Songbird

An Hetalia: Axis Powers Fan-fiction

by: Avvithespaz

Genre: Romance & Hurt/Comfort

Rated: T (for cursing)

Pairing(s): America/England, mentions of France/Canada, Spain/Romano, Germany/N. Italy, and Sweden/Finland

Summary: A hurt and angry America can be quite romantic, much to England's surprise. US/UK *songfic sort of*

Setting: America's House, Forth of July (aka Alfred's birthday, a bit early but I was impatient)

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. Nor do I own "Songbird", "Airplanes", "Courtesy of the Red, White, and Blue", "Bad Romance", or "The Chain"

Warning(s): Some cursing and a crying Brit. Also, I disregarded the characters set heights because I was too lazy to look them up.

Request: Please listen to this song, either during or after reading, it is truly beautiful. "Songbird" by Fleetwood Mac.

On the outskirts of Washington D.C. stood a home so majestic and beautiful, it could almost rival The White House. This house was home to The United States most valuable person, Alfred F. Jones, America himself. At the moment the owner of the house stood in front of a floor length mirror in his closet, trying to find anything wrong with his appearance that he could fix before he was due to attend his own party, that had already begun downstairs. His brother and a few of his territories were hosting for him in his absence, so that he could make a grand entrance when the majority of his guests had arrived. The personification of the world's only superpower stood around 6'5, with a broad chest and shoulders, leading to muscular arms and a defined chest and abdomen. Slim hips attached his long muscular legs to the rest of his body. Atop his shoulders and above his neck, stood the face of an angel. He had high cheek bones and a sharp nose that, though leaning towards being large, was perfect for him. His lips were rose tented, with a defined Cupid's bow, and a bit of a fuller bottom lip that hide his set of perfectly straight, blinding white, teeth. His blue eyes were almond shaped and lined with full long lashes, and framed with a simple pair of frame-less eye glasses. A mop of sandy blond hair was artfully messy, like he had been running his hands through the soft strands all day. His jaw was sharp, and defined, his 5 o'clock shadow practically blending in with his sun kissed skin. He looked as you would expect a Greek god to look, the epitome of strength and masculinity; a true man. He was dressed in a pair of jeans that hung on his hips perfectly allowing you to just see the elastic band of his Calvin Klein boxer briefs, the denim covering his legs showcased them magnificently. He wore a white button up shirt, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, over a well worn 'Proud to be an American' t-shirt.

Finally deeming his appearance acceptable, Alfred exited his closet and started bouncing on the balls of his feet waiting for his brother, Matthew Williams, or Canada as he was better know as, to tell him to make his entrance. He checked the gold Rolex watch that graced his wrist in impatience, but the energetic man didn't have to wait long.

"Al?" The quiet voice of Alfred's "twin" brother filled his bedroom as he opened the door allowing the music from downstairs (B.O.B. and Hayley Williams' "Airplanes") to trickle in with him. "You ready?"

"Yeah, Mattie!" The American smiled widely and laughed loudly, "About time!"

The Canadian rolled his eyes but smiled, "Just wait for this song to end and Obama will introduce you."

"I know, Mattie, I'm haven't forgotten already."

"Alright, oh and Al?"

"Yeah?"

"Bonne Fête." Canada smiled sweetly at his brother before he closed the door.

"What the hell does that mean?" Alfred whispered to himself. The American simply shrugged his shoulders and bobbed his head to the music for a moment or two until it ended.

"May I have everyone's attention, please." The voice of President Barack Obama rang through the house. "First, I'd like to welcome all of you, nations and civilians alike, to America's Independence Day Celebration!" He paused to accommodate the clapping of everyone present. "I won't hold you from the celebrations with a long speech, I am here simply to greet my country and wish him a much deserved Happy Birthday. So here he is, the man of the hour, America!" The guest applauded happily as "Courtesy of the Red, White, and Blue" by Toby Keith played in the background. Alfred smiled and left his bedroom quickly and began walking proudly down the hall to the staircase, where he smiled happily and began his descent onto the crowd. He happily shook hands with his President and First Lady; they wished him well on his birthday, but told him that they had to leave to attend to other duties, as expected. Alfred smiled, just happy that they had stopped by. He turned to the crowd in search for some of his friends, before being practically tackled by a bubbly Italian.

