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.

Edit: Ok. I don't know what's up, but the line breaks are freaking out on me. Hopefully, they work for you guys, but, if not, here's a heads up.

[Chapter 11]

"No." said Arthur in irritated disbelief. "There's no way."

"And yet, here we are." Alfred countered.

Arthur scowled, but had nothing more to say as he trudged towards their destination, leaving Alfred jogging to catch up. Despite his aching shoulders and feet, he was feeling quite proud of his most recent accomplishment. In the dark of night, and without the aid of map or compass, Alfred had led Arthur through a wilderness of undeveloped land, a small marsh, and three cornfields and had successfully brought them to the glowing golden arches of the promised land.

The promised land here meaning McDonalds.

Arthur stopped outside the doors, still looking at Alfred with what the American liked to believe was shock and awe. He waited until Alfred had almost reached him before speaking again.

"You cheated. I don't know how, but you cheated. There's no way you could have led us here if you were really lost."

"I keep telling you," Alfred panted as he lumbered over to the Brit "It's a gift. I'm like a heat seeking missile when it comes to finding fast food joints."

"No. There is no way you could have done this. You have no gift. You have no talent. You certainly do not have a 'super power' as you called it a few minutes ago. At best, you have luck. Lots of luck. Stupid amounts of it. So, no. Just- Just-" he made some sort of enraged flailing gesture at McDonalds, Alfred, and the universe in general. "Just no."

Alfred ignored his protests and reached behind him, opening the door with a flourishing bow. "After you, good sir."

He received a dirty look for his efforts before his companion turned on his heel and stormed into the establishment. Alfred had to admit that Arthur knew how to make an entrance. Unfortunately, he was incapable of such a thing and was forced to do an awkward shuffle through the doors, rotating to make sure he and his various bags made it through. Success came only after he had gotten himself stuck twice. He found Arthur sitting in a corner booth, the small smirk on his face informing him that his performance had not gone unnoticed.

"Oh, shut up." he mumbled as he unloaded his bags. "I'll go order. What do you want?"

"As long as it comes with a drink, I really don't care."

"Alright. I'll be back. Don't steal my stuff."

Arthur was unfazed by the insinuation that he was a thief. They both knew that, given the chance, he would search through them and take whatever he thought would give him an edge. However, seeing as they had established a truce, he did nothing more than eye them curiously as Alfred walked up to the counter.

"Ok." he said, looking up at the numbered options. "I'll have a number two and a- Wait. Is it too early for burgers? Too late? What about pancakes? Do you have those? Can I order them?"

The cashier remained silent, looking at Alfred like he was the world's biggest idiot. Alfred just laughed at the nonsense of it all.

"You know what? I've got no idea what time it is, so we'll just take whatever it is that you've got to serve."

Eighteen minutes later, because the place had horrible service even taking into account the size of Alfred's order, he returned to Arthur burdened with overflowing trays.

"Soup's on." he announced as the trays hit the table with a dull thud. Arthur didn't even give the fast food his customary look of disapproval, instead he grabbed a wax paper wrapped offering and began gulping down weak and watery iced tea like his life depended on it.

At their table, the two scarfed down Egg McMuffins and hash browns, ignored by minimum wage workers. Alfred thought they would've gained more attention looking like the car crash victims they were. Then again, he'd worked nightshifts before and knew that these people had probably seen things more alarming than this.

Alfred wasn't sure if it was the missed meal or the near death experience or the trek through the wilderness, but he was ravenous. Once he'd started eating, he didn't stop or slow down until he'd grabbed one last fistful of too dry fries, lubricated them with liberal amounts of ketchup, and shoved them into his mouth to join the plethora of foodstuffs in his stomach. Only then did he sit back and look to Arthur, who had settled back in a similarly lazy fashion and was toying with balled up straw wrappers.

"I'm guessing we need to start running ASAP before Tino's men try to kill us again."

"Not necessarily." Arthur answered. "The wreckage will be left alone for a few days. It wouldn't do for them to be seen in a suspicious location like that. They'll wait until someone else discovers the wreck, and once they realize we're not there, then they'll come after us. However, seeing how infrequently that road is traveled and how hard it is to see the wreck from the top of the incline, we've probably got a few days until they start after us again."

"So their plan was to drive us off a cliff and then let us die trapped in the wreckage waiting for someone to come save us? That's messed up."

Arthur nodded in agreement, but said nothing more. Alfred shifted uneasily for a moment before speaking up again.

"So, what do we do now?"

"What do you think?"

"Hotel?" he guessed.

"Hotel." Arthur agreed and slid out of the booth.

Alfred sighed, but collected his things and prepared to head back out into the night.

The good thing about cheap motels is that they were everywhere, and soon Alfred was standing in a worn out room that looked much the same as any of the ones he'd occupied since he'd picked up Arthur off the side of the road. It was sad how familiar these places were becoming.

"Are you getting first shower or-" he turned to find the bathroom door clicking shut. "Am I?" he finished with a sigh.

As the water started up, Alfred dropped his bags and began to search through one of the duffels for his laptop. He'd shelled out the money for Wi-Fi, figuring that if he was going to stop being a tool, like he'd promised, he should start helping. And the only skillset he possessed that might be of any use required internet access. So it was time to bring out his precious monstrosity.

Alfred referred to his laptop as a monstrosity because it looked like something Frankenstein would have made had the good doctor had been into assembling computers instead of running electricity through stolen bits of corpses. Alfred had made it himself from ragtag bits of electronics. It was as ugly as sin, but it ran better than most things currently on the market. He was proud of his achievement, and had made it a sort of hobby to build and rebuild his monstrosity thereby keeping it the most well-oiled machine out there. Which would explain why it was nestled in a duffle bag filled with loose computer parts.

