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Collision of Worlds - 2/12
mar_map
Title: Collision of Worlds
Author: Mar_Map
Summary: Arthur Kirkland finds himself in the care of Alfred F. Jones when the two meet under abnormal circumstances, are chased by the police, and find themselves at the top of the most wanted list.
Disclaimer: I do not claim to own Hetalia: Axis Powers in any way.


Unexpected Strength

It had been an hour since their arrival in the White House. The tea on the table had long since grown cold, but it really hadn't been much of a waste. The taste hadn't been too pleasing. The unnerving atmosphere hadn't diminished much in the past minutes.

The Queen and President were speaking causally back and forth, and Arthur was starting to get the feeling that the two of them had been in contact for quite some time now. The President's knowledge of the Queen's personal life seemed to go back quite far, a few years at least. How could Arthur have not known the two of them were in contact? What else had the Queen been keeping from him?

The blond American, Alfred, was sitting across the small table from Arthur and was positively jumpy. His bright smile had long ago turned into an uncomfortable expression, and he shifted uncomfortably in his chair every few minutes. Arthur wondered if the lad ever kept still.

The President paused to smile at the two aids. "Alfred, why don't you take Arthur out for something to eat? I'm sure he could use something of that nature after his long flight. Lunch, perhaps?" The President smiled at Arthur in particular.

The Englishman didn't want to admit it, but the notion of food did sound quite tantalizing. He hadn't eaten this morning with their flight and all, and it was well past the time that he normally ate back in Britain. A normal glance at his watch reminded him that he needed to reset it to the time in America.

"Sir, it's only ten..." Alfred said. His fidgeting stopped when the President decided to turn his attention to the two of them. It was possible the talking had been unnerving the American, or maybe he wasn't used to sitting in on meetings. Arthur was used to the long conversations and staying quiet while other's spoke.

"But it's afternoon over in the United Kingdom," the President informed Alfred. "I'm sure you can still find somewhere to eat at this time. Feel no need to hurry back. Maybe you can show Arthur around the city a bit. There's no need for the two of you to return tonight. We'll just be going over uninteresting political things after all."

Political things? Uninteresting? The words only made the need to stay even stronger. Arthur wasn't about to leave the Queen here alone to go over politics alone. Well, she did have Charles, but that wasn't exactly the kind of support she would need going over politics. "Ma'am, I really must insist that I stay," the Englishman told his leader.

The Queen waved her aid off instantly. "There's no reason for you to stay, Arthur. I will see you bright and early here again in the morning. There's no reason for you to worry." She smiled at him as if the gesture was supposed to calm him down and win him over. It didn't work for a second.

"Ma'am-"

"Off you go, Arthur, I'll see you tomorrow."

"But certain-"

"Arthur," she warned. The Queen was always patient with him, but now a bit of warning was hinted in her tone. Despite wanting to stay, he knew that the Queen wouldn't allow such a thing. He could always stay outside the door until she emerged when she'd finished whatever business she had with the President, but the blond was pretty sure that the President's Secret Service wouldn't allow him to do such a thing.

Arthur had no pass or identification on him. If Alfred decided to go off on his own, Arthur would be left alone in the hall. When Secret Service came upon him, he'd be lucky to simply be removed from the building and not thrown in prison. With no way to contact anyone he'd be left there for months, possibly years. Nothing about that sounded particularly appealing.

"Call me if you need anything, ma'am," Arthur sighed, finally giving in to her request. The Queen smiled in relief that she wouldn't have to persuade him anymore. The Englishman stood from his seat to find that Alfred was already waiting for him at the door. A resigned sigh came from his lips. "Watch out for her, Charles," Arthur whispered quietly to the Royal Guard agent as he passed him by the door.

There was no perceptible notice from the other man that he had heard what the small aid had said. Arthur knew that Charles had heard, however, and he hadn't even needed to say the words. Charles was just as dedicated to the Queen as Arthur himself was. She was more important to Charles than the United Kingdom itself. The Queen was in fine hands with the guard.

"Man, I'm glad we're out of there!" Alfred exclaimed as soon as the door shut behind him. Arthur made a slight noise of agreement. He was pleased to be away from the uncomfortable room, but he didn't like being away from the Queen for too long. Not to mention, he still couldn't help but feel out of the loop of what was happening. "What's up with you, Mr. Grumpy?" Alfred felt the need to prod his shoulder when he asked the question.

