Story Title: A Special Relationship of Questionable Identities

Story Summary: America and England have a Special Relationship… 'Special,' being the operative word. When Arthur's mythical friends decide to try and save their failing friendship, the two nations wake to realize that they have switched bodies. What will become of these questionable identities, and what will they have to do to return to supposed normalcy?

Word Count: Lost count.

Status: Ongoing chapters

Warnings: TONS of swearing. I swear a lot in writing. -_- MINIMAL EDITING. Also, later, there'll be some, err... Suggestive situations. This story also features a boyXboy pairing. If you don't like that, then this story probably won' t float your boat. (In this chapter I write for a few key political figures, which happen to be the United States president, and the British and Canadian Prime Ministers. These are not thoughts expressed by the actual people and no offence should be taken by their words… Which are mine. XD)

Rating: T+

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia in any way, shape, or form. I don't own the characters in this story, despite their OOC-ness in some moments. If I owned Hetalia, I wouldn't be writing fan fiction about it, and I would certainly be the supreme ruler of the Universe. That's right. It's that good.

Author's Note: I probably shouldn't be writing an apology letter, but I feel as though I have to. I know a lot of people will argue that you shouldn't apologize for life getting in the way, but I feel as though I really should. When you write a story and call it your own, you can do anything you want with it. But when you write a story for other people and post it where many people can read it, it isn't just yours anymore. It's everyone's. And I felt like I disappointed many of my readers… Especially those who were with it from the beginning.

I'm sure many of you know the feeling of being overwhelmed with school and personal issues, and I'm not trying to make excuses, but I had many of those feelings. I'm coming to the end of my first year of University now. And I wouldn't say that it was overtly difficult, but it was hard enough that it completely de-motivated me to get a lot of writing done. Writing for me became a chore and doing it for fun reminded me of all the other assignments I could have been doing.

I don't know if you guys remember this, but I was always telling you about my friend… Well things with that just went from bad to worse to better to bad to worse and now it's… Well I'm not sure what it is, but that was really hard for me… :( And I was writing this story for her and whenever I sat down to write it, I would get this hopeless feeling. I felt like my friend was my only support when I began writing… I don't know if you guys know what it feels like to be completely cut down that even your passion becomes hard to deal with. Even as I write this I feel saddened.

But you know what? I have to keep writing. :) And I feel inspired now to finish. I know I can't build up your trust enough for you to believe that I would continue, but I'm going to do my best to try and from the bottom of my heart I apologize. I do feel like I've failed in some way, as silly as it sounds. You are all so kind to me and I'm not sure I deserve it. I really love all you guys!! u *hugs*

A special note to reviewers… I once said that I would respond to all reviews… And I have not. There were so many and I was scared to reply on something that I haven't touched for months… I am truly sorry and I hope you'll give me another chance to redeem myself here. 8D I always appreciated your kind words whether I replied or not. They would always make me smile and giggle and no one could take that away from me. You are all great people and if you'll let me, I would like to reply to all of your new reviews.

I hope you don't all hate me… It has been like… Eight months… Yeah… Time sucks. It slips by too fast. But I won't let this story do the same. I have a hold of it now and if you'll follow it again, I'd like to take it to the end. Will you follow? n.n

IMPORTANT!!!!! THE STORY THUS FAR FOR THOSE OF YOU WHO CAN'T REMEMBER WHAT THE HELL I WAS WRITING ABOUT BEFORE!!!!!

*** In short, Alfred and Arthur have switched bodies. Arthur is running around in Alfred's skin and vice-versa. At first it was going alright, but throw in some obvious UST and male PMS and you get bitchy USxUK. So they start having petty fights after deciding it would be best to stay in each other's countries (Alfred is in England and Arthur is in America). Arthur's faeries tell him that the only way to change back is either to have both countries unveil their true feelings for one another, or manually reverse it by finding an old book with a spell in it. Arthur opts for the second option. But time is running out as England and America declare war on each other. They will soon find out that it's not the war that they will be having to worry about…***

Chapter Six: All is Fair In Love and War

"Love is like war. It is easy to begin, but very hard to stop."

-Henry Louis Mencken

10 Steps to Planning the Ultimate Battle and Winning It:

1. 'Take care,' of your boss:

"Britain Declares War On America!"

"England To Wage War on US!"

"American/British War: A Joke?"

"They Can't Be Serious!"

"Alfred?"

"A Special Relationship Or Just 'Special?'"

"British Invasion! And This Time, It's Not Music!"

"HAS THE WORLD GONE INSANE?"

"Alfred."

"Are We Really Planning For A War, Here?!"

"What Are These World Leaders Thinking?"

"No Word Yet, From President Barack Obama."

"Alfred!!!"

"WHAT?!"

Arthur Kirkland whipped his head around to face the young Canadian, Matthew Williams, who stood shuddering behind him. The younger man's face was paler than normal and he was clutching his bear so tightly, that for a moment, Arthur feared that the bear's eyes might start protruding from its skull. Now that was a disturbing thought. Arthur had to stop letting his thoughts drift to strange subjects. Arthur waited a moment for Matthew to formulate a response to his question. Well, it was more like an angry exclamation of annoyance, but he still meant it. "What is it?" He asked again, but more politely this time.

