Chapter 1: A is for America! And Alfred
Chapter Text
Brother
Authors note: This was originally an RP (role play) between Artiluna55 (or Artinthedark) and myself. As such, the story doesn't quite read in the usual flow of some of my other works, or Artiluna's for that matter. Please keep that in mind as you work your way through. Also, the first few chapters deal with the recently passed presidential election in America. (2004) We tried to keep it rather light-hearted and unbiased, but if we ended up stepping on anyone's political toes, well, oh well. Thirdly, anyone who's interested in romance won't find much here. The only pairing we have is Canada and Prussia, and the story is not descriptive of their relations. Our plot is much more revolved around the theme of a looming threat of WWIII and how the countries handle said threat. Last but not least, we felt the need to add a brief disclaimer, mainly for the CIA because there's a lot of talk in here about things like blowing up Canada and America and the possibility of WWIII, etc. So, officially: CIA, this is a fanfiction based on an anime series. Anything written here is NOT meant to be taken seriously. Thank you.
As always, dedicated readers, I'm glad to be back in the game again. Please enjoy!
~Spotofpaint
Chapter 1
A is for America!
And Alfred!
Alfred reached for the phone. His hand trembled just a bit. Although it was true that he went through every four years for hundreds of years, he reminded himself, it never made it any easier. He was always in conflict and could never seem to choose a side until that first week in November. It would pass, he knew, but for the meantime it was sometimes nice to unload on someone. Someone who it might be a little funny to torment...just a bit. It would at least relieve some of the tension he'd been feeling. And so, he picked up his cell phone (it was the newest version of the iphone of course, with a ton of apps, and a touch screen and it was smart!) And he called the one person he really could (Other than Matt, who would just bum him out with all his talk about his political set up and how it was better than America's.)
Putting it to his ear, he heard it ring, once, twice, and then someone on the other end picked up.
"Hello?"
"Yo! Arthur! Wassup?"
Oh great, Britain thought to himself.
"I am a little busy right now, America."
He shuffled through some papers on his desk as he tried to put the document he was currently reading back in proper order. With America's elections coming up he had been given report after report after report to read and study. The old island nation had read on both of the candidates and there were plans according to whatever the American populous decided.
Still it was a bloody amount of paper work that had been put on his plate. As such he felt a bit of agitation towards said former colony. Why couldn't he have a king or hold elections further apart, buggar! Everyone was waiting for the decision to be made. Russia was particularly on edge as of late waiting for the decision. He sighed pulling himself from his thoughts and back to the phone conversation,
"Did you need something?"
"Need something? Can't I just call an old friend during a time of turbulence? Is that so much to ask? I mean, I won't even ask you if you think I should increase taxes to alleviate the HUGE hole in my wallet. Or maybe I should fill that hole by eliminating programs, like food stamps, but then I'd have a hole in my stomach too. But don't worry Arty, I won't ask you about any of that. Because I can TOTALLY make up my mind all on my own! HAHAHA!"
As maniacal laughter erupted from his phone Britain found himself quickly pulling the phone away from his ear. He stared at the black phone in his hand and rolled his eyes. He'd forgotten all about this. How had he forgotten? That was unclear. The workload must have gotten to him.
"America..." he said in an exasperated tone. The git was having his 4 year PMS. Britain thought to himself, "Are you all right?"
"Totally A-OK. Except sometimes I want to murder Mexico. And other times I want to make sweet love to her. I'm really confused about that actually. But I think it's OK, because sometimes she gives me pot, and then I settle right down."
Britain raised his hand to the bridge of his nose and tried to massage out the tension there. His thick eyebrows were furrowing.
"You're not on pot right now, are you?" He put the document he'd been working with back on his desk. He leaned back in his desk chair. Britain's full attention turned to his former colony.
America didn't need anything else in his system. He already sounded like a raving loon. He looked at his desk calendar. There was only a short time until the election. If he recalled this would keep getting worse.
"Have you been taking care of yourself, Alfred?" There was something the aggravating twit had never been able to do very well, "When's the last time you slept?"
"Slept? Dude, you should know I have no time for that right now. My boss has got me running ragged for this election. I'm campaigning for both sides you know. Here in America, we throw endless parties as an excuse to fund raise and milk every dime we can from all the rich campaign backers. The foods awesome though. I just kinda wish everyone would stop fighting..." A heavy sigh came from the other end of the line. "Parties are a lot more fun when it doesn't end with the cops being called."
"Listen. You get strung out like this every four years. You should know by now that you have to take it easy during this time. You have been independent for 227 years now. You have had more than one election. You should have learned how to take care of yourself in all that time! Take it easy around election days. Call in sick and relax at home before you exhaust yourself."
Blimey, is he really that young? Britain had to remind himself. Just saying that out loud made Britain feel like some ancient dinosaur.
