Author notes: This came to me about two weeks ago. Watching Bridget Jones's Diary whilst currently drowned in Hetalia fandom, well, it didn't take much to conjure up this silly little idea in the middle of the night. Although this was inspired by the first movie, it won't be a carbon copy of it. The timeline may coincide with the succession of events in the movie (I have used it as a guiding star of sorts), but I have done a little tweaking here and there to make it a slightly more original piece. Hopefully.

Now. Before anyone starts throwing things, this is a Human!AU fic. I stress that. So the nations will all be referred by the human names and they are no way related to the Hetalia-verse. So yes you can pretty much expect odd social relationships and a tad bit of OOC-ness (though I do try to my best ability to keep as close to their characters as possible). There are quite a number of side pairings in this story aside from the USUK star couple who will pop up here and there, and I will try my best to slip in the appearances of many characters as possible for good fun.

A huge thank you to my partner-in-crime Dee for staying by my side, for keeping up with my silly babbles and helping me out with establishing ideas and stringing up the loose ends together – you are a star, duck. I cannot stress that enough. If anything, I would send you to the moon as a present. A feat which could be achieved one day. Maybe.

That aside, I do hope you enjoy reading this, my first contribution to the Hetalia fandom. :)

Disclaimer: I do not own Axis Powers Hetalia nor do I possess the brilliance behind Bridget Jones's Diary.

T h e B r I t L u c k

a USUK story

By su I k a's w I n d o f t h e c e l e s t I a l

Another year has passed. Or rather it was drawing to a close all too quickly for a certain thirty-one year old Arthur Kirkland's liking. Essentially jaded and (what seemed to be) unfairly destined to be single since the beginning of time, he was not looking forward to attending this Christmas reunion party at all. Why, it had been less than a decade since he had last seen any of his university friends and it was likely that most of them had probably settled down with plans to bring up a nice family, reaching the prime of their lives or something along those lines.

Arthur frowned at how his chest ached at the thought and the drop of dread seemed to swell in the pit of his stomach with each passing moment. He could already imagine the looks on their faces when they all hear that 'wild boy' Arthur Kirkland had unwittingly deviated from his former ambitious self and was now playing out the lifestyle of the so-called minimalist – no goals, just living for the sake of existing. That and he was alone too. It was depressing to think back and realise how pathetically short-lived most, if not all, his past relationships were – the last one ending a few days ago with a life-span of a meagre two months. Arthur shook his head at the memories of Lauren. Tall and blonde, she was a stunning girl, fantastic in bed but was all too domineering and unrefined. She wouldn't make a good wife. No, Arthur refused to acknowledge the fact that she was the one who broke it off between them because of a silly little reason like how he was an overbearing 'emotional fuckwit'. Well, screw that slapper,he thought bitterly, squashing down the heartache disturbingly easily. He was used to being alone after all.

Pulling his coat a little tighter around himself, he grudgingly trudged through the snow and cursed foully at the few times he almost slipped down the poorly-gritted pavement. Holding his ground, he stole a quick glance at the card he held between his gloved fingers. Feliciano's house was just around the corner now. He bit his lip. Perhaps he should turn back? It wasn't too late to catch a bus home now was it? Besides, no one would actually realise he wasn't around now, would they?

His feet carried on walking.

"Oh fuck it," he mumbled the moment he had finally clambered up the doorstep of the address he held in his hand and rung the doorbell. His stomach felt like it was being tied up in knots in those gruelling minutes of waiting as he shoved the invitation into the warmth of his coat pocket. He could hear muffled chatter and laughter from within as well the soft music which breathed merriment into the occasion. Ah, it was far too happy in there. Arthur ground his heel into the doormat, staring at the cursive Italian greeting on it. His fingers shifted around the invitation and settled on the carton of cigarettes. "Actually, I think I should ju-"

The door flung open and Arthur flinched a little when he was suddenly bathed in light.

"Sorry about that! I wa…Arthur? Is that really you? Oh my god. Oh wow, it's been ages!" came a vaguely familiar voice. It was soft and sounded genuinely pleased – a thing he rarely received nowadays.

