***IMPORTANT***: If you have been following this story before this chapter was published, I have made a few changes to the previous chapters. Scottie is now Arthur's older brother (I missed that and fixed it) and Arthur rejected Alfred's invitation on becoming friends in the first chapter. ***Arthur does not yet consider Alfred a friend and told him that he preferred being alone.
I'm eternally sorry for being such a fuckass and changing the plot, but I pretty much thought about it every night and it bothered me so much that I had to do it. I'm really really super duper sorry! Like so so so sorry!
Also, I made some minor changes on Lovino's language and made it more 19th centuryish. I also made very slight changes to Alfred's language, as well. They don't change the story, but just a heads up.
Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia
Lili's green eyes pierced through Arthur's. She took some time to examine his terrified expression, savoring every second of it. This man is evil, she thought. Why else would someone hurt her big brother? The siblings had already lost both of their families. Why would someone make everything harder? This man must die, the girl concluded, her finger gently stroked the trigger.
Her glare was broken when the two delayed men approached her side. "It's alright, little girl, leave the dirty work to us," one of the men said as he cocked his gun and aimed at the Briton. Arthur squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to witness his own death. His mind rapidly played through events during his life. He thought about his home on the countryside and his annual trips to London. He thought about his family and how he should've treated his youngest brother, Peter, better. Lastly, he thought about his hired cowhand with the strange vocabulary and captivating smile, the American who had valued Arthur enough to give him a second chance at living. He thought about Alfred and how odd the man made himself feel. Two shots echoed through the dry Wyoming air.
"Kirkland!" Lovino shrieked. His call was met with silence.
The two captives were allowed some breakfast. The girls giggled as they fed them, amused by the boys' liveliness.
"So what's your name, darlin'?" Alfred asked as he swallowed a bit of roasted rattlesnake.
"Vi," the woman feeding him responded.
On the other side of the tree, the bandit leader was feeding Feliciano. He chewed on the rattlesnake meat without hesitation.
"You're so nice!" he chirped. To the boys' surprise, the leader turned out to be very kind. Despite her headstrong attitude and steel determination, she had a big heart. It seemed like a lot of women in the group were the same.
"What are fine women like ya'll doin' in all this robbery nonsense?" Alfred questioned.
"That is none of your concern," the bandit leader responded, "You should be worrying about your friends and praying upon their return."
Alfred was trying to do the exact opposite. He half hoped that Arthur would abandon him, making him feel less guilty about his intentions with the Briton. He could just find him, make up a crazy story about his escape, and continue on with his plans knowing that Arthur didn't care about him so neither should he. But what if Arthur did care? Would the cowboy be able to neglect his feelings after knowing that Arthur wanted Alfred to stay with him?
Vi watched Alfred's expression sadden. "Do not worry," she comforted, "your friends will arrive soon."
Alfred didn't respond. He didn't know what to hope for.
Arthur only saw darkness and only heard a piercing white noise. He lay on the ground and remained still.
"Kirkland!" Lovino yelled as he galloped toward the man. His eyes grew wide at what he saw. There, on the ground, was three dead bodies.
"Holy shit," the Italian whispered.
"Your friend is not dead," Lili said.
Lovino almost fell off of his horse from the sight of the bloody girl. "Pardon?" he quavered.
The girl fixed a stony gaze on the man. "He is not dead, only scared. These last two bullets were meant for you both," she said as she pointed at the two bodies, heads blown off and beyond any recognition, "but I could not let other people see me kill you."
Lovino was speechless. "You killed these men," she continued, "You were the ones who shot and trampled them. You will be wanted in this town and towns miles away."
"We didn't-"
"Dead men tell no tales, mister. If you disturb my and my big brother's lives again, I will stop at nothing to permanently silence you."
The Italian looked at the bodies again. He was sickened by the dark red stains on the ground and the pink spillage from where the skulls used to be. Lili turned her horse around to head back to town, bloodying her horse's hooves again as the mare stepped on the trampled body.
"Which is better, mister, a life of fear or no life at all?" The girl took off before Lovino could answer. As the thumping of hooves grew quieter and quieter with each passing moment, Lovino slowly recovered. He slid off his horse and collected guns, ammunition, and anything else he thought would be helpful from the dead bodies. "Mi dispiace, amico," he apologized as he trifled through their pockets. He went over to Arthur and shook him. "Hey, Cuntland, get up."
Arthur didn't even look up.
"Get the fuck up, eyebrow bastard. You're not dead."
At this, Arthur opened his eyes. He blinked in surprise and fearfully whispered, "Are you sure?"
