Author's note: my first long Hetalia fic…well by long I mean more than a few silly chapters. Anywho I was inspired by a picture of America and England kissing in the hay and this popped into my head. Also the pairings include: Arthur/Alfred, Mathew/Francis, and mentions of Arthur/Francis but only mentions. So please enjoy.

It was a hard day on the farm, the sun had been harsh and the ground tough, but Alfred Jones had not relented and had worked long and hard all day long. At seventeen and all alone he knew that he could not take any leisure time if he wanted to make sure that his seeds were planted before all of the leaves fell from his large oak tree, and so since after the harvest from last season had been all sold he had begun to get the ground ready for the new seeds.

The warm sun was beginning to set and Alfred knew that it would get chilly soon and so he should probably go inside. The blonde looked up and wiped his brow with his shirt that he had taken off sometime in the afternoon. His tan skin glistened from a hard day of work but his bright blue eyes looked affectionately upon his small field. It was not as large as some of the other farms around those parts, but Alfred was proud of it. His father had bought it when he was twenty, bringing his young wife and baby son so that they could have a life. Now that both his Ma and pa were dead it was Alfred's job to make sure that his father's dreams did not die with him, and that Jones' Wheat would still be the best in the county.

Alfred led his horse, Honey, and the plow away from the fields and to the barn. There he put Honey in her stall and after putting some fresh hay in with her and getting her some cold water he gave her nose an affectionate pat. Once she was settled he dragged the plow the rest of the way into the barn. Once the barn was all locked up for the night Alfred headed back to his modest home. His family home was not very large but it was a spacious kitchen where his ma used to always be baking. The house also had two bedrooms, one that his parents used to use and another that was his unless his uncle was visiting and then Alfred slept on the couch in the living room.

Inside Alfred made himself some beans from a tin and some ham. He looked at his cupboards with a sigh; he would have to go into town soon to get some more food. As he sat down, eating he felt the familiar pang of sadness at seeing his ma and pa's empty seats. It had only been a few months since he had buried his parents in the town cemetery, but their loss still plagued him. Every morning he missed waking up to the smell of hotcakes and blueberry jam, fresh and waiting for him and Pa. He did not like being in the house very much and was glad to have work, but he was worried about what he was going to do once winter blew in. he wasn't too far from the town, but he knew that a snow storm could block him from going into towns and that he would probably be spending some time alone in the house.

Alfred shook his head, he couldn't think about such things, he had to keep his spirits up otherwise his crop would be no good, it was an old saying but he believed it as much as any other self-respecting farmer knew that if you planted with a heavy heart then your crop would rot. It was hard, though, for the young man to keep his thoughts from becoming sad when he had nothing to distract him. His ma and pa used to playfully tease him about it ever since when he was seven he had spent nearly three months in morning for the death of their dog Banjo.

Alfred took another bit of beans of pork when a thought hit him. What if when he was in town next Sunday for church he could get himself a dog. Company was what he needed and a dog was a wonderful remedy for that. This thought lightening his mood Alfred was able to finish his dinner with a smile and once he'd cleaned up he went into the living to read a bit. His mother had been very adamant that he have a proper education, she said that he never knew when it would come in handy despite the fact that they lived in a small town where the only educated people were Pastor Richardson and the school master, Todd Garnish. His mother had come from the city though and had even gone to a private school before meeting Alfred's Pa and running away because her father did not approve of the match, and though she had left that life behind she would not have her son becoming another uneducated country bum.

After lighting the lamp Alfred sat down in his ma's old chair by the window and began to read one of the books his mother had brought along from her old life, a book of poems by Lord Byron. Alfred left the window open, so that he could feel the cool night air after a long day of working.

Halfway through a poem Alfred heard some commotion outside. He frowned and put the book down, marking his place, and picked up his shotgun. What was going on out there? Alfred grabbed a lamp, lit it, and then ventured outside.