"Buon Compleanno, America!" Alfred laughed and hugged Italy back quickly, Italy pulled away and plastered himself to Germany who flushed in embarrassment before shaking hands with America, "Alles Gute zum Geburtstag, America." He gave his thanks and made his way around the room, receiving well wishes for his birthday and accepting dances from a few ladies, such as Belgium and Ukraine. It was almost time to cut his cake and start the fireworks when he finally ran into France.

"Joyeux Anniversaire, Amérique!" the Frenchman exclaimed, a winning smile plastered onto his handsome face. His arm draped across Canada, fingers circling the quiet nations nipple suggestively, much to America's annoyance.

"Thank you, France. Hey, have you seen Ar-England anywhere? I want him to be there when I blow out my candles." The American stated craning his neck to look for the mop of platinum blond hair and massive eyebrows that was the United Kingdom.

"Angleterre? I saw him earlier talking to his three frères."

"His three what?" America asked confused.

"His brothers Al, you know, Scotland, Ireland, and Wales." Canada supplied.

"Oh yeah, I totally know who they are." America smiled trying, and failing, to convince the two that he knew who the brothers were.

"Of course you do, oh wait, Je suis désolé, I just remembered I saw him going upstairs a little while after that." France stated.

"Okay, I'll just go get him!" America exclaimed, glad to get away from the awkwardness of his brother being molested right in front of him. He walked down the hall, stopping when he heard noise coming from one of his guest bedrooms, odd that England was in this room as opposed his own room in America's house. The American shrugged and opened the door, quickly closing it after he saw what was happening inside. Trying to blink the images of Sweden and Finland in the throws of passion out of his mind, he shuddered and continued down the hall, making a mental note to change the mattress in that room.

Finally reaching England's room, America opened the door, a little more cautious this time, peeking in to see the small frame of The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, sitting in a chair in the corner of the room with his head in his hands sobbing; an untouched bottle of rum at his feet.

"Hey Iggy, what are you doing getting drunk up here by yourself? The party is downstairs." The American laughed strutting into the room once he was sure nothing inappropriate was happening. The Briton looked up red eyed with tears staining his normally beautiful face.

"What the bloody hell do you want, America? Don't you have to be obnoxious somewhere else?" The smaller nation sounded so very weak, it almost made America sympathetic, almost.

"Aw, Iggy you already drunk?" The American laughed happily.

"I haven't touched a drop of alcohol, you git! I'm trying not to drink this year." The Briton grumbled. "I don't know why I even came, I never have fun at your parties. Its just pain and suffering, I absolutely hate being here."

"Come on England, that's not fair." America said, only a bit offended.

"Oh, it bloody well is! Why, on this whole earth, would you think that I would enjoy even a second of celebrating Your. Fucking. Birthday?" The British man stood up and stalked to the American glaring hatefully.

"Because we're friends, maybe?" America stated starting to get defensive.

The Englishman scoffed, "Friends? We've never been friends, America. Allies maybe but never friends." America let the hurt cross his face for only a moment before his eyes turned hard.

"And why is that England?"

"In case you haven't realized, you have no friends, Alfred! The only reason people come to your parties, and are nice to you, and hang around you is because they are too afraid to do otherwise! But you want to know what? You are too blind or too stupid to realize it, I haven't really figured out which it is yet! Do you even know what a friend is? Friends do things for each other. Friends don't do things to hurt each other on purpose! A friend wouldn't make me cry on a regular basis! A friend wouldn't celebrate the day that he stabbed me in the heart! Especially to this scale! You don't care about anyone but yourself Alfred! ." The Englishman had been crying through this entire speech. "If you were my friend you wouldn't be bound and determined to find new and horrible ways to slap me in the face and make me feel like committing suicide EVERY FUCKING YEAR!" Arthur collapsed onto the edge of the bed sobbing.

"Are you still going on about the damn Revolution? Its been over 200 years!" America exclaimed in disbelief.

"Of course I am! The day that the only person who made me happy ripped my heart out and made me realize that I could trust no one, that not a single person cared at all! Which I knew already; but then I met you and you acted like you loved me and adored me but then went and almost killed me!"

"I didn't almost kill you, England!" America was so confused and hurt.

"No! Not England! Well, England did suffer a blow from that, but not like I did! Not like Arthur did! My god it was the single worst day of my life! Just go enjoy your damn party, I'm leaving. Don't even bother sending me an invitation next year, I won't be coming. Just give me a moment to compose myself, because you know what Alfred? I finally got the hint, I'll get out of your life and we'll only meet on political purposes." Arthur stated sounding empty.

