Warning/Rated M for: Eating disorders, depression, and language

Pairings: None (Supposed to be none, but you may have a different interpretation. So, whatever floats your boat.)

Beta: Rainpath-1252 (Give her a big round of applause!)

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia-Axis Powers

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Warning #1

England

As fryers in the back of the small, over-packed restaurant popped and sizzled, they released the smell of hot grease that tainted the air, barely managing to mask the stale stench of bleach drifting from the restrooms. Small, grubby, gum infested tables were overflowing with fatty food and crammed with noisy families and couples. Fussing children and irritated adults waited anxiously in line, filling the path constructed by cheap plastic stands and black ropes

Sticking out like a sore thumb, was a paranoid British man dressed formally in black dress pants, a crisp white shirt, and an immaculate pinstriped waistcoat. Fitting in with the crowd perfectly, was a beaming American dressed casually in blue jeans, a wrinkled pale blue t-shirt with an image of Captain America's shield in the center, and a worn brown leather jacket.

Tightly gripping the American's shoulder, the Englishman pulled him close and whispered harshly in his ear, "Alfred, why the bloody hell do we have to eat here?"

The American, Alfred, laughed heartily and shrugged off his friend's grip, not caring about the other's secretive manner. "Come on, Iggy! Everybody loves Mccy D's!"

"I told you not to call me that. It's Arthur; not Iggy, not Eyebrows, not bro. It's Arthur," The Englishman, Arthur, growled, ducking his head slightly and leaned forward, still keeping his voice low. "And everybody does not love 'Mccy D's.' We as nations should have a little more self-respect to eat a decent meal-"

"Haha! Dude, what's up with all the super-secret stuff?"

"If any one of your Americans hears or is even suspicious of me questioning or insulting this manky restaurant, they'll eat me alive." After this statement, Arthur glanced at the customers in line in front of him and behind him as if they would suddenly lunge for him.

"Seriously? All this super-secret whispering you're doing is attracting more attention than you ranting about the food. Calm your tits."

At this, Arthur immediately stood up straight and adjusted his waistcoat as he cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably at the curious stares he attracted from the other patrons.

"Next," The brightly dressed clerk barked. The tone of his voice made it obvious that he would rather be anywhere else in the world right now than at his work.

Alfred dragged Arthur forward, in front of the bulky cash register. "Sup, dude! How's -"

"What would you like to order?"

"-it going?"

The young cashier gave a blank stare before flashing a sarcastic grin. "Peachy. Now, what would-"

"Aw, don't make that face. Everything's going to suck if you look like that!"

The clerk turned red at Alfred's potential insult and cheery attitude. "Do you want some food or not?"

"Totally, I'll have a Number Two!"

"Small, medium, or large?"

"Large!"

Reaching under the counter and slamming a large plastic cup that advertised a football game onto the marble print counter, the clerk drummed his fingers along the cash register impatiently. "That'll be $3.56."

Alfred stuck his tongue out of the side of his mouth in concentration as he dug deep in his jean's pockets for cash. Letting out a gasp of victory, he pulled out a crumpled five dollar bill and handed it to the cashier with a beaming smile. "Keep the change."

"Lucky me," the cashier replied sarcastically as he put the money in the register with a loud clink as coins rattled against each other. "Name?"

"The hero!" Alfred answered proudly as he grabbed his cup.

Arthur scoffed and shoved Alfred away from the counter, sending him reeling toward the soda fountain. Rolling his eyes, Arthur turned toward the cashier. "His name's Alfred, and please excuse his idiotic tendencies."

"I'm not allowed to directly insult customers." The cashier replied blandly. "What would you like to order?"

"Er, I'll take the same as him, I suppose. Oh, but half that size."

"Small?"

"Huh?"

"You mean small?"

"Oh, yes."

"That'll be $2.31."

Arthur smoothly pulled out a wallet from his back pocket and retrieved a crisp five dollar bill. "Keep the extra money." He said as he handed the money to the clerk, offering a quiet thank you as he was given a small plastic cup in return.

