Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia: Axis Powers. All rights go to their creators.

A/N: You don't have to read my other story, Him, Lovino, and Iggy Two in order to read this one. But this story is an AU of that AU. It's just a fun little Easter egg if you have.

If you have: In this AU Arthur is two years younger, missing Kiku's study entirely, and causing Lionessolutions to go bankrupt, so there's no Iggy Two app; they never met.

This story would technically start 6 years before the main events of Him, Lovino, and Iggy Two.

Chapter 1: The Heckler

Arthur Kirkland had been living in New York City and by extension the United States for two years now. And after a rough first year that drained all of his energy and starting funds, he was running on pure survival instinct at this point. With a music career that had yet to get off the ground, day to day street performing was a constant balance between rent and eating, and smoking discarded cigarette butts when he was really desperate. Fags weren't cheap nowadays and being the human equivalent of a circus monkey left little room to indulge in this vice.

He was in really bad shape last year, drinking alcohol had overtaken his need to eat most days but if he was too smashed to play he wasn't earning anything at all. So between smoking and drinking he chose the former.

This would be his last week in the States entirely. He booked a flight home to where his parents lived in Cotswolds, fully prepared to break the terms of his lease because fuck that hell hole.

It was too much, and he was ready to admit defeat, he had no friends, nor a long-term romantic partner and this music thing was not working out. What other reason did he have to be here other than habit or pride? At the very least he could work on finding a job in the field of study he graduated in at home.

Today was another day just like any other, he set up on the sidewalk in his usual spot, guitar case open to accept tips, battery powered amp plugged in, and bass guitar strapped to his back.

He actually had written a farewell song to the place he called home for two years, it fit the Autumn atmosphere.

He heard the clinking of change as people dropped coins into his guitar case as they passed by him on their afternoon commute. This was the busiest time in Times Square.

He'd gathered a small crowd, he never really cared to recognize any faces, but he met the gaze of a young man who was toward the back, his face scrunched into an angry scowl that could rival his own.

And when he was finished, the crowd gave him light applause and dropped in bills and various coins as they dispersed. The scowling man did not, although he'd stayed until the end.

"Hey! I see you back there."

The man, a short brunet, flinched before he met Arthur's gaze.

Arthur gestured to the open guitar case, giving it a few pats for good measure.

"Tch. I didn't think you were good enough to warrant me leaving a tip."

"What? Why did you stay to the end then?"

"I can do whatever I want, it's my money. And you didn't earn it." The man stuck his tongue out at him before he continued on his way.

Arthur blinked before he felt his blood start to boil.

What a little prick! Who the fuck does he think he is?

Arthur shook his head, he probably wouldn't see that little bastard again, plus he was leaving soon.

Arthur went through his usual set list and stayed out there until it was dark, which was earlier because of the season. He packed up and went home to boil himself a pack of instant noodles for dinner.

Arthur lived in a rundown apartment that was near a cafe, next to an abandoned apartment with no real view out the window, just the apartment next to it. It was a one bedroom apartment on the second floor. Arthur had seen only one rat so far but the traps he'd set out worked.

Arthur slid in an old DVD he had of Doctor Who season 10 to watch because he didn't much care for what was on local television today and he wasn't paying a fuck ton for cable. Maybe one day he would invest in getting Streamberry.

He sat on the couch in front of the television and scrolled through to an episode earlier in the season.

Arthur's phone pinged and he glanced at his phone. It was a text from João which he chose to ignore.

Arthur slurped his noodles.

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The next day was just like yesterday, Arthur woke up, skipped breakfast, and got ready for the day.

Arthur forgot to wipe off his eyeliner before going to bed so it smudged on his pillow. He had to reapply it this morning after he shaved and brushed his teeth.

Getting a good look in the mirror, he'd recently dyed his hair blue after the green had grown all out, he'd just gotten used to the change. And his nose piercing wasn't infected, he tried to clean it as often as he could.

His clothes had piled up and he'd need to go downstairs to wash them, he had plenty of quarters. He threw on a robe and gathered up his laundry bag.

Luckily for him, no one was downstairs and he had the laundry room to himself. As he waited for his clothes to wash and then dry, Arthur scrolled on HetaTweet to pass the time, occasionally liking the updates on the new Doctor Who seasons and a few updates in UK News. Not so much politics, it made him upset.