Arthur scowled genuinely as he lashed out at the American's hand. "Don't touch me, git. We're just here for business, Mr. Jones, and I'd prefer you left it as such. Doesn't it bother you leaving your boss alone?" That's when it occurred to him. The Queen had Charles watching over her, but the President had allowed himself to be left alone with two high-ranking members of Britain. The President must have been a brave man, not that either the Queen or Charles would do anything to him.

"Not really," Alfred answered as he wove his way through the halls of the White House. Alfred really did know his way around. Arthur wondered how long he had been working with the President. Had it been longer than the other man's term or was Alfred an old friend? There was quite a few years between the President and Alfred - if Arthur was allowed to estimate - but there was a fair amount between himself and the Queen as well. "He can take care of himself. Anyway, Ron's around here somewhere. I don't like the guy personally, but I guess he's pretty good at what he does."

"Ron?"

"He's Captain of the Secret Service," Alfred explained. Arthur nodded to him. The Englishman knew he probably should have known that bit of information. Even though he had never expected to come to America - especially on business - he knew many things about countries that Britain had strong ties too.

"What do you want to eat then?" Alfred asked the Englishman when they exited the white, regal building. Alfred led Arthur through the lawn and toward the far gates.

Arthur followed the American always keeping a few steps behind the other. "We're not eating here?" questioned the Englishman. Truthfully it probably should have occurred to him that they wouldn't be saying in the vincity of the White House, but it still unnerved him to actually be walking further away from the Queen. The President had told them to do a bit of sight-seeing as well, which definitely should have been a cue that they would be leaving the White House property.

"I suppose we can if you want." Slowly the American came to a stop. He looked at the short man with an odd smile on his face. "Do you want to eat here?" Arthur couldn't help but finally examine the American. Even in the small kitchenette he hadn't really paid too much attention. He'd been too embarrassed in the kitchenette, and in the conference room he'd been too focused on the leaders.

The American was quite tall. Actually, now that the other blond had stopped it was quite obvious how much taller that he was than Arthur himself. His cerulean eyes were bright even behind his wire frames. Arthur couldn't help but wonder what he would look like without those frames obstructing his face. His hair was an almost straw colour. It was darker than Arthur's own bright blond hair.

"What is it?" the American asked with some concern. He had grown serious at some point during the time Arthur had been staring at him. Arthur hadn't even realized it. Why was he staring? A cough was an easy solution Arthur used to cover up his embarrassment. A smile soon cracked over the American's lips. It certainly did make him more attractive. That frown did not to wonders for the American's features. "It's because my tie is too tight, isn't it? I wondered about that."

The American immediately went about loosening his tie to an easy look. To accompany this he undid the first few bottons of his white, cotton shirt. Arthur immediately scoffed at his new appearence. Any respect that the Englishman had previously felt for the American was immediately discarded if he couldn't even deal with wearing his suit properly.

"What was that?" snapped Alfred. He stuck out his tongue childishly. "The tie is really uncomfortable. I hate wearing suits, but it kinda comes with the job, so I don't really have a choice. The President would get really mad at me if I didn't wear it. I've been trying to talk him into casual Fridays, but he hasn't really gone for that one yet..." Alfred trailed off when he noticed that Arthur was staring at him. "Like what you see?" the American smirked.

The minute the words left the other's lips, the blond Englishman tore he emerald eyes away from the dolt of an American. "Of course not. I'm hungry and tired is all. I haven't eaten a bloody thing all day." Arthur glared at the American accusingly as if it were entirely his fault that he hadn't been given the luxury of food the entire day. "Where's the closest resturant?"

"Well, I can't garentee they'll be serving lunch yet..."

"Alfred, really, I don't care," dead-panned Arthur.

"Mickey D's then!" Alfred exclaimed much too happily.

Upon hearing the chosen restuarant, Arthur continued to keep his feet planted to the White House's lucious lawn. Really, it was quite well cared for by the looks of it. Some of the money used to keep the lawn so well-kept could certainly be going toward helping with the American government's economy if it was really in as much trouble as the reports said.

"McDonald's? Really?"