"I'm just concerned for you is all," Matthew said, drifting around to the front of the sofa where Arthur sat, and sitting down. "I mean, you're actually going to go through with this war? I didn't even think things between you and Arthur were that bad! You two had your special re-"

"Don't. Say. It," Arthur said bitterly, his words cold and unnecessarily harsh.

Canada visibly shivered and sank further down into the cushions of the couch. "You're actually going to have a fight against Arthur?"

England bit his lip and looked back to the television, which was muted now, the silence almost louder than the screeching headlines that were reeling before him. Arthur had thought of this. Of fighting. Of course he had. He had found out about Alfred's declaration of war only hours before, but of course he had thought about it. And he was surprisingly calm. Maybe that was why Matthew was so worried. "I don't think there'll be any fighting involved," he finally said, turning his head back towards the northern nation. "Arthur doesn't have the guts to foolishly waste the lives of his people because he's mad at me. If anything, this'll just be a war against us. Between country representatives."

Matthew sat up. "But that's practically the same thing! You know that if you get hurt in this fight, your people will suffer somehow! You already have a terrible economy, Alfred!"

Arthur scoffed and stood quickly. He paced over to the small table in the bedroom he and the Canadian were sharing at the White House. He glanced at the door and eyed the deadbolt with a kind of bored amusement. People had been trying to get in all morning. Arthur had gotten sick of it. Couldn't they see that he just wanted to be alone? Away from all the reporters and political officials? They weren't even his reporters and officials. They were Alfred's. Oh right. Arthur was stuck in America's damn body! The man sighed and sat down in one of the kitchen chairs. He turned back to face the silent television and spoke softly. "Who says I'm going to be the one getting hurt?"

Canada blinked once before setting Kumajirou on the sofa beside him, and turned to peer over the back of the chair to face England. "What about your boss?" The man asked innocently enough.

But of course, Arthur had to snap. "What about him?"

"Um, I-I, uh, I just wondered what he thought about this. I didn't think he'd accept the fact that his country is going to war against Britain." Matthew lowered his head a little and waited in anxiousness for Arthur to reply.

"You don't accept the fact that a country has declared war on you, Matthew," Arthur said pointedly. Well, maybe Matthew did. He was Canada after all… "Besides… I've already taken care of my boss…"

Matthew raised an eyebrow despite the tone in Arthur's voice. "You… 'Took care,' of your boss?"

Arthur only smiled darkly and absent-mindedly played with a string of extra rope that adorned the table-top.

In an instant, Matthew was at Arthur's side and held the rope between his slender fingers. "WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM?" Matthew shrieked in blatant horror.

Arthur blinked once, only keeping his serious demeanour for a few seconds. Then he broke out into a smooth laughter. "Relax, Matthew," he said, taking the rope from his hands. "Obama's fine! He's just… Somewhere where this whole war thing won't be bothering him. The man is stressed out enough as it is…" Arthur smiled and Canada just sat down across from him, shaking his head.

Somewhere Far Away…

"W-Where am I?" Barack Obama sat up in a daze, sounds of the ocean audible from all directions. He glanced up to see another man sitting just a few feet away. "Gordon?!"

"Alfred sent you here too? I blame this solely on Arthur." British Prime Minister, Gordon Brown said with a slight chuckle.

"Yes, he did…" The President of the United States sighed heavily. "Do you know where we are anyways?"

"HEY THERE!!!"

Both men looked up to see a young boy standing tall and proud on the railing of what looked to be a small sea-port.

"Who are you?" Brown asked, tipping his head and squinting up into the sunny face of the boy. "And where are we?"

In one swift movement, the boy had jumped from the precarious looking railing, and landed, with a bang, before both world leaders. "Why, I'm Peter Kirkland at your service! And you're in the country of Sealand!!!"

Both men looked at each other in confusion before Obama and Brown, respectively, yelled, "THIS IS A COUNTRY!!??" And, "THIS IS NOT A COUNTRY!!!!"

Sealand only smiled and Obama noted that the country actually looked a lot like Arthur Kirkland. In which case, Brown should have known who he was… It was apparent, however, that the older man did not like this place much…

"Do you have anything to drink then?" Brown asked, voicing the other man's thoughts exactly. There was obviously nothing they could do now…

Sealand smiled. "Nope!"

"AHHHHHHHHHHH~!!!"

"What did you expect? I'm twelve!!!"

When, and if, Obama ever got back to his office, Alfred was so dead. So very dead…

2. Pick sides:

"HE HAS PRUSSIA ON HIS SIDE??!!" Arthur was not amused. Prussia wasn't even a country anymore! Was that even possible? And America had somehow gotten the man to fight on his side of this war they were having. "Oh we're doomed, Matthew." It was true… Prussia was a good fighter. Beyond good… He was like the Chuck Norris of countries!

"Don't say that!" The Canadian said cheerfully, taking out a pencil and paper, and writing, 'AMERICA,' on one side and, 'ENGLAND,' on the other. The name, 'Prussia,' was written underneath, 'ENGLAND.' "Besides," Matthew said. "You're America! You're the strongest country in the world! Of course you'll win! It doesn't matter if Arthur has Gilbert."