When his clothes were done drying he retreated back to his flat, escaping any possible interaction with the other tenants.

Arthur was back on the streets of Times Square again this afternoon, performing for change.

He saw the same short brunet man from yesterday, he had on a jean jacket from what he noticed looking at him today.

When the song was over the man stuck around, a smug grin on his face, "Your songs still suck ass, I'm not paying you shit for that." He blew a raspberry at him before he walked away.

"Fuck off! Don't listen to me play then you twat!"

Arthur doesn't know what it was about that little bastard that got under his skin, but he felt the urge to pen a song about him out of spite.

And he does, because despite the minor inconveniences of everyday living, he's never had true motivation like this in a long time.

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He makes sure to catch the man's gaze this third time around, just to make it clear that this song was about him.

It was mostly about how arrogant and rude he was, and for him to give him what he owes him.

Once he finished the song with heavy breaths, he didn't attract much of a crowd, he received a few measly coins for it. It's not the best song he'd written, but the short brunet walked over anyway.

"You wrote that about me huh?"

"I figured as the attention loving self centered bastard you are, you wouldn't be able to resist paying me when you heard a song like that."

"That or you're just obsessed with me." The man crossed his arms with a smirk on his lips.

"I don't even know you! Drop your fucking tip in and fuck off."

"I'm flattered and all but nah. Bye you blue haired bastard." The man flipped him off before swiftly turning on his heels to continue down the street.

Arthur was flabbergasted, blood boiling hot. Three strikes, the man had three strikes and that was all of them.

"That's it! You better run because if I fucking catch you, I'm kicking your arse!" He yelled at the man's retreating figure.

He pulled off his guitar and stuffed it into his case; with it strapped on his back and the amp in hand, he took off in a full sprint. The man hadn't walked too far, Arthur maneuvered around the rush of crowds of people in Times Square to get closer to him.

The man was stopped at a crosswalk as Arthur neared him. The man glanced back and jumped, startled at seeing him, mouth agape and eyes wide. The man started mashing the crosswalk button.

Arthur glanced up to see the crosswalk light had changed and the man was sprinting across the street, Arthur kept his eyes on him as he was a few meters away. Running on pure adrenaline and a taco from lunch earlier, he kept pace with him.

"Won't you give up? You're crazy!" The man yelled back at him.

Maybe so, but beating this man's arse would shut him up real quick and give him the satisfaction of having done it himself.

The man made a beeline into a shop, from the window and the patrons inside he could tell it was some kind of cafe. Arthur dropped his amp and pulled on the door to open it, but the man was on the other side pulling it closed.

"Leave me alone!"

"You talk all that shite, but you cry like a little bitch when you have to prove it."

"Please Boss, give me the key to lock up the cafe! This man's trying to kill me! I'm just trying to do my job!"

Arthur pulled the door open with a grunt and was met with a very tall, broad shouldered, pissed off looking blond haired man with glasses. Arthur took a step back.

"No fighting in my cafe." The man's voice was a low deep rumble.

"Tell your employee not to run his mouth if he doesn't want to face the consequences." He made eye contact with the brunet cowering behind the bespectacled blond.

The blond haired man with glasses didn't say anything else and closed the door in Arthur's face.

Arthur caught wind of a sign in the window that said a free cake slice comes with any purchase. Arthur can't remember the last time he indulged himself with cake, it always felt weird to buy an entire one for just himself. And usually they were expensive to get slices at Moondollar.

Arthur picked up his amp, pulled the door back open, and walked inside. He got a few glances from patrons sipping coffee and eating cake, presumably weary if he was going to cause trouble.

Arthur shoved his hand into his pocket, he glanced over the menu and chose the only tea option. He was about the third person in line. The cashier looked up from looking down, presumably at his phone tucked behind the register. He looked to be of Southeast Asian descent, with brown eyes and warm tan skin.

"Hello, how can I help you?" The man asked, putting on a cheery voice for him, showing his teeth in a smile.

Arthur asked for lemon tea, it was about $5 for a small cup, and was asked if he wanted a slice of cake. Arthur answered yes of course before paying and being given his receipt. He also left his last name.