Arthur glanced up and he found himself looking into a face he had definitely seen before but couldn't really place from where. He blinked, his brows furrowing together in thought as he took in the protruding curl which hung before those gentle eyes. Where was it? Work? No that was far too recent. At a shop? In a queue to the cash machine? His neighbour? Heavens, no. A friend of a friend, perhaps?

If Arthur had been staring at him with an odd look on his face, the man seemed to have overlooked it because he suddenly reached into Arthur's personal bubble and gently grasped him by the elbow, steering him into the house. "Come on in. Feli's a little busy in the kitchen with Ludwig. I'm really sorry to make you wait out a little - you know how ridiculously crazy everyone was back in – no, actually everyone still is. Can you believe that? It feels just like the good old days," the man laughed as Arthur stripped his coat off and hung it on the rack, still trying to figure out who this person was.

Sadly, he hadn't been able to come to a conclusion before he was quickly ushered into the living room by the overly friendly man. Arthur sputtered at this though it was only returned with an amused yet equally rueful smile. "Go on!" the man encouraged before giving a final push to Arthur's back. What greeted him then was a sight which made Arthur catch his breath, a wave of nostalgia crashing onto his unprepared self and for once, he was glad that his legs were surprisingly steady in spite of him being notoriously clumsy when he least expect to be. He found himself surrounded by a sea of familiar faces and whilst it ignited some warmth in his chest, Arthur stood rooted to the spot feeling exceptionally lost. He was starting to regret his decision of not forcing Kiku to come along to this party with him. That said, where was that no good brother of-

He felt the unnamed man leave his side. Arthur panicked a little and before he could call him back, an arm was suddenly flung around his shoulders. The sharp smell of beer stung his nostrils.

"O-Oi!" Arthur squawked, alarmed with the audacity of this new person. "Gerro-!"

"Hej! I swore I'd seen ya somewhere! Well fuck, who woulda thought I'd see yer face again! Ya don' look any older!" An obnoxiously loud voice sang. Arthur looked up and was met with the grinning face of a familiar Danish man.

A name popped in his head. "M-Mikkel? As in the King Mikkel? Self-proclaimed viking of our time Mikkel?" Arthur couldn't believe his eyes. Apart from the faint lines of crow's feet which were starting to appear at the corner of his eyes, Mikkel looked exactly the same as he always had years ago.

"Damn right, it is. Fuck, I haven't heard that name in a while, y'know!" Mikkel threw his head back and let out a hearty laugh, making the flush on his cheeks grow deeper in colour as he drew Arthur closer to his broad form in order to ruffle his hair in a rather affectionate manner. A thing he used to always do back during the days when they were block mates. Arthur felt the corners of his lips tug up into a small smile. It felt nice. The familiar clamour, the headiness of beer on Mikkel's breath, the comfortable warmth which enveloped the room. Arthur's fingers twitched and he raised his hand to touch his old friend's back. Yes, it really was nice-

Mikkel's grin widened into a lewd one, his brows wriggling suggestively. "So? How many right now?"

Fuck.

Arthur's mouth twitched, knowing very well what Mikkel meant yet he opted to tackle the problem in a roundabout way. "What…whatever do you mean?" he asked slowly, mustering a small lilt of confusion in his voice to make him sound authentic. It didn't hurt to play dumb for a bit. Perhaps, Mikkel would just –

Breaking into another fit of laughter, Mikkel slapped his back hard and spilt some of the beer he held in his hand to the carpet. "Walking pussies ya greedy bastard! Still raking 'm all in eh?" he roared, unperturbed by the vulgarity of his language much to the dismay of a man nearby who glared towards their direction. Ah...Vash was it? It was no wonder he was glaring though, his sister Elise (or was it Eva?) seemed to be nearby.

With Mikkel directing his full attention onto him, Arthur tried his best to not falter under his gaze. However, as always, whenever he was confronted with this question (or anything which was related to his relationships in general) he found himself flushing in embarrassment, shoulders stiffened. "Ah, no. None of that. Not anymore," he mumbled shamefacedly.

"Sikke noget pis!"Mikkel exclaimed, slapping Arthur's back once more with such force that it almost made him topple if it weren't for the Dane grabbing his shoulder to shake him. "What, y'snagged yerself an actual missus? That's great! So when's the we-?" He blinked when he saw Arthur shaking his head and he tilted his head a little to the side in puzzlement. "Hva'?"

