Hetalia: Axis Powers
A Merry Christmas, a Happy New Year
DISCLAIMER: Sadly, I do not own Axis Powers Hetalia because if I did, I wouldn't be writing this. I wish I did own APH, though. Hidekaz Himaruya gets all the credit. And obviously, I did not invent Christmas, either. Only the plot belongs to me. :D
OPENING NOTES: Hello, everyone! :) I was supposed to post this on the 1st of December but then our exams just had to come right before the holidays so there was a short delay. This is a collection of drabble fics and one-shots of different pairings all about Christmas and New Year so expect this to be completed around the end of January. For now, I present to you a little USxUK fluff. :D
Chapter One
It was a cold, snowy day. Many people would welcome this weather with open arms and shout with joy at seeing the white mass of icy cold splatter at their windows. The trees outside were covered with blankets of snow and the lake was glassy; it had transformed from water to ice.
A large house sat innocently in the middle of this winter wonderland and frankly, I don't think winter was ever a wonder at all- at least, to Arthur Kirkland, who had experienced this weather several times for more than hundreds of years.
Arthur stood by the window, holding a cup of warm, bittersweet tea with a pinky finger sticking up. He gazed wearily at the trees, the snow, the lake, and the bright whiteness of it all and the sigh that had just issued from his mouth fogged the window.
Inside the house, in the room Arthur was idly lazing around, there was a small fire that helped spread warmth in the cold atmosphere. It was not enough for Arthur, who wasn't one to tolerate cold for long. Tea was always his cure when cold weather would come to him, which meant that he drank it everyday- if not, every other day- since England was a very rainy place.
While his emerald green eyes scanned the landscape outside, Arthur had been absentmindedly drinking tea from his cup for the past few minutes and was slightly surprised to find that he had finished it so quickly. Brushing away a few strands of blonde hair from his face, he went to the table and poured more tea into the cup. He added sugar and mixed it with a teaspoon, lifting the cup to his lips afterwards.
His lips touched the brim of the cup and, making him so palpably content, warmth spread all over his body, washing away the biting cold that had first penetrated him when he woke up in the morning.
This little moment of peace and contentment lasted only for a few split seconds as a loud resounding bang was heard from the door.
Arthur jumped, startled, and dropped his tea, which spilled on his pants. His usually clean attire was ruined by a huge stain and he cursed the person who was standing behind his door. Heaven knows what the bloody hell that unknown git is doing there, Arthur thought angrily. He fervently wiped the stain on his pants and gave up as it showed no signs of clearing away. The broken pieces of the cup were carefully cleared away, and England went to the door quickly.
Arthur Kirkland only knew very few people who would dare interrupt his moments of peace. One was Francis Bonnefoy, the dreaded wavy blonde Frenchman who would always smile and laugh at England's discontent. The perverted yet elegant, carelessly handsome man, who always looked like he had just walked out of a fashion magazine, took joy at irritating the Englishman and that was how it was ever since the two nations met. If one would ask the two how they referred to each other, they would both say something similar to 'best enemies'.
England also knew that the impudent, loud man now banging endlessly at his door could also be Alfred F. Jones. This man was far different from Francis yet he was also a blonde. His loud voice accented his appearance, which was usually a mess. Always holding a burger, a soda, a gun, or anything else that completely describes American or superhero, Alfred loved annoying his former father figure and that was how it was ever since he left Arthur in the Revolutionary War. Now, it is impossible for them to be in the same room without even a single insult.
"ENGLAAAANDDD!!!"
Now this, Arthur thought dryly, is a dead giveaway. Only Alfred would have the nerve to shout at me through the door like that. Francis usually uses Angleterre.
England shook his head and opened the door roughly. There stood Alfred F. Jones, otherwise known as America, with messy blonde hair and glasses askew due to his disability to stay still for long. He wore his usual jacket with the white 50 on the back and was holding a huge burger.
"America. What brings you here?" England asked, his emerald green eyes narrowing at the beaming America standing before him. "Aren't you supposed to be in America?"
The younger of the two laughed and said cheerfully, "I just wanted to greet you a Merry Christmas!!"
"The World Christmas Party was yesterday, Alfred."
"I know but that doesn't mean I can't go here and celebrate Christmas alone with you, England," America replied sweetly in a voice sugared with honey.