Arthur sighed and thought for a moment. He wasn't sure if he even wanted to win this fight. He was England after all. If Arthur were to win this little spat, it would look good for America. Not him. If Alfred lost, it would make Britain shine! But then again, Arthur had his pride, and he was sure America had his. And that stemmed beyond outside appearances. No. This was Arthur and Alfred's battle. Not their country's. He would win this war. Now he just needed a good team of nations… "Germany," Arthur said. "Let's get him on my side."

For a second, no one moved. "FUCK, Matthew!! Get him on the phone NOW!!"

"Y-Yes sir!!"

Phone call #1:

Ludwig: Hello? Alfred… This better be good…

Arthur: I want you on my side of the war.

Ludwig: Uhh… *silence* I don't want to be in any war.

Arthur: What if you don't have a choice? *maniacal laughter*

Ludwig: W-Was that a threat?

Arthur: Yes.

Ludwig: Fine. I'll do it. But only because of how Arthur rudely embarrassed me at the G8 meeting.

Arthur: *laughs* Speaking of which, get Italy on our side.

Ludwig: Alright. Count him in. I'll tell him there'll be pasta involved.

Arthur: Great. I'm counting on you. Goodbye.

CLICK.

"Matthew, is Switzerland still neutral?" Arthur asked, pulling out his map of the world.

"Umm," Matthew started, acting as if the answer was somewhere in the back of his brain, which it obviously was not. "I don't know."

"Well, he's good with a gun, right?" Arthur looked back up to Canada, but never let him answer before he was on the phone again.

Phone call #2:

Arthur: Vash?

Vash: What.

Arthur: Er… This is Alfred. I want you on my side of the war.

Vash: Will it cost me anything?

Arthur: Well, uh… It's a war… Of course it'll cos-

Vash: Then, no.

Arthur: Fine, fine! I'll pay…

Vash: And dinner's on you too, you say? Wonderful! I'll see you around!

CLICK.

"JAPAN!!!" Arthur cried, when his pen ran across the Asian countries. He didn't think China would side with America. Or Korea. There was too much tension there already… "I think Japan'll side with us, right?" Arthur asked, as Matthew reached for the cordless phone again. "I know he likes Arthur, but he won't want to break up the Axis, right?!"

Matthew shook his head. "Even so, I don't think Japan would want to side with America… You weren't very nice to him in the second World War…"

Arthur almost laughed. Alfred carelessly destroyed on of Kiku's vital cities, and Matthew called it, 'not being nice.' "Matthew, you're a git."

Phone call #3:

Kiku: H-Hello?

Arthur: Kiku!!! Long time, no talk!!

Kiku: Um… Alfred, I talked to you the other day at the meeting, and it is well past midnight over here…

Arthur: Oh! I'm sorry! But I had to ask you something. It's important.

Kiku: Yes?

Arthur: I need you to be on my side of the war. It would mean a lot to me and I would forever be in you debt, and-

Kiku: Alright.

Arthur: I'd pay for everything, of course, and it would really be, wait, what? You will?!

Kiku: Can I go back to bed now?

CLICK.

"What about Russia?" Matthew asked, writing down more countries on his notepad.

Arthur looked up to the man. "Are you stupid?" Matthew jumped before Arthur continued. "Russia is not going to side with America after the Cold War. Where were you in the sixties? And I for one think-"

Ring. Ring. Ring.

Phone call #4:

Arthur: Hello?

Francis: Ah, America~! How are you mon cher?

Arthur: France… Why do you have my number?!

Francis: You're too cute, mon cher. But I want to be on your side of this silly war.

Arthur: Absolutely not.

Francis: But, why?

Arthur: You fuckin' lose every battle you're in!

Francis: That's not true! We won in World War Two, non?

Arthur: Who the hell do you think bailed your ass out of that one too??

Francis: Uhh…

Arthur: Look… I guess it's alright if-

Francis: I promise I won't show you a bad time and I-

Arthur: What the fuck?! *sputtering cough*

Francis: Oui. I believe that is the word I was thinking of…

CLICK.

"Good Lord, Francis is a creep. Damn the French." Arthur looked at Canada, who wore a devastated expression. "Er, I mean, not your French people…" Canada's face brightened, but Arthur pressed on. "It's not like you guys are really speaking French… It kind of sounds like… Rubbish."

"Alfred," Matthew said evenly.

"Yes?"

"Please shut up."

"Alright," Arthur said, putting his hands up in surrender. Minutes later, he spoke again. "So," he began. "Read out the names of the teams."

Matthew cleared his throat and sat up straighter. "Well, on your team, Alfred, you have Germany, North Italy, Switzerland, Japan, and France… And by default, you've got South Italy, Liechtenstein, and Seychelles."

"LIECHTENSTEIN??!!"

Matthew laughed. "Don't be fooled. I heard she's better at using a gun than her brother."

Arthur blinked and then laughed. "I'd pay to see that!" After a moment, he cleared his throat and spoke once more. "And what about you, Matthew. You're on my side, right? I mean, we're brothers…"

Matthew looked away. "You know my boss'll make me fight on Arthur's side… You know, the whole British Commonwealth thing… And our history together."

"Yes," Arthur said. "I know it well. But… This isn't about our bosses, obviously. This is between us. So… Who's side are you on?" The Briton took a breath. "And you do know, that you are aware of all my military planning… If you don't pick my side, I'll just have to kill you." Arthur smiled, and leaned forward. Matthew's eyes were wide with shock, and the older man chuckled. "That's what I thought. You're on Team America! Now… Let's take care of your boss…"

In Sealand…

Sealand giggled. "It looks like I have three friends now!"