"Today's just my lucky day, isn't it. Name?"

"Arthur."

The clerk flashed a deadly glare at Alfred and Arthur as they turned their backs to him and approached the soda fountain. "Dumb-asses," He muttered before looking at the line of customers, "Next!"

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Arthur grimaced as Alfred pulled him closer to the soda fountain. Colorful buttons lined the front, just above leaking nozzles, and the entire machine hummed dangerously with energy.

"Alfred," Arthur began as he shifted from foot to foot skeptically, glancing at the American who was already loading up on ice and Mountain Dew. "There's no bloody way I'm going near that thing."

"Aw, come on man," Alfred pleaded as he popped a plastic lid over his drink and reached for a paper covered straw. "Don't be like that. Just get something already, you're holding up the line."

Arthur glanced back and saw that there was in fact a line of four people waiting anxiously behind him. "It's shaking dangerously and all there that's offered are those sugary, caffeinated drinks."

"What do you expect? It's called a soda fountain for a reason. God," Alfred snatched his companion's cup from him and handed his own to Arthur. He quickly filled the cup and began to drag the Englishman away, apologizing over his shoulder to the patrons behind them. "Sorry, you guys! He's just a stuck up foreigner."

"Who are you calling stuck up, you babbling twit?! You're the one that refuses to eat my country's food."

"Haha! That's because I don't want to be sent into a coma like Feli."

"Have you seen the lad? With how feeble and frail he is, he most likely got sick from being around your country's pollution for so long," Arthur retorted, glaring at the nation.

Finally making it to a red and yellow table and sitting across from each other on plastic covered benches, the two slammed their drinks down, almost spilling them.

"Hey, my pollution isn't that bad-" Alfred argued but Arthur cut him off mid-sentence.

"Oh please, I could smell bread exhaust from the Subway across the street."

"Whatever, man." Alfred scowled a look that he could only have mastered by being raised by the Englishman. "Here, I got you that tea you're so obsessed with." He traded cups with Arthur and began to twirl its red straw around his finger.

Arthur stubbornly crossed his arms and glared at his drink and then Alfred. "This is not tea and I'm not obsessed, cheeky bastard."

"Dude, chillax; it's ice tea." Alfred stopped fiddling with the straw, anxious from the rising tension.

"I am not drinking that."

"Geez, don't be an asshat. I was being considerate; I mean I could have gotten you Dr. Pepper or something like that."

"I don't care. The fact that it's not hot makes me cringe and the thought of it being instant only makes me feel worse."

"Fuck-"

"Alfred! Arthur!" A robotic voice announced from the front counter, halting the argument.

Distracted by the prospect of food, Alfred forgot about the squabble and let out a hoot of joy. "Sweet! Come on, Iggy! Let's get some grub!"

Before he could react, Alfred wrapped a strong grip around Arthur's wrist and pulled him from his seat. "Let go of me, you muppet. You're going to dislocate my shoulder." Arthur commanded as he was dragged through the crowd of people, to the front counter.

"Here ya go!" Alfred shoved a red plastic tray overflowing with french fries and a single plainly wrapped hamburger in the center into Arthur's arms just as he was able to recover his balance from the abrupt halt.

"Bloody git," Arthur whispered harshly as he stormed back through the sea of patrons, leaving Alfred to follow along cheerfully.

"Gah!"

Alfred's foot slid beneath his body as he nicked the edge of another customer's foot. Toppling forward, he landed on the tile floor with a heavy thud. With a loud clatter, his plastic tray hit the floor and flung his greasy food across the restaurant; french fries scattered across the ground and under tables a few feet away. His hamburger's wax paper covering was halfway opened to reveal a limp burger now covered in dust bunnies and a few strands of hair.

As Alfred rubbed the side of his pounding head with a groan, he could feel every person in the restaurant immediately freeze and stare at him. Blinking away stars from his eyes, he looked up and saw a spotless pair of black and white oxfords.

