Brothers: A Hetalia Fanfiction

Chapter One

Arthur Kirkland took a moment to catch his breath before knocking on the door. After paying the cabbie a ridiculous amount to bring him from the airport to his new flat and dragging his bags up countless flights of stairs, he needed a moment to compose himself. He ran his fingers through his dirty blonde hair, straightened out his jumper. He tried to examine his reflection on the door handle of flat 37B, but it was too rusted over to even reflect the buzzing fluorescent hallway light. He supposed he shouldn't have expected better accommodations, after all the University was providing the international students with housing, but the building looked as if it was so much as leaned on it would topple over like a house of cards.

'Well,' Arthur thought to himself, straightening up and reaching for the handle, 'I may as well go in.'

His internal dialogue was interrupted as the door swung open to reveal a confused looking boy with a mess of dark curls and freckles sprinkled across his nose.

"Right, who're you then?" Arthur recognized the accent: Welsh.

"Why hello! I'm Arthur Kirkland, I'm meant to be staying in flat 37B?"

The Welsh boy nodded slightly and stepped back from the door to allow Arthur into the flat.

It was small, just one room with a hallway leading off, with another one or two doors off that. There was a small sitting room with a couch and a television. The floor was visible through the holes in a ratty carpet, and the coffee table was stained with what appeared to be a variety of liquids. There was a door leading from the sitting room, but it was taped over with duct tape and had a large sign reading "Do Not, Under any Circumstances, Enter" Attached was a small kitchen, with an oven from which Arthur noticed clouds of black smoke were rising. A tall man with the reddest hair Arthur had seen in his life had taken off his t-shirt and was using it to fan the flames out the open window, muttering under his breath in a thick Scottish accent that it was lucky the fire alarm was broken.

"Right then, this is the flat then," said the dark-haired boy nervously, "My name's Owain, that's Aiden, and Patrick's the other flatmate, but he's gone out somewhere..."

He was cut off by Aiden, who had just noticed Arthur's arrival, and enthusiastically made his way through puffs of black smoke, pulled back on his T-shirt and stood beaming behind the shorter Welsh boy.

"Hoo's it goin?" He grinned, and reached to shake hands. Arthur could barely catch what he'd said through the thick Scottish accent.

"Er hello, I'm Arthur. Arthur Kirkland"

"English, ur ye? Weel ye shoods hae nae problem sharin' a room wi' uir wee Owain haur. he's frae somewhaur aroond thaur an aw." He grinned at Owain jokingly, but the Welsh man's face had turned the same shade as Aiden's hair.

"I am not bloody English and you don't forget it!" Owain snarled. Aiden looked slightly taken a back, but then swiftly pushed the smaller boy out the door.

"Ye go an pick up 'at takeaway we ordered an' i'll jist shaw Arthur aroond th' flat" He called in some semblance of cheeriness, leaving the fuming boy in the hallway.

"My luggage was out there!" Arthur cried, realizing he'd left his largest suitcase in the hall.

He turned to Aiden, who had pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He offered one to Arthur, who politely declined.

"Ah wooldnae worry yerself abit yer luggage, we'll jist lit Owain calm doon an' gang back it thaur tae gie it, aw reit? Ah can shaw ye aroond a bit while we're waitin'," he began walking into the flat, gesturing for Arthur to follow him, "This haur is th'kitchen, jist ignair th' smoke thaur, it's fine! See, when we speart patrick tae gae shoppin', we meant tae buy food as well as beer, nae 'at am complainin', but Owain seemed tae want whit he called 'actual food', he's funay like 'at, sae Ah offered tae cuik heem some supper, seein' as Ah am an excellentcuik an' aw, but it didne gang exactly as planned."

"I can see that…" muttered Arthur, amazed at the Scot's ability to just talk without anyone else contributing a word to the conversation.

"Ain thes is mah bedroom, Patrick's room is jist aff 'at.," Arthur peered in a small room darkened by the Scottish flag hanging over the only window, there was a door left ajar leading to what just be the room of the mysterious fourth flat mate.

"Yoo're reit doon haur," Aiden continued, "Yoo'll be sharin' a room wi' Owain, hoop that's okay. As ye main hae noticed, he sure looks bonnie but dornt mess wi' heem unless ye want tae hae a cranky welsh man hittin' ye wi' leeks when yoo're tryin' tae sleep… nae 'at Ah wood ken. Speakin' ah cranky welshmen, th' hallway's probably safe if ye want tae git yer things. Ah'll be in th' kitchen sortin' oot th' smoke!" he grinned madly and took the last drag from his cigarette before putting it out against the window pane of the open window at the end of the hallway and discarded it amongst the dying flowers in the window box.

After the tour of his new home by the whirlwind of a Scot, Arthur was glad for the peace and quiet of unpacking his luggage. The room wasn't enormous but it wasn't too small either. Owain had apparently already settled in on one side, the walls and bed were hung with red and green, and a picture of sheep hung above the bed. Lying sloppily folded on top of the duvet was a pair of pajamas patterned with sheep, and his cupboard was left open, showing an assortment of knitted wool jumpers and rugby shirts. This guy clearly liked sheep. Arthur shrugged, it wasn't his place to judge, and there were worse things.

He went about neatly removing each item of clothing from his luggage, refolding it, and placing it in its proper drawer. He was going to be here a full school year, so he'd packed a good amount of things. He was a bit wary still of attending this American university, though he had already met his roommates and they didn't seem too entirely horrible. Not yet anyways. The international students were given a flat by the university, which explained why there were no actual Americans living in the flat, or likely the entire complex. Arthur was a bit disappointed. The only American accent he'd heard so far was the angry taxi driver. He sighed, folded his last jumper and lay down on the bare mattress of his new bed. There would be plenty of time for that later, he supposed.

