Two: English vs Western
Matt,
Hey bro. It's the weekend but I still have to work anyway. Horses never stop pooping after all! But hey it's not all bad. Since there are a ton of people here there are of ton of people to help, right? That isn't the best part though. The best part is having someone to ride with again...
Cue music and Hetalia title card
Alfred was dreaming of pizza and hamburgers most likely. That was Gilbert's best guess. But that was not something that mattered the the white haired German caretaker. No, not at all. Alfred could sleep all he wanted after all of his chores were done.
He barged into the bedroom of the American and was shocked to see that even though the kid only moved in the previous day the place was a complete big sty! The floor was completely littered with clothing and sports equipment. On the bed there were no blankets since the blonde teen had kicked everything clean off. He was dozing off only in his tacky American flag boxers and grey wife beater shirt, nearly suffocating in a pool of his own drool.
Gilbert clucked his tongue and shook his head at the poor sight. Then, without any warning he yelled out at the top of his lungs.
"WAKE UP CALL!"
And with that the man dived onto the bed right on top of Alfred's waiting back.
"AHHH!" Alfred woke with a start to the feeling of Gilbert slamming into his back.
"It's time to get up now! Time for chores!" Gilbert said perched on Alfred's back.
"Chores?" came Alfred's groggy response.
"Yeah, do you think there is such thing as a day off on a farm? Come on!"
Gilbert rocked a bit on the teen's back to get him moving.
"Do I have to?" Alfred buried his head in the pillow.
"We have pancakes," pressed Gilbert.
"Pancakes?" Alfred lifted his head again.
"And eggs, grits, bacon and-"
Alfred hopped up with such quickness Gilbert rolled off the bed. He sat up with a cackle and Alfred took off down the halls in search of the promised delicious breakfast.
Prussia's voice: "Hetalia!"
After a rather disappointing breakfast of Frosted Flakes and an orange Alfrd begrudgingly made his way to the stables. He was grumbling all the way something that sounded like it could be death threats towards a certain lying caretaker. It was just cruel really, promising a growing boy an awesome breakfast and instead setting a bowl of cold cereal in his face instead. He had half a mind to protest but he still wasn't completely awake either so that would have to wait.
Alfred was marching to the stables dressed in his Wrangler jeans and a red button down western shirt. He had on his cowboy boots and a big buckled belt as well. The look was topped off with his Stetson hat. He knew how to dress the part, having spent much of his time working ranches in Montana during his high school days.
He didn't really think anything of his get up. It was just normal every day wear for him. However, for some of the people, namely the Italian, he was now living with it was amazing. Feliciano watched as Alfred left out the back door from his spot in the garden where he was painting a sad picture of Ivan's broken sunflowers.
"Ve..." he said standing up from his spot and startling Alfred.
"Oh, hey, Feli," greeted the real-life cowboy. "I didn't even notice you there. G'morning."
"G,good morning," Feliciano said with awe in his voice. "What are you doing today?"
"I am going to go take care of the horses," replied the teen stopping for a bit and stuffing his hands in his pockets. He shrugged, "I won't disturb your painting today."
With that Alfred went off to go the stables. Feliciano watched for just a bit before he discarded his paints in favor of following the younger male. He followed at a safe distance and the American didn't seem any wiser as he whistled and began his duties after hanging his hat on a fixture in the barn.
First, observed Feliciano, Alfred began to ready some food for the horses. Most of the horses got hay but there were some who received oats and other grains mixed together as well. There were several times Feliciano had to hide behind something as Alfred turned to see if someone was looking. Perhaps he sensed a presence. But Feliciano didn't want to be seen.
After feeding all of the horses Alfred turned to leave the barn again and Feliciano hid behind a water trough outside of the barn. Alfred went to the corral and Feliciano watched from his hiding place as Alfred started to fiddle with what looked like a pump. Feliciano was so intent on his spying that he didn't notice that he was joined by an audience until a French accented voice spoke into his ear.
"Does Feli like what he sees?"
Feliciano jumped and turned.
"Francis!" he gasped loudly. "Arthur! What are you doing here?"
That caught Alfred's attention and he looked up from the water pump. He squinted against the sun for a moment before his sparkling blue eyes lit up.
"G'morning guys!" he waved.
"Good morning," Arthur returned with a slight wave.
Francis however ran to Alfred's side pulling Feliciano with him.
"What are you three doing here?"
"I don't know about Feliciano," Francis said. "But Arthur wanted to check out the horses and I'm here for morale support."