Arthur cleared his throat in discomfort, averting his eyes for a moment before he steadied his gaze on his old friend's face. "No. No, that is, I'm actually, well, single at the moment. No girl. No wedding." There. He said it. Laid it out raw and bare for all to hear and feast on. He tried to ignore the number of looks he was receiving from those nearby and focused on Mikkel's expression, expecting the shift from the look of surprise to one of remorse. Or smugness. Yes, he has received those looks before – from the loved-up married co-workers at the workplace, from his prying neighbours, from his own fucking brothers. Yet the response he received from Mikkel was different and a definite first.

He laughed at his face. No, scratch that. Mikkel guffawed. Arthur had to take a small step back to avoid getting any beer spilled on his shirt. "Fuck yer funny! And y'know what, guess who 'm shacking up with? Remember Norge? Lukas? 'Course ya do. Ja, him. Me and 'im are gonna get married on a Lego boat!" he proudly proclaimed, puffing out his chest a little. Arthur couldn't help but raise his brows in disbelief. Did he…did he just overlook what I said? "-'nd then we're gonna fuck each other's brains out jus' like they do on the discovery chan-"

At one moment he was standing beside him when the next, Arthur found himself blinking down at the sight of Mikkel keeling over and coughing. Glancing up, Arthur then realised that Lukas was now in their company, his face still as stone as he nodded in polite acknowledgement. Arthur nodded in return and he tried his best to ignore the fact that the man was holding a butter knife.

"Lu...Lukas, babe," Mikkel wheezed as he straightened his back, chuckling and grinning at Norwegian man. "You remember Arthur? Vildbasse Arthur? I was jus' tellin' him about us gettin' married like Sverige and Tin-urk!"

After stabbing the butt of his knife into Mikkel's gut, Lukas calmly turned to Arthur. "Don't listen to this babbling idiot," he deadpanned before swatting Mikkel's hand away as the Dane tried to climb back up to his feet.

"R-Right," Arthur shook off the initial shock which came over him and upon remembering the dysfunctional relationship between these two men, he sought a quick exit. The last thing he wanted to do was find himself caught in the middle of a crossfire. "Well I was just about to greet the lovely hosts of the party so if you'll excuse me," he said, gesticulating towards an open door not too far from them, assuming that it was the kitchen. Again, Lukas simply nodded and Mikkel raised his arm, waving it from his position on the ground.

"Lukas and me'll be sendin' out them invites real soon so ya bett'r keep yer sche-arg! Ow-owow-! B-Babe- y-yer steppin'-!"

"Zip it, runknisse."

Arthur quickly left the scene.

For what seemed to the umpteenth time that night, Arthur forced yet another smile over the rim of his ninth glass of champagne before taking a long drag of his cigarette. Whilst he was glad that Feliciano and Ludwig did not mind their guests smoking indoors, he was starting to feel increasingly annoyed with the ever prominent fact that he was only surrounded by couples. Why, it seemed that almost every single person in the room were either together with one another or was already comfortably settled in a stable relationship with some good soul out there. Standing near the buffet table were Berwald and Tino, who wore matching Christmas jumpers (much to Arthur's amusement and horror) and they had their elbows close to each other as they lovingly mounted food on top each other's plates. Not too far from them, seated comfortably on a leather sofa were Juan and the man who had greeted Arthur at the door earlier on (Arthur still couldn't place a name – was it John?), happily chatting about (most presumably) their own spouses to Vash and his sister. Standing by the drinks table were Emil (Lukas's younger brother) and an unfamiliar man who wore pair of sunglasses and a bow tie as he puffed heavily on his cigar. The man seemed to be griping about something out loud and gruffly, his hand flailing about animatedly whilst Emil looked rather disinterested, his thumbs tapping across the screen of his smartphone. What a strange pair.

Arthur absentmindedly nodded at Roderich's words as he passionately explained the intricacy of some piano design to Ludwig who twirled his own cigarette between his fingers. Beside them, Elizabeta and Feliciano were engrossed in some talk about the latest fashion trends for weddings dresses. Arthur glanced down at his half-empty glass in slight disappointment and he was in the middle of contemplating on whether he should really go and fetch another glass when Feliciano suddenly spoke up. "Oh! Feliks designs weddings, doesn't he? He makes really pretty dresses and flowers and decorations and – ve, you've had his work featured in your magazine, haven't you Arthur? They were magical weren't they?" the Italian chirped in excitement with a clap of his hands. "Don't you agree that Elizabeta would look really beautiful in one of his designs?"