Then Britain had to think to himself, was he lecturing the young chap? True, he loved to lecture the young country in every topic from his independence to his rancid food, but PMS America really was not one to be lectured. Britain knew that as well. He's having a mid-election crisis and you have to rant, but I cannot think of one supportive thing to say. Buggar. Maybe that was poor parenting on his part. Then it hit him,
"When is the last time you ate? McDonald's is open all night, right? Go get one of those retched burgers you love so much! It will take your mind off of this election. Get one of those ice cream concoctions as well."
"Oooo! That's a great idea! All the fast food chains here are getting all their holiday flavors out! If I head to Starbucks, I can choose between all the fall flavors, like pumpkin, OR I could get the Christmas flavors, like peppermint! Oh my God! I could mix the two drinks together and have peppermint pumpkin!"
But despite the excitement America was portraying, eating was never something he neglected. He ate when he was happy, sad, partying, or watching a football game. And during elections, a lot of eating occurred during arguments. In fact, a lot of groups of friends or even families would go out to dinner with the intention of having a good time and instead end up fighting with one another over their beliefs and viewpoints of the different candidates.
But America hadn't called Britain to get even more depressed or wound up over things. He'd called to let off steam. So it made more sense to just pretend that things were a little better off than they were.
It was true he'd been through lots of elections before, this would be his 56th, but he never saw a way of making it any easier. People got worked up every single time. As a result, he himself got worked up too. It was very stressful, especially not knowing who his new boss would be or really what to believe. There were always a lot of important topics and decisions to make about the direction he'd be heading in the future. All the same, he always reminded himself, each and every time that if things didn't work out, he'd have a new boss in another 4 years anyway. But...things did always seem ok after the first week of November. He'd just have to stick it out, like a cold.
There's no way I'll be able to rest like Britain, he thought. The people are too wound-up over here. Even if I tried, I wouldn't be able to sleep. But there was no way he'd be telling Britain that.
"Dude, I'm going to go do just that. A burger'll fix me right up!" He said. And then, before Arthur could object, he hung up.
Britain's chance to retort was cut short when America hung up the phone. The ring tone cut through the silent office, and the sound reminded Britain that his former colony was off, high strung, PMSing, raving mad, and... loose in the general population.
True America had never gotten into any real trouble, but Britain found himself worrying. The last thing he needed was a late night call that the young man had gotten into some bar fight over political view points with one of his crazy citizens overusing their first amendment rights or something. America could get carried away at times.
Britain placed the phone back in its cradle and placed his elbows on the desk. Bloody hell. America was loose upon the world. Britain probably should have encouraged the youth to stay at home until his emotions came back under control. Britain's eyes widened in horror when he thought of the PMSing nation driving to the McDonald's. By God! What if he took his motorcycle and crashed it from sleep deprivation?
Arthur reached out snagging the phone back up. This just wouldn't do at all.
Luckily for Alfred, he didn't need to head to another rally for several days. Which was great, because he was still feeling very confused. During one moment, he was a gun toting, boarder protecting republican, then for the next, he was an entitlement program and gay rights activist democrat.
Oh my God! I won't be able to make up my mind until the people elect someone! GRAH! I'm going crazy! Deciding it would be best to get outside and get some fresh air after all, America raced out of the white house before he was expected to do anymore campaigning. It was just impossible to expect a country to make up his mind when the population was so divided!
I'll just head to a nice, normal place. One that doesn't support or oppose any of the hot button topics that have been flying around these days. Of course, that eliminated half of the fast food chains and restaurants around. Even companies had something to say about politics in the modern age. It was actually, rather ridiculous.
"Wait! I know a place that's neutral! Bars!" That was right. Following all the political propaganda and smear ads that were all over TV, were a third type of ad supporting alcohol as a substitution to picking either side. Alfred wasn't a total moron (even if he could act it sometimes) he knew that picking an alcoholic beverage over a candidate was just idiotic, but the ads had an underlying message that spoke to a lot of Americans who were simply sick of all the disagreements.
Arthur's right, I just need to relax for a little while. Maybe shoot some pool. And so, Alfred headed straight to the nearest local bar with a pool hall.
Britain had managed to work a few more minutes, but eventually Britain had phoned Canada. His gut was nagging at him. He wanted someone to watch Alfred, and help take his mind off of the election. Since he lived across the Atlantic it would take hours for him to get to America. It really was not plausible, considering the amount of work he had. He could not blow off so much work just on a whim. He was a nation. He was still cleaning up foreign affairs and dealing with the media and the possible pregnancy of the new princess there was too much work to do here. He couldn't go. Not unless Alfred got into serious trouble.
Besides, he reassured himself. Its not the first time Matthew has watched his older brother during a tumultuous time. Matthew had helped Alfred through a civil war (which Britain was ashamed to admit he had helped prolong and had not once visited the boy during despite how sick he'd been), a great depression (he had been there for that one, but it was hard to visit or stay long because of America's policies at the time), and two national crisis's (he hadn't been able to get to America's side for pearl harbor because of the war and his own countries issues, but he had come immediately to help for Sept. 11). Matthew was always the first one at his brother's side because they were in driving distance of each other.