Arthur walked over to an empty spot by the window, a bar-like seating arrangement where students had their laptops plugged in.

Arthur got a text from his father.

Dad: Everything is ready for when you arrive. How are you feeling?

Arthur: Could be better. Can't wait to come home

Dad: Hang in there son. If you're not too tired from flying in we could have leftover Chinese.

Arthur: Thanks Dad.

His brother Alistair sent him a text not long after.

Alistair: I heard you're coming home to Dad's. You fucking bellend, He's got enough to worry about now He's got to take care of ya too?

Arthur: Fuck off.

Alistair: Nae-user

Arthur put his phone in his pocket and let out a groan.

One thing his shitty apartment had was good heat, so at the very least he didn't freeze his arse off this time of year. Having considerably calmed down, his lungs weren't burning, he'd caught his breath. A moment later his last name was called.

Arthur was once again face to face with the man he'd chased here, his hazel eyes narrowed.

"Here you go bastard." He slid Arthur's tea and a paper bag to him.

Arthur narrowed his eyes, "I'll accept an apology as a replacement for kicking your arse."

"Fuck off. I didn't do anything to you."

"I ought to jump over this counter and kick your arse but I don't want to cause a scene."

"Eat shit!"

Arthur made a motion like he was going to pour his hot drink on him, to which the little weasel flinched.

Arthur then rested his amp in the crook of his arm. He took the paper bag, grabbed a plastic fork from a dispenser on the counter and walked out the door, across the street to the Hetalia International University at NYC campus.

Arthur found a place to sit on the quad. It didn't seem worth it to him to put in actual energy to fight this man.

The tea was alright, pretty standard. But the cake, it was so light and fluffy, the best dessert he'd ever eaten. It instantly reminded him of home, and the cakes his mother used to make, especially with the tartness of the hint of lemon he could taste. He even found himself licking the crumbs and scooping up the almonds at the bottom of the plastic container it was in.

Is this fresh? Made inhouse or outsourced?

If someone baked this, Arthur wanted to thank them personally and maybe find the recipe or even learn how to bake something like it himself. At least then he could go home, and they'd be too hung up on the fact that he'd learned how to bake a magnificent cake to point out his failing music venture.

Moving here wouldn't have been a total waste of time then.

Arthur got up from the bench, after finishing his tea, and went back into the cafe, having caught the name, Quiet Rock Cafe.

"You're in here again? What the hell do you want now?" The brunet asked him as their gazes met, elbow against the counter.

Arthur stalked over to where he was at the counter, the cashier didn't look up from his phone.

"Do you make these cakes here or outsource them?"

"What are you some sort of cop or inspector or some shit?"

"No. I just want to pay my compliments to the chef."

The man clicked his teeth before he smirked at him, "I'll go get my boss and tell him you wanna kiss his ass."

Arthur pursed his lips as the man lifted up part of the counter and went past him, purposely bumping into him before disappearing through a door at the back of the cafe.

A moment later the tall blond with glasses appeared. He stood before Arthur, he was rather menacing.

"H-hello, I was here earlier. Apologies for the rough start. I just wanted to commend you on this cake. It's very good and I only wish I could master baking just as you have."

The man's cheeks were visibly pink as he gave Arthur a single nod.

"See, I told you he wanted to kiss your ass."

"You actually said that to your boss?!" Arthur turned to the brunet, who rolled his eyes.

"Of course I did, I said I was going to say that."

"U-um I wouldn't phrase it that way. But I do admire your skill, would you be willing to show me how to make this?"

His attempts at baking in the past were rather lackluster and made his brothers ill, he'd tried to take up the mantle his mother had left but just wasn't good enough. But this was his chance to fucking wow them so they wouldn't mock him further.

"The baker position is filled." The tall blond said his voice still deep and rumbled.

Arthur gave the man a nod, "Alright. Well I'll be off then." Arthur made his way toward the door, "Have a nice day." He muttered as he left.

He passed by another sign in the window of the cafe, they're hiring for a barista for the morning shift.

Arthur wasn't going to give up, it wasn't the position he wanted but maybe he could ask the man for lessons or even possible overtime in the kitchen.

Another two Doctor Who episodes, and a cheese sandwich for dinner later, it was time to rest for the night.