"WHY THE HELL IS HARPER HERE???!!!" (*1)

3. Assign Jobs:

"Ludwig!"

"Yes?" The German man answered coolly.

"Do you know what your job is going to be?" Arthur looked at Germany from across the long table before him. The nations had all managed to meet up, only six hours later… Arthur was surprised at their amount of dedication. Now he was going to screw with them. "You're going to be my back-up!"

Ludwig's eye twitched, but he managed a forced smile. "Yes. Of course I am, Alfred."

"And Feliciano?" Arthur pointed to the Italian man next, who was sitting cross-legged in his swivelling chair, eating a large bowl of… Was that pasta? Where the hell did he get that from? When the man looked up, Arthur continued. "You'll also have the great privilege of being my back-up."

"Is, 'privilege,' a type of pasta?"

"Uh… No… Moving on…" Arthur turned to Japan next. "Ah! Kiku!"

"A-Am I your back-up as well, America?" Kiku looked weary, but he wasn't failing in his ability to take down pointless notes, his pen swiftly running across the page.

Arthur smiled. "Yes, of course! Good. I've got a smart guy on my team! For a minute, I thought you were all stupid!"

The nations before him, exchanged leery glances, before turning back to their front-man. Vash spoke up next. "Alright, America. If you tell me I'm your damned back-up, I'm going to kick your ass…" He took out his gun and pointed it straight at Arthur.

The Englishman held up his hands. "Alright! I've got a better position for you anyways!" Arthur paused and thought for a moment. "You'll be my… Reinforcement…" The Briton shut his eyes tightly and turned his head, expecting a quick bullet to the brain. But when he opened his eyes, however, the Swiss had lowered his gun. Maybe his team really was full of idiots…

Arthur turned then to the three nations sitting off to the side, minding their own business. Seychelles was busy pinning some flowers in Liechtenstein's hair, and Romano was muttering something callous under his breath. "You three." Arthur was then met by three pairs of eyes. "You three have special jobs!" All three waited patiently for an answer, and Vash sat up straighter. "You three have the wonderful honour of being… My back-up!!" All of the nations groaned in unison, but Arthur smiled and sat down.

Seconds later, France spoke up. "And what do I get to do?"

Arthur looked at the Frenchman and bit his lip. "You," he started. "Actually have a different job…"

Francis' eyes lit up before Arthur continued. "Your job is to stay at least ten feet away from everyone at all times. If I catch you staring at, groping, molesting, touching, fondling, caressing, ogling at, leering at, seducing, flirting with, scaring, stalking, having sex with, and/or overall bothering ANY nation, I will personally beat you so bad, you won't live to lose another battle… And don't you dare comment on anything I've just said. Are we clear?"

"…"

"I SAID, 'ARE WE CLEAR'??!!"

"Oui~!!!"

A moment of eerie silence filled the air, and the only sounds that could be heard were Italy slurping at his pasta, Japan taking notes, and Canada shaking in his chair. Which brought him to his next topic. "Canada, of course you'll be my backup, but I also want you to be head of my Military Defence Program, head of Military Finances, and my right-hand, wing-man."

Matthew's mouth hung open in shock, and the rest of the countries had something to say about that:

"Matthew can't shoot a gun!"

"Canada's too much of a pussy to fight!"

"How can we have a Military Defence System and a Military Finance Program when there's only ten of us? Are you just making shit up?!"

"He's not even a real man! Does he even have fucking balls?"

"This is a joke, right?"

Arthur laughed. "I'm a hero! I can do whatever the fuck I want!"

Matthew, however, didn't laugh.

4. Practice makes perfect… Or acts as a euphemism for, 'a waste of time.':

"Italy! Stop eating and running at the same time!"

"Canada! Stop standing the fuck around!"

"France! I see you breaking at least four of my rules!"

"Switzerland! Can you please stop pointing your gun at traffic! You can't just do that here!"

"And just my luck, I'd have two girls on my team!"

Arthur stood outside the White-House, in the clearing, which was big enough to support a make-shift training field. The man eyed his group of military personnel with weary eyes. He had found out that Alfred wanted to speak to him later… About the war. No doubt the younger man wanted to draw up some sort of proposition… Or just simply outline the terms of their war. Arthur figured that this war was like their Revolutionary war… Only on crack.

5. Have dinner… Or throw it up.

"What the hell is this?!"

"It's in every damn country. Where've you been?"

"I apologize in advance for having good taste in food."

What the hell was France and Switzerland fighting about, now? The McDonald's was empty. Needless to say, the group of mismatched nations scared everyone away. Only the staff remained, and even then they had to be paid twice their hourly wages just to put up with the group. Arthur didn't even mind paying. He'd demand twice that much money had he been forced to serve ten countries, with ten different personalities, ten grotesque meals, all which would receive ten different critiques.

