A/N: Expect a lot of fluff. Mainly Arthur's fur ^^ Anyways, this is my third Hetalia fic. And, being a big lover of USUK I had to make something focusing around that pairing. And thus, this idea was born! ^^ So then, leave a review if you would be so kind, and tell me how I did. Thank you for reading ^^

Warnings: I don't own, yaoi, swearing, and France.

This was not how England wanted to spend his weekend. Why didn't the spell work? He had looked over his pentacle multiple times, looked over the charm several, and finally crushed the right herbs into atoms. Then the entire thing blew up in his face. Well, not quite literally…

Arthur Kirkland, the personification of England, and the representative of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, had turned himself into a dog. And not just any dog, but a border collie. Which wouldn't be so bad, except if Scotland ever learned England would not hear the end of it. At least England hoped no one would ever hear about it in the first place, but he was starting to change his mind.

Blast it all, I'm hungry! But I can't even open any cupboards, England thought to himself, walking into his kitchen to try again. His cupboards, a fine dark wood, now had long scratches from his claws when he tried to open them. Even a few biscuits or scones would be nice, the nation-turned-dog thought. I'd eat anything at this point! Well, anything except for those dratted hamburgers, he thought.

It wasn't like he just lay around the house, either. Since he was unable to get outside, he was forced to piss in the guest bathroom. The guest bathtub, to be more accurate, but still… Luckily the smell was kept to that one room. It wasn't going to be pleasant to clean up, though… If England ever got turned back into a human, that was.

His phone started to ring, but since it was out of his reach he was forced to listen to yet another voicemail come in. Not like he could have replied, since he was unable to speak or say anything.

"Hey, Iggy! Where are you? You said you'd come over to check over the latest trade deal before the meeting, but you never showed! Are you all right? I'm coming over," America said, his voice turning from cheery to worry in the span of five seconds. England looked over at the phone and then the door, sighed, and walked over to his favorite chair to sit. If America was going to break into his house, he might as well get comfortable and enjoy the peace while it lasted.

True to his words, America was knocking on England's door barely ten minutes later. How exactly he had managed to get across London so quickly was a mystery the island nation had long since given up solving. The knocking woke up the sleeping dog, and the shouting helped bring him into awareness.

"Hey, Iggy! Yah in there? It's me, Alfred, your hero," America shouted, pausing to try to hear movement inside the house. Nothing, of course, since Arthur wasn't able to open the door. He jumped off his chair and pawed at the door anyway. "What the hell…? Arthur? I'ma break your door down if you don't open it now!" Alfred's voice was panicked, and his destruction of the English language tore at Arthur's ears. It's about bloody time, he thought. At that point he would listen to America's Southern drawl just for some food. Southern drawl.

The door suddenly was hit with the entire weight of the North American nation, and England realized it would be best to move out of the way before he was crushed. Moving aside, the door blew open right as he moved into the clear. America swore as he fell onto the floor, blow only cushioned by the door he had charged into. He sprang to his feet quickly, as energetic as always. Arthur took the chance to let out a whine, causing his fellow nation to whirl around like a gunshot just went off. Alfred let out a nervous laugh when he saw Arthur.

"Oh, hello boy. I didn't know Artie got a dog. Must be why he hasn't replied, right?" He asked, rubbing the back of Arthur's ear gently. Usually England would have been annoyed, but just seeing the nation made him feel better, oddly enough. And while he mostly wanted Alfred to figure out that the dog in front of him was England, he also wanted to eat something. "That's strange though… Usually Iggy runs out and yells at me when I break his door down. Huh, what's this?" Yes, finally, Arthur thought.

When he had realized he was transforming into a dog, Arthur had grabbed a piece of paper and a pen, quickly writing down that he had been turned into a dog and that the nation reading the letter (most likely France or America) should bring him to Norway as soon as possible. Norway was also a practitioner of magic, though nowhere near the level of England. Still, it was the best he could hope for…

"Huh. Ok, it's a letter. But damn, I can't read any of it. And Arthur thinks I have messy handwriting… Ok, I can read 'Norway' and 'hurry', but that's it… And…" The letter floated to the floor slowly as America realized who wrote it. "Arthur's in danger!" He cried out, spinning around and nearly hitting England in the face. He growled softly and poked Alfred with his nose in the back of the knee. "Oh, you, Iggy's dog. I guess you must be hungry." America let out a weak laugh as he patted Arthur on the head, causing the island nation to pull away. "Oh, um, I guess you probably don't trust me. I mean, I did just knock down your master's door. Here, let's get yah something to eat," he said, rubbing the back of his head nervously.