"Yes, I'm one hundred percent positive. Let's go." As he turned to mount his horse, Arthur spoke again. "You're shaking," he said.
Lovino looked down at his trembling hands. When he noticed how terrified he actually was, he promptly broke down into tears.
"Lovino... What happened?" Arthur asked with growing worry. He got up from the ground and scanned the area for an answer. What lay in front of him was much more than he expected. "Oh Lord," he whispered.
"Say, Cuntland," Lovino quaked, "Which is better, a life of fear or no life at all?"
The face of the trampled man stared at Arthur with empty eyes, his gaping mouth silently screaming out his answer.
After Lovino filled Arthur in about what had just occurred, the two men continued in silence. They rode the stagecoach horse until they had reached their own and exchanged the creature for the saddled ones. With no rest or food, the men were drained of all their energy. Arthur was especially weakened due to his blood loss. They had to press on, though, for the sun was setting and the day was coming to a close. After what seemed like an eternity of riding, they finally reached the mouth of Silas Canyon. The dark orange glow of the sky was being pushed out by purple, and the boys knew that they had to hurry up.
The men reached a lake and stopped for a quick and much needed break. Arthur painfully pried his clothing off his wound and washed the dirtied blood off of his skin and ruined attire. He carefully wrapped the torn flesh with a handkerchief. Lovino was the first to break the long silence. "We really did it, didn't we?"
Arthur rung the water out his coat and watched his blood stain the clear water. "We really did."
"Damn. All for my stupid little brother and your stupid friend."
"He's not my friend!" the Briton protested.
Lovino looked at him, surprised. "So what is he? Your sodomy partner? I mean I knew some American men got a little frisky with each other, especially those rugged kinds. What were the buggers called again? Vaqueros?"
Arthur almost hit him in offense. "I do not participate in such vulgar actions! He is simply just a man helping me."
The Italian brushed him off. "Helping. Right. Whatever, I'm not interested in who you screw, anyway."
Judging that there was no use in arguing, Arthur turned and continued to clean his clothing. With his upper body being covered by only a waistcoat, he felt exposed and out of place. This country had brought significant change to the Englishman, despite his short stay. He had become a murderer and a bank robber in two days. Arthur longed for the comfortable and relatively easy living he had in England, but would he ever be able to return after damaging his reputation and abandoning his ranch? Would he be able to face his parents with failure and withstand their criticism and judgment? After the past 48 hours he had spent in America, his past troubles seemed to minimize as new ones outshone them.
"We better get going, Cuntland," Lovino reminded.
"Ah, yes, just a moment," Arthur replied. There was doubt in the back of his mind, though. Did he really want to leave this country? After all, it had introduced him to a whole new range of feeling and excitement. Whatever held him back would have to wait until later. He laid his wet clothing over his horse's withers and set off for the center of the canyon.
The women were perched on top of the canyon, ready to fire at anything undesirable. Only the leader and the young girl stayed at the bottom. The sky had long since grown dark. The moon illuminated the area.
Rapid pounding of hooves brought everyone's attention forward. The leader cocked her gun. "Who are you?" she called out.
"It's us!" a voice called, "We have the money!"
Alfred perked up at the familiar accent. He came back.
The boys came closer. "We have the money," Arthur repeated. The leader examined the boys. They were obviously tired. The Englishman looked like he went through hell and back.
"Let me see it," she commanded, keeping her gun aimed. Lovino produced six one-hundred dollar bills. The woman took them and examined them. "Michelle, untie them." The young girl obeyed and undid the rope that held the boys.
"Oh man, I need to piss like a racehorse!" Alfred said as he turned around and urinated. Feliciano apparently felt the same because he did the same thing.
"Sorry, ladies, but I've been holding that in for the entire day," a now relieved Alfred said.
Lovino dismounted his horse and ran to Feliciano. "Oh, fratello, I'm so glad to have your stupid ass back! Spending time with that cockchafer Cuntland over there was way too much for me to handle!" The brothers cried in each other's arms.
"I missed you too, Lovi. But you came back for me! You actually did it," Feliciano sobbed.
"Arthur," Alfred said, "you..."
"Returned?" the Briton finished. "It was nothing, really."
"Nothin? Look at yourself, bud, ya look like ya got trampled by a bunch of steer!"
"What a charming man you are," Arthur sarcastically replied.
"Was this all for us, Arthur? Did ya really go through all that for us?" Whatever Arthur's answer would be, Alfred knew it would hurt him in some way.
