A/N-

Heh, to be perfectly honest Arthur and Alfred don't even meet in this- BUT it is the beginning to a USUK story so... can I get a break? XD

Western AU, because I was listening to Cowboy Casanova by Carrie Underwood (not owned by me) and well... c'mon, Cowboy Alfred. /thoughhe'snoteveninityet/shots/

Thank you for your interest- uwu

Rating- T

The sun shown into Arthur's eyes, making him squint. He rubbed at his eyes and adjusted his hat on his head. The glare of the sun was only amplified by the barren ground; dancing around and giving the very air a distorted look. In this sort of land, you could never tell if that was really a person on the horizon, or just another illusion.

Arthur didn't exactly like traveling through the bad country, but it had been the quickest route to his next destination. His palomino mare had dutifully followed his command and trudged out into the rough land. The heat was starting to get to both of them now though, as his horse snorted and Arthur felt the sweat build on his brow. If he hadn't been so set on traveling fast, he would have stopped a long while ago. As it was, he could tell his mare was getting tired, so he pulled back on the reigns and allowed her to slow down.

"Sorry," he mumbled to her as she pawed at the ground. He knew the best way to get out of the sun would be to press on and reach town, but that wasn't happening now. He pulled his hat off his head and used it to fan his face. He ran a single gloved hand through his messy blonde hair, ruffing it a bit further.

After a few minutes, he nudged his mare with his foot, encouraging her to move on. She loyally started forward again, accepting Arthur's command. He placed his hat back on and squinted as he spotted a figure on the skyline. He tilted his head slightly as he considered it.

While Arthur was out in the country for his own reasons, most people in this terrain were not to be messed with. He honestly hadn't expected to run into anyone- the figure was a surprise.

Then again, maybe it wasn't actually there at all.

He shrugged and continued forward, he was on a mission and he wouldn't let some cowboy derail it.

Of course, his opinion immediately changed when he heard a gunshot echo through the air.

He yanked back on his mare's reigns and his eyes widened. He pushed the brim of his hat up and searched wildly. The figure on the skyline had come closer, and morphed into numerous figures. Arthur was internally debating the benefits of turning his horse right around and taking off in the opposite direction when another gunshot rang out, much louder than the last. He recoiled as he heard, rather than saw, the bullet wiz past his left shoulder.

Arthur had dismissed all the warnings he had received about traveling the rougher country, for some reason he had deemed himself capable enough to travel the land.

Now, Arthur had a sinking feeling in his stomach and wondered why the thought had even crossed his mind. The possibility of him being robbed and left dead in a ditch on the side of the road suddenly became not only shockingly real, but also probable. If he tried to run now, he'd only get a bullet in the back. The second shot had come far to close to be an accidental miss; he'd heard about the famous sharp-shooters, and it didn't bode well for him.

So, he was left sitting astride is mare, getaway technically open to him- but frozen in place as the group of people approached him. There was no one physically blocking the way he came, but he still had no escape.

He watched in horror, mind still desperately trying to come up with a plan, as a malicious-looking man atop a black horse came increasingly closer to him.

He tried to jerk his mare back suddenly, panic taking over, but it was too late. The leader of the group was approaching him head-on while his companions began to break off and circle around him. Arthur felt his grip on his reigns tighten distressingly as his heart thudded painfully against the inside of his ribcage.

"Hola," the man said as he approached Arthur. He grinned malevolently, seeing Arthur visibly flinch.

The next few events all passed in what seemed to be a blur to Arthur. First, the man was walking his horse up to him. Arthur had been twisting and turning his head futilely, watching as he was slowly surrounded. When he realized how close the man had come, it was too late, and he felt pain sear out across his shoulder. He yelped and almost fell off his horse, reaching a hand up to clutch at his collar-bone. The man frowned, twirling the revolver that he had just used to crack down on Arthur's shoulder. Suddenly, he stilled in his spinning and leveled the revolver directly on Arthur's chest.