From his porch he saw someone running towards his barn, the person looked frantic and no wonder, there were people behind him. Alfred couldn't see how many there were but he could definitely hear them and that they were on horses. It was amazing that they had not caught up to the first person. Alfred wondered if it was an outlaw and that was Sherriff Dune and Deputy Collins, but as he listened to their shouts he could tell that neither of the men sounded like Sherriff Dune or Deputy Collins.

The first person had disappeared into the shadow of the barn and Alfred could hear the person trying to get into the barn. Alfred's heart began to race; should he intervene, he wondered. He pa would have, but he was only a seventeen year old and from the shouting voices from the approaching men, they sounded like a nasty bunch. Still, Alfred could not abandon someone who could be in need. Taking a large breath Alfred ran over to the barn hoping that he could sneak the other person into his barn if they were quick. So being as stealthy as he could, Alfred snuck over to the barn, hoping that the three who were approaching

"Bloody hell, why won't you open," Alfred heard a man grumble in an odd accent as he approached the barn.

"Hey," Alfred said as he got close.

The person, a man who looked maybe in his mid twenties jumped at Alfred's voice. It was too dark to make out what the other man looked like, but Alfred could tell that he was impeccably dressed.

"Move aside and I can get you in."

The person paused; he did not seem willing to trust Alfred but then moved aside. It seemed that whoever was chasing him were scarier than some teenager, though Alfred did have a shotgun.

Once Alfred got the barn unlocked he grabbed the strangers hand and though he felt him cringe he pulled him into the dark barn. Luckily Alfred had been in the barn so much that he did not need light to navigate his way. He stopped in front of one of the empty horse stalls and opened it gently shoving the stranger inside where there was musty hay.

"Hide in there," he whispered.

"I will not," the person said snobbishly. "I, sir, am a proper British gentleman and will not cover myself in moldy hay."

"If you want to live you will. Whoever if chasing you is getting closer," Alfred argued. He had never met a foreigner before, but now was not the time to marvel at the meeting, or be offended by the arrogance the stranger seemed to be regarding himself with.

"Very well," the foreigner grumbled. "But once they're gone let me know. I don't want to have to sleep in such dismal conditions."

Alfred gave a frustrated sigh. "I will do my best," he promised and then shut the stall door. He could hear the foreigner grumbling about the hay, but ignored him.

When he got outside the pursuers were just approaching his barn. There were three of them and they were big men, but Alfred simply pretended that there was nothing wrong. The three stopped in front of him, the biggest one glaring at him; at least Alfred thought he was, it was too dark to be sure.

"Howdy there boy," the smallest one said, his voice sounding surprisingly civilized.

"Howdy," Alfred said.

"What are you doing out so late?"

"I thought I heard something trying to get my barn so I came to check."

"Find anything?" one of the others asked, his voice reminding Alfred of rotten apples in molasses.

"No sir. My barn is still locked up tight; must've been a fox."

There was a paused and Alfred hoped that they didn't suggest checking the barn because they might find the foreigner and then know that he was lying.

"Did you see anyone?"

"No sir. If it had been someone he must have ran off, but it sounded more like a fox."

"I see." The smaller one, he seemed to be the one in charge, turned to his compadres. "He might've taken the path into the town," he said in a low voice, but Alfred could still catch the words. He wondered why these guys were after the foreigner. The leader turned back to Alfred. "If you see a foreign guy around could you let us know? Just go to the Red Stocking in Springfield a couple of miles over. He stole something from me and my brothers and we would appreciate getting what he took back."

"Yes sir, um what did he take?"

"A family heirloom," the man said, but Alfred could tell that he was lying. It was something Alfred had picked up from his Ma.

"I'll be sure to let you know if I see your foreigner," Alfred said.

The man seemed to be staring intently at Alfred but then he gave a nod of his hat and then him and his buddies rode off. Once they were gone Alfred let out a sigh of relief and went into the barn to retrieve the foreigner. He would bring him inside, get himself to eat and then demand to know what was going on.

A/N: please review