I rewrote this chapter like 20 times because I wasn't quite satisfied with it. Well, here it is! Three chapters in three days. I really love writing this story
Disclaimer: I am not Hidekaz Himaruya so I don't own Hetalia
"I won't be fooled," the leader of the bandits spat.
Arthur counted the women that were passed out. Six. He cursed under his breath. She must've held her liquor better than the rest of the women. How could he have missed one?
Alfred backed up a few steps. "Sorry, miss. I believe you're mistaken."
Stalling, yes, Alfred was stalling. Arthur had to do something before the woman pulled the trigger, but what? He frantically looked around but found nothing of particular use. He had given his knife to Feliciano to hold and his gun in his saddle bag, but not like he was comfortable using it at the moment.
"Mistaken? I know a good-for-nothing cur when I see one," the woman said.
The Briton slowly crept back into the wagon. He motioned for Feliciano to come closer. "Pass me my knife and keep talking to your brother," he whispered. Feliciano did as he was told with a worried look. Arthur made his way back outside the wagon. With his heartbeat racing, it was difficult to sneak up on the woman, but he managed. Alfred's eyes darted toward him for a split second.
"What the hell are you looki-" the woman went to turn.
"Whoowee! Ain't ya a pretty one? Ma would be damn proud if I brought ya home," Alfred interrupted. It seemed to work, because the woman turned back around and slapped him. Arthur took this as his chance to make a move. He took a swift step forward and-
He heard the chilling 'click' of a gun behind him.
Fuck.
"D-dontcha tryyyy aaanything, pretty boy," a slurred voice threatened.
Alfred let out an audible sigh and Arthur put his hands up.
"Yeeeahh that's right. Drop yer knife too, will ya?" the voice behind him commanded.
Arthur did as he was told, getting more nervous by the second. The bandit leader pistol whipped Alfred and pushed him onto the ground. She stepped on him to keep him from running and kept her gun aimed.
"What are you two tryna pull?" She glared at Arthur while she said this. The two Italian brothers poked their heads out of the wagon. "If you have any sense of self-preservation, you'd stick your heads back into that wagon and mind your own business." The discovered boys retreated into the vehicle.
Alfred used the distraction as a chance to flip over and pull the woman down. The girl behind Arthur aimed at Alfred and pulled the trigger.
"Shit," she cursed as the bullet missed Alfred. Arthur swallowed thickly. Everyone was still for a moment.
Alfred reached for his repeater, but girl shot again, this time barely missing him.
"Go fer that gun again, mister. Next time I-I'll shoot yer buddy over here 'n I wooonnn't miss."
Arthur stared at Alfred and prayed on his next move. The cowboy sighed again while the woman picked herself up. She took his repeater, tossed it, and proceeded to kick him several more times. She yanked him up by his hair so that he was kneeling and commanded him to put his hands up. With no choice left, Alfred obliged.
"Yer a rough one," the cowboy coughed.
"Shut it, cur," the woman said. "Instead of skinning you two on the spot, I'll give you a chance to redeem yourselves. You there, British boy," she glared at Arthur before continuing, "you're rich, right? What you paid us tonight was more than just a pretty penny, and you didn't even take your hat off to play with us. How about we make a bargain? You bring us six hundred dollars and we'll let your little cowboy go. Take that coward in the wagon with you, but we get to keep the younger one. That should sweeten the deal a bit. Meet me at the middle of Silas Canyon by this time tomorrow, and don't even think about bringing any sheriffs or what not. We'll shoot you and both of these boys if we find any lawmen sneaking around."
Arthur nodded, not knowing what to say. Were all American women this frightening? These women had accents, though. Either way, the pounding of his heart barely let him hear the woman's words. He walked to the wagon, the girl stumbling behind him with her gun ready. When Arthur peered inside, the two brothers were huddled together with terrified expressions.
"Which one of you is the younger one?" the Briton asked.
Feliciano looked up. "That's me," he said.
"Come with me," the girl said.
"No, please! I'll do whatever you want! Just let me stay here with my brother!" Feliciano begged.
"Don't play around, now, booyyy. Come here or I'll shootcha."
The sniffling Italian reluctantly pried himself off of his brother's grip and made his way toward the girl. Arthur took this time to finally see her face. He was surprised when he learned that she had a very youthful appearance. What was a girl this young doing with a bunch of bandits?
Lovino shouted protests when his brother was taken away, but was silenced when the gun was pointed at him.
"Pretty boy is gonna fill ya in. Go on, now. Git outta here."
The pair, accompanied by the supervision of a fully loaded pistol for half of the trip, walked away from the scene until they reached the horses Arthur and Alfred had left behind.
"What the devil happened back there? Why'd they take my fratello? What did you fucking do, eyebrow bastard?" Lovino's eyes were brimming with tears.
First scone bastard, and now eyebrow bastard?
Arthur took a moment to organize his panicked thoughts. Six hundred dollars must be brought to Silas Canyon, which he assumed was the nearest canyon, in twenty four hours. If not, who knows what will happen to Alfred and Feliciano. Did he really need to do it, though? After all, he had just met them.
"And who else was with you? Those psycho strumpets were yelling at two people, weren't they?"