With that, the younger nation walked off into the kitchen. England sighed as well as a dog could, a little annoyed that his note hadn't worked. Well sorry he couldn't write very well when his hands were turning into paws! At least his handwriting was usually readable; unlike a certain North American nation…

Said nation made far too much noise as he opened up all the cupboards, making loud remarks about 'Iggy's food being even worse then usual'. Arthur winced and padded into the kitchen. Hopefully he'd be able to keep the damage to a minimum.

"Yes, I already told you, England's gone missing and we have to find him!" A pause, and then, "no, of course I didn't- what the hell? Francis, that's disgusting! I'll be sure to tell Mattie to kick your ass next time he sees you. I'm not one of you weird European perverts; I don't kidnap people and put them in my basement." If possible, Arthur would have been red with embarrassment, being all too able to hear both sides of the conversation. As it was, he had to deal with looking out the window and moping. At least I'm not hungry, he thought. Though being fed the meat of a hamburger patty wasn't exactly his idea of good food.

"Mon cher America, I meant no offense. After all, if you felt that way for mon cher England, then you would have had sex by now, oui?" France was even more annoying to England then usual. Even Alfred, who was so used to the special relationship jokes that he had started making them, tightened his grip on the wheel and nearly turned into the wrong lane. Well, that was normal, actually, in London.

"France. This is not funny. England is missing! We need to get him back!" America practically shouted into his phone, ignoring the sounds of horns honking at his terrible driving. Arthur was wondering if he was going to throw up for the second time that day (the first was the smell of the hamburgers stinking up the rental car).

"Why don't you call Mattieu? It is possible Arthur simply wanted to spend some time away from work, non?" Francis suggested. Arthur was surprised to see a hurt look in Alfred's face, like the idea that England would rather spend time with Canada was physically painful.

"No! He wouldn't do that! I, um, mean… He left his dog at home. Iggy wouldn't do that!" It was gone within moments, replaced by a stubborn anger that Arthur hadn't seen in a long time. It brought back painful memories, and he went back to looking out the window, realizing he hadn't purposefully turned to look at America. He just had. What France said next England didn't hear, but America sighed. "Ok, whatever. I'm going to be in my hotel in London if you hear any news, but please, don't go telling everyone. I know you do care about what happens to him, even if you just want to get into his pants." Alfred hung up and gave the dog next to him a wide smile.

He reached over and rubbed Arthur's head and scratched the back of his ears. Without meaning to, England wagged his tail for a few moments before stopping and wishing he could scowl. Alfred laughed and turned back to the road.

"A friend of mine is missing. Your master, actually. I'm sure he's safe, though… Until then, what are we going to call you? I guess Iggy probably has some really weird name for you… So how about Lancelot? I mean that was one of Arthur's knights, right?" America asked.

Arthur let out a hacking noise, somewhere in between choking and dry heaving. If he was going to be called Lancelot until transformed back, he was going to kill America. This was absolutely ridiculous! Why didn't France find him? Then again, even America was better than that perverted bastard.

"Oh, ok, not your name. Is it something to do with King Arthur?" Alfred asked, smiling falling a little. Arthur looked at him and nodded. America blinked before nodding, in thought. "Ok… Merlin?" More coughing. "Huh. I don't know of any others except Arthur…" England nodded quickly and Alfred laughed. "Don't tell me Artie named you after him! And he says I have a big head… Ok then! You're Arthur too, huh? I'll call yah Artie! I'm Alfred, or the United States of America!"

Something told England that this was going to be painful until the spell wore off. Because surely the spell would wear off. After all, it wasn't permanent…

The first thing that Alfred did upon getting back to his hotel was get into an argument about allowing pets into his room. As annoying as it was, Arthur was glad that Alfred was so stubborn, or else he might not have gotten Arthur the dog (as he was being called, much to his annoyance) in at all. Looking around, it was just like America to leave his dirty clothes everywhere. A wrinkled suit hung messily over a chair, and his nice pair of shoes were half-covered by an empty bag of crisps.

