A/N- this right here is cobalt's first hetalia fic, woot! don't know why it's taken this long for me to put something up for my dearest and most amazing fandom..but it has. idk how long this fic's gonna be, i originally planned for it to be a oneshot but then i was like...mehh..won't work. T-T so now it guess it's multi-chap. this fic was inspired by Falling In Love Ten Days Flat by novelist pup. check her out, dudes. she's more known around the dgm crowd but she has a few keen hetalia fics lying around.

this is total crack and fun writing, just so you know. the narration is dead-on me talkin' bullshit and telling you all what's going down. i'm a pretty chill chickadee so don't expect any 'WHY SO SERIOUS O.o' moments, mkay? xDD also, i curse for the fun of it so don't get too offended okay? i like the T-rating and don't plan on changing it unless i suddenly grow the balls to write smut.

;D anyways, hope my shitty fic to your guys liking.

Disclaimer- APH belongs to himaruya-sensei and history be damned if i'm ever put in charge of it.

Chapter One

Tighten Up

Alfred F. Jones was a believer. He had faith in many things. God, aliens, lottery tickets, Santa Claus, you name it. Alfred kept an open-mind to nearly everything and anything. So naturally, he believed in the notion of 'love at first sight'. Y'know, the that crazy thing where the dude falls head over frikkin' heels for some random chick he's never even seen before. He goes loony after her, shit hits the fan and the drama starts. But eventually everything always works out and the two live happily ever after. Yeah, he'd seen the movies. That shit was real, man.

But never in his life did Alfred think that 'love at first sight' would happen to him. But it had, 'cause Alfred had fallen hard for him. Yeah, him- as in a dude. Hey, don't judge, love can happen anywhere-anytime. Free love and all that fancy jazz. ...Alright? We good? Okay then, back to the story. So anyways, Alfred F. Jones had fallen hard on his goofy face for him. And who was him, you ask?

Arthur, Arthur Kirkland. That's who.

God, even the mere mention of the man was enough to make the 'All-American' boy's heart swell with love and fuzzy feelings. He had it bad, alright. His thoughts were filled with the Brit. When he closed his eyes, he saw Arthur. In the recesses of his mind, there was Arthur. In his dreams (both wet and dry), Arthur Kirkland would rear his pretty little head. Even when Alfred was in the john, taking a hardcore crap, somewhere in the back of his head he was going I Heart Arthur Kirkland. Yeah, that was some real-ass lovin' right there.

Alfred remembered his first encounter with the sexy tsundere Brit. The memory was as fresh and as raw in his mind as the scars he'd gotten from the actual meeting. Oh? Didn't he mention that? Yeah, Alfred had gotten scars in his run-in with Mr. Kirkland. They were hardcore scars too. Totally legit. Of course, Alfred hadn't gotten them in a particularly badass fashion. It was more like an accident that Arthur had unintentionally been the cause of. Damn him and the power Arthur's perky butt had on Alfred's eyes. And brain.

It was the afternoon and the day had been as average and eventful as any other day. Alfred was walking down the street on his way home from football practice (of which, on the team- Alfred is the senior QB). He was standing amongst a moderate crowd of people all waiting for the light to turn red so the traffic could stop and they could cross over to the other street. Strangely, the light was taking a long while to change so Alfred did as he normally did, he people-watched. People-watching was a fun pass time that the young man often partook in when the situation became boring and the crazy/weird shit other people were doing became more interesting.

As his bright blue eyes scanned the other side of the street he saw some mildly intriguing things. Like stuffy lawyer-looking guy trying, and failing, to indiscreetly dig up his nose for gold (ew) and a prissy twenty-something-old woman attempt to text on her phone with wet nails. Nothing out of the ordinary, Alfred thought but then he laid his eyes on Arthur...and all brain function ceased to exist. Alfred noticed the British man as he was exiting the nearby Starbucks, one arm carrying two or three books and the other toting a chilled mocha frappuchino. He watched as Arthur skillfully weaved through the thick throngs of people on the busy sidewalk. Alfred didn't know it at the time that Arthur was a foreigner but he looked like he'd been navigating the streets of New York all his life.

Now Alfred isn't particular gay, per se. He'd had a few experiments here and there, most of them directed under the medium of alcohol, but overall he was quite fond of the opposite sex. But heaven be damned if Alfred wouldn't swear off women forever in exchange for two hours of drunken kinky sex with Arthur Kirkland. The man was fine.

