A/N: I don't know what I'm not doing! Am I writing something wrong? Am I not characterizing them the right way? Someone please tell me what I'm doing wrong that leaves not that many people to review. I know Hetalia isn't all that popular of a show yet, but come on! Who denies the cuteness like that? I just don't understand what I'm not getting right, here.

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia, or any of the characters used in this story.

Chapter 2: Mud-balls On A Rainy Day

Alfred hated the rain for so many reasons. Every time it rained he would sit by the window and think over all the reasons that he hated the water that fell from the sky. Sure, all the other kids got to run around in it splashing in puddles and playing other games in it.

But not Alfred. Every time it rained for him Arthur kept him stuck in the house, trying to get him to instead do things like learning to read, or even embroider with him so he wouldn't get dirty; just the thought of embroidery made the little boy shudder.

Pressing his face to the glass, America let out a small huff, which condensed on the cool glass surface, but quickly faded away. He was so bored. What was so wrong with going out and running around in the rain? Alfred didn't think he'd ever understand.

"Ow!" Arthur's sudden start made Alfred turn around, watching as his guardian looked over his finger that he'd accidentally stuck –surveying it for injury.

Alfred pursed his lips, "England, can't I go play outside, today?" He asked, determined to get permission to outside, "It's just a little rain!" If his persistence didn't work, he was almost bored enough to go against what England said and just run outside before his guardian could catch him.

Arthur looked up at him, then his green eyes flicked to the window, "No, Alfred. It's raining." He said simply, and in monotone, as the answer had already been repeated at least five times today.

Alfred huffed, and ran across the room to Arthur, placing his small hands on the older nation's knee. "Please, England? It's just a little rain… Come on, I get more wet in the bathtub, and you never complain about that!" He protested.

England sighed, "There's a difference, America. You can go out after it stops raining."

"What if it never stops raining?" He complained with fear in his voice as his eyes went wide.

England laughed, but didn't look down from his embroidering. "It will stop raining, Alfred. Just give it some time. Don't you want the plants to stay green? They need rain for that, just as much as they need sun." He explained.

Alfred pouted a bit, but tugged on England's pant leg, wanting to sit on his lap. Arthur relented, putting his sewing down and picking Alfred up and placing him in his lap. "So it's like their food, Arthur?" Alfred asked, looking up at him with those big blue eyes.

England nodded, resting back in the chair, "Yes, that's right. They don't eat food like you or I." He let out a small yawn. "Their food is water and the sun. The best thing for us to do while we wait for the rain to stop, though is to just relax inside. Maybe," He yawned once more, leaning back and closing his green eyes, "Take a nap."

The smaller nation stayed quiet, watching as England rested. He listened to the way his breathing became quieter, and more labored. He knew that his guardian was sleeping, now.

Alfred turned and looked back at the window. The rain had stopped quite a bit from the torrential downpour it had been at earlier, till it was now just a light sprinkle. Even the clouds were a lot lighter, and looked as though they were going to disperse soon.

'This is soon enough! I'm sure the rain will stop soon!' Alfred thought as he began to climb down off of England, carefully so that he wouldn't wake him up again. 'And so long as England doesn't wake up, he'll never know!'

Once he was on the ground again, America ran out of the living room, and through the entrance hall to the closed front door. As silently as he could he pulled it open, letting in a wave of warm, humid air that washed over him.

After he stepped outside he pulled the door closed once more, then exhaled a sigh of relief. He'd made it! It felt wonderful to be outside again after being trapped inside all day.

He ran down the steps to the dirt path just below it, but instantly he stopped when his bare feet touched the path. Instead of it kicking up dust, or even being a solid path for that matter, the dirt had turned into sticky, soupy mud.

Alfred looked down, squishing his toes around in the mud with a new found interest, and completely ignoring the light rain that drizzled down onto his head.

He sat down in the mud without a care for the state of his pants, and reached his hands into the sticky mud –instantly loving the way it felt between his fingers, and the sound it made as it plopped back into the mess on the ground; successfully splattering bits of it onto his shirt, pants, and even his face.

He picked up another handful of the muck, beginning to form it into a circle. 'It's like a snowball, only with mud!' He thought to himself, but setting it down anyway. Finding that he liked the look of it as a circle, he began making more little circular mud pies.

After a little bit, Alfred had a number of the balls of mud all lined up around him; after a while they would begin to soak back into the mud, as the rain made them fall apart –but Alfred made sure to keep them all as solid as he could.