"Barmpot..." Arthur sighed as he offered a hand.

Alfred grunt as he allowed Arthur to pull him up. Standing up, he took off his glasses and used the hem of his shirt to wipe away ketchup that managed to splatter the lenses.

"Shit... My Mccy D's..." Alfred mourned, looking like a puppy who had just been kicked.

"Well, this wouldn't have happened if you got your head out of the clouds for once and paid attention."

"Sorry, I was too busy thinking about what you would look like with normal eyebrows."

Arthur shoved his friend playfully. "Say that again and I'll push you back down."

"Wow," a sarcastic voice interrupted. "You guys are just making my day perfect." The nations turned to see their cheerful friend, the clerk, trudging toward them with a broom and dust pan in hand.

"Oh," Alfred rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Sorry about that, bro. Ya need any help?"

"Thanks, but no thanks, Captain America. I think I can handle it myself."

Arthur pulled Alfred away before he could rant on about how he truly was the hero and it was his job to help every citizen.

"Well, go on." Arthur said with a wave of his hand as he slid into booth. "Get some more food." Arthur glanced cautiously at his burger and fries. "If you could consider it that."

Alfred slid into his seat across from his ex-caretaker. "Nah, I'm good."

Arthur looked up from his process of unwrapping his hamburger and raised a bushy eyebrow. "Lad, if you don't eat now I doubt you'll survive 'til the end of the meeting."

Alfred crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. "Dude, contrary to what apparently everybody else thinks, I don't eat twenty-four seven."

"Touchy today, aren't we..." Arthur teased as he inspected a french fry before tentatively biting off a small piece. Wiping the grease and salt from his hands, he reached for his back pocket. "Here, I'll give you some money, but you have to pay me back or I swear I won't ever give you another episode of Sherlock."

Alfred shook his head, absentmindedly playing with his drink. "No thanks, man. I already owe Yao enough money; I don't need to be even more in debt."

Arthur stared at the other nation for a long moment before return his wallet to his pocket. "Fine, but don't come begging to me when you're hungry."

"As if, I'd rather visit that commie's place than eat your food. Just hurry up and stop looking at the hamburger like it's from way outer space and eat already."

"Your brains in way outer space," Arthur snapped before staring at his limp burger and taking a hesitant bite. Pleasantly surprised that he hadn't spontaneously dropped dead, he took another bite.

The rest of the meal passed in silence as Arthur slowly at his french fries and hamburger, but didn't touch his drink, and Alfred fiddled with his straw and played Angry Birds on his IPhone.

Tossing his half eaten burger down onto the last few fries, Arthur sighed and wiped his hands on a flimsy napkin. "Shall we go?"

Throwing his head back with a groan, Alfred pocketed his phone and piled Arthur's and his drink onto the other nation's tray. "Finally, god, took you long enough. Let's blow this joint."

Arthur rolled his eyes and followed Alfred as he dumped the trash into the garbage and stacked the tray on top of the bin.

"See ya later, Clerk Guy!" Alfred waved before leaving the restaurant.

"Blimey," Arthur growled as they stepped outside, using a hand to shield his eyes as he looked up at the rain pouring down. "I could've sworn there wasn't a cloud in sight just a minute ago. You're not upset about that stupid hamburger are you?"

Alfred merely shrugged began to walk away. Glancing back, a mischievous glint suddenly appeared in his sky blue eyes. "Hey, Iggy, last one to the meeting's a rotten egg!"

"You git!" Arthur shrieked as Alfred took off into the busy city street before sprinting after him. "If I'm going to follow your childish antics at least be fair about it!"

"Ha! Catch me if you can, lobster!"

"Yankee!"

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First thing's first, I am in no way supporting any eating disorder of any kind.

Also, I would like to point out that Arthur isn't usually this snappy and intent to spout out insults (He is a gentleman after all). I just think that he truly loathes McDonalds, thus putting him in an exceptionally bad mood.

I would be most grateful if you could leave a nice little review on your thoughts about this chapter.