Arthur balked and stared down the other man defiantly. If this was the end of him, he would at least face this man who was his would-be killer.

To his surprise, the man actually laughed at his look- olive-green eyes crinkling. He lowered the gun and placed a hand on his side while he laughed. Arthur's gaze darted around again, taking in the bandits surrounding him.

The man rubbed at his eyes, laughter subsiding before he acted again. He made a quick hand motion and Arthur felt hands clamp down on his shoulders. It was all he could do to not yelp again as the hands pressed down on his now injured shoulder, putting pressure on what he assumed was a broken bone.

He felt himself being yanked off his horse and he fell to the ground, landing painfully. The hard ground greeted him, and his head collided distressingly against it. He winced as a boot collided painfully with his ribs. He was determined to take the treatment silently, and refused to let any sound escape his lips as he was abused. After kick after kick, he eventually felt something hard and cold come down on his skull, sending stars dancing across his vision. He coughed and slumped against the ground- his vision fading.

Arthur heard a few laughs, suddenly growing distant. He wasn't sure if this was a quality of his new lack of grip on reality, or if the bandits were actually getting farther away. He couldn't find the strength to move his head or neck, so he found himself staring at the bright blue sky. The sun shown down painfully into his eyes, seeing as he had lost his hat in the scuffle.

He finally closed his eyes, wondering at his predicament.

He was dead. Whether or not the bandits actually killed him or not, he was dead. This thought brought an amazing amount of dread into Arthur's chest. He really wasn't ready to die yet, but it seemed inevitable. He barely even had the strength left to hate the bandits.

Seeing as they hadn't shot him yet, they were probably leaving him there, lying on the ground battered and bruised. This may have originally seemed like a stroke of luck, but it was debatably even worse. There was no way he could walk to the next town on his own, not in his state- that was even if he could stand. He didn't really feel up to standing, his consciousness was slowly slipping from him anyway.

He bitterly guessed at what would take him out before he lost consciousness. Would the heat get to him first? Or the dehydration? Maybe he just wouldn't wake up.

His mind finally slipped away from him, leaving the man lying curled up on the side of the road.

Arthur sat up straight, jerking awake painfully. He cried out, unsure of were he hurt the most. His collar-bone was the first and most pressing pain, but then his sides and head spoke up, reminding him that his whole body was bruised.

He sat there, taking inventory of his injuries. This was why it took him a moment to realize he wasn't on the road anymore. In fact, he wasn't even outside anymore.

The first thing that filled him was such a large feeling of relief and gratitude that he felt like his heart was about to burst. Someone had picked him up off the side of the road, rescued him, and brought him to a town. He was sitting in a bed even, sheets pooling around him. He finally looked at his injuries instead of just feeling them, and found bandages wrapped around his shoulder and sides. He laughed giddily- unable to contain the pure sense of joy rising up in him.

However, reality came crashing back down as Arthur's cynical side decided to weigh in. He didn't know where he was, who had brought him here, or even how much time had passed. The happiness that had been building up faded as he realized he had nothing, and was in a strange place. All he was wearing was his pants- he couldn't even spot his shirt anywhere.

He tried to stand up, hissing slightly as his side burned. He walked over to the door and cracked it open, peering out into the hallway. Suddenly noise washed over him; he heard a mixture of voices, movement, and even what sounded like a piano. He gulped and opened the door farther, sticking his whole head out into the hallway.

The hallway around him was empty, and seemed to be the second story of a building. He could spot the stairs to the ground floor at the end of the hallway- which was where the sound was emanating from.

Arthur internally debated whether he should venture out or stay in his relatively safe room. If he stayed there, he would at least be safe for the moment, but he would still not know where he was or how he got there.

He took a deep breath, steeling his resolution. His gaze darted around the room one last time- searching for something to throw over his shoulders so he didn't walk out with just bandages wrapped around his chest. His shirt was nowhere to be found, but he did spot a leather jacket thrown across the back of an old chair sitting at a desk in the corner of the room. He walked over and examined it for a second. It certainly wasn't his, but he would be sure to return it once he found out what was going on.