Arthur Kirkland eyed the burger and fries before him, much like one would eye an approaching enemy, or a toaster that had just burnt your last two pieces of bread, leaving you hungry. Maybe it was the enemy… He had a bad feeling about eating at Alfred's favourite fast food restraunt, but he ignored it because… Heroes eat, 'one of everything on the menu,' apparently… Oh, and Arthur had watched, 'Supersize Me,' with Alfred. (*2) Arthur vowed never to eat McDonald's food, ever again, while Alfred complained that the video was making his stomach growl. And yet here the Briton was… 'Eating, one of everything on the damned menu.' His hands shook as he took the final bite of his final burger. Ever. He would never eat this much again. But he didn't want the other countries to get suspicious. It was common knowledge that Alfred gorged himself on this rubbish, and if Arthur were to turn it down, it could spell disaster for his identity… Not that that wasn't already completely disastrous.

To tell the truth, Arthur was feeling quite ill. And by the looks on everyone's faces, they were feeling it too. They chewed their food slowly, and even Feliciano was quiet…Arthur looked down at his food and swallowed slowly. What the hell did Alfred do to their food?!

Canada was the first to get sick. Then it was France. Vash mumbled something about shooting up the next burger-joint he went into, while stumbling into the women's bathroom to throw-up his own food… Which was free. Seychelles didn't even make it to the bathroom, but threw-up under their table. Liechtenstein showed her sympathy by also getting sick too soon. Germany completely left the restraunt, shouting something about how he couldn't handle watching people get sick. Romano had his head down on the table and he was groaning in pain.

"What did we eat, here?!" That was Japan as he came out of the bathroom, holding his stomach, only to rush back in, and slam into Canada, only triggering both of their gag reflexes.

The girls were both crying, France was actually away from everyone, shaking in the corner, and Vash was still in the bathroom. Was Romano passed out? And was that Germany yelling down the street, exclaiming that someone was going to die?

Arthur sat perfectly still, still holding his burger between his fingers, grease dripping from the sandwich onto the paper below. The man stared at the scene unfolding before him in complete shock and a subsequent rage, that blinded even his own sense of hygiene. His body was starting to ache and his fingers became numb. The burger dropped from his hands with a sickening thud, and Arthur's mouth dropped open. As the disapproving, agonizing sounds of his army filled his ears, Arthur stood quickly, and yelled, "I SWEAR I'M GOING TO KILL HIM FOR THIS!!!! BIOLOGICAL WARFARE IS NOT FAIR!!!!!" Then he was sick… And oh was he sick. Why the fuck did he eat so bloody much?!

6. Hey! Why NOT get pissed drunk and terrorize the American population?!

The puking didn't last long. At least Arthur had that to be thankful for. What he didn't expect, however, was Liechtenstein removing a bottle of beer from her purse and taking one, long pull from the drink before handing it to Seychelles, who did the same. Was this whole war-thing enough to drive two, innocent young-ladies to drown their stress in alcohol? They had definitely spent a little too much time with Arthur.

Now, the group was nestled in the confines of the White House. All of Alfred's staff had abandoned the war-efforts, Arthur giving them the time off. He just wanted them out of the way. Surprisingly, they didn't fight it. What with their boss disappearing, they really had no reason to stay. Arthur didn't blame them either. He was sure no normal person could spend ten minutes in a room with France and Switzerland in it. Make that two minutes… Or one.

"Alfred!" Arthur turned around, despite the terrible misuse of his name. As soon as his head had fully faced the small, blonde, girl behind him, a bottle was thrust into his vision. "Here!" Liechtenstein said. "Drink up!"

Arthur took the bottle… He really shouldn't… Really. Arthur had to admit that he had a terrible drinking problem… Alfred. Didn't. If Arthur were to get pissed out of his mind, that might look bad on Alfred… "Gimme' that!" Arthur said, taking a swipe at the bottle, clutching it in his hands. He looked at the nations sporadically standing and sitting around in silence. "Let's have a party! One more 'bout of fun before all the spats take place!" To prove his point, and help loosen everyone up, Arthur took a swig of alcohol and held it above his head. "We're nations, dammnit!" In one swift movement, Arthur was standing on the back of one of Alfred's lounge chairs. "We work hard, all the time, we take shit from our bosses, and we're always stereotyped and labelled… I say, it's time to let go of all that bollocks and have one night of… Fun!" He took another drink and looked at the mildly shocked nations before him. "Who's with me?"

After a brief moment of silence, every nation had a bottle in their hands. Even Canada. Everyone was in complete, and total agreement, that this night belonged to them. Screw their bosses, screw what they represented, and screw the other team! Screw practicing, screw their poisonous McDonald's, and screw trying to be things they weren't! The, 'let's-all-get-plastered,' plan seemed to be working just fine.

Within the hour, Arthur had already blacked-out, unable to control his actions or behaviour. And he figured that every other nation was in the same position…

***

Arthur's entire body felt cold. When he tried to move, however, he felt that his limbs were numb. Yet, when he opened his eyes, he was surprised to find that he was lying in a bathtub… Filled with water. Freezing water, no less. Arthur sat up with a loud splash, but upon bearing the full force of a terrible headache, he flopped back into the tub, water splashing over the sides of the bath. The man opened his eyes under the water, and the surface was bright. He held his breath, as the coldness of the water seemed to cool his head and ease the pain there. What the hell happened last night?!

The Briton man sat up slower this time, using all of his strength to pull himself up, and out, of the water. The first thing he saw, as he clutched his arms to his chest, shivering violently, were empty bags that used to be filled with… Ice? He glanced back to the bathtub. Did he pass out in a bathtub full of ice cubes? He looked down. In his clothes?

