Crossover time! Aaaand...human names again! Here's a little guide in case you need it:

Raivis = Latvia, Heracles = Greece, Peter = Sealand, Gilbert = Prussia, Arthur = England, Alfred = America, Ivan = Russia

Disclaimer: I own neither Black Butler nor Hetalia.

"'Fourteen Cats Missing, Scotland Yard Baffled.' Hmph," Ciel Phantomhive scoffed as he read the headline of the newspaper Sebastian had placed in front of him. "It says they began to disappear only today…Hm."

"Hardly a challenge for one such as yourself," Sebastian remarked as he set a cup of tea beside his master, "but the queen still requests you investigate."

Ciel stood, ignoring the tea, and setting off toward the door. "I suppose we should be off, then." He stopped and turned. "Come, Sebastian. Let's get this over with."

Meanwhile, several hours previous on the other side of London…

"And whatever you do, DON'T DESTORY THE TOWN!" England bellowed at the nations' retreating backs as they headed out for a break in the world meeting. He'd had a bad feeling about sending them off on their own, but if they'd all stayed cooped up in that room any longer, somebody would've declared war. England sighed, and trooped back inside the building to reorganize his papers and mop up several puddles of spilled coffee.

Out and about the town, the nations were engaging in their favourite activities. Italy was enjoying a massive plate of pasta with Germany at his side, Canada and Prussia were wandering the streets and seeking out anything that could be defined as, "Awesome, eh?" and France was thoroughly enjoying the women, just to name a few. It was one Mediterranean nation, however, who was going to cause a lot more trouble than anyone could've thought he was capable of.

Greece had found a lovely field not far outside London.

"This is great!" he said. "I'm going to nap right here." He flopped down on the grass and immediately started to snooze…

…and woke up a minute later to a heavy, fluffy thing sitting on his chest, purring.

"A cat!" Greece grinned. Before he could say more, another cat crawled up on to his face. Several more curled up around him. A rather fat tabby found a lovely nesting place between the man's arm and the rest of his body.

Greece sighed happily. Surrounded by his cat blanket, the Mediterranean country fell into a deep sleep. And as he snoozed, cats continued to go to him, smothering him in fat, furry love.

And now, on a busy London street…

"Randall!" Ciel called, heels clicking sharply on the road and Sebastian close behind. Said inspector was standing in the middle of a crowd of older ladies wearing fur coats over fancy dresses, clamoring for information on the whereabouts of their precious feline friends.

"Phantomhive."

The ladies parted to allow for Ciel to approach Randall. "What is all this about missing cats?" the young boy demanded.

"Hmph, nothing we need your help with."

"Oh, really? In that case," Ciel spun on his heel and marched off, "let's go, Sebastian."

"Of course, master."

The pair marched purposefully down the London street to Ciel's carriage. There, the Phantomhive boy requested that Sebastian take him to the outskirts of town. He had a suspicion whatever it was that was attracting the cats, it wasn't in town. His butler obeyed the command. Soon, they found themselves on a road alongside a vast field of lush grass. Staring intently out the window, Ciel saw nothing out of the ordinary, until…

"STOP THE CARRIAGE!"

Within the span of two minutes, Ciel and Sebastian were out in the field, gawking at what appeared to be a large pile of white, grey, and mottled orange fur.

"Sebastian," Ciel said in the particular way he has, "get to the bottom of this pile!"

"Of course, master."

England was on edge. He wanted nothing more than to hurry up and finish this meeting, and then go relax with a nice cup of tea and some scones. Apparently, the rest of the world disagreed strongly with this plan.

The loudest noise had to be Italy crying, and for no apparent reason. Romano was patting his brother on the shoulder and yelling at Germany.

"Damn you, Potato Bastard!" he yelled. "This is all YOUR fault!"

"How is it MY fault?"

"BECAUSE IT IS!"

"Now, now," Spain said gently, "calm yourself, mi tomatito."

Romano rounded on him now, pushing his brother away, who landed in Germany's arms. "I AM NOT YOUR TOMATO!" he screeched.

Spain, calm as ever, smiled gently and patted Romano on the head. Then Poland, who was rolling on the floor, smashed into his legs; the Spaniard toppled over, hand falling forward and yanking on Romano's curl.

"CHIGIII!"

Lithuania looked down at Poland on the floor, who was laughing so hard he still hadn't realized the trouble he'd caused.

"Poland, get up," he said, half-heartedly kicking his friend in the side.

"Ow-ouch!" Poland cackled. "That, like, actually hurt!"

"No it didn't, now get up. Raivis with a clown nose is not THAT funny."

Sniffing and holding his injured side, Poland rolled into a sitting position before falling back over in hysterics. Right in his line of sight had been Latvia shaking in his boots and with a bright red ball for a nose. Estonia was shaking his head in shame, and Russia was grinning and chuckling, "Kolkolkolkol…" Clearly, it had been his doing.

Back at the head of the table, England was smashing his forehead against the wood, blond hair flopping up and down. The prospect of curling up with a good cup of tea was now all but gone, and he was despairing. A light tapping on his shoulder interrupted his sorrowful wallowing.

"What?" the Englishman called, not lifting his head off the table.

"I was wondering how you feel right now about letting me become my own country!"

"NO, Sealand."

"Then I'm declaring war on you!"

"Do you really think that's such a good idea?"

"Well…no."