"Well, yes Feliks's work is fantastic and all but I'm not in charge of publishing the actual…I mean, I'm only part of the editing team so-"

"Oh, stop it you! There's no way I would! In fact, I think he would be the one who will look stunning in his own creations!" Elizabeta giggled, her cheeks flushing prettily as she hid her smile behind her fingers. Under the light of the room, her wedding ring glimmered tauntingly and Arthur had to force his eyes away to hide his envy. It was no surprise she and Roderich were already happily married. The two had been an item for as long as he could remember. "Oh! Speaking of which," Elizabeta's green eyes turned to him. "Where is he? And Kiku? They couldn't make it?"

Arthur shook his head as he took another long drag of his smoke, relishing in the unhealthy wash of tobacco through his lungs. "Feliks is still on a business trip in Europe and Kiku…well, it's not exactly easy being a teacher now is it?"

The two nodded in agreement. "Ve, it really is a shame that Kiku couldn't come. Ludwig and I were really looking forward to seeing him again. It's been so long ever since he trained to become a qualified professor. I really miss him," Feliciano sighed, looking rather crestfallen and this earned him a small pat on the arm by Elizabeta. Noticing this, Ludwig looked up from his conversation with Roderich and for what seemed to be the first time that night, albeit briefly, his expression had softened a little.

Arthur hummed at this, flashing a rueful smile as he tapped off the ashes of his cigarette on a nearby ashtray. "Well, I'm sure he'll be able to pop by once his workload has lessened. He's brilliant in that way, ever so disciplined…by the way, where is Gillbert?"

"Gill?" Feliciano looked puzzled for a moment and he cast a glance to Ludwig who simply shook his head with an exasperated sigh, making the Italian laugh sheepishly. Elizabeta and Roderich sighed in unison and upon realising this, they caught each other's glances and smiled sweetly.

Arthur ignored the small twinge in his chest and snorted softly. "No surprise there," he remarked before he stubbed his cigarette in the ashtray and rose from his seat. "Drinks anyone?" He received a few nods before he proceeded to make his way towards the glasses of champagne, steering clear of Mikkel and Lukas who both seemed to have calmed down from their earlier antics and were currently tucked in the corner of the room, looking rather intimate. He had managed to swim through a group of mingling guests in order to reach the table (he had never seen them before – perhaps they were Feliciano's relatives?) and just as he was in the process of setting a few glasses on a tray to carry back, an elbow nudged the small of his back. Startled, Arthur yelped and lurched forward, the glasses toppling over and causing the pale yellow liquid to spill across the pristine white tablecloth.

Shit. He mentally berated himself in a moment of panic, his hands furiously dabbing at the wet spot with some napkins he had reached over and snatched from near the fruit bowl. "There. That should-" It was only after he heard a few thuds on the floor did it come to his realisation that in his haste to clean the stain, Arthur had actually knocked the fruit bowl over as well. And now all the fruits were rolling across the floor, attracting the attention of many as an orange was stepped on, drawing a scream from the unsuspecting woman who tried to shake it off her heel. From the corner of his eye, he saw Emil raise his phone to take a picture. Bollocks.

"Oh shit, sorry man. You okay?"

He whipped his head around, his eyes bulging in disbelief at the airy voice which spoke to him. With his shoulders stiff and an expletive set and ready to fire from his mouth, there was no way this unfortunate sod was going to escape his wrath after embarrassing him like this (even though it wasn't that much, those nine glasses of champagne had started to cloud Arthur's judgement slightly). But wait. Arthur blinked and his eyes immediately settled on the hand-stitched embellishment of an alien on a navy knitted jumper. He stared at it closely, squinting to take in the egg-shaped head and the large bug-like eyes. Yes it really was an alien. And was that the word 'fucking limey' in a caption next to it…?

A hand waved before his face. "Hay. You in there?"