For some reason, that was beyond the young man, Arthur assumed that when he opened the closed bathroom door, everything would be normal… He shouldn't have thought that. As he stepped out into the hall, his water-filled shoes squishing against the White House's deep-red carpeting, leaving darker splotches of burgundy, Arthur's eyes widened at the sight before him…

Arthur wasn't surprised to see France sprawled out on the sofa, completely naked, his only covering being the shield of a brightly-pink coloured feather boa… His hair was done up in a feminine-style bun, and… Was he wearing make-up?! The man then turned his attention to… "Vash?" Arthur moved toward the Swiss man with caution. Switzerland was laying precariously on the banister of the main staircase that led upstairs, one arm dangling limply down his side, the other resting daintily on his stomach. He wore his boxer, socks, and shoes, his gun-holster completing the outfit.

Moving on… Arthur made his way up the stairs, stepping over empty bottles of beer, garbage, food, bullets, and God knows what else. When he came to the top of the stairs, he came to a series of doors, the first one was open. It was another bathroom. Yet he was surprised to find Matthew curled up by the toilet, a bottle of vodka in his hands. Arthur shook his head as he passed the room. He hoped Matthew wouldn't become even half the drunk that he had turned out to be. The next door was closed, and on it, hung a sleek, black neck-tie. Upon closer inspection, England saw that the tie had a small pin attached to it. A German pin. Arthur blushed, although he tried to will himself not to. He could only imagine who had to be in that room with Germany… He hadn't seen Northern Italy around yet… And it did smell like pasta around the door…

The Englishman wandered the halls, and nearly fell backwards when a few cats ran past his feet, dashing into the room where Feliciano's brother lay sleeping… Covered in whipping-cream, chocolate, and strawberry-sauce, of which the cats became horridly attracted to… He eventually found the two girls of his army. Liechtenstein, holding a rather obscenely large… Paddle. The word, "YAOI," was written across the flat of the paddle, scrawled out in what looked to be… His own hand-writing… Quickly, Arthur grabbed the paddle, without disturbing the girl, and threw it out the window, shattering glass as it went. He could only imagine what the people of America would think when they saw a paddle flying out of the White House window… Oh God, what did they do last night??

On his way to the kitchen, Arthur passed one room, where it was apparent that a chair and desk had been set on fire. Upon entering the room, Arthur blinked when he saw bits of paper, torn up, lying boorishly on the ground. Arthur knelt down and tried his best to put the pieces back in order. It did look rather important. He would hate to have Alfred mad at him for something as silly as- Arthur stopped. 'DEC' He moved around another paper, so that it lined with the first one. 'LERATI.' Oh no, oh no, oh no! Third piece. 'ON OF.' There was another space, then, 'INDEPE.' Shit, shit, SHIT!!! Once all of the pieces were fitted together, Arthur gazed horridly on the, 'DECLERATION OF INDEPENDENCE.' "Oh dear Lord," Arthur said aloud. "We tore up the Declaration of Independence." If he wasn't dead before, he certainly was now… "DAMN ALCOHOL!"

Arthur sighed, standing up. He might as well change his clothes… He never even wondered why there was a goat eating out of one of the planters, piles of toast stacked precariously on top of the television, or a life-size, cut-out of Paris Hilton, lying face up on one of the beds… Today was going to be a long day. Instead of practicing their military tactics, they would have to spend the day cleaning up… That is, if everyone woke up sometime soon… Maybe his faeries could help… Arthur almost laughed. (*3)

7. Deal with only slightly pissy faeries… And pixies. And gnomes. And unicorns…

"Arthur!"

"Yes?"

"I think we've found out where that book is!"

"What book?"

"Arthur! The one that'll change you back!! Or were you drunk then too?"

"Hey! Bloody prats… Like you guys should be talking…"

Arthur was cleaning. Cleaning hard. Eventually, the other nations awoke. Needless to say, everyone was suffering from horrible hangovers… Was it strange that the only countries who weren't affected were himself and France? He hated to use the word, 'immune,' but he was pretty sure that he was now… After everyone's headaches had settled, they had begun their cleaning expedition… No one knew what had happened, and they all agreed that that mystery was better left unsolved. Romano was especially partial to that idea.

"So the book?"

England looked up and found his friends staring down at him with looks of contempt in their eyes.

"Just let me think!! I think I may have to go home for a while. It's a wonder anyone can get anything done with all your annoying chatter."

And so the key to Arthur's escape went unexamined yet again.

9. Play games with the enemy. So to speak:

It was evening now, and Arthur stood staring up at one of his favourite British monuments. Big Ben. Yes, he was on enemy territory. Even though that territory belonged to him, he was technically playing the part of a nation who did not own such architectural masterpieces.

So. In Britain. Canada had been against it. "You can't go to talk to Arthur!" Canada had been in the middle of cleaning up regurgitated McDonald's off of the kitchen floor from the previous night. It had been early afternoon and his hang-over didn't last as long as Arthur had thought it would. Matthew took a much needed pause and spoke through a plugged nose. Arthur also held his breath, because frankly, McDonald's, especially in the form of vomit did not sit right with him. "Arthur's crazy mad at you right now. You're having a war… You can't just walk into enemy territory and, 'chit-chat,' with the opposing leader… You could get hurt."