"Oh," Alfred looked pleased as he glanced at the approaching Arthur. "You ride?"
"A bit," said the British lad modestly. "Though I haven't since moving here. Gilbert was under strict orders by your grandmother that none of us should handle the horses until the wrangler gets here."
"Yeah, it's pretty dangerous," acknowledged Alfred.
"I want to ride the horses!" Feliciano exclaimed throwing his hands in the air. "Do you know spaghetti westerns?"
"Aren't those the American western films that were made in Italy?" asked Francis.
Feliciano nodded enthusiastically.
"Is that why you chose to stay at a ranch here?"
"Yeah! I want to be like John Wayne. Pew!" Feliciano made a gun with his hand and mimed shooting at Alfred.
Alfred winced and grabbed his heart. "You got me."
Feliciano beamed happily.
"If you want we can ride after I finish cleaning the barn," offered Alfred.
"Yes, I want to gallop bareback through the rolling Piedmont and cross through the bubbling Virginian creeks. Don't you think that would be romantic, Arthur?" Francis said nudging the man beside him.
Arthur pulled his arm away, "Well, that wasn't the type of riding I had in mind. But it sounds nice regardless... minus the bareback."
Alfred laughed, "Nobody will be riding bareback. We have enough tack for all of the horses."
"No need for me, I brought my own from home," said Arthur.
"Let me guess, you ride English?" Alfred asked.
"Yes, is that a problem?"
"Dude!" Alfred said. "We're in America! We ride western! None of that prissy English shit."
"Excuse me!" Arthur said getting a bit ruffled. "What did you call it?"
"Ha! Ha! Ha!"
"It's not prissy it's dignified and practiced! You wild Americans don't even have the sense to wear a helmet when you ride! Don't you know horseback riding is the most dangerous sport?"
"Calm down, Man," said Alfred. "A few concussions won't kill you."
"I,idiot!"
"Concussion," Feliciano muttered and then turned to cling to Francis. "I'm scared."
"Aw, don't be scared, Feli," said the American ignoring the still fuming Arthur. "We have helmets lying around the barn if you really want one."
Feliciano let out a sigh of relief.
"Wait, so what's English and what's Western?" the Italian went on to ask.
"Well, since Arthur brought his own saddle and stuff from home he can show you. But first I have to clean the barn," said Alfred.
"I've got a great idea!" interjected Feliciano.
"What is it?" asked Alfred.
"Well, since you and Arthur can both ride, you two should have a rice!"
"A race?" Arthur said. "I don't know-"
"That sounds like a great idea!" Alfred cheered. "It'll be Western vs English."
"I don't know. I mean—"
"Are ya chicken?" Alfred asked bending a bit to taunt the Brit.
"Absolutely not."
"Chicken!" Alfred said again.
"Chicken!" joined in Feliciano.
"I am not a chicken! J,just! It's bloody dangerous is all."
"Chicken," Alfred said once more.
"Fine! I'll race you, you... you insufferable brat!"
"WOOHOO!" Alfred jumped and pumped his arm in the air. "Awesome, man! You won't regret this. Except maybe you will when I cream ya."
He looked smug and too childishly happy that Arthur wanted to punch the look right off his face.
"So when will we do this?" Arthur asked.
"Well, I still have to clean to barn but... if you all help me the faster I can get done and the faster we can ride!"
"OK!" Feliciano agreed.
"I hope this wasn't some scheme to get us to do all of your work," Arthur said.
"No, never," said Alfred flashing a bright smile.
"Scheme?" asked Feliciano with a puzzled expression but his face suddenly lit up. "Oh, I remember the last time someone tried to scheme me my brother gave them a new pair of cement shoes and a one way boat ride in the Chesapeake Bay. Isn't he nice?"
Alfred's smile faltered and Francis leaned in, whispering as an aside, "Feliciano looks cute but he's got mafia connections."
"Noted," said Alfred with a slight sweat. "So let's clean!"
Italy's voice: "Hetalia"
The barn was sparkling and clean and the boys were now at the Arena which was just a bit away from the corral. Feliciano and Francis were standing on the outside of the arena looking in as Alfred and Arthur both readied their horses for the main event.
There were two teams, Western and English of course.
"Go Alfred!" cheered Feliciano from the sidelines.
"You traitor," sniffed Arthur. "Haven't you known me longer?"
"Ve, but Alfred's a real cowboy!" Feliciano said simply.
Arthur huffed and turned his back a bit towards the spectators in favor of prepping his horse. He was dressed for English riding with tight fitting white trousers, a dark shirt, riding crop and long black leather riding boots. He had on a black helmet to complete the look.