As nice as the quiet in the room was, when Arthur heard a knock at the front door he decided it would be in his best interest to be sociable and go out to see who it was. As he wandered into the kitchen, Aiden called out to him,

"Ach guid, Arthur cood ye git that?"

The redhead was almost entirely obscured by puffs of black smoke still rising from the oven, though he peered out to gesture toward the door. The combination of the red hair and the billowing smoke gave the impression that His head was actually on fire. The Scott coughed slightly and Arthur wondered if it was a result of the smoke or the cigarette that dangled carelessly from Aiden's teeth.

There was another knock on the door, and Arthur went to pull it open.

He was greeted by an exasperated outburst in a very Irish accent.

"Thank god you opened up! I can't hold him any longer! Hey who're you?"

A fair skinned girl with a mess of curly dark red hair stood supporting a boy of about her age. Even though he didn't appear to be conscious, the resemblance between the two was striking. They had the same thin build and flushed cheeks that stood out against an otherwise fair complexion.

"Ah ArthurAh see yoo've mit Erin an' Patrick." Aiden appeared behind Arthur, startling him.

"Ah you must be the other room mate, help me carry my brother to his bed!" directed the small Irish girl, who Arthur assumed was Erin. Arthur hesitantly went to the boys other side and hoisted him into his shoulder, helping the girl carry her brother into the darkened room Arthur had glanced in before.

He was very light, Arthur noticed, and the two deposited the semi conscious Irishman onto his bed with relative ease.

Erin sighed and found a blanket which she carelessly threw over her brother.

"I'm Erin, and this is Patrick."

"Arthur Kirkland. A pleasure."

"English are ye?" She glared at him,"Eh well it would be more of a pleasure if my brother hadn't decided to play drinking games with the Russian kid downstairs early in the afternoon, but that's how these things always seem to work, no?" she sighed, her expresson becoming no more pleasant.

"Erm, yes?" Arthur was at a loss for what to say and was glad when He heard the door swing open and heard the voices of Owain and Aiden in the kitchen.

They reentered a kitchen that smelled slightly less of burning things and more of what Owain had brought back for dinner, wrapped in plastic containers on the counter top.

Aiden was attempting to dig out sufficient utensils for three people from the drawers, and Owain was flipping through the channels on the TV.

"Oo" he exclaimed, "I love rugby!" he grabbed an entire container of what appeared to be curry and a fork from Aiden's mismatched pile and flopped down on the couch to watch.

Aiden chuckled.

"Are you laughing at me?" Owain looked back at the chuckling Scott, wide eyed with what appeared to be genuine concern.

"Nah, it's jist...Ah wood try tae nae poke fin at ye fur every Welsh stereotypes thaur is, but it's jist sae easy!"

"Just because I like sheep doesn't mean..."

"You liking sheep is a bit of an understatement"

Aiden laughed, grabbed his own bucket of curry, and sat down next to Owain.

"Yer welcome ter stay, Erin." he winked at his roommates sister who just scowled back.

"I'd rather not." she frowned, " just take care of Patrick for me." she sighed and exited through the still open front door, shutting it loudly behind her.

Aiden whistled, " Someone's in a bad muid." he chuckled, "Looks like its jist us 'en! Arthur tak' a seat!"

Arthur picked up the last takeaway box and a fork and say down on the opposite end of the couch from Owain and Aiden.

"Hey! This has only got rice!"

Aiden looked up from the television.

"Weel that's cause yer supposed tae mix 'em!" to prove his point, he took a spoonful of curry from Owain's box and shoved it unceremoniously in his mouth.

Arthur sighed and went to the kitchen. His roommates may be uncivilized, but he certainly was not. He made himself up a plate of food, cautiously taking spoonfuls from the two on the couch, who were too engrossed in the rugby to notice, and sat down at the table with a steaming cup of tea to enjoy his meal.

His meal was pleasant enough, if he ignored the smoke still lingering in the nearby kitchen. He felt a sudden wave of tiredness come over him. Jetlag, he supposed. It was Arthur's first time so much as leaving England, and he guessed that the flight combined with his nerves plus the time change was finally taking its toll. When he was finished, he leaned back in his chair and took up his cup of tea, sipping it calmly. Aiden and Owain had finally stopped screaming at the television and were watching the game intently. The smoke was almost completely out of the kitchen. All was in a semblance of calm in flat 37B.

Arthur's teacup went flying as he jumped at a pounding sound on the front door.

"What the bloody hell…"

Even the two on the couch turned to watch as Arthur opened the front door to reveal a blonde boy with an untamed cowlick and wearing a bomber jacket grinning widely in the hall outside.

"Hello, foreign exchange students, I am Alfred F. Jones, your ambassador from the US and our University here to welcome you to our excellent school!" he threw his arms out enthusiastically, " Oh, it looks like you spilled your tea…"

AN:

Hello there! If you've gotten this far, thank you!

For those who're interested I'll take this time to kinda explain what my plans are for this fic. It's going to be a multi chapter fic, and I have a general idea of the plot, and I'm going to work on the specifics as I go along. It'll detail Arthur's adventures living with the various members of the UK, and also with Alfred and other "foreign exchange students" at the school. It will likely include more OC's, sorry about that- I generally am not a fan of OCs (which sounds very hypocritical) But then, in Hetalia they're all countries, so even the OCs are based on history and stereotypes. If you've gotten this far, please tell me what you think! I welcome and feed back or ideas for where you think things should go.

Also, to avoid confusion, the character's names:

England: Arthur

Scotland: Aiden

Wales: Owain

Ireland: Erin

N. Ireland: Patrick

...and I can assume you all know who Alfred is

Thanks for reading!