"I guess you aren't used to a mess, eh Artie?" Alfred said with a laugh, kicking off his sneakers and sitting down on his bed. He patted the cover in front of him and England hesitated. He wasn't a dog, damn it! He was a nation! He also was relying on a stupid American until further notice, but that didn't really matter. He sighed as much as a dog could before jumping onto the bed, sitting down and resting his head on his paws so his green eyes could stare moodily at America. "So then… I've had a dog before, but it's been a while. I don't suppose London has a Petsmart… Well then, we'll just have to head back to the States! You'll love it there; it's not nearly as wet, and there's a lot more places to go for walks and stuff," he said cheerfully, patting the top of England's head. England resisted the urge to groan. How was he supposed to transform back if he wasn't even in England?

Giving Arthur a worried look, Alfred yawned and stood up, stretching his arms before starting to pull his shirt off. Oh shit, Arthur thought. At least it isn't France, he tried to convince himself, but it didn't really work. The last time he had seen America shirtless was back in World War Two, and that was only because the idiot had gotten himself shot in the shoulder. For a bisexual nation like Arthur (well, actually, most of the male nations were bisexual, if not plain homosexual), seeing a well-built and mildly tanned Alfred was more then enough to turn your face red.

Arthur moaned and buried his head in the sheets, rubbing his face into them for a few moments. Then he pulled he head out in disgust. Even the blood git's sheets smelled like hamburgers and grease! Alfred looked back at Arthur and laughed, pulling out an old McDonald's bag from under the covers.

"Whoops, knew I forgot something," he said, crumpling it into a ball and shooting it at the trashcan. It went in from a mix of the American's skill with sports and his seeming inability to throw things away normally. "I guess I don't have a dog bed for you… So you can sleep with me!" Yes, England decided, it's good France didn't find me. But this was hardly any better… Why couldn't it have been Japan? Or even that nation above America… Whatever his name was.

Alfred yawned again, probably still recovering from jetlag, and fell onto the bed, nearly crushing England's snout. He yelped and jumped off the bed, glaring daggers at the nation in front of him. For his part, America gave Arthur a sheepish look, running a hand through his hair.

"Oh, sorry about that, Artie. Here, it's ok. I don't bite." The concern in his voice was so real, England almost listened to him. Instead he snorted (well, coughed) and went off to the farthest corner of the room. Pushing another empty bag of crisps aside, England circled three times (he was acting more like a dog every day, damn it. Next he'd be sniffing fire hydrants and digging up gardens) before sitting down to sleep, keeping a wary eye on Alfred. "Ha… You're just like Iggy, y'know. He always gets mad when I ask to sleep with him, too. Ah… Well, tomorrow we'll catch a flight back to the good ol' US of A, and then I won't have jetlag anymore. G'night, Artie." Arthur sighed and closed his eyes. Not like the bloody nation would try anything…

The next morning, England and America were on a private flight out to New York City, where the North American nation would work on finding England. Arthur could have strangled Alfred for his stupidity, except he didn't have hands. Or thumbs, for that matter. As it was, at least Arthur wasn't forced into a dog cage. Partly because he would have murdered anyone who tried to put him in one, but mostly because Alfred didn't like cages either.

"So, yah want to eat some dog food or what?" America asked, sitting down and patting the seat next to him. He was sitting on a long couch that wrapped around a circular table, there so the passengers of the plane could eat more comfortably. Arthur glowered at Alfred, who laughed. "Ok, not dog food. What does Iggy feed yah, anyway? Hopefully none of his scones, those could kill Russia!" He joked. Arthur sighed, but he was far too used to the jokes about his cooking. Honestly, it wasn't his fault if they came out a little burnt… Or blackened.

"Sir, here's your food," a man suddenly said, giving America his plate full of hamburgers and chips. The flight attendant looked at the dog next to him and raised an eyebrow. "Would you like me to get something for your dog?" He asked. England sighed, though he supposed he'd have to get used to being called a dog. He'd be sure to yell at America when he got transformed back.