Briatin was starting to feel a bit depressed. Maybe he should visit the young whippersnapper. He wrapped the desk phone cord around his finger as he dialed. He had been told more than once to update the old, archaic device, but he liked this phone. Damn. Why is it taking so long for Matthew to pick up?
Matthew's voice finally answered, but Britain recognized the quiet recording, "You've reached Matthew Willams. Sorry I'm not here right now. Please leave a message and I'll call you back soon. Papa. S'il vous plaît arrêter de me dire qui je dois ce jour." Beep (Papa. Please stop suggesting to me who I should date.)
Double damn. Britain slammed the phone down. He pushed his thoughts aside and went back to work. America will be fine.
~Meanwhile~
The people were gathered in the bar. Many of them trying to escape the craziness of the outside world. Bikers lined stools and smoke filled the room. Groups played pool. The TV blared useless information that no one paid attention to. A few people turned when the 19 year old walked in. They were surprised to see a 'kid' in the bar.
America kicked in the door of the local bar (not to be destructive mind you, but to be dramatic!) And being who he was, he was well-known by a lot of American's, although not all of them. Almost right away he was greeted by several people.
"Hey kid! How's the election trail treating ya?" Spoke up a young man by the bar.
"I dunno Dan, he don't look too good to me?"
"You tired Alfred?" America moved further inside, heading to the group of young men by the bar. The tender was wiping up a small spill down near the other end, but lifted his eyes as Alfred approached. Almost immediately America smiled, after all, was there ever a time when he wasn't smiling?
"I'm just fine guys! Nothing a drink and a game of pool won't fix. How about it? Who's up for some fun?"
"Alfred," the bar tender frowned. "I've told you before, you're too young to drink."
"Eh? Has that stopped me before?" The bar tender placed a glass down on the counter a bit more harshly than necessary, his thick eyebrows lowering.
"If I catch you sneaking drinks I'll have you arrested this time. I'm sick of your games. Now, how would that affect the elections huh? Some bad publicity?"
"Dude!" Alfred raised his hands, waving defensively. "Chill out man. I came here to unwind."
"Bar tender," one of the men said. "Give the kid a break. He's under a lot more stress than you or me. He's technically not allowed to even pick a side. And then when the elections over, he pretty much just has to agree with the new president, regardless."
"Cry me a river," the bar tender grumbled. "I don't care what he's going through he ain't getting a drink in MY bar."
"Ok, ok, sheesh. Can I at least shoot some pool? Is that illegal too?"
"No. But I can think of some other things that should be illegal but aren't. Why aren't you doing more in Washington about gun control Alfred? Hm? My little girl was gunned down in a broad daylight!"
Alfred felt his heart kick into high gear. This was the exact thing he'd been trying to avoid. Everyone had a personal stake in one matter or another, and a touchy subject like gun control was not what he had in mind when he stepped into the bar.
"Watch it bar tender!" One of the men sitting in the stools said, a sour look over coming his face. "If we were allowed to have more guns, maybe someone would have shot that killer before he could hurt someone."
The bar tender's eyes bulged in disbelief.
"What did you say?"
"You heard me!"
"Alfred! You hear this guy? You represent our great country! You set this asshole straight!"
"Well that's too bad, because Alfred's on my side! Aren't you kid?" Now everyone in the bar was staring, and poor Alfred's feet had gone cold. Breaking out into a sweat he struggled to maintain some sort of balance. Swallowing harshly, he looked around at all the faces around him. Then his eyes turned to the open beer that one of the men left carelessly on the bar top. Without even a seconds hesitation he dove for it.
"I choose the fifth!" He cried then grabbed up the freshly opened can and just began guzzling it down.
"HEY!"
"That was my beer you son of a bitch!"
"I told you not to drink in MY bar!" Alfred may not have been as good of a drinker as say Germany or Prussia, but he was decent enough. He finished the beer just before its owners fist punched it right out of his hand. Rather calmly, and not really reacting to the angry faces around him he let out a snort.
"I guess I need another please."
"You're dead meat Alfred."
Suddenly, there was exciting clapping from the doorway of the bar, "Kekekeke! Ze awesome me has to zee this! Birdie! Please! Can we watch? He will get his ass kicked!" A certain albino had a gleam in his red eyes as he strolled into the bar with his friend. "Then we can go find a real bar! We can go back to mine bruder's place!"
Britain had called Canada's phone so many times in the last few hours he was sure the satellites in space were still trying to play catch up. The island nation had bugged him so much about his brother that Canada had turned his phone off some time ago after he'd assured Britain that he would find Alfred. Luckily, Canada had a sixth sense when it came to America. Canada had never had a hard time locating his brother. Probably because even though they were different, they were still connected and close. It must have been part of being a twin or something like that or maybe geography?
Canada studied Alfred up and down. Other than seeming a bit confused, he looked ok. At least Canada had made it before any fighting broke out in the bar.
