Hetalia || Oneshots and Crackfic

1.) Hideaway

"Dumbol Dora the explorer, Kalither and winkle toes-" Okay, yeah no. Alfred literally cannot take any more of this.

He throws a stick at the stupid vampire's face, "Dude, please stop. That's creepier than what we're already doing!"

Arthur huffs at him, "Oh belt up! It's not like we haven't done this before, Alfred." Alfred' currently busy with watching the flames that tries its best to lick the dead meat of a little boy than to complain more to his British counterpart.

After a moment he finds his place again and speaks up, "I still don't see why I have to eat him. I could just try-" But oh no, he absolutely couldn't.

Arthur stirs around some weird drink in his hand, "Oh please, lad. Last time you couldn't stomach a Mickeys snack wrap or a simple banana smoothie." He is right, Alfred couldn't even get it to go anywhere near his mouth. The scent alone upsets his stomach.

"Doesn't mean that I have to give up on it." He mumbles, sad that he hasn't been able to eat from his favourite place of all time. His life has been so hard with what has been going on in the past year.

Looking back at his, uh, meal, Alfred eyes the two punctures on the body's neck, curtesy of Arthur's fangs, before it disappeares from his sight as it goes in a rotation on the spit above the fire.

"Stop looking at, it if it bothers you so much." Arthur speaks up after reading through some words in his spell book next to him. He knows what he's thinking, the same thing he always does. But Alfred really can't help it, the poor dead child just looks so enticing to him. Man, being a wendigo really sucks.

-

"I will rip your fucking throat out and drink your blood. I'll do it, don't teast me!" The pale and hangry vampire hisses in his accomplice's ear, or however close he could get to it, with the burning sunlight blaring on the back of his neck.

Alfred pushes him away, "Dude chill, it's only for five minutes alright. You can do this without drinking me dry."

Alfred pulls Arthur along with him through the square. They went pass people who gave the brit weird looks for basically having to be dragged along by Alfred. He looks like the epitome of a bratty child, scowling and struggling from his grip.

Alfred looks around for a certain half-dead Frenchman, as he also keeps a close eye on Arthur. After a few minutes of not seeing whatever traces that lead to zombie, Alfred sits down on the ledge of a fountain in the middle of the plaza, bringing Arthur down next to him as well.

Arthur looks around quietly and quickly, trying not to jump up and attack anyone. A nearby pigeon that has fluttered down, catching his attention. He can almost hear the faint heartbeat inside its small body. Alfred leans his arm a little on Arthur's neck, leaving his right hand to feel the other's blonde tussled hair. Arthur doesn't even seem to realize that Alfred has done such a thing, otherwise he would have snapped and told him to 'fuck off!'

Finally, another blonde comes out from behind an alleyway, strutting over with a satchel bouncing lightly against his left hip. Spotting Alfred, and a hunched over Arthur, he picks up his leisurely stroll to an actual walk.

"Bonjour mon amis. Sorry I took so long, Arthur, I know how upset you can get without your Bloody Mary's and bloody everything else." Francis, the late man at fault, calls out as he looks mostly to Arthur, who genuinely looks like he was about to jump the poor New York bird with no hesitation. Plenty ready to kill the damn thing. Although thankfully, Arthur's head snaps up at Francis' words, attention now away from the flying rat.

Francis shakes his head and takes the 'man purse' he calls it, off, handing it to Alfred as Arthur stands with his unnatural speed to grab at it. "Give it here, you wanker!"