At Lake Winnipesaukee (Or, Family Reunion) - by BandGeek99

Because the Hetalia family's messed up. And New England deserves more love than it gets. (So underappreciated...!)

I saw a Hetalia fanflash… I really, really, really wanna include the phrase, "Kiss my star-spangled ass!" in this story. I think Massachusetts is going to get a little testy with Maine. :3

Yes, Will DOES speak with a Boston accent. I just exaggerate it here, its not really that bad in reality. (Well, to me its not.)

Reviews appreciated!


If there was one thing that Arthur Kirkland did not want to do, it was spend a month at a lake house on the infamous Lake Winnipesaukee. Well, that in itself wasn't so bad; Winnipesaukee, after all, was a beautiful place. It was the fact that he had to spend it with a certain nation with a big mouth and a seemingly small brain: Alfred F. Jones. Alfred had insisted that a "family reunion" should be held and so demanded Arthur to fly over from London and have his brother Matthew drive down from Montreal for his "awesome plan of epicness".

Yet, here he was, sitting in Logan Airport in Boston, Massachusetts, waiting for his ride. A frown crossed his features and he tapped his knee with his fingertips impatiently, eyes darting from one side of the large terminal to the other.

"Kirkland? Arthah Kirkland? Dude?"

Arthur's attention was drawn to the large double doors at the far end of the hall, where a blond teenager with brown eyes was looking around wildly, hands cupped around his mouth as he shouted the Nation's name.

The Brit stood up to his full 5' 10'' height and, hefting his suitcase, strode towards the boy. He had no idea who he was, but since he was shouting his name, Arthur could only assume he had something to do with Alfred. "Yes, I'm Arthur Kirkland," he said briskly, cocking a single thick eyebrow in skepticism.

The boy was nothing impressive, not to Arthur at least. He was wearing a baseball cap backwards on his head, letting tufts of golden hair poke out, and was chewing gum somewhat obnoxiously, like most teenagers. He was dressed in ripped skinny jeans and a Dropkick Murphys tee-shirt (whatever Dropkick Murphys was). How someone like this boy knew his name, Arthur would never know.

"Yo," the kid said, raising one hand, then dropping it again. "D—Alfred Jones sent me to pick you up. The cah's waiting outside."

Arthur could hardly understand a word this boy was saying. "And you are?"

"Will Bradfehd. Real nice to meetcha, now let's go, kay?" He stuck his thumb impatiently behind him towards the door. "Mary's not gonna be happy if she has to sit out theeh fer anothah half ow-ah."

Arthur was thoroughly baffled, not only by the boy's speech pattern and awful, atrocious accent, but by what in Lucifer's name he was saying. Who the bloody hell was Mary?

The blond boy seemed to have noticed the question written all over the Nation's face. "Mary's my sistah. She's gonna drive us to the lake house, since I've got no friggin' clue where we're goin'."

Arthur nodded dumbly, following Will out the large, glass doors and out into the parking lot. They trekked to a gold Montero, which sputtered as it sat idle. Will hopped into the backseat, leaving shotgun wide open for Arthur, who chucked his suitcase in the trunk and climbed in.

The car in question was driven by a girl about Will's age, with long brown curls and the same bright blue eyes that Arthur had come to associate with Alfred. "Hi," she said, grinning. "I'm Mary Fulton, Will's half-sister. Nice to meetcha."

The Brit was slightly startled by this girl's demeanor in contrast to her brother's. "C-charmed. Arthur Kirkland."

She grinned and put the car in gear, heading towards the exit. "Hey, Will, how to I get to the highway from here?"

Will let out rapid-fire directions that neither Arthur nor Mary could keep track of, ending his one-breath sentence with, "and make sure you take the bypass."

"…whuuuh?" Mary asked.

"Don't you evah listen to me?" Will exclaimed. "Dude!"

"Dude, nothing! I hate driving in Boston and you damn well know it! I'm lucky I can find your god damn apartment without getting hopelessly lost!"

"Don't talk like that to your older brother!"

"Older by like zero much!"

"Don't make me go bullshit on you, Mary!"

"Shut your trap and give me directions."

"That was total oxymoron, moron!"

"Just tell me where to drive, jackass!"

"Who're you calling a jackass? I'm the most pissah brothah you'll evah get! Be nice!"

"No way in Hell!"

"Would you just give her the damned directions?" England growled fiercely, death glaring into the backseat. A deathglare from anyone such as England would be disconcerting enough, but add to it the eyebrows… Needless to say, Will shut up and did as he was told.

Mary maneuvered the car through the city and a wrong-turn-filled forty-five minutes later, the little gold SUV was finally out of the city and headed north.

Mary tried half-heartedly to make conversation with Arthur, but gave up twenty minutes out of the city. She fumbled with one hand and found an mp3 player that had been hooked up to the car's stereo. She scrolled through it, glancing at it, then back at the road several times before she found what she was looking for.

Arthur recognized the Clash blaring from the (crappy) speakers and allowed himself a small smile. At least the girl had taste. He found himself nodding along and tapping his fingers on his knee, one arm out the open window while he murmured along. "London's burning with boredom now, London's burning, dial 99999…"

Will raised an eyebrow. "What the hell? You know this song?"

"Course I do," Arthur replied, seeming a bit miffed. He may have been a gentleman, but that didn't mean he'd forgotten his punk days.

"Thank you for not being totally musically stupid," Mary said sing-songily. "Unlike my ungrateful brother here who wouldn't know good music if it bit him in the nose."

"Hey!"

"It's true! Now what exit am I looking for?"

Arthur was permitted over the next hour or so to pick and choose songs on Mary's mp3 player, and did so with great pleasure, noting all of the familiar bands. After forty minutes of picking and choosing and a half hour of the Arctic Monkeys, Mary got off the highway in a small town in southern New Hampshire.