Matthew had really let time get away with him the last few days. He usually tried to keep a closer eye on his brother during election time. Canada had been so busy with work, and a surprise visit from a certain Prussian had completely blown any thought of America's election right out of his mind.
Luckily people in the bar were distracted from pummeling Alfred by the arrival of the two new nations. It was Prussia who was attracting the attention of the bar. He was an albino after all so he did look different. Not to mention the former nation had a specific aura about him that no one could miss.
"Ke? Let's go back to my bruder's place, birdie! America can get drinks there with ze awesome me!" He looked back at America with a cocky grin on his face, "You canz have real beer zere. Not this unawesome stuff here!"
Matthew shot a sideways frown at Prussia,
"Can you please stop calling me Birdie!" It was a familiar request. He'd been asking Prussia that question for the past two days so he wouldn't be surprised when Prussia kept using the ridiculous nickname.
He quickly turned his attention back to his brother. Matthew walked through the bar and put his hand on his brother's shoulder. Then he looked around the bar at all the angry people occupying the area.
"Al…. Let's go back to your house." He said in his quiet tone. He didn't want to be caught in a bar fight. This was ridiculous. "I can pay for whatever he drank. In fact I can buy everyone a drink if everyone can settle down. I'll take my brother home." The soft spoken nation didn't seem like a threat at all and luckily the people of the bar seemed appeased.
"Oh! The awesome me loves that idea, Birdie! Beer is almost as awezome as me! Even if zis American stuff is for Schwächlinge (weaklings)." Prussia happily responded to Matthew's offer by heading to the bar for a drink. Matthew rolled his eyes as his friend sat down at the bar,
"Gilbert! Are you going to walk to Alfred's house? We have to go. You can drink later." That got a frown on the albino's face, "Totally unawesome, birdie!" He got up and went to walk back towards the North America brothers. Prussia stared at America with a firm frown, "How'z it going, loser? Your daddy called uz to come get you."
Alfred was pretty glad to see Canada, he could definitely use some company, but was fairly UN-glad to see Prussia. And due to all the stress he'd been under the UN-gladness completely outweighed the glad…gladness. Immediately woes about gun control, abortion, gay rights, and the Mexican border disappeared as he laid his blue eyes on the albino invader. Immediately, Alfred marched away from the bar and instead toward Gilbert.
"Dude…what the hell is this trash doing on MY soil!?" He demanded. He whipped his glare around to Matt, eyes gleaming. "Did you bring him hear?" But before Matt had a chance to answer, he was already facing Prussia once more. "What was that about American beer? That sounded like a challenge to me, and I don't back down from challenges, no matter how ridiculous they may be! You wanna go? How about a drinking contest, man?"
"Alfred!" The bar tender suddenly hollered. "How many times do I got to tell you, you're 19! You're going to get me arrested!" America, of course, completely ignored the man. He was wound up from stress, and he needed a release somewhere. If he couldn't get a drink or play pool, well, then a fight wasn't sounding so bad, especially if he got to sock Prussia one right in the face.
"I'm NOT in the mood Gil! I'm this close to saying to HELL with diplomacy! I know you think you're awesome, but America is even MORE awesome! And if you want to tango, well…I've got a republican in me that's just itching to come out!" America was looking just a tad unhinged at that point, and it became evident, even to Prussia that perhaps the stress was finally getting to him. His right eye started twitching.
The Teutonic knight in Prussia was always ready for a fight. The albino had never been one to back down, ever. His pride wouldn't allow a challenge to go unanswered. Especially when beer was involved,
"Ze awzome me willz take you anytime, kid! You seem to be too little to drinkz in your home. Why not come to mine home? I'll show you real beer!" He let out one of his unique laughs and jibed, "I was drinking beer before you were a thought! I will take Canada's bruder anytime!" He let out a short laugh. Prussia smirked as his red eyes narrowed in anticipation of Alfred's response.
Off behind Alfred, Matthew could tell this conversation was going downhill fast. He wasn't particularly pleased with either Prussia or America at the moment, but he was trying not to be upset with his brother. Alfred always had 'issues' around election days, and, of course, America would be shocked at finding Prussia in his homeland. The two of them were far from friends.
And then there was another small matter…. Matthew had yet to tell any of his family members that he was pretty good friends with the former nation. He had met Prussia at one of the world meetings a while ago.
Matthew also hadn't told his family that for the past year Prussia routinely showed up at his home in Ottawa demanding homemade pancakes and maple syrup. He also hadn't mentioned that Prussia would stay in the guest room for days on end... Nope, especially didn't tell them that. So of course finding Prussia standing in a bar on his home soil would be strange for Alfred. Matthew had tried to get Gilbert to leave for Germany at the beginning of this debacle, but Gilbert had refused. Being in a rush Canada had just brought him along.
Matthew was also concerned about another thing in this situation. Matthew didn't need his overprotective brother meddling in his foreign affairs or worse trying to protect him in this matter. An overprotective America was an unhinged America, and he knew that Alfred would be worried sick if he found out his calm, gentle, and subservient 'little' brother had Prussia of all nations staying at his house about... how often was it? At least once a month? Alfred tended to forget that Canada could handle himself.
