Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.

Warnings: Slash, AU, swearing, sub-par writing, wonky plots, appallingly slow updates, and Hitler jokes.

I don't know what I'm doing.

Unbeta'd.

[Chapter 6]

When he was in kindergarten, Alfred's school had decided to try and instill an interest in the arts in their young students.

How?

By putting on a play.

The play chosen was 'The Wizard of Oz'. Alfred had been cast as the Scarecrow. And while he might not have given the most on key performance of 'If I Only had a Brain' his school had ever seen, he had certainly given the most enthusiastic. Afterwards, his parents had greeted him backstage with a bouquet of flowers, which he had thought icky, and a Super-Sized portion of still warm McDonalds fries, which Alfred had very much appreciated.

That was the extent of his acting career.

Not exactly helpful, considering he was about to attempt BS-ing his way past someone who had probably spent years of their life studying how to read body language and spot abnormalities in speech patterns. Arthur could probably smell a lie from a mile away. It didn't bode well for Alfred's nonexistent acting and lying abilities.

If this were a video game, now would be the point where he would meander away from the main quest in favor of leveling his speech skill.

Unfortunately, his current situation allowed for no side quests.

Which sucked, cause Alfred knew for sure that he was way under leveled.

He trudged back to his car, wondering what he was supposed to do.

How does one even get accused of high treason in this day and age? What constitutes high treason?

Cause, you know, at one point in English history being a Catholic priest was considered treason.

Not that he thought that Arthur was a Catholic priest. But you had to do something before people were willing to accuse you of high treason. The real question was what.

What had Arthur done?

Tino had failed to mention the details of whatever damning action Arthur had chosen to perform. It was now entirely up to Alfred's imagination to speculate on what had happened.

Maybe he'd done something to the Queen.

No. If he'd hurt the Queen, Arthur would already have been murdered by the British populace. That, and Alfred would probably have seen something in the news if the Queen had been injured.

Perhaps he had tried to assassinate a person of interest in order to pave the way for a new world order.

Like a Terminator. A British Terminator.

Oh God.

What if Arthur was a Terminator?

Can you lie to Terminators?

Alfred was pretty sure they could scan your vitals and stuff with their robot vision. That would mean they had built in lie detectors. They'd watch for an elevated heart rate and then crush you like a soda can with their cybernetic arms.

He was so screwed.

He went back anyway. Might as well face the music.

Arthur was done with his phone call and was leaning against the car tapping his foot in annoyance. The look he gave Alfred was absolutely ferocious.

"How long does it take you to buy your stupid Twinkies?" he growled.

Alfred was struck with the sudden urge to run, which was ridiculous. Terminators would chase you no matter where you went. His only option, stand and fight, was no option at all.

Why were their no conveniently placed hydraulic crushers or vats of molten steel?

Arthur threw Alfred's car keys at the American's immobile form. They glanced off his forehead and skittered across the concrete. Alfred scuttled after them with one hand clutching his aching head. Arthur rolled his eyes.

"Get in the car, idiot."

Alfred didn't need to be told twice. He was buckled in his seat with the keys in the ignition before Arthur had managed to close his door.

Ok, Alfred. Just act calm. Don't freak out. You can do this.

Be normal.

"Didn't you buy snacks?"

Alfred just about jumped out of his skin.

"What?"

"You aren't carrying any food. Didn't you buy snacks?"

"I DID!" Alfred shouted, then cleared his throat and tried again using his 'inside voice'.

"I did." he said "But they looked so good that I had to eat them right away. That's why I was late. Hehehe..." he trailed off in laughter that was two steps away from hysterical.

Arthur stared at him long and hard and finally turned away murmuring something derogatory under his breath.

Well, that was easier than expected.

Either Alfred had seriously overestimated Arthur's lie detecting abilities or someone owed him an Oscar, cause damn.

It had been two days. Arthur hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary. He was even in a good mood. Alfred wished he could take credit for this, but Arthur's cheer was more likely because of his mysterious phone calls and a working radio than Alfred's attempts to appear calm, collected, and comfortable in the presence of someone who may or may not be a British Terminator.

