Summary: In which Alfred tries to get Arthur to the mental hospital.

Okay this was it. He had to do this. This was absolutely necessary. He wasn't doing this for himself but for his love for his brother Arthur. This was for his own good.

Alfred stood in the middle of Arthur's house taking deep breaths and reassuring himself that this was indeed for Arthur's own sake. He had finally decided to address the issue. This has gone on too long.

Arthur, meanwhile, had given up asking Alfred what was wrong and left Alfred standing in the middle of his home like an idiot and instead occupied himself with tea and a crossword puzzle.

Let's see. Number ten. Six letter word. Synonymous with dunce and twit…

Hmm…

A rustle of newspaper was heard as Arthur wrote down Alfred with his pencil.

He heard Alfred take another deep breath but this time he was sliding along until he was standing beside Alfred's chair.

"Arthur," he began in a strong voice.

"Hmm?"

"Arthur we need to talk about… something," Alfred continued, wavering a bit in the end.

Arthur looked up at the taller nation in surprise. "Alfred, are you finally admitting all that junk food is making you fat?"

Alfred gritted his teeth but refused to be led off topic.

"No Arthur. I need to talk to you about those… things you see."

Arthur looked back at his crossword puzzle. "Well I can't really think of another six letter word that means the same thing as twit."

"No! Not your stupid crossword puzzle! I want to talk to you about something," Alfred said in frustration just about ready dump that cup of tea on the Brit's head.

"Oh well spit it out already. You've been standing around in my house like a twat for an hour now." Arthur's face briefly contorted to annoyance before taking a sip of his tea.

Okay here goes.

"Arthur. I think you need to check into a mental hospital."

Arthur refused to spit out his tea at that statement because that was absolutely disgusting. Instead he settled for swallowing/choking then surging up from his seat and practically slammed his half-filled cup into Alfred's face nearly breaking his glasses.

So much for dumping that tea on Arthur's head.

"There is nothing wrong with me. If anyone, it should be you who should go to the mental hospital to drain out all those hamburgers stuffed in your head," Arthur growled, putting his teacup back to its original position.

Alfred frowned. "Hamburgers are awesome! But that's not the point! Have you seen yourself Arthur? Whenever you just randomly start patting at the air and cooing at nothing, you look like a crackpot who just discovered the nearest market had a sale on chainsaws! Heck you look like Francis when he sees a sale in Macy's!"

"I do not nor will I ever look like Francis!" Arthur exclaimed. "And I am not crazy!"

"Every crazy person says that! But they're obviously wrong because no one's streaking in the subway stations! Yet."

"Because heaven forbid if they're not actually idiots who are acting like crazy people! Not everyone is a crazy because you decide them to be and that includes me!" Arthur sat back down on his chair and went back to his puzzle dead set on ignoring the other occupant of his house.

"But Arthur! I think you really should get checked out I mean what if you start hallucinating other stuff? And besides—"

A distressed cry effectively cut off Alfred's persuasion. He looked triumphant as he said "Finally worried?'

"Shit! You mean Alfred wasn't the answer to number ten?"

Alfred stared at Arthur incredulously as the former erased his previous answer muttering, 'I was so sure it was' and 'If the answer isn't Alfred then what?'

There was a pause of silence.

"Hey Arthur."

The green-eyed man growled, his ire rising rapidly. "What?" he snapped.

"Your unicorn over there doesn't look too swell. And I don't know about you but I'm pretty sure fairies aren't supposed to be holding knives."

With a snap of his newspaper, Arthur jerked his head towards where Alfred was pointing then snarled when he found the American was playing around.

"There's no faeries over there! What the bloody—"

He didn't get the chance to finish because Alfred pulled him off the chair and with a dull thump and an 'oof,' landed on the floor. Taking advantage of Arthur's momentary confusion, he quickly started to drag the Brit across the floor to the door.

Arthur started screaming and struggling.

"Alfred you fool! Let go of me! I'm not loony you hear me? I'm perfectly fine! Just because you can't see them doesn't mean that I'm crazy! Alfred! Alfred I demand you let go of me now!"

"This is for your own good Arthur!" Alfred replied and continued to drag Arthur along.

Arthur knew that Alfred was worried for his mentality, which he still couldn't decide whether to be insulted or touched, but this was too far!

He stopped his struggling and gave a few loud sniffs. That quickly got the attention of Alfred who turned back to see his captive.

"Alfred. My wrists hurt," he stated in a teary voice.

Alfred quickly let go and knelt by Arthur looking a bit bewildered.

"I-it's okay Arthur. I won't do that again. It's just that y'know…" The younger shifted uncomfortably. "People were starting to look at you funnier and funnier and it's getting embarrassing to be seen with you. Here I'll help you up."

Alfred stood and offered his hand to Arthur, who took it, and pulled him up.

"Thanks Alfred. I just wanted you to… GO TO HELL!"

And Arthur sent a powerful punch to the stomach, sending his victim to the ground, groaning in pain.

"Heh I'll make sure that there's nothing wrong with your brain." And with a deadly grin, the role is reversed as Arthur dragged Alfred to the mental hospital.

~*~

"So it's been determined that there's nothing wrong with Arthur!" Alfred announced to his audience.

Said audience gave a noise of disappointment at that.

Alfred frowned at this and countered with "Why don't one of you try to get him to the mental hospital?"

A ripple of anxious murmurs went by at the challenge.

"No thanks. I think I still have part of that teaspoon imbedded into my spine," Francis groaned.

"And I think sixteen stitches is good enough for a lifetime," muttered Antonio. "This is the last time I help any of you."

And so all the nations decided it was best to leave Arthur alone about his mystical friends.

A/N: I have often wondered why the nations have never really done anything about his "hallucinations" even though they seemed a bit freaked by it...