Hey everybody! I just had this fic sitting around on my laptop and finally got around to finishing and posting. It's just a little something that popped into my head one day. I apologize for any typos or grammatical errors.

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or any of the British things mentioned.

The Beatles. Doctor Who. Harry Potter. Victorian style dresses and punk rock clothes.

No one could deny it; the people of the United States of America had found their latest craze: they were obsessed with all things British, from the stoic guards to the famous Big Ben. They were as quick to name the royal family as citizen of England themselves. They seemed especially fond of the accent. The Americans went wild over a British accent. It was the most mimicked, most admired, and most swooned over accent of all.

Needless to say, as the personification of America, Alfred F. Jones also underwent this infatuation. As much as he didn't want to, he couldn't help himself- too much of his population felt this way. And now because of this, he couldn't help but blush every time he heard Arthur's voice. It was all because of his people, really!

All this is what led Alfred to his current predicament. Arthur had pulled him aside after the meeting to lecture him on the use of proper grammar, and as much as his words bored the hell out of Alfred and his short attention span, his voice, that damn accent, was driving him crazy. His face burned with heat and he listened to Arthur talk.

"…Is it really so difficult to use the Queen's English properly? Did I not teach you well enough- is that it? It's actually offensive how terrible your grammar can be at times! Don't even get me started on your spelling; you botched up so many words during your PowerPoint today that I was just about ready to yank my hair out!"

"Okay, dude, I get it!" Alfred said, holding his hands up to stop the ranting Brit.

Arthur huffed and crossed his arms, eyeing Alfred skeptically. "I doubt my message got through that thick skull of yours, but I suppose that will have to do for now. I hope you remember what I just told you for the next meeting," he said. When Alfred nodded, he turned and began to walk away, but he was called back.

"Arthur! Wait up, dude!" Alfred shouted. Everything American in him craved every bit of British in Arthur, and as such, he refused to let him leave just yet.

"What is it?" Arthur inquired. He glanced at his watch and then looked at Alfred expectantly.

"Well, I was wondering if you wanted to hang out or something," Alfred said, scratching the back of his head. "We could watch movies or play games or something," he offered.

"As… appealing as that sounds," Arthur began, obviously not very interested in the idea at all.

"It doesn't have to be those things!" Alfred interjected immediately, sensing the other man's imminent refusal. He absolutely could not miss out on an opportunity to spend more time with a real Brit. Heck, Arthur was the Brit! "We can go for cof- uh, tea, and look at some stores."

"I don't know… I have some work I really should finish." Arthur replied hesitantly. Alfred jumped on that slight wavering.

"Come on, you can finish that stuff in no time! We both know you're like super organized and stuff, so I'm sure taking a little break wouldn't hurt, right?" Alfred insisted, hoping the Brit would agree.

Arthur blinked. "Well…" He thought about it for a minute before sighing and nodding resignedly. "I suppose we can do that. I've finished a decent amount of it anyway since I don't procrastinate the way you do."

Alfred ignored the jab and instead fought the urge to let out a dreamy sigh. He just got himself a few extra hours with the personification of Great Britain. If he had been more in control of himself, he might have felt embarrassed by such thoughts. "Great, let's go!" he cried, grabbing Arthur by the arm and dragging him away before he could change his mind.

As they were already in the heart of Manhattan, it was only a relatively short walk before they reached a nice café that was miraculously pretty empty for a Saturday. Alfred made Arthur sit at one of the tables while he went on the line to order their cups of tea. He even threw in a few muffins and scones to add to the feeling of a British tea party. Feeling absolutely giddy, he brought the stuff over to their table with a huge grin.

"Here ya go!" he said, plopping down in his seat and setting down the tray of British goodies. Arthur looked over the array with a critical eye.

"You bought scones?" he asked, reaching for his steaming tea. He blew on it gently before taking a sip, and Alfred couldn't help but stare at the Brit's lips as he did. Then he remembered that Arthur had asked a question.

"Huh- oh, yeah! I know how much you love them, so why not, right? Plus, I'm sure these are safe because they were made here and not in your kitchen," Alfred teased, taking a huge bite out of one of the scones. In actuality, he was craving a true British-made scone, but England didn't need to know that.

"Oh belt up, you git," Arthur replied snarkily. He then took another sip of his tea and, as a result, failed to notice the way Alfred's face lit up with pure glee at the British insult.

The American waited until he had set down his tea to grab Arthur's hand and ask excitedly, "So how have ya been, Arthur?"

Arthur. Such a British name, Alfred thought with an internal swoon. Well, he is England after all...

Arthur began talking about some boring work topics that didn't interest Alfred at all. Instead, he let the Brit's rambling act as a sort of lovely background music to his wandering thoughts.

William is a good name, too. Hell, William is a sexy ass British name! Oh gosh, if that were Arthur's middle name... Arthur William Kirkland. America felt his face heat up. I would so do him. Actually... The warmth traveled to other parts of Alfred.

"Hey, Arthur," he said suddenly, giddy from the direction in which his thoughts had traveled.

The Brit scowled at the interruption. "Yes?"

"I was wondering if..." he said, purposefully trailing off to catch the other man's interest. It worked. Arthur raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued.

"Yes?" he repeated.

Alfred opened his mouth to speak but a sharp pain in his skull stopped him. He winced and rubbed his temple. The pain dulled to a familiar throb as a low hum of unidentifiable words started up in the back of his head.

"Are you okay?" Arthur asked, leaning forward as if ready to offer some assistance.

"No," Alfred groaned, clutching his head as the buzzing in the back of his mind grew louder. Words began to form and fill up his thoughts. Otaku. Sushi. Lolita. Geisha. Samurai.

Arthur looked concerned and asked if there was anything he could do to help. A part of Alfred leapt for joy and wanted to tell Arthur that he could help him by taking him to the Brit's house. However, the other part of him was demanding something else entirely, and this part was growing stronger each second.

"Damn it," Alfred whined, already feeling the change occurring within him. "And I had actually liked this one too!" he complained, eyeing the Brit sadly and letting his head drop onto the table with a dramatic thump.

An awkward minute passed. Then, Arthur cleared his throat and asked, "You, erm, had something to ask me?"

"Yeah," Alfred said. He sat up straight, looking around eagerly. "Do you know where Kiku is?"

Soooo yeaah~ What do you all think? I'm pretty sure it's not really up to par with how I normally write but this was just a quick fic for fun. Who knows, maybe if you all like this, I can write a longer version...? It's up to you, dear reviewers~