"What are you even talking about?" America exclaimed confused, hurt and a little angry at the accusations.

"You out do yourself. . You make the celebrations bigger, the fireworks louder and more extravagant. You do everything in your power to tell me and the rest of the world how happy you are to be free. How ecstatic you are to be free of me!"

"It has nothing to do with you!" America exclaimed, when the British man gave him a look he backtracked, "Well it has a little bit to do with you, but not like what you're thinking! I'm happy to be able to celebrate my freedom and ability to stand on my own with very little help." America attempted to explain.

"You hate me, and I don't care how long it takes me Alfred I will make myself hate you in return." The Englishman glared at the American refusing to listen.

"You don't mean that." America stated desperately, but he was met with silence.

Alfred stood there in disbelief before giving up in frustration and walking to the door, England must have had something to drink, he would be back to his old self in a day or two, but a heavy heart stopped him from leaving. He reveled in the near silence, if you could block out England's sobbing, the fireworks, and the opening notes to Lady Gaga's "Bad Romance" it was a frighteningly peaceful moment as America realized, he wouldn't be able to enjoy his party until he resolved this issue. Racking his brain for a solution, his eyes landed on the stereo next to the door, with one of America's all time favorite albums laying innocently on top of it, he smiled. As quickly and quietly as possible he inserted the CD into the stereo and turned it to track number 6 and letting the sweet sound of the piano fill the air.

Alfred rested his hand on the wall, and allowed his head to fall; sagging due from the stress of the conversation and with nerves from what he was about to do. He took a deep breath and allowed his voice to blend with Christine McVie's.

"For you, there'll be no more crying.

For you, the sun will be shining." Alfred finally gathered the strength to turn around a face Arthur, singing into the shocked, watery eyes of the Brit. He began to walk the short distance towards him.

"And I feel that when I'm with you, its alright." Alfred sank to his knees in front of the now trembling Arthur.

"I know its right." He sang as he wiped the tears from the Englishman's cheeks.

"To you, I'll give the world." Alfred sweetly took the hands of Arthur into his.

"To you, I'll never be cold.

'Cause I feel that when I'm with you, its alright.

I know its right.

And the songbirds are singing, like they know the score." Alfred leaned forward and rested his forehead against the smaller nations and put all of his emotions behind the next words.

"And I love you, I love you, I love you, like never before."

Letting go of the other Alfred walked towards the chair in the corner, that England sat in when he entered the room, sitting down as he hummed the instrumental section. He watched as Arthur walked towards the window, leaning his head against the glass, staring at Alfred.

"And I wish you all the love in the world, but most of all I wish it from myself." As Alfred began to sing again, he reached for Arthur's hand, taking into his own again.

"And the songbirds keep singing, like they know the score."Again Alfred put all of his emotions into the last few words:

"And I love you, I love you, I love you, like never before. Like never before. Like never before." A lone tear rolled down Alfred's cheek. The sweet moment lasted as "The Chain" began where "Songbird" left off. Alfred took a deep breath.

"I've never hated you. I didn't fight the revolution to hurt you, I fought to show you that I was grown up and that I didn't want to be your little brother anymore. I was hoping that it would blow over in a few decades and then I'd be able to tell you how much I love you, and we'd be together. I never imagined it would take this long." Alfred explained in a whisper.

"That would have been a lot more romantic had Bad Romance not been playing downstairs." Arthur smiled.

"Ah, ya gotta love Gaga." America chuckled.

"So it would seem." England smiled.

"Hey, I got to go back downstairs, but please stay. You don't have to come downstairs, though that would be totally awesome, just please stay so we can talk after the party." Alfred pleaded with the Englishman.

"I suppose I will." Arthur blushed.

"Hey, and Iggy?" Alfred turned and placed his lips upon Arthur's, closing his eyes and relishing in the moment he had been waiting centuries for. They didn't have time to go farther, so Alfred reluctantly pulled away, "I'm sorry I made you feel that way all these years. I never meant to do it." Arthur gave a weak smile as Alfred left, returning to his party; leaving his love upstairs to wait, he had already waited centuries, what was a few more hours. Arthur smiled, he was truly happy and hopeful of the future, for the first time in a long time.

FIN

A/N: Yeah it wasn't as good as I intended it to be but whatever, hope you enjoyed. Review please!