"N-no, of course not!" the Briton huffed in embarrassment, "Don't get me wrong, Mr. Jones, it's not like I did is for you two! I simply did this because it is a, erm... Gentleman's duty! That's all!"
Alfred was disheartened by his response. But that was good, right? At least it would make his job easier.
"Quit lying, eyebrow bastard. Your face is as red as a goddamn tomato! I can even see it in the tarnal dark," Lovino accused.
Arthur's face grew even redder. "P-Pardon me? I do not lie, Lovino! I am well above the status of men who do!"
"You're clearly lying, Englishman," the smiling bandit leader interjected.
"Bloody Americans and their absurd accusations," Arthur mumbled to himself.
Meanwhile, Alfred's stomach tingled with happiness. "I knew ya cared!" he laughed. Behind his joy lay a pool of bittersweet sadness. He cares, he thought.
"Get going, now. I don't want to see any of your faces in the near future, you hear?" the leader said with a stern but good hearted tone.
And with that, the boys were off. Lovino and Feliciano were given their wagon back since the women figured the dynamite was too dangerous to travel with and the leader had a soft spot Feliciano. Alfred tied his and Arthur's horses to the back of the wagon and traveled with the brothers, allowing Lovino and Arthur to sleep while Alfred and Feliciano chatted.
"Where are you going after this, Alfredo?" Feliciano asked.
"I was gonna go to Gilpin County in Colorado, but I dunno anymore."
"Ve~ if you ever want to drop by for a visit, Lovi and I will be in Missoula."
Alfred smiled and gave Feliciano a friendly slap on the back. They talked like this until they reached the mouth of the canyon. Alfred turned around to wake his traveling partner. Arthur and Lovino unconsciously snuggled up to each other while they were sleeping. "Ve~ looks like they got along," Feliciano said. Alfred went to shake Arthur awake, but stopped when he saw something bloody tied on his arm. He untied it as gently as possible. When he peeled it off of his skin, it revealed a deep gash. Arthur gasped from the pain but remained asleep. Did he do this for me? The cowboy tied the cloth back on with trembling hands, Arthur turning away in his sleep. Can I really do this to him?
Feliciano waved at the American. "Ciao, Alfredo!"
He watched the wagon leave until he could see no more of it. He had to carry Arthur, figuring that he would've thrown a fit if woken up by Alfred again. The cowboy looked over at the sleeping man, wondering what he was to do with him. He confused him. Sure, the American was easily baffled by a lot of things like submarines and people from the East Coast, but nobody made him feel as confused about himself as Arthur had.
Coming to a conclusion that trying to figure everything out would only leave him more confused, Alfred decided to turn in for the night. He allowed himself to drift away, but his blue eyes flew open when he heard grass rustling.
"Arthur," he called nervously. The Briton was sound asleep. "Arthur, wake up," Alfred said as he shook the man. "MmmgrmmpissoffPetermycookingisgreatmmrrr..." he grumbled as he swatted Alfred's hand away. The cowboy turned to his horse. "Freedom, girl, please. Ya know I don't like being the last to fall asleep," he begged. The mare didn't respond.
The man sat up and cocked a gun that Feliciano gave him. "I d-don't like to talk to d-dead people, so don't come up tryna scare me or I swear on my m-ma that I'll pump ya full of lead," he threatened. The rustling happened again and Alfred nearly jumped. "I'm a c-c-cowboy, dammit, I'm one of the t-toughest g-guys out here," he reassured himself. When the rustling happened a third time, Alfred shot the area he saw it in. The noise woke Arthur and both of the horses.
"My goodness, what the dickens are you doing?" a now fully awake Arthur asked.
"There was a thing! And-and it was making noises and sneaking around and-"
The cowboy stopped short when a vile odor filled his lungs. "Oh shoot," he said.
"What's that horrible smell? Alfred, did you soil yourself?" Arthur questioned as he covered his nose.
"What? No! I think I shot a skunk," the other responded.
"What on earth is a skunk?"
"It's a real smelly son of a bitch. We should shin out, bud. It ain't gonna get any better."
The men got up to discover that their horses were way ahead of them. When Alfred got up, he noticed how Arthur staggered. "Are ya okay?" he asked.
"Yes, I'm just a bit dizzy is all," Arthur assured.
When they traveled far enough to avoid the odor, Arthur practically collapsed on the ground.
"Ya sure yer alright? Ya look like yer about to lay down the knife and fork," Alfred said. Arthur tossed him a questioning look.
"Cowboy talk," the American said, "Ya look like yer about to die is what I meant."
"Now that you mention it, I don't think I've had anything to eat for the past day."