"We're supposed to head up to the lake house, genius," Will yelped. "What are we doing here?"

"I need to pick up my duffle and stuff, smart one."

Arthur remained silent, thinking it best for himself, and glanced out the window. A granite marker, almost like a tombstone, read "WELCOME TO MILFORD".

"This is where I live," Mary explained. "We used to be the biggest granite producer in the state, back in the day. Seven quarries. Now we only use one of them, but we're the biggest town till you get to Manchester and Nashua. And our high school won the state basketball championship last year."

Will rolled his eyes and sighed. "Always feel the need to point that out, don't you?"

"It's true! We totally beat out those stupid cats!"

"Aren't they, like, sabers or something?"

"Does it look like I care?"

Mary pulled into the driveway of a Victorian close to what Arthur assumed was the center of town. "It's a very nice place," he remarked, looking out the window at the town center. It was quaint with a large, brick town hall and a gazebo in the middle of the rotary. It was nothing compared to his lovely London, but still. It was cute. Sort of.

The teenager in the driver's seat grinned. "Hah, thanks. I'll be back in a minute, alright? You want anything for the ride? Soda? Coffee?"

Arthur wrinkled his nose at the mere thought of that poor excuse for a drink. "A bottle of water would be just fine, thank you."

The girl looked surprised, but quickly grinned and covered it up. "Sure! Just one sec, sir." With that, she jumped out of the car and slammed the door behind her, dashing into the house.

Will stuck his head out the window and bellowed, "Bring me a cuppa coffee!"

"Whatever!"

The boy pulled himself back into the car and sat silently, one of his feet on the back of the driver's seat headrest, the other on the seat. His head rested against the passenger side door. "So. Kirkland. Where ya from?"

"London."

"Nice. Heard you're a politician?"

England was thoughtful for a second. "…yes, I suppose."

"What do you do?"

Why was this boy drilling him on his work life? "I'm a representative."

"Seem awfully young."

Young? Nobody had ever called Arthur young. "I'm twenty-seven." Plus another thousand years or so…

"For a politician, you're really not that old, dude."

"Do you call everyone dude?" England wondered aloud, turning in his seat with mild difficult to face the boy.

"Yep, pretty much."

Mary suddenly wrenched open the front door. "Alright, let's go." She shoved a water bottle at Arthur and handed a cup of coffee to her brother in the back seat and climbed in, turning the key in the ignition. "Let's drive, gentlemen." With that, they were back on the road, this time down a country highway.

"Where the hell are we now?" Will whined after a good hour and a half of nothing but country backroads.

"An hour from where we wanna be," Mary said. "You still got the directions?"

"Yeah. I think we gotta take the Kangamangus…"

"Kangamangus." She frowned. "You said it wrong."

"How did I say it?"

"Kaaannnguh-maaannnngus. It's pronounced kahngamahngus."

Will rolled his eyes. "You and your weird-ass pronunciations."

"Shut up, William, or I'll chuck you out the window and not look back in the slightest."

The boy scoffed. "As if you could! You're puny!"

"Not any punier than you!"

"At least I got muscles! You'd be surprised at how much crap I've endured!"

"I know all the crap you've endured! Frankly, I don't care! I'm still stronger than you are on a good day!"

"You're a pain in the ass, is what you are!"

"Will, I swear to God, out the window you will go!" Mary growled, more agitated. Arthur feared for his life as he noticed the speedometer slowly go up and her knuckles tighten around the wheel.

The banter eventually died off with a snap and a hiss from England and the rest of the ride was spent with Mary taking control over her mp3 player again and insisting on playing some Chopin pieces that put Will to sleep and made Arthur inevitably think of Roderich's obsession with the Polish composer.

Finally, finally, Mary turned onto a dirt road off of the main drag and slowly began driving through deep forest. The road was narrow and seemed to twist and turn, going on forever and ever until it opened up and revealed a large farmhouse in a massive clearing with a small field, large garden, and glittering Lake Winnipesaukee behind it.

Arthur smiled, reveling in the charm of New England summertime, until he remembered why he was there.

Sure enough, there was one Alfred F. Jones standing on the front porch with a beer in one hand and a grin on his face.

Mary cut the engine and flew out of the car, screaming, "Eeee! I'm heeeere!"

Arthur slowly climbed out of the SUV, not bothering to rouse the still-sleeping Will in the backseat. He watched in puzzlement as Alfred placed his beer on the porch floor and extended his arms, grinning like an idiot, and embraced the teenage girl tightly as she practically threw herself on top of him.

"Hey, baby girl," Alfred said, gently kissing the top of the girl's head before letting her beam up at him and putting his hands on her shoulders.

Arthur made a noise that sounded like a dying animal. "Alfred!" he shrieked. "That's positively pedophilic!"

The two looked over at the older nation in surprise.

"How is it pedophilic?" Mary asked, furrowing her brow.

"You're-you're a bloody schoolgirl! And he's-he's-he's…!" Arthur wasn't even articulate anymore.

"She's my daughter, Arthur," Alfred laughed, giving the girl's shoulder's a little shake as he held her at his side.

"D-daughter?"


Fin chapter 1!

Ehh, I know this isn't realistic, but I liked the idea of Alfred having his own (ginormous) family. I think its cute.

No UsUk, aside from parental/brotherly affection. Sorry, folks.

Characters are named after real historical figures. Massachusetts is named after the captain of the Mayflower, William Bradford, and New Hampshire has the name of the infamous "Ocean Born Mary", the leading lady of a NH pirate legend that does have true roots. (Seriously, Google it, I think it's pretty neat.)