England shuddered and mumbled, "Don't you dare tell me you want to celebrate Christmas alone with me in that tone of voice; you bloody sound like France."
"Oh yeah, that reminds me- well, France told me to greet you for him. So yeah, he says, 'Merry Christmas, Angleterre'. Unfortunately, he had some problems back at his place and couldn't come."
"Oh joy."
Alfred stared at his former father figure and saw how bored he looked. His blonde hair was messier than his, which was actually saying something, and his usually shining emerald green eyes were dull with weariness.
Arthur noticed the younger man staring at him and cleared his throat. Alfred looked away, blushing slightly. "Don't just stand out there in the cold. I'm surprised you haven't jumped inside yelling yet. Come i-"
The door was flung aside and America ran to the living room, where England had been drinking his morning tea.
"Wow, your Christmas tree is quite big," America commented, looking at the tall tree that was a few inches above his head, "Mine reaches the roof!"
England turned and eyed the small pile of snow that America brushed off himself hastily, and then looked at him. "The ceiling, Alfred, not the roof. The ceiling is the one inside the house and the roof is the one outside the house. I kept on telling you that when you were younger and look where getting used to wrong words gets you."
"Whatever, England," America replied, rolling his eyes. The sky blue eyes scanned for more to see in the house and landed on England. He still looks pretty bored, he thought, I'll take care of that.
"What are you looking at, America?" England asked, noticing his staring.
"Did you just pee your pants?"
England glared at the younger nation, who was now laughing. He sighed, looking down at the pants. They do indeed look as if I had peed on them, he thought wearily.
"ARTHUR PEED HIS PANTS!!" America yelled, running off down the hall. England sighed, shaking his head, and got another cup of tea. He looked outside and saw the snow splattering against his window and the temperature falling once again.
"Wow, England, I didn't know you still had this thing!"
He rolled his eyes, wondering what America had found. He followed his voice and entered a spare room. There were old albums and trunks of different old things stacked up in boxes at the corners of the room. The well-organized yet dusty shelf near the door was the room's focal point and there England found America holding a small, dusty mug. His grip on his cup of tea tightened for a bit and the color rose ever so slightly to his cheeks.
It was red with a blue handle and it had a colorful hand-painted picture of a boy and a man. There was a small scribble of messy handwriting at the bottom and if one could decipher the childish penmanship, it read, 'England, my big brother'. Another scribble was seen on the top near the handle and it read, 'Merry Christmas!!' The mug was made on a Christmas many centuries ago and it had been long forgotten until the very day being encountered right now.
"You actually kept it?" America asked softly, grinning as he threw it to England, who caught it deftly.
"I kept it because you seemed to think it meant so much to me, when it actually did…" England replied tonelessly, "You used to love inventing different things that would pop out of your imagination randomly. Some of them are now quite successful and others were just plain cute."
He laughed bitterly and shook his head, taking a sip from the formerly forgotten cup of tea in his other hand. He set down the mug on the box nearest him and walked out of the room. America followed and asked quietly, "Do you think I've been doing quite well as a nation right now?"
"You must have gotten bored of teasing me and decided to ask questions now, hm?" England inquired, smirking. He drank his last gulp from the cup and set it down on the table. He then sat down on the couch by the fireplace, shivering slightly as the cold, Christmas morning had its effect on him once again.
America sat down beside him, finishing the last remains of his burger. "Well, America, I would have to say that you're doing quite well. Yes, there's still the recession and discrimination and crime and all that whatnot going around but then I would have to admit that you are doing just fine," England stated slowly, watching America's reaction to his honest statement.
He was about to inquire why he even asked in the first place when America answered his question. "So that's good… I-if you think I'm doing fine, then does that mean you're…"
"I'm what?"
"You're proud of me?"
There was an impregnable silence as England froze and America blushed. England looked at the snowy landscape outside the window for the millionth time that morning and avoided America's curious eyes as he tried to find the perfect answer. America took a deep breath, thinking why the hell he'd be nervous while asking someone if they're proud of him.