He picked up the jacket and put it on. It was too large for him, but that didn't matter. He would find out where he was... and then what? He realized that he didn't have any money on him to buy anything. His heart jumped when he realized that, if his guess was correct, this was an inn, and he had no way to pay for the room. His stomach was also painfully empty, and he had no way to buy food either.

He groaned, letting his head fall forward against the door. He was still very grateful to have survived that encounter, but he was stumped at what to do with himself then. Maybe he could offer to work off whatever he owed, and work for food. He grit his teeth and pushed open the door- yes, that was what he would do. He only hoped that the owner of this establishment would accept his offer and not just send him off to the local jail or something on the spot.

Arthur stepped out into the hall tentatively, not quite sure what to expect. He found himself clutching at the jacket that was wrapped around him, hands unable to remain idle. When he reached the top of the stairs, he stood there for a moment. The sound from the downstairs was suddenly much more intimidating than before. Arthur shivered as he took the first step down, wincing at the creak it made. It certainly couldn't be heard over the hustle and bustle downstairs, but it seemed astronomically loud to Arthur's ears.

Step by step, he walked down the stairs. When he finally reached the bottom, he peered out around the doorway. He was immediately disorientated by the sheer amount of movement that was happening in the large room. There were many people hanging around, and they all seemed to be doing something or another. He felt a sudden urge to turn and walk purposely back up the stairs to escape the chaos. Arthur may not have been completely anti-social, but too many people acting so rowdy stressed him.

His fantasies of sneaking out the back, debt or no debt, were shattered when his gaze caught with another's. The man smiled and waved over to him, causing Arthur to wince. He pulled the jacket closer around him and stepped cautiously out into the room towards the man.

For the most part, the room remained unchanged. A few people glanced over at him, but most ignored the man. He was thankful for this as he hurried over to the man waiting for him.

"So you finally woke up?" The man said as Arthur drew closer, resting his chin on his hand. He gave Arthur a once-over, looking at him critically. Arthur shifted his weight to his other foot, not liking the look that this man was giving him- however, from the looks of him, he was the owner of the tavern. He stood behind a bar and wore expensive looking clothes. His blonde hair fell to his shoulders in waves, and his blue eyes sparkled as he observed Arthur as though he were under a glass.

"Yes," Arthur responded, "I am very sorry for any trouble I caused- I'm more than willing to work off any debt." The words escaped his mouth in a rush as he tried to even out their standings in the conversation. Arthur didn't like owing people, it was one of the things he desperately tried to avoid at all costs.

A small smile quirked at the edge of the man's mouth as a look of amusement crossed his face. "Really?" He asked, rubbing at the stubble gracing his chin.

Arthur nodded brusquely. The man chuckled slightly and motioned to a bar-stool in front of Arthur. "We can talk about that later then," he said. Arthur scowled at the laughter the man was apparently trying to fight down. "For now, sit down. I'm Francis, nice to actually meet you."

Arthur did sit down, albeit a bit hesitantly. "Arthur Kirkland," he replied back.

Francis nodded, glancing around the room. The room had quieted down a bit, which unsettled Arthur. He could tell that some people were obviously listening in.

"Uhm- Where exactly am I?" He asked at last, unable to bear not knowing any longer.

Francis brought his gaze back to where Arthur was sitting. "You're in the small town of Hetalia in the middle of nowhere," Francis replied, smiling. Arthur felt himself slump a bit, he'd been hoping that he would have at least been near a city of some sort.

"I see," he said, resigned. He knew he'd have to stay here until he worked off his debt anyway, but he still felt a bit hopeless. Not only was he penniless, but he was in the middle of nowhere. Who knows how long he'd be stuck there, especially if he had to work to pay for any meals he had.

