed it was, and I am sorry it was. Do not let it ruin your experience."

Writing their orders down quickly on a small notepad, he glanced back up at them, brushing a strand of hair out of his face. "I almost forgot, I apologize. Any beverages? Wine, perhaps?"

This time Alfred replied. She glanced at him in surprise. Truth be told, with the pretty man serving them, she had almost forgotten about her date. A pang of guilt flashed through her chest and she brought he mind back to the conversation at hand. "-and a bottle of pinot noir," he finished as the waiter wrote it down.

With a wave, he glided away. "Your orders will be ready soon," he called back, before disappearing through the kitchen door.

Alice turned back to Alfred, trying to regain the feeling of warmth she had felt before. But somehow, his eyes seemed less bright, and his hair more dull. She ignored it, and tried to make conversation.

"So, ah. Tell me more about yourself. This is only our third date, after all."

"Well," he looked unsure, glancing off to the side, his façade of his easygoing nature nearly slipping off. "I like cars, I guess. Horses, and the country." He trailed off. "But you already know all of those things…"

She sighed, massaging her temples. That headache was starting to come back. "Well then, at least tell me how your job was today." Even though she didn't really care about his job, it would fill the hole of silence they had created.

She half listened, nodding, as he spoke of politics and scandals and government and law. Really, she wasn't into that sort of thing. But she let him continue; let him feel happy because that was the least she could do. And she did really like him.

She sighed as their waiter came back with the drink. It was a much needed reprieve from the stiff conversation of the past five minutes, and she could do with some wine to fight her blasted headache. It might also possibly loosen her up.

Pouring the wine into both of their cups (at his vehement insistence), Alfred smiled at her. "A toast." He proclaimed.

"To?" She asked questioningly, wondering for the first time what on earth they had in common.

"To us of course," he said as if it was only natural.

"To us." She repeated, firmly, and they clinked glasses. She swirled the wine around her cup before drinking it, taking a large gulp to ease the discomfort and the slowness of the date. Things usually got interesting when she was drunk, after all.

"This wine is good," she commented, honestly impressed.

Alfred tipped his head back and guwaffed loudly. "Not as good as beer."

She let herself laugh along. "For once, I agree with you."

"These stuffy French restaurants, I honestly can't stand them." He continued.

"Well, you picked it."

His eyes sparkled again. "I wanted to astonish you"

She raised a large eyebrow. "Try harder next time," she hummed.

Alfred threw his hands in the air, chuckling. "Can't impress you can I?"

She leaned forward, closer than she should. "I bet I could impress you."

"Hmm." His half lidded eyes gazed into hers, and she felt a shiver run up her spine. He was beautiful now.

"Ahem." The amused voice shattered the moment, sending them flying back to their normal distance across the table. Francis was standing, balancing a large tray on his hand, the smell of fresh food wafting softly off it.

"Are you ready to enjoy your meals?"

"Yes, quite." Alice mumbled, blushing. "Get on with it."

She winced at her own words. They were ruder than she intended.

But Francis just smiled knowingly and put their plates on their table. "Bon appetite."

And then he was gone again, leaving poor, clueless Alfred with an emotionally shaken and flabbergasted Alice.

Not able to think of anything to say, she picked up her fork, and stabbed her food. Even before she brought it to her lips, she could smell the quality, the richness.

As she chewed, she savored the taste. She wasn't exactly a good cook, and a meal like this was rare.

Flicking her eyes to Alfred, who was shoveling food in his mouth faster than should be possible and less polite than he should, she asked curiously, "how is it?"

" S'good" he grunted around his mouthful of food. She sat back and put her fork down, sighing. She would just have to wait until he was finished before she could start eating, because watching him snort down his food like a pig was clearly unappetizing.

Finally, after an appalling two minutes, he was finished, and she picked up her fork as he wiped his face. The food was not as hot anymore, and suddenly the rich flavor felt dry in her mouth. She picked up her wine, and took a gulp. It made her feel stronger.

After over an hour of talk, their plates were left forgotten near their elbows, up on the table. They laughed and talked, both flushed with the heat of the wine, but where she felt better, he got louder. In fact, she began to worry that he wouldn't be able to make it home after this.

"You sure you shouldn't quit on the wine, love," she slurred out, her accent becoming embarrassingly cockney.

"Naw." He took a large drought, and belched loudly. A few heads turned.