Arthur lifted his eyes to meet a pair of bright blue ones. Really bright blue. There was a small, odd twinge in his chest and for a moment, the room seemed to tilt a little. Or was it melting? Did he even drink that much? Arthur couldn't really tell because all he could do at that moment then was to simply stare into those blue eyes (blue and gold reflecting and glimmering off glass? Glasses?), entranced.

"Arthur, are you alright? I heard something happened and oh, don't worry about the mess there. The waitress will get to it and- ah, I see you've met my brother," A familiar soft voice cut through his thoughts and Arthur tore his gaze from the blueness to fix it on the gentle face of the familiar stranger who had greeted him at the door an hour or so ago.

"What?" Arthur said unintelligently.

The man laughed, jutting his thumb to his left. "My little brother, Alfred. He's just arrived from New York a few days ago and he'll be working in London as an attorney. Or a barrister is what you'd call it here."

"Solicitor, Matt. We're called solicitors here."

Arthur cringed a little at how this Alfred's voice rang so clearly his ears. It sounded far too optimistic, far too confident, far too young. How envious. Arthur glanced up, his eyes catching the broadness of Alfred's shoulders (which caused his jumper to stretch across his chest – poor bloke) before he reached his face. Oh, would look at that? The blueness was really staring at him through a pair of glasses. Just like the man standing beside him…

Ah.

Realisation dawned on Arthur's face. "Fuck a duck, you're Matthew, aren't you?" he exclaimed.

Matthew blinked, an unreadable look crossing his face before he reached up and rubbed the back of his neck, laughing sheepishly. "Yeah, it's me. You got me." It sounded a little forced.

When his brain had finally caught up with what he had done, Matthew had excused himself to answer a call on his phone. Arthur watched him leave the room in remorse. He must apologise to him later because right now Alfred was staring at him rather intently. Too intently, like he was trying to drill a hole in his face. Shit. He and Matthew were brothers now, weren't they? He must be upset – what was he saying, of course Alfred was upset. Who wouldn't be with an inconsiderate prick who had blatantly expressed how he had forgotten his former friend and said person's sibling? Arthur, you are the biggest twat in the fucking universe. Better mend things with him, first.

Arthur cleared his throat, racking his brain frantically for something intelligent as he shuffled his feet across the carpet, making way for a waitress to pass by. He gave her a stiff nod of thanks for cleaning up the mess before he finally shifted his attention to Alfred.

"Hey, look, I'm sorry about-I mean, I've decided to draw up some resolutions for the upcoming year and cutting down alcohol units was one of them, alongside getting a proper girl and all. As well as quit smoking though I don't think that has worked out much seeing how I've only managed to increase the numbers of cartons over the years…I am boring you with my life story now, aren't I? Ah, right, so uh, about your brother, I mean if you look on the bright side I suppose he's sort of used to it in some way. He always had back during the days since he's not the sort of person who'd leave an impression on you, if you understand what I mean, so…" he trailed off the moment he realised how increasingly uncomfortable Alfred's open staring was becoming. Huh, it must be an American thing to stare down at another person when he's pissed off. Arthur mustered up a little courage to meet those blue eyes with a rather unsuccessful attempt at a smile, laughing weakly. "Sorry, I'm gabbling. You know, it's a thing that a lot of people tend to do when they're under the influence of alcohol or when they feel a little, if not, really out of place but you see, what I really meant to say wa-"

Alfred was not staring at his eyes.

Arthur stopped talking, finding this all too unsettling and he followed the direction of where Alfred had been centring his attention on for the past few minutes since they were in each other's company. Above? His hair? No, a little lower. His forehead? What, was there something on…?

"Are you staring at my eyebrows?" The disbelief rang clear in his voice and this alone had made Alfred blink out of his reverie.

"Oh they're real?"

Arthur was speechless, aghast by the tactless remark. And as if that wasn't enough, Alfred had the sheer audacity to lean into his personal bubble in order to inspect his brows. "O-Oi!" Arthur took a step back to re-establish the comfortable space between them, his hand rising up to flatten his bangs out of consciousness. "What…what are you doing?"

A bright smile bloomed on Alfred's face at this, accentuating the youthfulness of his boyish face before he laughed. It was a pleasant rumble, much different than Gillbert's gravelly cackle or Mikkel's guffaws, yet to Arthur it sounded two times more unpleasant. "Dude, you kidding me? I thought you guys were playing a game already, y'know, like you lost to something and then you got caterpillars slapped on your face! Oh man, I can't believe people like you actually exist! You're hilarious!" he had managed to say in one breath before he burst into peals of laughter.