Matthew knew most every nation found Prussia loud mouthed, agitating, mean, at times unstable, and other times downright dangerous. Prussia didn't have the best history after all. How many times had the former nation 'invaded a nations private regions?' Isn't that what papa France said at one of the former world meetings?
Yeah. Matthew thought to himself, How do you break that to your over protective brother? The self proclaimed hero would have a hissy fit. Hey Alfred, you know what they say about Prussia, eh? We're really good friends now! He's staying at my place!
It wasn't only Alfred though. He hadn't told Britain or France about Prussia either. The rest of the world also found Canada quiet, meek, invisible, and they had mostly seemed to have forgotten that he was able to fight and protect himself if he needed to. He could fight. He just didn't find the need to fight all that often. Hell the rest of the world routinely forgot he existed, but the loud, foul mouthed albino never had. He'd also never confused Canada with America. That was something that even Matthew's two fathers messed up sometimes.
Matthew was worried that his family would misconstrue his friendship with Prussia. He could easily see his family accusing the Albino of bullying him into something, and that was far from the true circumstances. If Britain, America, and France thought Prussia was giving him grief then that could spell trouble for Germany too. Not wanting to deal with the fall out, Matthew had kept the friendship to himself.
Now Prussia was here. So how could he make this work to his favor? He was in the middle of thinking out a plan when Prussia opened his mouth.
Gilbert was completely unaware that Canada was hiding their friendship from America. As such Gilbert blurted out, "Ze awezome me does not want to be here, wiz the unawsome you! I should be at your Bruder's house having mine way. The awesome me likes Birdie's house. I would be making Birdie cook pancakes! If it werez not for you, kid!" Prussia crossed his arms over his chest in huff.
Well… there went that cover. Matthew's eyes rolled. Gilbert couldn't have phrased that sentence and made it sound any worse than it did. I just had my Canadian slave make me pancakes, and I get my way at his home. Matthew's anger flared,
"DAMNIT GILBERT!" Even at a full scream Matthew's voice was still small and barely carried through the bar.
At first, for a few seconds it seemed, America didn't move. He stood in something close to shock. "You…h…having your way?" His face tensed, a quick snarl came over his lips. His fingers curled. But despite that, for a brief moment, it looked like he was actually trying to control himself. Glancing to the side, he concentrated on his breathing. And for just a second it appeared as if he were rationalizing with himself. But then, out of nowhere…
CRACK! His fist flew forward in a nice right hook, his knuckles digging into the pale countries skin. And of course, as soon as that first punch was thrown, the gloves were off. The bar patrons erupted into cheers as a quick crowd gathered around, and before they could even fully assemble, America had rushed forward again, grabbing onto Prussia's collar, dragging him in close to his infuriated face.
(Enter Republican mode. The Battle Hymn of the Republic starts to play in the background. The American flag waves for Albert's speech!)
"You son of a bitch! Matt's my little bro! And if you think I'll just stand by and let you take advantage of him, well then think again! You're nothing! You don't even fucking exist! You're a dead country man! And I don't think I'll have any trouble defeating a country that's already been defeated! You're nothing! You're a ghost! And NOBODY messes with America's friends! NOBODY! You poked a bear dude! And I don't need to hold back fighting you, because there's not even a risk of starting up a war! Because you're already a dead nation! Asshole!"
Having completely lost it, America was clearly ready to go all out. He brought back his fist a second time, preparing for another well placed boxing punch. Being the number one boxer out of all the countries in the world (and it's not even a close call) America was more than prepared for some skin.
Prussia was dazed from the right hook, but he had been fighting wars long before America. He'd dealt with wins, loses, occupation, and pain far worse than a right hook. He spit out the influx of blood in his mouth onto the bar floor. He'd also been brawling in bars long before the stupid kid in front of him. He pulled his knees up to slam into America then kicked out harshly to push himself free.
"Bring itz on unawesome!" Prussia snarled as he took a stance in the bar.
"Gilbert! I swear if you fight him I will never, NEVER make you ANYTHING! Ever EVER!" Matthew tried to defuse the tense situation.
"Sorry Birdie!" Prussia smirked, "He started it! Dur Bruder asked for this!"
" Merde!" (Damn it) Canada cried out again. How had things fallen apart so fast!? Alfred was about to kill.
Prussia turned his attention from America and was reaching out to grab a glass bottle off of a nearby table.
This was going to hell in a hand basket! Damn!
Canada rushed forward and stepped in front of his advancing, crazed brother planting his feet firmly on the floor. He wasn't going to be budged. He reached out grabbing onto America's shoulders with intensity. He stared into his brother's blue eyes with eyes that were nearly identical and quietly demanded,
"Alfred. Stop!" Which might have worked…if a glass bottle hadn't come crashing down on Matthew's skull at just about the same time. Prussia's eyes widened having realized his mistake too late.