It was raining. It was raining quite hard. Harder than the day before and certainly harder than the day before that. Although, that last fact was a given because two days ago it hadn't been raining.

The rain seemed to have some sort of soothing effect on his companion. He was unusually quiet and spent his time watching raindrops.

The only fight they'd had since the rain started was where to eat dinner. Arthur had pitched a fit and refused to go to another drive through. He demanded they go somewhere that possessed eating utensils that weren't made of plastic.

Alfred had agreed, knowing not to stomp on a hornet's nest when he saw one. Unfortunately, Alfred's navigational skills only extended to finding McDonalds and the less said about Hitler the better.

Arthur was entrusted with a map and successfully guided them to a nearby diner.

Alfred's GPS was as helpful as usual. It babbled on in what was either garbled Spanish or a demonic dialect unknown to mankind.

As much as Alfred would like to add more evidence to the whole 'Hitler is the devil' theory, he'd actually read Hitler's manual. Multiple times and in great detail. Hitler did indeed have a Spanish feature. It was just abusing the language in the hope that the two unfortunate souls stuck in the car with it would be driven to madness.

Alfred had long since become immune to such tactics.

Arthur kept sane by periodically smacking the machine. This worked well enough right up to the point where they pulled into the diner's lot. Then Hitler started screaming.

Hitler let out an inhuman 'AH' noise that would have dragged on long into the night if Arthur hadn't wrenched it off the dashboard and chucked it out the window.

Hitler slid across four lanes of heavy traffic before coming to a stop under the relative shelter of a mailbox. It looked as though any damage it may have sustained would be minimal.

Alfred despaired over Hitler's continued existence.

Arthur looked similarly disappointed with the lack of smashed electronics.

"Dude, how did it even- There were like three SUVs out there. And an eighteen wheeler."

"According to you 'because it is an agent of darkness whose mission is to bring an end to this age of reason'."

"So you believe me when I say it's evil?"

"No."

Alfred wilted. "Oh..."

"Just park the car. I'll go get us a table." Arthur left, slamming the passenger side door shut with just a tad more force than was necessary.

Alfred sighed and followed, but only after braving the rain and four lanes of traffic to get Hitler back. By the time he'd made it inside, he'd almost caused two accidents. He was also deeply impressed with Frogger's ability to avoid perishing on the asphalt and sending some poor soul to prison for charges of vehicular manslaughter.

That amphibian had made it look so easy.

The diner's interior was a horrifying mix of chrome, fake red leather, and checkerboard floors. A waitress with a beehive hairdo and a cheap pink uniform chewed gum like a cow and watched him in a disinterested manner.

Alfred shivered. This place was giving him flashbacks, and he hadn't even been alive when this stuff was popular.

Arthur had commandeered a booth in the corner by the window. He'd already ordered a cup of tea. Sub-par tea if his grimace was anything to go by.

Alfred sat down across from Arthur, puddle already forming underneath him on the fake leather seats. Arthur gave his soaked appearance a once over.

"You went after Hitler, didn't you?"

Alfred pulled the GPS in question out from under his jacket. "Yup."

"Just so you know, if that thing talks I'm killing it."

"Duly noted."

Arthur handed him a menu and sipped his tea.

Alfred began to look over the menu, or more specifically the prices. He chewed his lips anxiously. Arthur didn't take long to notice.

"What's wrong? I'd think a glutton like you could find something appetizing."

Alfred hesitated for a moment before replying.

"It's just- I don't exactly have the cash to keep paying for all this."

He suddenly had Arthur's undivided attention. Alfred lowered his gaze to the table, feeling his ears heat up with embarrassment and shame.

Gas money wasn't cheap. And Alfred didn't exactly have a stable income anymore. Fast food was inexpensive and it meant that Alfred got fed while still having funds to channel into other ventures.

Arthur carefully set his cup back on its saucer with a slight clink.

"Excuse me for a moment, would you." he got up from the booth, eyes not leaving Alfred "I'll be right back."

He walked away with the gait of someone on a mission. Alfred was left alone to stare longingly at glossy pictures of bacon cheeseburgers.