Alfred stopped walking. The bounce left his step when he turned to the Englishman. "You don't like McDonald's?" A look of supreme horror covered the blond's face. He stuck his lips out in a bit of a pout, and Arthur could practically see the tears in his eyes. Arthur simply quirked one of his eyebrows and stared the American down. He had not come to America to eat at bloody McDonald's. Well, not that it had been his choice to come to America at all.

"McDonald's is hardly a respectable restuarant. Walking into the very institute is asking for a heart-attack. Going for food there it tight situations is not such a bad thing, but we are hardly in a tight situation. It is almost eleven, and we have the entire rest of the day to waste."

"Nothing about Washington is a waste! You're such a grumpy, old man, you know?" Alfred muttered the last bit under his breath, of course. Then again, muttering under his breath for Alfred really wasn't much of a matter at all. In fact, it was quite easy for Arthur to hear him speak. This, of course, was not at all pleasing for the Englishman, and he scowled angrily. "Where do you suggest we eat then?"

Arthur crossed his arms moodily across his chest. "I don't very much care," was the annoying answer that Alfred received. Of course, the Englishman cared. If he didn't care, then they would be eating at McDonald's and this discussion wouldn't even be occurring. "I don't quite know my way around Washington now, do I? That's is your job, remember?"

Now the American was glaring just as fiercely at the Englishman as the older blond was glaring at him. "I'm trying to be nice," Alfred spat, "but you're making it really hard to be nice."

"I don't need nice, I need food." Yes, if that's the game Alfred wanted to play then Arthur could easily play it back. Seven years in politics made it quite easy to make snide remarks.

"Why don't you stop being such an-"

"Mr. Jones, really. You're not aggravating one of our very important guests are you?" The voice that spoke was practically a purr. "Mr. Kirkland, is there anything I can do to help you?"

Arthur turned to the source of the voice and couldn't help but smile when he saw the glare and scowl on Alfred's face. If Alfred didn't like this person, then Arthur was sure the two of them would get along splendidly. "I'm looking for a respectable restuarant nearby, actually. If you would be so kind as to point me in the right direciton, that would be delightful."

The Englishman couldn't help but admire the man coming toward them. He was in full uniform and clearly of a high rank. Arthur wondered if this was the 'Ron' Alfred had been speaking of earlier. "Not only could I accompany you, I was be most honored to take you there myself."

"Shouldn't you be with the President?" grudingly Alfred asked.

Ron laughed easily. He smiled delicately over at the other American. "Mr. President is quite capable of taking care of himself. Mr. Kirkland on the other hand is in unchartered waters and could use a proper guide."

"I'm supposed to be his guide!"

The other American looked Alfred up and down as if seeing him for the first time. It was clear that he was not at all impressed by what he saw. "Well, Mr. Jones, it seems that you could do with a good instructor in etiquete. Now, Mr. Kirkland, I am Ronald Butcher, Captain of the President's Secret Service. You may, of course, simply call me Ron." The Captain smiled and offered his hand to the Englishman.

"It is quite a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Butcher," Arthur smiled honestly and shook the other's hand. It was quite pleasant to have someone polite to actually speak with; someone other than Alfred. It wasn't that Alfred wasn't pleasant company, the two of them simply had nothing in common.

"You must be exhausted after such a long trip, Mr. Kirkland," Ron said. The Captain stood in an almost regal fashion. His hands were clapsed neatly behind himself as he walked at an easy pace beside the Englishman. "Would you prefer if I drew us a car?"

Alfred had his arms crossed over his chest in a brooding fashion. His eyes and demenor were both pouting, as he sulked. The American was trailng along behind them like a child who had been refused a toy by his parents. Arthur would have felt somewhat bad for him if he wasn't being such a child about the whole matter. Rather, Arthur crossed his own arms and turned his entire attention back to Ron.

"Really, Mr. Butcher, I do appreciate the formality. It is certainly a relief to find that at least some Americans are polite." Arthur hadn't meant to make the phrase a snide comment toward Alfred, but the moment the words left his mouth he realized they were. Ron simply chuckled. "But certainly you can call me Arthur."

"But of course, Mr. Kirkland, but only if I can be given the same courtesy." Ron pulled an identification pass from his pocket and flashed it to the guards at the gates. "It's a precaution," Ron explained.

"I'm sure that could be arranged, Ron."