"Eh? Oh, get him some hamburger meat! He likes that, don'tcha, Artie?" Alfred said, taking a huge bite out of his food and scratching the back of Arthur's ears. It felt good, and that was the only reason England didn't pull away. Of course, the terrible smell of fast food (technically airplane food, which was hardly any better) didn't help. The idea of eating hamburger sounded disgusting, but it was that or dog food, and Arthur did not want to learn what that tasted like.

"Ok, sir," the man said, walking away without blinking an eye. He probably has seen stranger, Arthur thought. A minute later, a plate of warmed hamburger meat was placed on the table in front of him. Mentally promising himself to never eat another hamburger once he was turned into a human again, Arthur started to eat.

"You're more fun then Iggy," America said between inhaling his food and breathing. "He never eats hamburgers! He only likes his weird scones and whatever the heck-English food is. I mean, how do English people survive? I probably would have died if I ate anymore of his food as a kid," he exclaimed. England didn't say anything (obviously), but made a mental promise to get Alfred to eat his food when he was transformed back. He'd show that bloody bastard…

"Hey, Mattie. You got my call then? I know, right? So Iggy is definitely not with yah? Oh, damn. I was kind of hoping he was just hiding from me, or something. Yes, I e-mailed Kiku. He says he hasn't heard from Arthur in ages. Ok, a few days, same difference. Yeah, I'm on my way back to the States with Iggy's dog. You didn't know he had one? I know I didn't, either!" Arthur was woken from a nice nap (on a very comfortable airplane seat) by the sound of a certain American chattering away on his phone. He was obviously talking to his brother (Canada, that was his name!) about the 'missing' England.

Deciding that he couldn't do anything until he was able to communicate (in some way, shape, or form) with Alfred, Arthur continued to sit in silence, listening to the conversation between the two. It was interesting, since he was only able to hear Alfred's part.

"What do you mean, he's more of a cat person? England's more of a 'no pets, no problems' person. Yes, yes, I know it's strange of him to have a dog. But maybe he was just lonely! N-No! I did not kidnap Arthur! Have you been talking to France again? That pervert… I'm going to punch him, next time I see him. Oh, is he in the room with you? What the hell are you doing with my brother, you perverted nation!" Arthur whimpered, Alfred's shouting hurting his sensitive ears. And he thought it was bad when he was a human… "Oh, hold on." A pause. "Artie, you ok boy?"

No, I'm not all right. I accidently turned myself into a dog because my spell backfired, haven't eaten anything except for hamburger meat for days, and I have an itch behind my left ear that I cannot scratch. I'm on an airplane to New York without any way of turning myself back to normal, and I have a mountain of paperwork that needs to be done, Arthur thought moodily to himself.

"Hey, there. I thought I heard yah whimper. You need some water or something?" Just thinking about water reminded England of one more thing; he really needed to use the bathroom. "Yeah, I thought Artie needed something. Anyway, I gotta go, we're landing in ten. Punch France of me, ok? Love yah too, bro. No, I don't love you Francis." With a sigh, Alfred hung up his phone and sat next to Arthur, running a hand through Arthur's soft fur. "I hope Iggy is ok… It's not like him to suddenly disappear, y'know?" Alfred said, sighing.

It's not like I wanted this to happen, Arthur thought. He was drifting back to sleep when a heavy weight suddenly appear on him, causing him to try to jolt upright. He found himself unable to, mainly because America had just fallen asleep and was now using him as a pillow. Swearing that he'd turn Alfred into one of those bloody eagles he loved so much (after he, finally, turned France into a frog), Arthur sighed. It wasn't that uncomfortable, actually. Just strange, really, to be used as a pillow.

After a quick drive to America's New York penthouse, a quick bathroom break (and plenty of moaning from said nation as he picked up dog poop), and seven hours later, and both Alfred and Arthur were wide awake. Well, Arthur was wide-awake. Alfred looked like a typical college mess before their morning coffee. After drinking a cup of that vile drink, Alfred finally seemed to remember he now had a dog.