"Dude, you totally look like a weenie," snickered Alfred. "And Shadow looks like a weenie too with your tiny little saddle on her."
"You clearly don't know anything about horse racing," said the Brit in response. "This saddle is perfectly designed for speed and efficiency."
"Yeah, but you still look dumb."
"You do," agreed Feliciano.
Arthur chose to ignore it and instead focused on Alfred's attire. He was wearing his same western gear: the long sleeved button up shirt, jeans, a gaudy belt, cowboy boots with spurs attached. His horse Spam, a handsome palamino stallion, had a red leather saddle with a huge horn in the front.
"Your attire on the other hand is terrible for racing. You're weighed down by your loose clothing and bulky hat and that saddle is just too big," pointed out the Brit.
"I still look cooler than you," Alfred said.
"For what it's worth I think you both look wonderful," said Francis.
Arthur ignored that as well and went to get on his horse. Alfred did the same.
"Let's race around the barrel and back to the gate, a full loop. First one back wins!" Alfred said leading Spam to the starting point.
Arthur guided Shadow there as well. He never rode her before but she seemed good so far. He had a good feeling on her back. He knew he was at a disadvantage though since Spam was apparently the horse Alfred always rode while at the ranch. Still, he wouldn't lose. His pride as an Englishman was at stake.
"Ok. Are you ready?" Feliciano called. "On your mark... get set... GO!"
And then they were off!
Arthur tried not to focus too much on Alfred but rather on the barrel on the other side of the arena. For a time he could see the flank of Spam in the corner of his eye but within seconds he broke free and the only thing he could see was the white barrel. Victory was basically assured as he guided Shadow around the bend and back towards the other side of the arena. The clopping of her hooves beating against the packed grass was like a victory cheer and then it was finished just as fast as it began.
He turned just in time to see Alfred and his horse at his rear and nothing felt better than that moment. He couldn't wait to gloat about his victory. English vs Western and he won!
"Ha! Did you guys see that! You were on my tail practically the entire time!" Arthur said pointing his crop at his opponent.
He expected Alfred to be a little sore. He seemed like the sore loser type so he wasn't expecting to see instead the look of pure joy and even admiration in those innocent blue eyes.
"Yeah, you and Shadow make quite a pair," admitted the blonde as he hopped off his horse. "She's a great horse and you're a great rider."
Arthur was shocked by the praise. It wasn't what was supposed to happen and he blushed taken aback by it.
"I... yes, I mean," he tried to gather himself.
"Say 'thank you', Arthur," Francis teased from the sidelines.
Arthur blushed harder, "I know what to say you idiot!"
"You were pretty cool, Arthur," commented Feliciano.
"Yeah, pretty cool," Alfred agreed but then he got a mischievous look on his face. "For a weenie!"
"You!" Arthur bristled!
Alfred stuck out his tongue and Arthur hopped off of Shadow blushing now in frustration rather than embarrassment as before. Alfred didn't have to know Arthur long to know what that look meant. He took off into a run.
"Come back here you git!" Arthur called.
He proceeded to chase Alfred around the arena in a fit. Alfred may or may not have been afraid. It was hard to tell, especially with the loud obnoxious laughter coming from him.
"Weenie!"
"I am not a weenie!"
Francis and Feliciano watched from the sidelines their new entertainment.
"Wah, that looks like fun too," Feliciano commented with a wistful sigh.
"Ah, young love," cooed the Frenchman.
"I heard that you bloody Frog!"
"Ha! Ha! Ha!"
England's voice: "Hetalia"
Gilbert was standing near the barn with his younger brother watching as Arthur chased Alfred around the arena like an idiot. He chuckled to himself and turned to look up at his bigger little brother
"You know Ludwig, Arthur is right. Horseback riding is an extremely dangerous sport."
"Yes, Brother."
"In fact, helmets are a very smart thing to wear to avoid serious injury. Also, racing in an enclosed area, even an arena of this size, should never be done for fun with you and your friend. If you want to compete a safer way would be to individually run the barrel and aim for the best time."
"R,right," Ludwig said. "But why are you telling me this?"
"Oh, it's just the author's way to insert a helpful message and disclaimer on the dangerous activities written about today that should in no way be recreated," Gilbert turned away from his brother to look off into what one would assume was the TV screen. "Remember kids. Safety first here at the ranch"
"Brother, who are you talking to?"
-to be continued-
AN: thanks for reading. please review. sorry if this chapter was boring. the next chapter won't be very horse-y