Arthur smiled over at the Secret Service agent who Arthur was surprised to find was smiling back at him. The Englishman looked away quickly followed by a bothered huff from behind. Out of the corner of his eye, Arthur saw Alfred clench his fingers into fists.

"C'mon, Arthur," Alfred stormed ahead of of the couple in front of him. He grabbed Arthur at the wrist and started pulling Arthur along faster. "Shouldn't you be getting back to the President, Mr. Butcher?"

"Alfred!" the Englishman exclaimed when he found himself being drug down the street. Alfred had strength hidden on his person that Arthur would never have expected. "Alfred, unhand me this very minute!" Arthur demnaded indignantly. The initial shock of being pulled down the land had disapaited into annoyance.

Ron Butcher simply sighed as if the very sight was painful for him to watch. It was like the Captain had expected the actions of the other American, or he had dealt with a similiar situation before. Since the two of them seemed to know each other quite well, he probably had anticipated the actions. "Really, Mr. Jones, must you be so childish? Please, release Arthur. You're setting a poor example of Americans for the unfortunate man."

The words of Ron seemed to set Alfred in even more of a fit. The American tightened his hold on the Englishman who let out an indignified squeak at the new set of force sent down upon his arm. He tried vainly to pull from the American's grasp. Really, where was he keeping all that muscel? It certainly didn't show through the suit he wore.

"Alfred, let go!" Arthur called angrily. He set his feet into the ground in the hopes of slowing the other down. He wasn't even sure where they were going. The attempt only set him stumbling after Alfred however. Angry emerald daggers were sent in the direction of the bobbing blond head ahead of him. "Release me, Mr. Jones!"

At the sound of the of the formal name, Alfred stopped dead in his tracks. He turned in surprise to look at Arthur who had lurched forward a bit at the sudden stop. Alfred managed to catch him before he fell and righten him on his feet. In the process he let go of Arthur's wrist, and the Englishman rubbed at it unconscienely. "What?"

"You're a bloody git," Arthur growled. He couldn't help but send Alfred accusing looks. Captain Ron came to the Englishman's other side and offered a gentle hand to the other. Arthur let the Secret Service agent inspect the reddening wrist.

Ron's fingers were gentle while he rubbed soothing circles against the steadily bruising flesh. "I-I didn't do that, did I?" Alfred asked sheepishly. He reached out a hand to touch Arthur apologetically before seeming to think better of the action and withdrawing his arm. Instead he nervously bit his lower lip.

"No, Mr. Jones, he just managed to find his arm injured after you had been unceremoniously pulling on him." There was obvious bite in the Captain's words when he spoke to the American.

Despite the fact that Alfred had been quite rude and violent with his actions, he did appear sorry. The young lad even managed to keep back a retort toward the man it was clear he didn't like all that much. Arthur also had a feeling that Alfred didn't mean to harm him, in fact, Arthur was certain that the incident had been purely accidental.

"I'm sorry, Arthur," Alfred mumbled. The American now had his hands shoved down deep into his pockets. He kicked a pebble on the ground, scuffing his shoe in the dirt. His blond locks of hair obscured his blue eyes due to the fact that he was looking down at the ground determindedly.

A sigh escaped Arthur's lips. "It's quite all right, Alfred. I'm sure you forget your own strength sometimes. I'm not built quite as sturdy as you are. Just be careful next time, will you?" Arthur looked at the American to see him nod obediently. He looked like a little kicked puppy and despite everything Arthur felt pity settle into his chest.

Arthur pulled away from the Captain. The Englishman smiled gently at him, but it was Alfred who held his attention. A gentle tap on the chin made Alfred look over at the other aid. "I'm sorry," he mumbled again, "you're not really hurt are you?" Alfred looked up sharply with worried cerulean eyes.

Arthur reached up to pat the top of Alfred's head. Arthur was quite surprised to find the act to be a harder feat than he'd first anticipated. Alfred was much taller than he looked. To actually reach the top of the other's head he was required to use the tips of his toes. "I'll be fine, Alfred. Now, aren't you supposed to be taking me out for lunch?"

When Alfred noticed the almost playful smirk on Arthur's lips, he flashed a bright one of his own. "So you are taking me up on that date!" the American exclaimed. He smiled happily and turned on his heels to take a bouncing pace forward.

"I-I most certainly am not!" stuttered Arthur with a light flush.

Alfred simply turned around to wink.

Proceed to Part 3 here

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