"BIRDIE!" Prussia cried as his friend went crashing to the floor. The overzealous Prussian hadn't been paying attention and had struck out at what he assumed would be the advancing America.
America probably would have stopped to listen to his brother. If anyone could stop America, it was Canada.
"Matt, what're you…" But then, glass came down, shattering. America watched in horror as his little brother's eyes rolled back in his skull. He wobbled once and then collapsed with a thud at America's feet.
"MATT!" Alfred quickly fell to his knees beside him, worry stamped across his face. Reaching out he shook him harshly. "Matt! Matt!" But of course, he didn't stir. Canada was out cold. With a well placed hit like that, it was no wonder.
America sat with his twin for just a few seconds. His arms began to tremble as he fell silent. The trembling spread through his body as anger began to build. A fire bloomed within. A few seconds more and he was seething, unable to contain his fury. Lifting his head, he glared hatefully Prussia's way.
"You son of a bitch! I'm going to kill you!" Gently, he lay his younger brother on the floor, then rose to his feet. Stepping over him, he lifted his fists. The bar patrons whooping and hollering, they cheered him on.
"Get em Alfred!"
"That counties no match for America!"
"Republicans and Democrats can both agree on that!"
America was never a very good listener to begin with, and at this point, he was way past the point of listening to anyone. He lunged, cracking knuckles into more flesh. He was fully ready to beat Prussia into unconsciousness.
Prussia was wide eyed as he stared at the down Canadian.
"Ma-Matthew!" He let the rest of the shattered bottle fall out of his hand. He hadn't meant to whack his friend on the noggin.
"Wa-wait!" He raised his hands up in defense. He had lost the urge to fight, and wanted to aide his friend, "Your bruder needz ice! I needz to get 'em ice!"
He kept his arms up to protect himself, "America! Listen!" Of course that wasn't going to work. So unable to reason with the enraged America, Prussia prepared to fight or more so defend himself from the onslaught.
America wasn't about to let up. He'd been pushed and pushed and pushed even before Prussia arrived and started insulting him. And now, he was passed the point of no return. Over stressed, over tired, and having been deeply insulted was more than enough, but seeing Canada hurt was the last straw.
"Bastard! Ass!" He continued to pummel him, one fist over the other, backing him up against the wall. Reaching out, he grabbed him by his collar. Much, much stronger than he appeared, he hoisted him up into the air with ease. Breathing heavily, and breaking out into a sweat, he glared at him.
"What were you doing with my little bro? What was that crack about getting your way? HMM?! Did you TOUCH my bro?! I'll fucking kill you!"
Already breathing heavily and sweating profusely, his face gradually started to grow pale. The hands he used to grip Prussia, already trembling from rage, began to tremble a bit more. His breath quickened, and he started to appear a bit clammy.
"Get 'em Alfred!"
"Show that jerk the strength of America!"
Prussia's red eye twitched at the question. It was neither a declaration of having done something or a statement of innocence. Maybe, it was intent of something he wanted.
Either way the question went unanswered. Prussia reached up grabbing onto Alfred's hands trying to relieve the pressure he was feeling on his collar. His face was bloodied, but he was nowhere near giving in. He'd had plenty worse than this.
Then Prussian felt a smirk engulf his face, and a large toothy grin appeared on his bloodied, pale features. Prussia knew the North America twins fought over who was older. He had heard Canada complain about it on more than one occasion, but nonetheless a bruder was a bruder. Prussia had raised Germany from a young child. Now he lived in his house. Caring for a brother was something Prussia could relate with the American on. As such he didn't want America to worry about his brother's safety, "Ze awezome me iz awezome friends wid birdie. Dine bruder is fine."
America gripped Prussia a bit more firmly, but not because he was any more angry than before. In fact, his grip increased because he was suddenly feeling weaker, and he didn't want to lose his hold on Prussia, not after what he'd just said. After hearing something like that, America needed to look him in the eye and size him up.
"Friends?" He questioned. He didn't want to believe him because he was so wrapped up in his anger, but…he couldn't help but to remember Matt's face right before he was knocked out. He'd been trying to stop him. He'd been concerned. That…and even the awful Prussia had seemed upset that he'd accidentally hit Matt instead of America.
"That thing…about pancakes…"
A slight headache started to build up behind his eyes, a gentle throbbing making itself known. But there was no way he was going to appear weak in front of an enemy. Not until he cleared up this whole thing about Prussia and Matt.
"Matt DID seem like he didn't want me to fight you…even though you're a giant ass face." Prussia suddenly started to feel a lot heavier. Afraid of dropping him, and his arms starting to shake, America decided to release him. Putting him down, his chest suddenly started to feel tight.
Weird…what happened to my usually freakishly strong strength? He thought to himself. The fight now winding down, it was odd that America was only seeming to sweat more, his face paling further.
"Dude's…is it hot in here?"