England noticed that his companion was about to say something and was silent, waiting for him to either elaborate or just shrug it off. Instead, he felt America put down his usual jacket snugly on him and realized that the younger nation probably knew he was feeling cold. He removed his gaze outside the window and looked at America. "I- thank you. I needed that. The fire's getting smaller and my tea's running out…"
"And I would also have to say that yes, maybe I am proud of you."
It was America's turn to freeze as his hand, which was poised on England's shoulder, tensed. "Even if I wasn't your little brother for so long, even if I wasn't in your care or under your name at the times of my past few accomplishments, even if I left you out in the rain that day, you're still proud of me? You still kept that mug for the very same reason? Because you were proud to have ever raised me even if I hurt you that much?"
England raised a bushy eyebrow and said rather bluntly, "Wait- that's what this is about?"
"Well, I just want to say I'm sorry and thanks for everything because it's Christmas and I figured you were lonely but for a really long time, I've never known…" America answered quietly, his blue eyes lowered down onto his feet.
"You stupid, bloody git, even if I hate you until the ends of the earth, even if I feel like cursing you with all the possible magic in this world, you were, is, and always will be my little brother. And if I hate you so much and don't think highly of you at all, then all of it would have been for nothing. You should know that, Alfred," England said sincerely, his newly-refilled cup of tea forgotten on the side table beside him.
Suddenly, America grabbed the shoulder where his hand absentmindedly lay, and hugged England. "Aww, I love you too, Iggy!"
England felt his face redden and spluttered, "I- you- wait- let go of me! I did not say- AMERICA!"
The younger nation let go, laughing loudly. "Just enjoy the moment, England. When was the last time we had a quiet Christmas together?"
America grinned as England thought hard whether they even had such a time recently and chuckled as realization dawned on his face. "Yup, never. Well, maybe back then when we were far younger but nope, never in the past century." America said, laughing.
"Whatever, Alfred. Anyway, merry Christmas," England said, rolling his eyes. He couldn't help but smile widely as he threw a red box over to America, who caught it, surprised. "There's your gift, you git."
America opened it and laughed as he found it to be a notebook, the cover printed with burgers, sodas, guns, and aliens. The design was pretty childish yet the inside of the notebook and the pen that came with it looked very formal. America noted that England had probably bought it from an expensive store and replaced the original, most probably black cover, with the colorful one that he had so liked that very moment.
Obviously, America gave England a gift too, which was one of the primary reasons why he had come to the cold nation in the first place. There was a new, thick, and dark green raincoat that looked perfect for England, especially since he would be able to use it in his place most of the time. The color brought out his eyes, which was one of the reasons why America thought it looked nice on him.
The two laughed and talked, spending time with each other to the fullest. There was never a statement where England would smack the other nation irritably and there was never an action where America would respond to the other man cheerfully.
It was no longer cold and no longer morning; dark had replaced the light and night had come. America did not regret visiting England for a single bit and when he realized he could not contain it any longer, he kissed him full in the lips.
For a split second, England could not move. He stared at America and thought about what he had just done. Realizing that he actually enjoyed it, he leaned in and repeated the gesture, this time longer and more passionate. America laughed at England's red face and stood up, looking out at the dark sky.
"I have to go, Arthur."
"Well, goodbye then, Alfred."
After a while, the younger nation left and England was left alone at his house once again. This time, there was a light feeling in his stomach and he would grin at the thought of the American.
When Alfred had reached home, he instantly went to his room and opened the new notebook. He flipped it quickly to the first page and was about to draw an alien when he changed his mind. The pen was poised right above the page and then was brought down to write.
Alfred F. Jones aka the one and only VERY awesome USA's journal.
America flipped to the next page and wrote again.
Dec 26 '09
It feels weird writing on a journal when I haven't done so since I was what? Ten? Nine? Well yeah I secretly draw aliens and burgers when I'm bored but I haven't done this stuff before. I'm just bored.
Anyway, I just had a fun Christmas with Iggy. He peed on his pants and I found the old mug I gave him long ago…
Author's Notes: Okay, well, USxUK came first since it's one of my most favorite pairings. I have others like GermanyxItaly, FrancexCanada, RussiaxChina, GreecexJapan, and many, many others to last until the end of January. You people could review and request which pairing you want to be featured for the next one-shot since I have many ideas already. Read, review, favorite, subscribe, and simply enjoy! Please and thank you!
-Pasta W 19.