Arthur took a breath, which he regretted when he felt his stomach heave. "Alfr- Arthur would never hurt me. Sure he's upset at the moment, but he would never intentionally harm me. This is just a mild spat that will be settled without violence." Reading Canada's mind, Arthur continued. "Yes, I know this a war, and wars are defined by violence, but this is a war between national personifications… It's different. War becomes an entirely different thing. Battles are fought by words and minor actions. We can't die from this."

Matthew had no response.

"In that case," England continued. "I am going to Britain." He paused. "And hurry up and clean up that mess. It's disgusting."

Now, as Arthur walked decisively across the bridge to his expected meeting place with Alfred, he was having second thoughts. What if he was wrong? He suddenly felt a wave of fear and bitter nostalgia wash over him. If Alfred had of held the gun, would he have been able to shoot? Arthur was unarmed this time, but this was no Revolutionary war. There was no independence to be had… Or rather, both nations were fighting for their own independent personas back. Arthur almost had the gall to laugh out loud. He supposed that that was truly the definition of one of his favourite words. Irony.

As Arthur walked further out onto the bridge, he felt his stomach twisting in knots. It was dark, but still there were no people there. That was odd… There were always people…

"Arthur."

To say the Englishman jumped out of his skin, was a bit of an understatement, particularily due to the fact that the man who called his name was unfamiliar to him. "Alfred?" Sure enough, green eyes peered up at him through a veil of pale-blonde bangs… The man before him was unlike anyone he had ever seen… His skin was pale… Like porcelain. His soft features looked almost breakable to the touch. Alfred's, or rather, his own, eyes looked darker, their previous luminosity diminishing into near nothingness. The nation before him was smaller and thinner, melting away into London's backdrop and fading into the night sky. He wore a weak smile now.

"You look like shit." Those should have been Arthur's words… Because truly, Arthur's body looked terrible… Sick. But those had not been Arthur's words. They were America's.

Arthur looked down at his borrowed body and shivered. Alfred's frame was thinner, he could tell, and now that Alfred had brought it to his attention, England felt weak. Light-headed. Sick. Their war had yet to begin, and they already looked like post-traumatic-stress cases… "Alfred," Arthur said again. "I don't know if I can fight you." Honesty. He said it. It was what he had been thinking all along. He didn't have the strength to fight with Alfred. Again.

America said nothing and Arthur felt a sharp pain in his chest, like something was stabbing his heart and twisting the weapon in an agonizing assault. He almost doubled over, but his dignity kept him upright. Alfred's physical pride kept him standing. Still, America remained silent. "Alfred, I-"

"Arthur."

England silenced himself. His voice. His heart. Everything.

"This is life… It's the real world, Arthur. Things are settled by actions. I'm sick of fighting, England. We're always fighting… So let's settle it. Let's settle this by finishing this fight."

Arthur looked up, as his eyes had been downcast towards the ground. "What?" That was his only reply. What was this boy saying? Fight? He wants to fight me. He wants to win. "Alfred, do you know how immature you sound? How irrational? I'm pretty much surrendering here, and you want to keep on with this bloody war-game?!"

"Heroes don't quit, Arthur. This isn't a big deal. People fight all the time. Only, I want to finish fighting. We need to settle this once and for all. With one last fight… This war. Why are you so bothered by this? We fight all the time. What's so different?"

Alfred, it hurts me when we fight… Every time… Every time I call you names. Every time I pull away… Can't you see I'm trying to protect myself? It hurts to care and it hurts to like you. "I…" It was my fault… It's always my fault. I'm always fighting with you over petty little things… I'm the one at fault. "I'm sorry."

Alfred said nothing but turned away. Arthur stood, willing himself not to shake. "Say something… Anything."

"I'm going to fight you, Arthur. Like you have been fighting me for years and years… Maybe you'll stop being bitter about things that happened lifetimes ago." Alfred looked back to Arthur and smiled. It was pained and weak, but something about it still held charm. "The Revolutionary War. It still bothers you. I can tell. I'm you remember? I can feel it. But you can't let that hurt you anymore. I'm over it. That's a small matter in relation to the real world, here and now."

Arthur gritted his teeth. He was angry now. Forget the hurt. Forget the war. Forget Alfred. "Fine," he said bluntly. "You want a fight? I'll give you a fight. And I'm going to win this time… You say that this is, 'the real world,' but I'm living in the real world. My world. And I'll be damned if I let you ruin it for me… I shouldn't suffer for this. You left me during that war, Alfred…"

America turned to fully face the Briton. "No." He said with a smile. "You left me." And then he was gone. Disappearing into the London fog in an unsubstantial breath of mystery.

Arthur looked down at his hands as Alfred's last words clung to the mist like a life-line, willing themselves to live, but wanting nothing but death. "Fuck you…" Arthur said, his eyes welling with tears as he watched Alfred's hands blur out of his vision. "Fuck you… You're a liar… Don't you know, I can feel you to? Bloody idiot… Don't you know how much I love you?" But just like Alfred's words, his last thoughts of ambling confession died with the smoke of the earth… This was a mistake. To see Alfred… It had been a mistake.