"I had someone with me," Arthur responded. When he had heard his own voice say it, he immediately felt ashamed for thinking about abandoning the two. Arthur was the reason that Alfred was in this mess in the first place. The American had given Arthur a second chance, so Arthur should at least return the favor. A true British gentleman would repay his debts, he thought. But where would he acquire six hundred dollars? All the money he had was given to the bandit leader. He could perhaps borrow money from Scottie...
"Lovino, how far is Texas?"
Lovino practically exploded. "Texas? Why the devil are you thinking about Texas? You're just going to run away, aren't you? Abandon my blasted little brother with those whores? Fuck you, stupido!"
"No! That's not what I meant! They're holding Alfred and Feliciano hostage and refuse to release them unless I bring six hundred dollars by tomorrow. I have a brother in Texas who could possibly lend me some money and-"
"Texas is too far, eyebrow bastard. It's all the way across the goddamn country!" Lovino was crying again.
"My name is Arthur Kirkland, for your information, and I am no bastard! I was born a legitimate child in wedlock and I will take none of your bloody insults!" Arthur huffed, momentarily forgetting all of his troubles when faced with the personal attack yet again.
Lovino glared at him behind tears. "Alright, Arthur Cuntland. Did your big fucking eyebrows tickle your mamma's vagina when she gave birth to you?"
Arthur took a deep breath to calm himself down. "Do you want to get your brother back, or would you much rather insult me for the rest of the night?"
The Italian pouted and sniffled in response.
"Thought so. We need to find a way to get the money. Do you know anybody kind enough to lend you a few hundred dollars?"
Lovino wiped his tears. "This is America, amico. Nobody is kind."
Arthur and Lovino hid behind a wooden building.
"Are you positive that this will work? One hundred percent certain?" Arthur peeked his head out to assess his surroundings. It was early in the morning and the sun had just risen. The two men were absolutely exhausted after staying up most of the night strategizing and searching for the nearest town, but there was no other time slot available for them to execute their plan.
"I told you already, Cuntland, I don't fucking know." Lovino also stole himself a glance from behind the building.
"Kirkland. Kirk. Land. Ugh, never mind," Arthur sighed. "Oh! There they are!" He pointed at a stagecoach. It had two men in the front, one driving the horses and the other armed with a shotgun.
"Alright, here goes, well, everything." Arthur took a deep breath and strode into the middle of the dusty path. You have got this in the bag, Arthur. All these years of watching theatre will finally pay off.
He bent down to pick up absolutely nothing. When he straightened up, he was faced with four large horses and a screaming stage driver. Arthur dove out of the way at the last second and started to yell.
"Oh, how my body aches! But my heart, my heart aches with tenfold intensity than that of my broken limbs! Come, noble stage driver, bless me with the company that my soul has yearned for since I was a young lad. Quickly, before I breathe my last!"
Lovino smacked his forehead. What a fucking idiot. The stage driver was apparently an even bigger idiot, for he was rushing to Arthur's side.
"I'm so sorry, mister! Did my horses hit you? Vash, will you watch the stagecoach for a moment, please?" the stage driver said.
"Ja," the coach gun responded, not caring about Arthur's injuries.
Lovino rushed out to the scene. "Mr. Cun-Kirkland!" he corrected, "Mr. Kirkland! Are you alright?" He squatted down next to the stage driver, placing a gentle hand on Arthur's cheek.
"L-Lovino... My little Italian... erm... sausage."
Lovino slapped Arthur. Really? Sausage? He could've chosen any pet name in the whole wide world and he stuck with sausage? "Sorry," he smirked, "I thought I saw a fly already feasting upon your soon-to-be rotting flesh."
Arthur shot a quick glare at him before resuming his performance. "Heaven be thanked, Lovino! God is already sending his cherubs to escort me away!"
The stage driver looked up to search for said cherubs.
"I'm pretty sure he's going to escort you straight into hell with those acting skills," Lovino murmured loud enough for only Arthur to hear.
"Ah, they are pulling me up, gentlemen!" Arthur raised his arm as if he were slowly ascending. He then jerked it to the right, hitting Lovino harder than necessary. This sent the young man crashing into the stage driver.
"What is this?" Arthur proclaimed, steadily lowering his arm, "the Lord has given me a second chance. He says that an unbelievably handsome chap, such as I, should spend more time on the earth to grace others with his presence."
Lovino rolled his eyes.
"Bless my soul," Arthur continued, "I've been healed!" He sprang up and shook the dazed driver's hand. "Thank you, my good man, for allowing me to experience this truly amazing event." He tipped his hat to some giggling women and skipped away. When the two were safely behind a building, Lovino socked the Briton in the gut.
"What the blazes was that for?" Arthur said, clutching his stomach.
"For being a bastard!" Lovino spat.
"Very well, then." Arthur returned the favor and Lovino was soon clutching his stomach, as well.
"What the devil what that for?" the Italian hissed.
"For being a bastard."
"Say what you want, Cuntland, but take a look at this." Lovino fished out a shiny key from his pocket.
Arthur's eyes grew large. He looked at the key and peeked out from behind the building to look at the stagecoach.
"Are we really going to do this?" Arthur asked, already knowing the answer.
"Hell fucking yeah we are."
AN: oh man, I love writing Arthur and Lovino. Way too much fun, especially with 19th century swears
strumpet- whore
blazes- hell