That day, Arthur had been wearing an olive green sweater vest with a white shirt underneath, a pair of ironed trousers, and black shoes. Normally the mere mention of a sweater vest would immediately bring the thought of the geeky, sweater vest-enthusiasts of the AV Club back at school to Alfred's mind. But now the sweater vest was immortally enshrined in Alfred's personal Sexy Hall of Sexiness, right next to the playboy bunny outfit and Britannia Angel.

Seeing Arthur for the first time, in his cute little nerd-clothes, it damn near was a religious experience for Alfred. Because with the way those pressed, lint-free black slacks held to Arthur's lower half, accentuating the length of Arthur's legs and the round fuckability of Arthur's ass...God had to have had a personal hand in that. Fer sure. But maybe it was because Alfred just found Arthur so damn appealing in general that he now faithfully believed that sweater vests equal maximum smexy. The Brit could be wearing a plastic bag from Walmart and Alfred would still trade an arm and leg for his sex. His yummy, delicious, crumpet-munchin' sex.

Anyway the sight was quite the sight, Alfred's thinking process and voice of reason were either monumentally stunted or completely shut off, explaining why he did was he did next. As already stated, Arthur in sweater vest made Alfred as hard as a rock and his mind go blank. With mental capability at zero percent and a raging boner at one-hundred and sixty-nine percent, Alfred F. Jones did something so incredibly stupid it'd be enough to warrant having the word 'retard' permanently tattooed in caps across his forehead.

With dumbass levels over nine-thousand and sex the only thing on his mind, Alfred took off running.

Towards Arthur.

Through traffic.

With the light still on green.

In New York City.

Through traffic.

Yeah. And the good Lord must have seen the young man's act of utter idiocy and decided Alfred was too dumb to live 'cause just as Alfred was about to miraculously clear the deadly New Yorkian traffic and commence upon the buttfuckery of Arthur Kirkland, he sent a car down from heaven. The car must have been His because Alfred could have sworn the license plate read 'GODRIDE, B!TCH'. Which was actually impossible since it was over seven characters, but, hey, no one tells Him what to do. And the car hit Alfred, dead-on.

Alfred actually was a lucky man and got to experience the beauty of flight, flying in the air like a birdie for a bit until before gravity kicked in and was like, 'Nuh-uh, bitch. Down you go.' on his stupid ass and sent the American crashing back down to Earth in a bloody mess. But it wasn't so bad, Alfred thought as he was impossibly optimistic about these sort of brickshitting situations, after all he'd gotten the attention of Arthur, the newfound love of his bleepin' life, for a few minutes. (Alfred actually wasn't sure exactly how long he'd kept the Brit's attention as he promptly blacked out shortly after landing)

So all in all, it was a good day. He'd had a great time at practice with the guys, saw Arthur Kirkland (future lover of Alfred F. Jones, mind you) and even caught his eyes as a car propelled him five feet off the ground. Alfred smiled as he lost consciousness and the EMTs arrived to scoop him up. So this was love, eh? He supposed things could have turned out better but Alfred had still had a blast. Love was great.

Even if it made you pull crazy shit.

A/N- ehhh. it's not very long but i didn't feel like going any further and this seemed like an okay place to end the first chapter. after all capitulo uno was only supposed to give you guys a taste of my blunt writing style, alfred's utter infatuation with arthur, and the dire need america-tan is experiencing to shag iggy's bum to the ground. oh and give you all some grins and chuckles. not much happened here today and america seems...kinda bleepin retarded. BUT LOVE DOES THAT TO YOU~~~! XDD

i'll go more into things next chapter and even put some of it in iggy's pov. america will have go through hoops now to win iggy's respect, love, and rights to his ass. bwahaha. oh and there shall be other hetalia characters...like china, russia, france, germany, etc etc. it'll be a blast. promise. :3

oh. and the chapter titles...don't dig for meaning there. they're just titles to songs that i was listening to while writing. you'll see a mash-up of alternative, rock, pop, indie, kpop, jpop, et cetera. it is what it is.

REVIEW PLEASE! TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK! TEN REVIEWS FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER TOO! (b/c i am quite the loony bitch)