"So then…?" England was getting tired of this.

"I'm not declaring war on you."

"Good. Now go away."

England listened to his little brother's retreating footsteps until they could no longer be heard above the yelling of everyone else, and then resumed banging his head against the table. Or he would have, but there was another insistent tapping at his shoulder.

England lifted his head now. "I am NOT letting you become your own country, Sealand!"

"Dude, why would I ask something like that? And why the hell are you calling me Sealand?"

England looked behind him. "Oh. It's you, America."

"Damn right it is!" America's mega-watt grin flashed. "You look like you need help taking control of everyone, so I'm gonna be your hero! No need to thank me." And with that, he hopped right up on the table and began yelling. "Hey! HEY DUDES! EVERYBODY! SHUT UP ALREADY!"

Amazingly, it worked. Everyone quieted down and, with minimal scuffling, took their seats around the table. England stared at America in awe, wondering if it would be indecent to hug the man to death right then and there. He decided it would, and promised himself he'd do it later. Meanwhile, he shuffled his papers and began to speak.

"Right, then," he said, "the topic for this meeting is—hang on," he stopped. Something wasn't right. His green eyes narrowed as he looked around the table, finally stopping on the Mediterranean countries. "Where the bloody hell is Greece?!"

"Sebastian, who is this man sleeping with cats?"

The man in question was spread-eagled on the ground with his jacket balled up under his head like a pillow; his light brown hair was fanned out in a halo-like fashion, and he was completely covered in cat fur. His snores were quite loud.

"Sebastian," Ciel called again, sour at not being answered the first time. "Sebastian!"

The Phantomhive boy whirled around to a strange sight: Sebastian was cross-legged on the ground, one grey cat on his head and one white one in his hand, fawning over them.

"Sebastian!"

Without looking up from the cat whose head he was massaging, Sebastian replied, "Now, young master, you shouldn't be so loud. You'll anger the cats, and you've already woken up the man on the ground."

Ciel watched in disbelief as the man who had minutes before been sleeping soundly on the grass walked over and sat beside Sebastian. "I'm Heracles. Are you Sebastian? Do you like cats too? I've always wanted to be a cat," he said to the demon butler.

"Those round eyes," Sebastian fawned, oblivious to the arrival of the man named Heracles, "so innocent of this world's filth—"

Heracles began to list off his reasons for wanting to be a cat: "Cats are so cool! Retractable claws, and that rough tongue—"

"—that tail, childish yet somehow noble—"

"—plus, they never have to worry about things like bankruptcy or body odour—"

"—those paws, pale pink and perfect!"

"—if I were a cat, I could do whatever I want, like I could take a whole day just to lick my own balls, and when I got tired…yeah…I could go to sleep right there, and purr."

Ciel stood there, slack-jawed and more than a little confused by this strange sort of bonding between his butler and Heracles. Before he could work out something to say, however, three boys ran up to the little group: two were short and blond, one in a sailor shirt and the other in a maroon military uniform with epaulettes, and the third man was a tall albino.

The little boy in the sailor shirt was the first to speak. "We finally found you, Gr—" He was cut off by the albino smacking him upside the head.

Heracles looked up from the cats. "Oh! Raivis? Peter? Gilbert? Why did you all come to find me?"

"You're late for the meeting," the albino—Gilbert—stated. "Arthur's having a not-awesome fit because if something bad happens to you it'd be his fault cause he was the one who let us out in the town."

Peter, the one in the sailor shirt, continued: "So while Amer—" he received a sharp glare from Gilbert, "—er…Alfred tries to calm him down, we were sent to find you!"

"And now you must come back with us," Raivis finished. "And quickly, too. If not, Ivan will…" He shuddered.

"All right." Heracles stood, brushing the grass and cat fluff off his pants. "Let's go."

Ciel watched dumbly as the four jogged down the field and back into London, and then he turned back to Sebastian, who seemed to have had his fill of the cats for he was now standing and looked ready to be off.

"Shall we return these cats to their owners, master?" Sebastian queried, already picking up the cats in question to carry them back to the carriage.

"Ah…" Ciel shook himself. "Yes, of course."

Back in London, the ladies in the fur coats and fancy dresses were thrilled to have their feline friends returned to them. They all graciously thanked Ciel, some going as far as to kiss his cheek, before tottering off back to their homes. Randall stood off to the side, grumbling.

Once all the cats were returned, Ciel Phantomhive got back in the carriage and he and his butler returned to the mansion.

The doors to the building where the world meeting was being held banged open.

"Everyone, the AWESOME ME—" Prussia felt several sharp taps on both shoulders, "—and these two, have found Greece!"

The room was silent, except for the applause from Italy, as the four arriving nations took their seats and England stood once more to get the meeting started.

It was over relatively quickly, and after so much excitement the nations couldn't seem to get back to their homes fast enough. There was even a small fight at the door, which ended with America leaping over top of everyone else's heads, as well as Spain face-first into the wall, Romano screaming, and Italy freaking out. Eventually, everyone made it out of the room more or less in one piece and, much to his delight, England was finally able to go home and curl up with the cup of tea he'd been craving all day.

In case you're curious, both Sebastian's and Greece's cat rants are their rants, word for word (or abouts), from the anime. Sebastian's came from episode 3 of Kuroshitsuji II, and Greece's from episode 3 of World Series (I like how it's episode 3 both times XD). Hope you enjoyed this!