Okay! This one was a request from "Ms. Britain" for a non-usuk, brotherly love deal, so here we go! XD

Oh btw, I don't own Hetalia or any of its characters and most certainly do not own Starbucks. (I hate coffee.)

July fourth.

The one day of the year where every American shows their pride and love for their country and celebrates the victory of the American Revolution.

The one day that Arthur Kirkland can barely stand to live.

The personification of the United States of America was generally seen as an idiot. Being young and carefree and acting as if anyone else's troubles weren't important were just some of the traits that caused him to be seen this way, and surprisingly, Alfred knew it. How could he not? It wasn't exactly easy to walk into your work place, or any place that your co-workers were, and see disgust and contempt written all over their faces. Alfred knew very well the jealousy and anger that the other countries felt toward him, but what could he do? He couldn't just mope around all the time like a dog that was scared to be hit for being so well behaved. He couldn't apologize for the success of his country. He wouldn't. He didn't think it fair.

So everyday he would go to his meetings and assignments and smile at those loathing, hateful people and joke around with them, always accepting them back no matter how absolutely terrible they made him feel, because what was the point in making enemies out of the people who hate you? And Alfred's simple mindset of "treat others the way you want them to treat you" worked for him, and after hundreds of years of blood, sweat and tears, he wasn't hated by the other nations, no, Alfred was loved. So Alfred lived that way, putting on a smile in the toughest of situations and making friends with everyone, going out of his way just to treat everyone nice.

Everyone except for Arthur Kirkland.

Arthur Kirkland hated Alfred F. Jones, and Mr. Jones, in turn hated him.

It was a well known fact that the Englishman couldn't stand the sight of the boisterous American who he had raised so long ago. The same stood for Alfred, because as it appeared, the burger loving teenager simply despised the presence of his former care taker.

To some, it was just a form of unexpressed love, some sort of bizarre way to show that even through all of the disagreement they shared, he still cared for the younger nation and the younger nation still cared for him. To others it was plainly displayed in every meeting, that Arthur and Alfred simply hated each other with every fiber in their being.

Even so every year Alfred would do his thing and invite Arthur over to his birthday party, and even though he would refuse, Arthur would be secretly thankful that the boy had sent him an invitation.

The first year he decided to have a serious party for his birthday and invite all of the countries over, Alfred had sent Arthurs invitation in spite. He thought it would be hilarious to ask the Brit to come over and celebrate his revolt with him, and he knew very well that his colorful little card of cheer would be replied to with a very angry sheet of letter paper with words that were just as colorful. For years after that America would do the same, and just as much as it was his tradition to celebrate the most important day in his history, it became his tradition to smear his happiness and well being in the face of the person he had revolted from.

One year however, when he was sitting in his office writing out invitations to his annual birthday celebration, Alfred stopped for a moment to think.

Why didn't he want Arthur to be around him anymore? When he was a kid, Arthur had meant the world to him. Every time the man would leave, Alfred would feel like his life was going to end. Arthur had raised him as his own and given him everything he needed or wanted, and taught him everything he needed to know to become strong.

Alfred had his mind changed that day.

So when he sent Arthur his invitation, he had only pure thoughts in his mind. Now he wasn't bent on trying to get England to celebrate his revolt, he was trying to get him to see that he was equal.

Why couldn't they be friends?

The revolution was over, and they were both their own people.

When Arthur received his yearly reminder of Alfred's birthday, he didn't tear it up and throw it in the trash like he usually did. Instead, he took it with him to the covered porch in front of his house and looked at it while he drank his tea.

Arthur took a deep breath as he ran his eyes over the hand written invitation. If Alfred really didn't want him to go, then why did he bother to hand write an invitation for him every single year. To be polite? No, definitely not. Alfred was never polite, and who else would know that he wasn't invited to the party besides him. Did he truly ask the Brit to come celebrate with him just to be spiteful? Mean. That's what it was. Completely and utterly mean. Alfred had never been a mean boy. No, he had been sweet, always wanting to help in any way possible, always eating his cooking which even Arthur himself couldn't always bear, the boy always put others feelings and well being before his own. That was one reason Arthur never had a problem spoiling him. He deserved it, being so well behaved.

When Parliament had begun issuing more taxes on the colonies, Arthur had been outraged. There was no reason to tax them more just because England needed more money. Those people had to live too. It had frustrated him but he couldn't do anything about it. He had gone to England many times and talked to the king about the taxes and mistreatment of the colonists but he simply waved him off saying that just because Arthur had grown attached to Alfred, didn't mean that he could put his own countries needs out of his mind.

When Alfred got older and started talking to more people around his town, he started to get different views on the "harmless little charges" the English people were forcing them to pay, and he began to question Arthur further on the issue, only to be brushed off with a simple "don't worry about it love".

Arthur could see that the boy, no, man that his little Alfred had grown into was starting to understand what it truly was like to be a personification of an area, and everyday he saw the hate and hurt growing stronger and stronger in his eyes.

And then it happened.

So quickly that Arthur had barely even realized the small but serious things that pushed the American colonists over the edge.

All he saw was red. And blue. And rain.

Why was it raining so much? The water that was constantly pouring in his eyes caused the fabric of his men's mud stained coats to look simply like more blood to him.

And yet then there was blue. Every now and then, he would see a flash of blue and with every sight of it, his resolve to fight back became lesser.

So when that last battle came and Alfred was there pointing his gun at him and he was completely surround by the color of these peoples freedom, he simply gave up.

A sudden clap of thunder jolted Arthur out of his memories and back to the red white and blue piece of cardstock in front of him.

It hurt, to think of all of this just a day away from the date that it happened, and suddenly all Arthur wanted was to see him happy and celebrating his victory.

He deserved it.

Arthur held the card up and searched it for a date and time but was alarmed to see that it was drenched. Had the rain gotten to it? Arthur lifted his trembling hand and stared at his empty tea cup for a moment before looking back at the strangely brown edge of the card.

Arthur sighed and began to stand up, collecting his things as he did, then headed toward the front door. He was just about to head in when something caught his eye on the doormat. It was the envelope the card had come in, but this time when Arthur lifted it up, he noticed something he hadn't the first time sticking out the top.

One first class ticket to New York.

A/N: This is NOT done yet! I just wanted to post for motivation to keep going so meh. Reveiw? :3