America woke up suddenly from a very old dream. He glanced at the digital clock by his bedside and saw it was 3:30 in the morning... He sighed and lay back down. He rubbed his eyes. That dream... It was of the day he had declared independence from Britain... It was so vivid, he could feel his heart being weighed down by the decade old feelings for his brother.
"Nng... Why the hell is the hero up so early?" He turned over and pulled the sheets over his shoulders. He stayed like that for a few minutes, but he couldn't get back to sleep. He sighed and heaved himself out of bed.
America staggered down the hallway, leaning against the wall. His legs felt weak from his interrupted sleep and he kept rubbing his eyes. He stumbled into the kitchen and yanked open the fridge door. He reached into the fridge and pulled out a chocolate milkshake. People had tried to introduce him to hot chocolate as a bedtime drink, but the hero didn't follow the crowd! He took a sip through the straw that jutted from the plastic lid of the cup and winced as the cold worked its way up to his brain. Unfortunately it seemed to wake him up more than tire him out... He groaned and left the milkshake on the table. He staggered to the back door to get some fresh air. He thought back to a few weeks ago when he had gone to visit Japan and he had suddenly turned up from no-where.
"Japan, where do you go early in the mornings? Why don't you just sleep in?" Japan had smiled at him.
"At my age... I dislike sleeping in. My morning routine usually consists of taking Pochi for his morning walk... It's relaxing, and early in the morning there's usually no-one about. I like it like that." America smiled. He had asked how old Japan was, but he had blushed and changed the subject quickly.
America decided to try Japan's routine. He slipped his shoes on and called to Tony.
"Hey, Tony! I'm going for a walk, you wanna come?" The small grey alien stumbled into the kitchen and shot him a death stare for waking him up. "All right, all right, no need to be grouchy..." America mumbled. He walked out of the house and shut the door behind him.
America didn't pay attention to where he was going, he just walked and walked, letting his feet take him anywhere. He kept thinking about his dream, the weight of it pressed onto his heart some more. He sighed and took his glasses off of his face. He cleaned them on his t-shirt then put them back on. Maybe... Maybe something was going to happen? Maybe that was what the dream meant... No, of course not. Dreams don't mean anything. It was stupid just to think that...
America let his mind wander as he quietly stepped through the streets. He kept going until he reached a field. He stopped suddenly, staring out at the scene in front of him. This... This was the field where he and Britain had fought, all those years ago... Why had he taken himself here? Wasn't the current pain enough? Why was it he that had to suffer?
America started shaking slightly, reliving that awful day. He never wanted to admit it... but... He missed him. He missed him so, so much... America felt tears brimming in his eyes and he turned on the spot as fast as he could. He slipped on the loose ground and fell forward. He landed on the ground with a thump and he heard something smash. America opened his eyes and saw his glasses lying in front of his face, one lens smashed to pieces. "Damn..." America grumbled and picked up his glasses. He placed them back on his nose but could barely see. He sighed heavily again and placed his glasses back into his pocket. He stood up and looked down to see blood on his knees. The loose gravel had grazed his legs and blood was soaking slowly through his grey trousers. He stuck out his lower lip. "Nnn... Damn, that's the last time I use someone else's routine..." He started stumbling back to his home, facing downwards. It wasn't long before he walked head first into someone.
"You bloody git! Watch where you're going!" America was startled. He recognised that voice all too well... He looked up and met the eyes of his older brother, Britain. Britain returned the startled look to America, before resuming his stern look at being walked into. "Why the hell are you out so early?" America winced slightly at the pain in his knees.
"I should ask the same thing to you..." Britain turned slightly pink.
"No reason..." America stared at him and chuckled slightly.
"You were always a terrible liar. Tell me." Britain slowly turned red.
I t-told you, no reason..." They jumped simultaneously as a phone started beeping loudly from no-where. Britain realised it was his and grabbed his phone from his pocket. America snatched it off of him and looked at the screen. He was slightly shocked at what it read.
"Household-wide I miss my Alfie day..? What the..." Britain grabbed his phone, flushing a brilliant shade of scarlet and pressing all the buttons on the phone.
"I... uh... I didn't mean tha-" He was interrupted by two warm arms wrapping around him and pulling him close.
"I... Missed you too... Iggy..." Britain's blush faded slightly and he wrapped his arms around his little brother. "I'm so, so sorry about everything... I wish we could go back to how it used to be. I want to stay with you. This time... I won't leave..." Britain's eyes started watering.
"Y... You promise?" America stroked Britain's hair.
"I promise. Can we go home?" Britain pulled away from the hug gently. He wiped his eyes and nodded.
"Yes. Lets go home... By the way, what happened to your glasses?" America blushed slightly, embarrassed.
He scratched the side of his head and said 'Oh yeah... I kinda fell over and one of the lenses just went smash!" Britain smiled and shook his head.
"Hold on..." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box, which he opened. He reached into America's pocket and took his glasses. He popped the small shards of broken glass out of the left lens and replaced them with the clean lens. He then gave the glasses to America.
"Wai... You always kept some of my spare lenses with you? Why, after all this time...?" Britain smiled slightly.
"Just in case..." He put his arm around America and they walked to Britain's house.
America sat heavily on the bed in his old room, wincing again at the pain in his knees. The blood had trickled down his legs and had nearly reached his feet. Britain walked in with a first aid kit and started cleaning the blood off of America's legs. He wiped of the blood, then placed bandages on the cuts. He hesitated- then leant forward and kissed America's knees where the bandages were. America blushed scarlet.
"Wha... What the hell, Britain?" Britain's face colour almost matched America's.
"Do you remember... When you were little, every time you went out to play... You'd come back covered in cuts and bruises... You'd cry your eyes out and beg for me to pick you up..." America stared at Britain. "I'd always clean you up then... I'd... kiss it better..." His scarlet blush turned violet. America smiled at him and slid onto the floor next to his brother. He put his arm around him and hugged him.
"I guess we haven't changed that much, have we?" Britain smiled.
"No... I guess we haven't."