Arthur looked back up to see the other man looking pointedly at the jacket that hung off his shoulders. "It was in the room-" Arthur tried to justify. He held his hands up in defense, he didn't want this man to think he stole it- even if he kind of had, from the room anyway.

Francis nodded, still smiling. "So, you want to work off your debt, hmm?" Arthur felt a sudden sense of dread fill him at the mischievous look that was plastered across the man's face.

"Yes?" Arthur replied, suddenly unsure.

"Then you can start tonight," he said, tilting his head and crinkling his eyes as he smiled. "Do you know how to serve drinks?"

Arthur nodded, which was apparently all Francis needed, as he then turned away from Arthur. He walked off, leaving Arthur still confused- and now alone.

He sat there for a few minutes, unsure of what to do with himself. He looked around the room desperately, trying to figure out a course of action. He froze as a different man walked slowly over from a small group. The small man paused a few steps away from Arthur before cautiously sitting on the stool next to him.

"Hello?" Arthur asked guardedly. The man smiled slightly, turning and looking up at Arthur through his black bangs.

"Are you feeling any better? You just came in yesterday after all." The short man examined Arthur.

Arthur's brain worked quickly. Yesterday, that meant he'd only spent a single day and night passed out. Well, he quickly corrected himself, one day and night passed out here. For all he knew he spent the good part of a day baking in the heat before someone picked him up. In fact, that seemed like a likely occurrence since his face did feel uncomfortably warm- burnt- and it would explain why it had taken him so long to wake up. If his body had gone through the abuse of the sun along with the abuse from the bandits, it would make sense that he had been out for so long.

He realized he'd been lost in thought for a while, but the man sitting next to him was still waiting patiently. He nodded quickly. "Yes."

The black-haired man smiled shyly and held out his hand to Arthur. "I'm Kiku Honda, nice to meet you."

"Arthur Kirkland," he replied, shaking the man's hand.

Kiku pulled his hand back and folded them neatly in front of him. He turned his head to examine Arthur, and Arthur became self-conscious again. The jacket he was wearing covered up the bandages on his chest and shoulder, but he was overly aware that he must look like a mess.

Seeming to sense Arthur's discomfort, the man moved his gaze and looked down at his hands. "How is your shoulder? Any sharp pains?"

Arthur's eyes widened at this, turning to give Kiku a look. The man simply smiled. "I bandaged you up," he explained, "local doctor."

"Oh," Arthur said, slightly embarrassed. "No, there's no sharp pain. It's just really sore. I'm just really sore." He laughed it off, abashed at the state he must have been dragged in at.

"It's a good thing you were brought here," the man replied, looking back up at Arthur.

Arthur grinned and wrung his hands. "Well, yes, I'm very grateful. I really can't thank you enough-"

"Don't thank me," Kiku said, shaking his head. "I just checked on your injuries and made sure nothing was seriously wrong. If anyone, you should thank Jones and Bonnefoy."

Arthur paused, "Uh- who are they?"

Kiku gave a slight laugh and pointed over to the blonde man- otherwise already identified as Francis- down at the other end of the bar serving drinks to a small brunette. "Bonnefoy," he said before waving his hand dismissively and continuing with, "Jones isn't here."

Kiku took pity on Arthur at the obvious look of confusion on his face. "Bonnefoy was the one to give you a room here, Jones dragged you in."

"Ah," Arthur responded finally. "I'll have to..." He wasn't quite able to finish his thought. His head felt fuzzy and he leaned down over the counter, pulling his hands to hold his head up. Kiku jumped, leaning towards Arthur.

"Are you okay?" The man asked, but even his words sounded fuzzy to Arthur's ears. He blinked back the static that was beginning to build in the corner of his vision and straightened again. His limps still felt slightly weak, but he brushed it off and shot Kiku a reassuring smile.

"Fine... I'm fine. Really." Kiku didn't fall for it and suddenly pulled Arthur up by the arm. Arthur tried to stammer out an excuse while the surprisingly strong man began to drag him across the room. His struggles earned him nothing but a few looks from the surrounding people. He even caught a few vague whispers from the ones staring pointedly at him.