The waitress stopped by, still smacking her mouth obnoxiously, and asked if he was ready to order. He requested a Coke and went back to his menu. His options seemed to be limited to the appetizer or salad sections.

None of the items seemed to be very filling.

Would Arthur understand if he didn't order anything?

Maybe he could hop in his car and drive to McDonalds for a bite. If he was fast and Arthur took his time doing whatever it was he was doing, then maybe-

Too late, Arthur was back.

Arthur sat down and slid approximately one hundred and seven dollars and eighty two cents in small bills and loose change across the table to Alfred. For him, this action seemed to be the most natural thing in the world and he performed it with no hesitation. Then he picked up his tea, took a sip, and glanced at his menu like absolutely nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.

Alfred, of course, freaked the fuck out.

"Dude, you were gone for like two minutes, how-?"

Arthur glared at him.

The glare said 'Shut you face'.

Alfred managed to obey for all of four seconds.

"Where? How? What?"

"Stop drawing attention to yourself."

Alfred suddenly realized there was a wad of cash in front of him and quickly stuffed it under his shirt before the waitress could come back and start asking questions. If that happened, Arthur might have to kill her.

Alfred was already an accomplice in whatever this endeavor was. He didn't want to get mixed up in murder as well.

"But-"

"Don't worry. You need it and it won't be missed."

"But-"

"I'm not giving it back and the waitress is coming. Pick something. Order it. Eat it. Thanks would be nice."

"I'm not going to thank you for stealing." Alfred mumbled, but he turned back to the menu and didn't press the issue.

Their waitress arrived and set down Alfred's Coke. Arthur immediately began rattling off some complicated variation of a steak special. The waitress scrambled for her notepad, clearly not able to remember this on own.

Alfred took a drink. Urg. Diet. He saved her from death by Brit, and this is how she rewards him?

He snapped his order at her when she addressed him. If she got his order wrong, he was so complaining to the manager.

She backed off quickly and they were alone again.

You don't quite realize how awkward things are between two people until they sit down together and try to hold a conversation over dinner.

"So..."

"As I will have to sit through you stuffing meat and cheese into that gaping hole you call a mouth, I would appreciate it very much if you would just shut up and let me enjoy the calm until our food actually gets here."

This time, Alfred managed to stay silent for longer than four seconds. He fiddled with the money hidden awkwardly under his shirt and watched Arthur watch the rain. In fact, he was quite up to the moment their food arrived.

Once that happened, all bets were off.

The waitress had apparently gotten Arthur's order wrong. He glared at her fiercely, but she seemed unaffected. Or maybe she was just too dense to notice.

Alfred giggled after she left.

"You're losing your touch."

Arthur turned his glare on Alfred. Part of him cowered in fear, but the rest charged blindly forwards.

"Used to be you could send anyone away screaming. What happened? Now you're about as threatening as a room filled with nuns."

"Oh really?"

Arthur had a steak knife, silver and dull from years of usage. His fingers make a fist around the black handle. He put his other hand palm down on the table.

Alfred knew where Arthur was going with this. He'd seen it in Aliens.

The knife's curved edge tapped the space between Arthur's thumb and index finger. Then between index finger and middle. Then the next gat. Then the next gap. Then back to the space between index finger and thumb. Over and over again. He watched the flicker of silver. Tap tap tap between the spaces. Faster and faster and faster and-

Arthur's arm struck outwards.

Before Alfred could track its movement, there was a loud clink of china and Arthur's knife had been driven all the way through Alfred's double decker burger.

Alfred watched, hypnotized, as Arthur unwrapped his finger from around the knife. The Brit leaned back, as smug as Alfred had even seen him.

Alfred looked into those green eyes. Beneath the smug superiority was a glint of something harsher, and Alfred tried to preserve the sight so that he wouldn't forget.

Arthur was dangerous when he wanted to be.

[End Chapter]

Again, not as polished as I want it to be, but I abandoned you all last week to write GerIta, so I thought you deserved an update.

Also, despite Alfred's claims that nuns are harmless, I'd like to assure you that they can be scary scary ladies when they want to be.

Continue?