10. Cliff-hang to be cruel and did anyone notice that there was no #8?:

"Give that back to me!"

"Yeah right! I'm not going to clean up your mess again… And don't you think you've had enough to drink tonight?!"

"If I'm not drunk, then no!"

Arthur fought for the bottle of alcohol desperately, reaching into thin air to re-claim his drink from his annoying little friends… But they were relentless. "Arthur! We need to tell you something and you can't be drunk!"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "This isn't about some bloody book, is it? I don't have time for this rubbish… I have a war to strategize." It was a losing argument, and soon, Arthur found himself seated in one of Alfred's plush lounge-chairs, back in the confines of the White House.

"We found out some more information about this situation…" It was Pix who spoke up first. "Since you can't switch back willingly, by admitting to each other that you secretly want to smex it up, we have to do it manually by finding a spell book!"

Arthur let out a scowl and sunk into his chair, letting them continue. "So," he began coolly. "What you're trying to tell me is, we have to embark on a wild goose chase to find this book… In the middle of a war." Arthur stopped and then sat up straight. "Do you think I have TIME for any of this?!"

"Well you're going to have to MAKE time for this, because you're going to die!"

"How do you expect me to just stop all my plans, leave all these nations here, gallivant around the world trying to find something that I don't even know exists, and just put a hold on the war?! Do you know how far ahead Alfred is going to be?!"

"Well did you know that both of you won't be ahead at all if you keep this up!? This war isn't going to kill you. But being in another's body for an extended amount of time is not a good thing. Alfred's body will start to reject your presence."

Arthur set his drink down and sighed. Although his exterior was calm and collected, inside he was reeling. The idea of Alfred's body rejecting him made him a little sad… But he took it as some biological problem and not a personal one. "So," Arthur said too slowly. "If I put my end of the war on hold and go look for this book, the whole problem should fix itself? We might not even need to fight a war…" But… He wanted to start a war. He had been so certain of that. Right now, more than anything, he wanted to win. England wanted to be the victor this time. To be the one holding the gun… The one able to shoot… But he wanted to do it in his body. He would have the best of both worlds. Have his cake and eat it too. He would fight and win the war in his own body. Either way, there was going to be a war. In his own body or not. He had never been more mad and numb to Alfred in his entire life.

"I'll do it," he said finally.

Arthur's friends smiled broadly. "We told you that it would have been more easy to admit that-"

"There are no feelings."

No one said anything for a very long time until Pix spoke again. "Everyone has feelings, Arthur, but it takes a special person to realize them to be true."

Arthur pursed his lips and said quickly, under his breath, "We'll leave tomorrow."

"Ah-! Excuse me?"

Arthur jumped and he noticed the swift disappearence of his faerie friends. He saw his azure eyes first, and then his golden hair… "Alfred?"

"No… Matthew… What's going on? Are you alright? Who were you talking to?"

Arthur stood up quickly. Too quickly. His balance was off and the alcohol he had just consumed did not help. Neither did the feeling of complete loss and confusion when he realized that he actually missed America at the same time he wanted to kill him. His stomach lurched and he held his head, the glasses framing his face, slipping from his nose. "Bollocks… I need a minute…" Any attempts to hide his British accent were gone and Canada could have heard clearly, his old English dialect. "I'm sorry," he said, falling to his knees. He never wanted to break down…

Matthew stood still for a moment before rushing to his side. Canada was always better at figuring things out than America had been. "A-Arthur?" His voice sounded far away and hollow to Arthur's ears. "England? H-How is that-? Arthur… Tell me what's going on!!"

Arthur looked up, but the tears in his eyes blurred his vision and the diziness of his spirit was enough to drown out all coherent thoughts. "I… I don't know anymore, my boy…" And he collapsed into the darkness that surrounded his entire situation.

The last thing he heard was, "I always knew it was you… I always knew…"

(*1): I'm actually not sure how many people are even aware that the Canadian Prime Minister is Stephen Harper. I am not going to share my political views on him here. XD

(*2): Has anyone else seen this movie where a guy has to eat McDonald's (and only McDonald's) for a long time to see its health effects? It's kind of sickening now that I think of it… We had to watch the movie in my Media Studies class in my final year of high-school and at the movie when everyone vowed never to eat McDonald's again, I asked if I was the only one who felt like a burger. XD Damn. I could never give up McDicks. (And apparently my province is the only one who refers to McDonald's as McDicks… Does anyone else say this?? XD Haha~)

(*3): I hope someone, somewhere has written a fanfic that is basically like the Hetalian version of, "The Hangover." That is what that scene reminded me of. XD

Author's Note (Again): Ah ha ha… So… What did you think? This chapter is strange… I wrote it over the course of literally eight months and I felt a lot of different things while writing it. Could you tell when I was sad, angry, sick, hopeful? It's all there! Haha! But as screwed up as this chapter was, I've already begun planning the next ones. I never lied when I said I wasn't going to finish it, although it has been a long time. If you do not wish to continue with this story, I'd understand completely. We had a good run with it, hey? And I appreciate everything you reader's have done for me. *v*

I know you probably won't believe me, but now that I am finished school, I would like to finish this for everyone… And I will do my best to reply to all reviewers (if any). So. Once again, I apologize from the depths of my heart and I hope I'll see some of you in chapter seven!!