Kiku continued on, pulling Arthur up the stairs and down the hallway to the room he had previously occupied.

"You need more rest," he ordered more than said, opening the door and steering Arthur inside. Arthur tried to protest once more, but gave up when the smaller man managed to not only force him across the room, but sit him down on the bed. Kiku leaned down and pressed the back of his hand against Arthur's forehead in a distinctly mother-hen sort of way.

"But I have to work," he said weakly, already beginning to give in to the fatigue in his bones. His sides were still terribly sore, and his collar-bone was protesting any sort of physical movement.

The man sighed, examining Arthur. "You're really in no condition to go anywhere. Where exactly do you intend to work? You have no horse to get to wherever you may have been going."

Arthur shook his head. "No," he muttered, now giving in as Kiku pressed down on his good shoulder, forcing him to lay down. His head was suddenly a lot fuzzier than it had been a few seconds ago. "I mean for Bonnefoy. I have to pay off the room."

Kiku straightened now that Arthur was laying down. He gave Arthur a confused look. "Why would you-?" He began, but gave up, shrugging. "None of my business. The only thing I need to be worried about is that you don't relapse somehow. You were in a bad shape when you came in, I don't want you to collapse now."

Arthur nodded. Kiku took this as a sign that Arthur was giving up, so he turned and began walking out of the room. "Don't get up until you feel better." The door clicked shut, leaving Arthur alone with his thoughts.

He really was still grateful. Who knows what would have happened to him if no one had passed by him in the back country. Well, actually it was quite clear what would have happened- but Arthur didn't really wish to dwell on it. However, he felt pretty hopeless now. Getting information hadn't really helped, he was still out in the middle of nowhere with not a penny to his name. He probably wasn't anywhere near his original destination.

And while he appreciated the kindness of strangers more than he ever really had before, it left him in a bind. He had to work to pay off Bonnefoy, but he had to stay at Bonnefoy's, racking up a larger debt while he did so. And no matter what Kiku had said, Arthur felt indebted to him as well- the man had obviously given up some of his supplies to take care of Arthur, not to mention the fact that be most likely hadn't been payed for his services. And for that matter, Arthur hadn't even met this 'Jones' character that had apparently hauled him to this small town, but either way the man had apparently scooped him off the side of the road. Who knew how much trouble he caused that man on his journey, and he seemingly wasn't around for Arthur to even thank.

Arthur groaned, turning over and pulling the sheets up around him. Damn his stupid sense of honor. Even if for some reason these people pitied him enough to let him off the hook easily, he wouldn't be able to stand living with the idea that he was indebted to them. He tried to be a gentleman all the time- and while this situation was less of him being a gentleman and more him being stubborn- he couldn't just let it drop.

He sighed, finally settling into a position that didn't make his shoulder or sides sore. The bed may not have been the softest one he had ever slept in, but it certainly felt like heaven to his bruised body. He realized suddenly that he was still wearing the mysterious jacket that had been hanging over the desk chair. He cracked open an eyelid and eyed the chair from across the room. He had a heated internal debate over whether he should return the jacket to its original home or not. On one hand, the jacket wasn't his, and he had no right to be wearing it in the first place. It would really only be common courtesy to return it. The other, much more compelling, side of the argument was simply that the bed was really comfortable, and getting increasingly so every moment.

He shut his eyes again, giving up. Instead of getting up and making the short walk across the room, he decided that it was far too much effort. In fact, he found himself pulling the large jacket tighter around his bruised frame, finding the soft leather oddly comforting.

That was how he finally fell asleep, lost in thought, face buried in both the fresh sheets and the worn jacket.

Thank you for reading- X3

And yes, the jacket is Alfred's, because that's adorable.

(And gosh I beat up on Arthur far too much. Sorry darling. x.x )

What do you think? Feedback is appreciated. (A.K.A. I geek out when I get reviews.)