"Ze awezome me iz fine." Standing on his feet again Prussia looked around America to his unconscious friend on the floor. "…Crap…" He said under his breath. He'd never hear the end of this. "I hopez he waz lying about ze pancakes. He makez them best. With ze maple syrup stuff…." Prussia looked around the bar, "I needz ice." Physical injuries healed quicker with nations than normal humans. Only things directly affecting their country could really keep them down or took long periods of time to heal, but being a 'human' pain or a 'nation' pain ice would help either way. Prussia blew by America's side. He kept his distance so America couldn't stop him. Then he knelt down and gently shook Matthew's shoulder,
"Birdie. Zorry." Of course the unconscious Canadian didn't stir, but it was the apology that counted. Right? So there it was.
"Hmmm." Prussia looked back up at America, "Unawesome. We canz take him to your place, right? I can help…. Unawesome?" That's when Prussia realized what America actually looked like at the moment. He looked ill. He was sweating and pale and was he jittery? No. He was shaking. What was wrong with the super power?
Prussia looked down at his unconscious friend on the floor. Truly he didn't have many friends left. France. Spain. Germany...Italy. At times they tended to forget him as well. No one bothered with him anymore. Nations didn't seem to care about those who had long since fallen from grace. He had taken an interest in the quiet Northern country because Canada seemed genuinely interested in him even if he was no longer a country. He felt wholeness when he was with Matthew. He hadn't felt in a long time. So he held his friendship with Canada in high regard. Whenever he felt himself getting down he'd fly to Canada's house for company and the pancakes didn't hurt. He'd been making the trip more and more often, as of late.
He was the one who had knocked Matthew out. Matthew had come all this way to take care of his bruder. The least he could do was to make sure America was ok in his absence. He turned his red eyes back to America, "Whatz wrong? You don't look zo good. Maybe I should use Birdie's car to take you both home. Is da beer getting to you, kid?" Truly he had not meant to be insulting with the last line.
"I don't feel as amazing as usual…" America finally admitted. "Is something going on?" Of course, everyone in the bar knew what the problem probably was. One of the men gestured to the bar television which currently had the news on.
"Hurricane Sandy, kid. Did you forget? We've been preparing for it for over a week. It made landfall in Jersey and is heading up to New York City." Alfred let out a groan of dismay. Of course he had known all about it too. It was one of the biggest news stories other than the election at the moment. But with all the heat he'd been under, he'd briefly forgotten.
"Crap." He let out a long heavy sigh. Every country knew what a hurricane meant. Natural disasters were something most of them dealt with from time to time. Some were far worse than others. At least with hurricanes a lot of the time people could prepare, because it was well known that it was coming. It was far better to have a hurricane than say a major earthquake or mudslide, or God forbid…a volcano.
"I almost totally forgot, the boss gave me the next few days off from campaigning because of Sandy. I was so eager to get out and blow off steam that I forgot…" Hurricanes seemed to manifest themselves as a cold or illness: a gradual onset, and lasting several days. But it was never anything too traumatic…with exception of a few really big, bad ones. America shuddered for a moment in recalling Katrina.
"Sorry for beating you snotless Gil. Even though you DID deserve it…butt face." Glancing at Matt, sweat starting to roll down his skin, he thought that the first best thing was to take care of his little brother. "I guess I can take you up on your offer. We need to take care of Matt…" But even as he was speaking, it was clear his illness was getting worse. His golden eyebrows creased together as his headache started to get far worse. It throbbed and pounded behind his eyes. "Ugh…" For a brief second, the world swam. He stumbled once, but then caught himself. Stretching out a hand, he leaned on the nearest table. Suddenly embarrassed more than anything else, he glared Prussia's way.
"I could still kick your ass, ghost nation!"
Prussia let America's comments go. He could always get him back later.
"Ok. I can get Birdie. You got urzelf?" Prussia looked the unconscious Canadian over. Canada was wearing his normal, long brown jacket. Prussia had no shame diving through Canada's pockets for the car keys. It seemed he might have done this before because he went straight to the pocket where the Canadian kept his keys. Quickly he let the metal ring slide onto his pointer finger and held it up for America to see,
"Same place as ze last time. We canz go."
He carefully slid his arms beneath Canada's neck and the bend in Canada's knees. With a bit of concentration he lifted the unconscious Northern brother up off the floor. He held him carefully trying to keep his head from moving around much. Then he made a note of something else,
"Geeze Birdie. You weigh less than last time." Prussia sighed. When Prussia looked back at America he could tell the other brother was more than a bit curious about what he had just said. So as he walked up to America he quickly added, "I took him out drinking at mine place. It waz awezome! Germany was there and Italy fed us pasta. Canada didn't handle the alcohol so well…. I had to drive him home in ze rental car. He didn't tell you? He waz hungover foreverz. It was so unawezome."
Prussia frowned. He was quickly coming to the conclusion that Canada had kept America completely in the dark about how often they'd been seeing each other. He was the awesome Prussia, damn it! Not some unawezome secret to be hidden away. Obviously this was something they'd need to talk about when Canada woke up.