"Stop that you git" she hissed angrily. She may be drunk but at least she knew it. And she also knew not to embarrass them in front of an entire classy restaurant.

" S'no biggie." He waved her away, arms flailing uncoordinately, nearly knocking his wineglass over. "Let's go baby."

Suddenly leaving was a very good idea indeed. "Fine but we have to pay the waiter first."

He frowned. "Why?"

"Because we just ate their food you bumbling fool! Get yourself together."

"Well I'm not paying. I couldn't find my head let alone my wallet." He laughed at his own joke.

Her fists clenched. So now she saw him, saw beyond his acts of politeness. He was just another drunken loser she had picked up. "I hate you," she spat venomously.

He blinked. "Well then. Jeez you're like, the worst date ever."

She grit her teeth. "I wish your mother could see you now. I bet she didn't teach you these horrid manners, now did she?" She snarled at him, letting her suppressed stress and anger boil over, quite a bit more malicious than she would have liked had it been a few moments ago.

He froze. Something flashed in his eyes. She looked away.

Somehow, he managed to stand up, and hold onto the table precariously.

"Where are you going?"

He looked at her. "Im leaving." He frowned and threw a hundred dollars at her that he had somehow procured from his pocket.

"So you don' say Im a bitch later." He slurred, leering loudly.

She blinked back tears and watched him leave, enraged. There was no way she was going after him; he would be driving drunk and she didn't want any more of a scene than they had already created.

It was at that moment that Francis came over to their table. He leaned on the hard wood and raised an eyebrow, seemingly oblivious to her condition. "Where'd your honey go to?" He asked curiously.

"Home." She snarled out.

He noticed.

"Oh, I um. I suppose I can't exactly ask you to pay then," Francis said.

She blinked up at him. That was actually the nicest thing anyone had done for her in a long while. She knew that if she didn't pay, Francis would have to. That he would take this responsibility for a strange girl who may or may not be lying was admirable.

"I have money, you know," she pushed the bill at him. "I'm guessing it's probably about that much."

He opened the checkbook he was about to give her. "Actually, your right. It was 98.67, to be exact."

"I can't tip you, you know."

He sighed. "Well it's not like I can expect anything. You poor girl."

"Why are you being so nice to me?" She asked, incredulously. It wasn't like she was unwanted or ugly or anything- but a man as beautiful as him? Never in a thousand lifetimes could she hope for that.

His expression seemed to change, and the smile rose on his face, crinkling his eyes. "Why would I not help someone who needed it?."

That simple decisive answer left her speechless. Not knowing what to say, she got up, bumping awkwardly against the table. "Well I guess, I'd better go." She swayed and gripped the wood, her knuckles white. She had forgotten that she was somewhat drunk.

But before she could tumble to the ground, steady hands were holding her tight. "Careful."

"I'm fine." She brushed him off of her, and managed to take a few steps. She looked back at him. His arms were crossed, and he was tapping his foot. She frowned. He looked cynical.

"And how are you going to get home?"

She froze. Alfred had the car. "I- I- I don't-"

He held up a hand to stop her. "I'll take you."

"What?" A surprised cry left her mouth at the statement. It was kind and noble, but still, he was a stranger. And she didn't want to be a burden any more than she already was.

"No you can't-"

"Yes I can. I finish my shift in half an hour. You can come sit in the staff room, and wait for me there."

Alice shut her mouth. There was nothing more she could say. He was determined and honestly, as much as she wanted to be polite, she wanted more than anything to go home and sleep this day away. Because it was one of the worse ones she had had.

So she followed unprotestingly as he held her by the small of her back; guiding her. Not letting her drunken, uncoordinated body spill out onto the floor before they reached the staff lounge. He sat her down in a chair.

"I'll be back in thirty minutes." He smiled reassuringly. "You'll get home, don't worry." He turned and left her again, except this time there was no American to distract her.

She spent the next thirty minutes willing herself to become sober.

A/N I know, I know, you're tired of me. But I just wanted to say that if Alfred's leaving seemed a bit hasty, that will be explained in the next chapter (its actually a really big deal in this story) ;)

EDIT: I had one complain that I sprung FrUk on you guys. No, no I didn't. I said it was USUK, and USUK it will be. There is no FrUK in this story whatsoever. Also, I mentioned it at the beginning of the chapter...