Alfred's jaw dropped in shock. "How can ya go without eating for a whole day?"
Arthur shrugged weakly. The American would not stand anybody starving. He himself could barely make it without food for an hour. How could someone go through that kind of torture?
"Here," the cowboy said as he pulled out a pouch from his horse's saddle bag, "Michelle gave it to me. She said she was sorry for bein' such a scalawag last night."
Arthur took the man's offering. "Michelle?" he questioned as he peered inside of the bag.
"The drunk girl with the gun and the brown hair and brown skin," Alfred explained.
"Oh, her," he recalled with distracted indifference. "Alfred, what exactly is this?" The Englishman smelled the contents.
"Squirrel."
"Lovely." Despite the sarcasm dripping from his words, Arthur was so hungry that he devoured the meat quickly.
"So how'd ya get that mean lookin' cut on yer arm?" Alfred asked.
"I was shot," Arthur responded. The cowboy's blue eyes bulged at this. "No way! Proper Mr. Arthur Kirkland managed to get himself a lick from a bullet!" he hollered.
Arthur's face started to redden. "What's it to you, American?" he spat out in embarrassment.
"Just yesterday ya were scared outta yer own bottom from killing someone, and now ya done something that got yerself shot at."
Arthur thought about that. Something in him had changed. It did seem like he was afraid of his own shadow when he had arrived in the country, but whatever that was had left when he had robbed the stagecoach.
"I, unlike a certain cowboy I know, have never killed someone purposefully. I am a gentleman and no savage," the Englishman declared.
"Didja meet another cowboy when ya got yer money?" Alfred asked with genuine curiosity.
"I was talking about you," the Briton clarified.
The other man pouted in response. "I'm a gentleman!" he huffed.
"A gentleman of four outs, that is."
Alfred tried to think of a witty response. "Well you're a Nancy boy!" he rebuffed.
Arthur's eyes widened in offense. "This 'Nancy boy' robbed a bank stagecoach and almost died for your sake!"
The American's jaw dropped. "Ya what?" he asked.
"I robbed a stagecoach," the Briton repeated.
The cowboy was stunned. The man had stolen from an armed stagecoach to free Alfred. The man had taken a bullet for Alfred. The man who was too proper to sing loudly had broken the law and risked his life for Alfred. The American started to feel the bittersweet feeling rise up in his stomach again. He pushed it away as best as he could and focused on the matter at hand.
"How'd ya do it?" he asked.
"There are very few things that an Englishman cannot do, Alfred. With some hard work and determination, even the most incompetent people can accomplish the most amazing things, not that I'm incompetent or anything. I'm actually more capable than one would suspect upon meeting me. Anyway, with just enough willpower-"
Alfred's short attention span was running thin. "Arthur?"
The man shot Alfred a chastising look. "It's quite rude to interrupt a gentleman when he's speaking, you know. Also, I don't know what the customs are here, but I'm sure that using vulgar language in the presence of a lady is frowned upon. I had noticed how you and Lovino were rather comfortable tossing around vile terms such as 'piss' and 'goddammit' like it was nothing. Even though those women were certainly not high class, it is rude for a man to- "
"I have no idea what yer running yer trap about," Alfred interrupted again.
Arthur rolled his eyes. Americans. "Lovino and I robbed an armed stagecoach. We acquired the key to the strongbox by utilizing my amazing acting talent and Lovino's pick pocketing skills," he explained. The Briton went on to tell the full tale of his adventure to the eager cowboy. Arthur noticed how childlike Alfred was once his attention was caught, occasionally uttering an excited, "didja really?" and, "ya got out alive, right?" It made Arthur rethink fleeing back to England. He had never had someone to hang on every word of a story he told. He had never had someone to do something for, to rob a bank for, to overcome a fear of shooting guns for. Previously, every action Arthur did was ultimately for his own gain. He was used to being selfish. But when Arthur began give up on his life, Alfred came in and made him want to try again. Alfred made him do things Arthur normally would have found insensible. What had this boneheaded cowboy done to him?
The two kept talking until Alfred nodded off and gave into sleep. Arthur looked at the man and wondered, did he really want to return to being alone?
AN: Arthur didn't know what a skunk was because skunks are not found in Europe (lucky them). Also, it wasn't rare to have cowboys engage in homosexual actions with one another.
But hehehehehh what's sneaky little Alfred up to?
Mi dispiace, amico- I'm sorry, friend
tarnal- equivalent to 'damn'
shin out- run away
gentleman of four outs- a vulgar, blustering man that claims he is a gentleman
Nancy boy- effeminate homosexual