He pulled it from its resting place, scattering wires and sending an old hard drive tumbling to the floor as he did so. Once it had been set on a side table and plugged in to charge, Alfred gave it an affectionate pat and knelt down to pick up the odds and ends he'd dislodged. He was in the process of standing up when he paused, knelt back down, and pulled out Hitler's remains from their resting place. He dug out a screwdriver as well and settled himself on the floor. Arthur wouldn't be done for a little while yet, and there was no sense in letting good parts go to waste. Humming softly, he set about cannibalizing Hitler.

There wasn't much hope for usable material, it had been shot after all. But, Alfred noted with a frown, the bullet hadn't made it all the way through. There was a hole in the front screen, but no exit hole made in the back casing. Alfred turned Hitler around in his hands, puzzled. Hitler was made of cheap plastic; it shouldn't have been able to stop a bullet. Especially not at close range. How, then, had it survived?

One way to find out.

He pried the casing open to find a shattered screen and obliterated silicon, nothing out of the ordinary. But there, nestled in the back, was something definitely unusual. A slim black box had been awkwardly wired into the surrounding electronics. It looked like a rush job, and whatever the black box was, it didn't look like it belonged.

Alfred undid the wiring and teased it out. It was surprisingly heavy for its size. Its black casing was dense, dense enough, he noted, to stop a bullet. There was a dimple dead center on one side where the bullet had impacted and bounced off. He slowly ran his thumb across the mark.

"I'm guessing you don't come standard." he murmured.

He rotated it and found ports on the slim side, but before he could think of what they were meant to connect to, Arthur reentered the room looking much less dirty than when he had left.

The agent looked down at him where he sat surrounded by ruined electronics. "What are you doing?"

Alfred hurriedly stuffed the Hitler bits back into the bag before Arthur could shoot it again.

"Nothing!" he answered.

Arthur wasn't listening. He was staring at Alfred's laptop. "What is that thing?"

"Hey, don't judge by appearances. It's beautiful on the inside." Alfred protested at the slight against his monstrous baby. Yes, he'd glued the casing together so the innards could rest comfortably, but that was no reason to look repulsed.

He would have gone into a speech about not judging a book by its cover and why exactly the monstrosity was not to be mocked, but looking up he could make out the jagged line of a cut on Arthur's forehead. Speeches could wait, Arthur needed medical attention.

"Hang on." he said standing up and nearly tripping over his own feet "I've got something for that."

He plucked the backpack from where it lay on one of the duffels and tossed it to Arthur. Arthur caught it with an 'oomph', not expecting the weight.

"There's a first aid kit in there somewhere. Do you want help or-" Arthur gave him a look "Right. No touchie."

Alfred gathered some clothes as Arthur sat on one of the beds and searched the backpack. He pulled out a box of waterproof matches, a jar of peanut butter, a coil of rope, and a small tarp before looking back to Alfred.

"Not that I'm complaining, some of this stuff is dead useful, but why did you have it in the back of your car?"

"Oh, that." Alfred shrugged. "Zombie plan."

Arthur looked at him, nearly at a loss for words. "And what, pray tell, is a 'zombie plan'?"

"You know, it's a contingency plan for what you should do if the zombie apocalypse comes to pass. I like to keep a stash of emergency supplies nearby just in case. You know, medical supplies, food, that kind of stuff."

Arthur hefted an iron crowbar from the bag and raised one gigantic eyebrow at him.

"Gotta have something to bash in zombie skulls in." Alfred responded to the unanswered question. "It'll be also good for breaking into places when I scavenge the burned out husks of cities for food. Besides, it's easier to explain to pre-apocalypse law enforcement than a gun."

Arthur chose not to respond to that and pulled the first aid kit out from under other assorted zombie supplies.

"It's got those Band-Aids you can use for stitches, so you can put some on your head. I also put some pain pills in there if you want them."

Arthur pulled out the bottle immediately, so Alfred took that as a yes.

"Take one with lots of water. Two if you're in a lot of pain."

Arthur shook three out into his hand, knocked them back, and swallowed them dry.

"Or you could do that. Yeah. They make you drowsy, so watch out for that. I'm taking my shower now. Try not to OD before I get back."

The bathroom interior had been less horrific than some of the places he'd been and the towels had been something close to fluffy so Alfred was in a good mood when he returned to the main room. All the dirt was gone and not even the discovery of exactly how bruised his shoulder was could ruin the joy of being clean again. Alfred cast his gaze around the room to see where Arthur had gone and suddenly understood why Arthur never fell asleep around him.

A sleeping Arthur was a fucking adorable Arthur.

He'd bundled himself into a little nest of covers and his hair was puffed out against his pillow. His mouth was ajar, but instead of drooling he just made soft breathing sounds. The lack of grumpy expression made him look younger.

Alfred had to bite his lip to stop himself from laughing or making other noises at Arthur's cuteness that would probably get him shot if the agent woke up to hear him.

Who knew that mister badass agent looked about as threatening as a toddler while snoozing? No wonder he'd never let Alfred see him asleep. It kind of ruined his whole image.

Alfred allowed himself one soft chuckle before tiptoeing over to his monstrosity and turning it on. It started up with a slight whirr and then gave a cheerful little ping to inform him that it was ready to go. He rolled his shoulders, wincing slightly, and cracked his knuckles, settling in for what was sure to be several long hours of searching.

Time to get to work.

[End Chapter]

Zombie plans.

You should have them.

Continue?