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Arthur sat in the tall blond man's office, twiddling his thumbs in the only suit he owned that still fit him. From his name tag he learned the tall blond man's name was Berwald. He had Arthur's application right in front of him at his desk.

It seemed more like a closet than an office space with how cramped it was, file cabinets were shoved to the back, book shelves stocked with what he could assume were manuals were pushed to the right.

"Are you going to cause trouble?" Berwald asked him, glasses reflecting a glint from the dim bulb above.

"No sir, that out there a few days ago was a misunderstanding. I'll keep to myself and not bother any of your other employees."

Berwald stared at him, yale blue eyes cold, and intense. Arthur felt his hands start to sweat, inside he was nervous, but on the outside hopefully he looked calm.

"Would I be able to learn a bit of baking in this role?"

The man nodded, "If you pick up a shift, not often."

"Alright." Arthur said, feeling a bit jittery.

"Hmm…you start tomorrow."

"R-really?"

The man gave him a nod.

"I won't let you down." Arthur stood up and held out his hand for the man to shake, his grip was firm.

Arthur didn't have any qualifications for this position, but apparently that didn't matter because he got the job.

Arthur walked out and past the counter where he heard someone banging on it.

He turned to see a young coffee brown skinned woman behind the register, her course hair was in pigtails. She waved him over, Arthur pointed to himself, an eyebrow raised.

The woman vigorously nodded, "You get the job?"

"U-uh…yes I start next week."

"Great! Because working at both stations is tough!" The woman gave him a smile and a thumbs up.

"Thanks?" Arthur furrowed his eyebrows.

She stood smiling at him for a moment as they fell into silence. He was not really sure what else there was to be said.

"See you then, newbie!" The woman vigorously waved at him, and Arthur blinked as this was his que to leave.

"R-right bye," He made his exit, feeling a bit strange at that interaction. Arthur breathed out a sigh, his hands weren't shaking anymore.

He'd just submitted himself to the customer service industry, time for horrible customer interactions and plastered on fake smiles.

That night he texted his father to hold off on the food, he wasn't coming home just yet, but he would be coming home to visit for the Christmas holiday. He'd had a change of plans. Now he had an excuse to hold off, the last thing he wanted to do was admit defeat, and going home really would dig its heels in that he'd made a mistake coming here.

Arthur set up in his usual spot that afternoon, noting a lack of a certain short brunet for his first few songs.

That's more like it. He's gone, no more heckling.

"What's the big idea huh?" Arthur looked up to see the short brunet walking toward him as he took a short break before he prepared to sing the next song in his setlist. He took out a cigarette and a lighter.

The man stood a few meters from him, hands on his hips, tapping his foot.

Arthur raised an eyebrow, placing the cigarette between his teeth. "I don't–."

"You're working at the cafe now? You really are obsessed with me! I should fucking call the police on you for stalking me!"

"You're bloody fucking ridiculous. This isn't about you at all." Arthur muttered, lighting the fag before taking a long drag.

"You say that, but I don't believe you. Back off ok? If you try to hurt me, I'll get you fired."

He looked at the brunet, pointing a finger at him. "You started this!"

"Me? You're the one who fucking singled me out, and now you're trying to get as close to me as possible to fuck with my life? That's fucked up!" The man was getting in his personal space.

He blew smoke right in the man's face, "I don't give a rat's arse about your miserable life."

The man coughed, waving his hands in front of his face. "Watch that shit. I don't want to get lung cancer."

Arthur rolled his eyes, "How about this: you stay out of my way and I'll stay out of yours. Deal?"

"Fine, we're on different shifts, so I don't have to see your ugly face anyway." The man grasped Arthur's hand to shake.

Arthur took this moment to grip the man's hand tight enough to hurt. The man winced. "Glad we've come to an understanding." Arthur said through grit teeth.

Pretentious, arrogant little twat.

The man shook his hand, "Sheesh, I'm Lovino by the way."

Arthur took another drag, happy to be able to put a name to that irritating face.

"Arthur." He said, and Lovino gave him a nod before he continued his way down the street.

A/N: Man I had brain rot about this for months! It wouldn't leave me alone.

Arthur (England) 25

Lovino (Romano) 21

Thank you for reading!