AN: As usual, I couldn't resist myself after reading about a hilarious incident. A very short one-shot, but fun nonetheless (I hope).

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia (and y'all should be sad about that). The cover art was made by a friend after reading the story~

Based on a true story.


The training had been carried out to perfection. The recently promoted captain Arthur Kirkland had led the disembarking on the beach with precision and accuracy, as should be expected from the British Royal Navy. Satisfied with his work, he turned to the men to say a few words:

"Alright, gentlemen. This has been—"

"Bravo!" a voice interrupted him. "Bravo!"

"What the—?" Arthur looked around until he spotted the origin of the voice: a young man, clad in a plain white t-shirt and knee-length black trousers (a fisherman, he deduced), who walked towards them with a big grin on his face, clapping his hands in an applause meant for them. "What is it?" he asked, annoyed by the rude interruption.

"That was beautiful!" the man praised, a Spanish accent heavy on his words. "Quite impressive, yes." He finally reached them and stopped in front of Arthur. "If I may ask…" he tilted his head to the side, like a confused puppy. "Was that a surprise rendition of D-Day or are we being invaded?"

Arthur's jaw dropped. "Invaded?" he repeated in disbelief. "What do you mean, invaded? This is a training exercise!"

"Training, really? In a foreign country?"

"Oi!" Arthur protested, indignant by such impertinence, crossing his arms before the chest in an attempt at showing authority. "I know you Spaniards have a hard time getting over it, but Gibraltar is British territory. British!"

The fisherman's eyebrows shot up, his eyes lighting up in understanding and his mouth forming a perfect 'O', like he had suddenly had an epiphany about the meaning of life. "Gibraltar, yes, of course," he said then. An amused, mischievous smile appeared on his lips when he added: "Do you mean that big-ass rock over there?"

Arthur's gaze followed the direction the Spaniard pointed to and landed on a dark shadow on the horizon.

He blinked.

Realization hit him.

"Oh, bollocks," he said.

"Bollocks, indeed," the Spaniard snickered by his side. "I'm afraid you have accidentally invaded Spain."

"Fuck," Arthur gasped, covering his mouth with a hand in both shock and horror. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck."

"Whoa, okay, relax," the fisherman said, patting his shoulder in support. "You're not going to cause an international incident. Though… you might want to go back to Gibraltar ASAP." He pulled a small notebook and a pen form his pocket and started to scribble something as he spoke: "The waters here can be tricky, but the tides should be on your favour on the way back. Keep an eye on the shoreline and you'll be fine." He tore the sheet from the notebook, folded it and slid it on Arthur's front pocket. "I'm Antonio, by the way."

"Arthur Kirkland. What's in here?"

"My phone number," he answered, as if it were the most normal and obvious thing in the world. "I can't resist a man in uniform." He smiled, amused, when Arthur blushed red, and couldn't resist a cheeky wink and a lame pick-up line before going back to work: "You may not have conquered Spain, but you have conquered me."

AN: isn't Spain and England's shared history simply wonderful? XD Thanks for reading! Review? n_n