"Can you make it America or do I needz to come back? Kumajiro is in the car. Ztupid bear. He'll probably bite me again now that Birdie is out." The red eyed Prussian shuddered a bit. He did not like that bear.
"I can make it to the car myself, thanks…" Alfred grumbled, feeling a bit pissy. He certainly didn't want any help from Prussia, even if he did need the help. But more than that was this entire relationship revelation. Why would Matt keep all this a secret? And why would he want to be friend with Prussia of all countries? And how long had this been going on? And were the two of them really just friends? The way Prussia was acting made him think…something that was often times very difficult for America to do.
Instead of saying something right away, Alfred concentrated on following Prussia out to the car. He already missed his usual endless amounts of energy. Instead of bounding out of the bar, unstoppable and a stupid grin on his face, he found himself unsteady and weak. Sweat dripped from his jaw line, but oddly enough despite a growing fever…he was starting to feel cold.
Crap. This is already worse than an average hurricane… Once outside, America spotted Canada's usual car, an American made car, because Canada had yet to create even a single car company for itself. It was a small four door and seeing Kumajiro and luggage in the backseat meant all three men would need to cram into the front.
Alfred headed to the passenger's side, already knowing he wouldn't be able to drive, which sucked, because man, he LOVED driving. He loved cars. Fast cars. Sports cars. Red cars. And as always a good Mustang! But of course, Canada's car wasn't all that exciting anyway. It was something a mom might buy. Grabbing the door handle, Alfred found that his grip was already severely weakened. He managed to open the door, but not without some effort. Slipping in and sitting down, he quickly pulled his jacket in more tightly around his body and zipped it completely up. Shivering, his face white and his eyes red, he glanced to Prussia and held out his arms for Matt.
"Give 'im to me. I'll hold him while your drive."
"Zu look like hell, America." There were a thousand insults running through the Prussian's mind, but somehow he found restraint and didn't utter one. Canada's made me soft! The Prussian thought in horror. He transferred the Northern twin over to the Southern twin and closed the car door.
Once in on the other side he jammed the car keys into the ignition when a curious bear poked his head in between the driver and passenger seat. First looking at his master who he tended to forget at times, sniffing America, and then growling at the Prussian before settling in the back seat.
"Stupid lunatic bear." Prussia grumbled under his breath. Then a huge grin came over his face, "I luv ze driving!" Gilbert slammed his foot onto the gas and away the car flew. The speed flung America back into his seat.
What the unconscious Canadian couldn't tell his brother was that he did not trust Prussia to drive ever again. Ever. Once had been bad enough. There was one main reason for the driving restriction. One: Prussia suffered a severe case of road rage. Two: was that some roads in Germany didn't have speed limits. Prussia seemed to only accept the untrue fact that all roads had no speed limit. So the albino flew through a 35mph residential area somewhere along the speed of 90mph.
"What is this mph!? Iz zo unawezome! Itz kph!" He said as he made a sharp turn. "So America where iz ur home? Your bruder did not tell me."
Poor Alfred had already been through so much, now he was suffering a minor heart attack on top of it all. His organs shot down to his back and guts as the speed of the drive startled him. Reaching out, he grabbed a hold of the "oh shit" handle, his other hand gripping his little bro to make sure he wasn't flung into the back with his bear.
"For God's sake slow the fuck down you extinct dinosaur!" Already having trouble breathing, this little episode simply made it worse. He started to wheeze, audibly so.
"The speed limit here's 35 bro! We do that for a reason! You're gunna get caught by the cops!" And speak of the devil, some blue and white lights suddenly started to flash behind them. A siren wailed.
"Crap! Crappity crap crap!"
Prussia laughed in a lunatic way, "Kekeke! Don't worry Amerika! I canz handle thiz."
"Oh my head…" The Canadian groaned in his brother's lap. He raised his hand to his aching head. He opened his eyes a small slit, and then they widened with horror when he realized that his car was in motion. His eyes widened further still when he realized he was in his brother's lap, and he could hear Prussia laughing from the driver's seat.
"OH MY GOD!" Canada cried in quiet horror, "Gilbert! Pull the car over!" He could feel the speed of the car, and it was terrifying. Canada looked up at his brother, "Al!" He reached up putting his hand firmly on his ailing brother's shoulder.
"Oh Birdie! Yourz awake!" The Prussian cried happily as he swerved the car around another bend.
Immediately, Alfred's stomach turned along with the car. His pale face became a quick, sickly green.
"Ugh…ooo…dude…stop the car…" He groaned in misery. Gasping for breath, he was surprised to find that Prussia actually listened…but probably due to Matt's request other than his. The car swung onto the side of the road, the cop stopped behind them. The officer stepped up to the passenger's side first and just as he approached the car, Alfred flung open the door, leaned out of it and then he promptly vomited all over the police man's shoes.
Feeling quite wretched, he glanced upward once he was done. A very angry officer glared down at him. Alfred chuckled weakly.
"Good even'n officer."height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;"~Spotofpaint/p