"Hey, Artie. I guess you want something for breakfast… Ugh. What do you feed dogs besides meat? I'll have to grab some dog food later today. No, don't give me that look, it's good for you!" Alfred said, scowling mildly at Arthur glare. Dog food… It didn't look very edible. Then again, I'm now a dog, so I might as well try, Arthur thought. And it was probably less likely to give him a heart attack. "Lucky you, I don't have any paperwork, so we can go on a walk and figure out what we're going to get you. Does that sound good?" Not as good as being human again, but it would have to do.

Standing up, Alfred rummaged through his shelves until he pulled out a bowl (which only took him four tries, three swears, and caused him to find two things he had been looking for). He filled it with water quickly, and put it on the floor. Arthur realized how thirsty he was, having only had a quick drink on the plane. He lapped it up greedily, spilling water on the kitchen tile.

"Whoa, calm down, the water ain't going anywhere." Arthur would have winced at the poor grammar, but he was too busy drinking water. When he was done (water all over the tile), Arthur looked over at Alfred and woofed. "Huh? What now… Oh, don't tell me you have to go to the bathroom…" America moaned, rubbing his eyes and walking over to the door of his penthouse. Luckily there was a strip of grass right outside the front door, and Arthur bolted to it as soon as the door opened.

He finished quickly; a little embarrassed before he remembered that he was a dog. Still, he thought, it was better then going outside. He relieved himself quickly, walking back to Alfred and not looking up. Sure, the other nation thought he was a dog, but if he learned otherwise… Oh God, this is already embarrassing, and I haven't even turned back into a human, England thought.

"So, we need to get yah a leash first, 'cause you aren't supposed to be walking around without one," America said as the two walking down some street in New York. It wasn't very busy, but England attributed the early morning start to the lack of people. "And then a proper dog bowl and some dog food. Huh. When I think about it, maybe we should get two bowls. I mean, one for water and one for food…" Arthur found it somewhat entertaining that Alfred said 'we', while he was the one buying everything.

Being a dog, he had expected New York to smell terribly and for him to be stepping in trash every few feet. Sure, Arthur had been to the city before, but it had been some time. And he never had come to the Big Apple as a dog before.

It was certainly refreshing, he thought, looking around and sniffing the air. He could tell that there had been a peanut cart across the street, but it had left an hour or so ago. His nose told him where to step and where the trash and grime got too much for the neat and tidy nation to stand. Yes, being a dog is refreshing, he thought. But I still would rather be human.

"Do you want a dark green collar or a blue one? Or maybe I'll get one with red, white, and blue! I mean, 'cause I'm a hero!" America said, actually jumping up and punching the air when he said how he was the hero. Well, some things haven't changed, Arthur thought to himself. If he had been human, he would have sighed and muttered something about Alfred being immature. As it was, it was nice to have something normal in Arthur's very unusual week.

"Ok, dark blue or dark green?" Alfred asked, kneeling down so Arthur could choose one. Strangely enough, Arthur could tell the difference between the two colors. I thought dogs were color blind, Arthur thought as he poked the green one with his nose. "All righty, Artie! And I'll get yah a matching leash, so don't worry 'bout that!" Alfred seemed more energetic then usual, even though he was buying dog supplies. Not the most interesting thing to do in the world, but Arthur supposed it was better then paperwork. Well, to America at least.

"Sir, do you need any help?" A lady asked, walking up to America with a smile on her face, like she actually wanted to help. England could have snorted, but he wasn't able to as a dog. Alfred shook his head, paused, and then nodded.

"Actually, yah. What kinda dog food is good for him?" He asked, motioning towards Arthur. The lady bit her lip and put a finger on her lips, as if thinking. She probably doesn't know one brand from the next, Arthur thought glumly. And if I end up with some kind of crap I'm going to strangle somebody next time I have thumbs, he added on a darker note.

"Well, border collies need lots of protein, since they're so smart. I'd say something with meat in it, and a few good grains for vitamins and nutrition. The dog food is in the back," she said, pointing towards the right section. Alfred nodded cheerfully and walked off, Arthur walking behind him. This is insane… I should be finding a way to contact Norway, not shopping for dog food, he thought. Even though he wasn't very good friends with the Nordic, Norway was the only other nation who still practiced magic. Surely he'd be able to find some counter-spell….

Because, blast it all, England was not waiting for the spell to wear off. Who knew how long that could take?