Now Arthur was well aware of his faults (socially and physically) and if anything, it would be accurate to say that his eyebrows were one of the crucial factors which contributed to his sense of his insecurity. As such, to have some yank make some flippant remarks about them within the first fifteen minutes of their acquaintanceship…well, it was pretty straightforward to state that Arthur's first impression of Alfred was that he was nothing but a spectacularly rude person. Perhaps the biggest asshole he had ever met in his life. In fact-

"You're a downright prat, you know that." The words came out before he even thought of them.

Alfred stopped laughing and he looked at him, blinking in surprise. "Huh?"

"Not to mention exceptionally impolite too. And you know what? Your jumper. I couldn't help but notice that it's rather cute, isn't it? Aliens and all. What was it, did you get it when you were twelve? I'm astonished to see just how well it fits you," sniffed Arthur as he made his way around the buffet table, giving the man a once over before his eyes fell on a rather pronounced cowlick in Alfred's hair which stuck out like sore thumb. It reminded him a little of Feliciano and his curl. He resisted the urge to tug it and settled with scooping some pasta on a plate he had absentmindedly picked up along the way.

The American frowned but followed suit, mirroring Arthur's actions from the other side of the buffet. Only that he was scooping up twice the amount of food. "Hey, that's rude, man. I got this sweater from Matt when I just landed here."

"Oh is it?" Arthur reached for the stuffed peppers. "And I suppose you weren't rude."

"Wha…? I didn't…oh that. Aw, come on man, look. I think there's a little bit of a misunderstanding here. I didn't insult you, Adam."

"Arthur," he corrected him with a sharp tut. "Arthur Kirkland. Pleasantries aside, what you said just now was nothing but a shitload of bollocks, Archie."

"It's Alfred. Alfred F. Jones and bollwhat?"

"Of your balls that's wha-"

"CONGRATULATIONS!"

There was an eruption of cheers and thunderous applause from the other side of the room, centred where he had been previously seated at with Feliciano and the others. Startled by the noise, Arthur released the serving spoon in his hand and it clattered loudly into the chafing dish, making him cringe. "Sh-Shit! Oh for fuck's sake, get a hold of yourself!" he hissed, mentally berating himself for his jitteriness as he quickly set the spoon back to its original place before he cast a glare to Alfred. "Wh-what is it?"

Alfred looked at him for a moment with a slight quirk of his brow before he glanced over to where a small crowd was growing, a smile growing on his face. "One of your friends, Liz I think. She's three months pregnant. Man, I'm jealous. Me and my girl, we haven't even reached that stage yet." Alfred sheepishly laughed as he picked up his fork and began to pick at the mountain of pasta on his plate. "How about you? Planning to get hitched anytime soon?"

Arthur stared at him coldly, his lips pursed into a taut line as his fingers tightened around the rim of his plate.

Alfred munched on his pasta slowly, running what seemed to be a calculative glance over him, before he finally swallowed with a knowing smile on lips. "Whoa, a confirmed bachelor? Seriously? Well, who would've thought? Damn Austin, you really are-"

"It's Arthur. Now fuck off." And with that, Arthur calmly set his plate down on the buffet table with a strained smile before he quietly slipped out the room.

A quick note: Couples! For those who are a little confused, the couples who have appeared here are SuFin, GerIta, AusHun, DenNor. Juan is Cuba and Elise is Lichtenstein. In this story, yes I have made Matthew as the older brother so Alfred is four years younger (27) than Arthur (31). Oh yes, for those who could guess or actually know who Emil's (Iceland) companion was, you are a star! A hint for those who don't: he is Iceland's closest pal.

Translations (though I apologise if the use of these words are incorrect):

Hej (Danish) – Hey or 'Sup

Sikke noget pis (Danish) – "What a load of bullshit"

Vildbasse (Danish) – "wild boy"

Runknisse (Norwegian) – "wanking gnome"

Welp, so that's the first chapter. Do drop in a review, it'd be most appreciate and well loved! Until the next chapter then. :)