'Hm… I need some way to hold these together so they don't fall apart anymore.' He told himself, watching as the raindrops hit one of his mud-balls and slowly the shape began to fall apart again.

'I know!' It suddenly hit him. 'I'll put them in the oven! That way they get hard and don't fall apart!' He said, thinking that the heat from the oven would make it stick together rather than just make it turn back into dirt.

He picked up two of the mud-balls and stood up, dripping with mud, but ascending the stairs to go back inside the house. He grabbed the gold doorknob with one muddy hand and turned it, entering into the warm, calm, and quiet household without a second thought.

Quietly, he moved into the kitchen, so he wouldn't wake Arthur up, who he figured was still sleeping in the living room. He went to the black iron oven that sat on the far side of the kitchen, still balancing the multiple mud-balls he had in his hands.

He turned the heavy handle to open the oven door, but he suddenly misjudged how heavy the door was, and it slipped from his hand, creaking loudly on its hinges and banging open –sending the loud bang sound echoing throughout the house.

Alfred froze, his whole body going tense as he listened. He knew Arthur was a light sleeper, so there was no way that wouldn't wake him up. But what should he do?

'I should run!' He told himself. 'Yeah! Run back outside before England sees I was messing with the oven!' However, he couldn't bring his body to move, as he heard the sound of Arthur moving in the next room over.

"Alfred?" Came Arthur's voice, and if possible the small nation froze even more.

He watched suddenly as Arthur came in view of the opening to the kitchen. He saw the way those green eyes first silently landed on him, then down to the floor, where muddy footprints carried the proof of what Alfred had done.

Alfred had just enough time to swallow before England finally exploded.

"Alfred! You stupid, stupid boy!" He shouted, sending a glare to America. "You went outside after I clearly told you not to! Now look at you! You're covered in mud! Are you daft, boy? Is that why you oppose me?"

"N-No…" Alfred answered; his body still rigid with fear.

England huffed, "Come on. You need a bath. You're disgusting." He told him, going over and grabbing the muddy America by his hand –causing him to drop the balls of mud he'd made. "Then you're going to help me clean the floors!"

"But I don't wanna bath!" He complained, trying to pull back against Arthur's tight hold.

"I don't care." Was all he called back, as he began dragging Alfred up the stairs to where the bathroom was.

Once there, he turned on the water for the tub, as Alfred stood in the corner and began shedding the muddy clothing off of his body, though his mud-slicked hands didn't help to make him any cleaner. He felt ashamed for going against England, but all he'd wanted was to go outside…

Once he'd shed all his clothing he went over to the tub and carefully got in, trying not to look at England, who was sitting by the side. Of course Arthur wouldn't let him bathe alone –not when he was this dirty.

Not a second after he'd sat down in the warm water did England dunk a cup in the water, "Close your eyes." He hardly gave him a second before the water was dumped over his head –drenching him and getting in his eyes.

"England…" He complained, rubbing at his eyes, ignoring that they were still muddy and not getting mud on his face.

Alfred suddenly heard a chuckle from England. "Look at me, you git." He chided, though this time the older nation's tone was calmer, much more relaxed, even to the point to sound much like it did when he was playing around with America.

Out of curiosity, Alfred opened his eyes and looked over at England, who was leaning against the side of the tub with a small smile playing on his face. He suddenly pressed a wash rag to Alfred's face, beginning to wash the brown muck off his face.

"How you ever manage to get so dirty so quickly I will never understand, Alfred…" England said in that same calm tone.

"Does this mean you're not mad at me for makin' my mud-balls and getin' dirty, England?" He asked quietly, in his ashamed tone that he knew was usually too cute for England to stay mad at.

The elder nation chuckled, "No… I guess I'm not mad." He said with a small sigh, continuing to rub the brown off America's face. "But you have to start listening to me! When I tell you no, that means no. You hear me?"

America nodded, just as England moved a bit, dumping another cup of water over his head. "So… I'm forgiven?" He asked happily.

Again England chuckled, "Don't think you're getting out of your punishment that easily, America. You're still going to help me clean up the mess you made! Maybe that'll teach you not to bring mud into this house."

A/N: Argh, I'm really not happy about that ending. Then again am I ever happy about endings? No, it doesn't seem that way. Anyway, any thoughts or criticisms you have are more than welcome, as are any ideas you might have for later chapters. Haven't yet decided what the next chapter is going to feature, but we'll see what I can think of. Or, if you contribute an idea, maybe that'll be what I use. We'll see. Let me know what you think!

Please review!
-Forbiddensoul562