Can Friendship Always Last?
A/N: Hi! This is my first fanfic on this website! I really hope you guys like it! And I just got into USUK recently so... yeah! Enjoy!
This takes place present day, but if there were no world meetings. England and American haven't seen each other since the American Revolutionary War.
Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia or any of the characters. Saldy.
A faint tickling of a phone rang throughout a large home in London, England. A skinny dirty blond stalked towards the phone, expecting a call from his boss. "Great," the man moped. Nobody's fond of their boss. Nobody.
Reading the caller ID, the dirty blond realized it wasn't his superior. Far from it.
"America?"
The nineteen year old on the other line smiled into the phone. Considering the two's checkered past, he was surprised the dirty blond picked up.
"Yo, dude! Arthur! England!"
Arthur winced as he heard America's slang, along with his name being called several times.
"What is it, Alfred? What do you want, money?"
America had good intentions, despite his old friend's rudeness. "Well, man, you haven't been over to my country in so long! I think we are all good now over that... um, war we got into, but... Yeah! We should chill sometime!"
England sighed. Yes, he did miss America quite a bit, but he wasn't going to admit that. There once was a time when the two were close. Like brothers.
The whole family relationship ended with a bang. After years of being under Great Britain's rule, America decided he was through playing games. To gain independence, Alfred started a way, but ended a strong, true friendship.
But that was years ago.
Now, two hundred and something years later, here is America telling England to put the past behind them.
"P-possibly, Amer."
With that, Arthur hung his land line up. When Alfred heard the "BEEP BEEP BEEP" on the other end, he slammed the phone down and fist pumped.
"Dude, I am going to play SO many pranks on him!"
Two Months Later
After arranging plans, Arthur Kirkland found himself landing in a plane in Washington D.C., America. Looking at the ground, the dirty blond sighed. It had been so long since he stepped for on this soil...
"Yo, Iggy!" A boisterous voice called.
Snapping his head up from the ground, Arthur looked for the voice which called for him. A strapping, tall man sprinted from out of the crowd.
The man had dishwater blond hair, with big, blue eyes like the roaring ocean, covered with a pair of half rimmed glasses. He has on sagging blue jeans, a bulky tan sweatshirt, and a graphic T-shirt of Batman underneath that.
"America..." England started.
Waiting for for a warm "hello" or hug from his former brother, Alfred leaned toward him with a grin stretching from ear to ear.
"...what the bloody hell are you wearing?"
America looked down at his outfit. "What? It's the style here, man!" He glanced over at Britain's sweater vest and pretended to gag.
England slightly blushed, though he wasn't sure why. "Oh, stop."
America burst out laughing. "Well, your fashion never changed!"
On the ride home, Arthur couldn't stop looking out the window of the Prius. "I can't help but notice that you don't have many – or any – coffee or tea shops."
America raised an eyebrow, but didn't even want to comment on what the dirty blond said. There were just too many jokes to be made. So, he changed the subject.
"Dude, I'm not going out in public with you dressed like that. You look like such a bookworm... Loosen up!"
England cringed again as his former brother made fun of him. Arguing was in Arthur's nature, yet something about the dishwater blond made him want to shut up. Both were silent for the rest of the ride, letting the blasting of the rap music fill the eerie quietness.
"We're here," America grumbled when he finally parked.
"Speak up, dammit. Nobody likes it when others mumble," England snapped as he got out of the car.
Alfred couldn't help but burst out laughing. You don't have to tell this guy about volume control. "Going all mom on my ass, aren't you, Iggy?"
England felt his checks flush when Alfred called him "mom." Even when the dishwater blond was young and innocent, Arthur always felt uncomfortable when Alfred referred to him as "mom." They were brothers; England even declared so when he first found America.
The two walked in the house. Arthur couldn't help but look around again. He was far to curious on what America had done to his home after a few centuries.
Everything was new and contemporary. A nice, spacious refrigerator, twenty feet stereos, and a flat screen television jumped out at the dirty blond. Had America gotten ride of everything from the past?
"Dude," Alfred gestured his former brother into Alfred's bedroom.
"What the bloody hell are we doing in here, git?" England asked. What was America trying to pull?
America smirked. "I told ya, man. If you want to be seen with me out in public, you're gong to need the right clothes."
The dishwater blond pulled out some clothes that were five sizes too small for his enormous build. "Here."
England took the clothes. He unfolded them and held them up so he could get a good look at them.
"I didn't come here to be tortured."
America did his trademark, boisterous laugh. He gave England a pair of red, skin tight leggings with silver, metallic chains dangling from them, and also a thin blank white T-shirt.
England furrowed his massive brows and sighed. Getting into an argument with Alfred was just as smart as running from a bear. He's the "hero," after all.
"Fine. Step out of the room, then."
Five minutes later, England slowly opened the door to let America see him. Biting his lip, Alfred attempted to hold back a fit of laughter. But at the same time, he felt a minor blush dance across his face.
Half an hour later, America and England were shopping around an ancient movie store. Arthur had his head buried in a black fashion cap he made his former brother give him.
"Dude, check this out!" America called out to England.
Moving the hat up a little so he could see the movie, Britain checked out the DVD. "Alien Invaders with Guns?" England read.
"Yeah!"
Arthur face palmed. Little did the dishwater blond know, Japan called England every night when the dishwater blond went over to watch scary moves. So, the dirty blond was well educated of his former brother's behavior around horror movies. "Pussy," England muttered.
After America had purchased "Alien Invaders with Guns" without Arthur's approval, the two walked around town until dark.
"Movie time!" America declared when they got home, holding the newly bought horror film like a trophy.
England felt his face fall into his hands. Muffled by his mouth next to his palms, Arthur managed to say, "You really got that, git?"
The dishwater blond snorted. "Of course, man! Now, let's try and organize this like Japan and I do when we watch spooky movies. We change into our pajama's, and I'll make popcorn later!"
England stiffened up a bit. Pajamas? He never wore those, so he didn't pack any...
Well, after wearing the clothes America gave him, anything would be better than wearing those.
After ten minutes and major debating, England walked out in nothing but his Britain flag boxers.
America turned around from the microwave he was facing and nearly dropped the large bowl of popcorn when he saw England. Alfred's eyes widen a bit and a deep, red blush spread across his face like an infection.
The Brit looked down at the ground in embarrassment. What was he thinking? America was probably going to barrage him with insults.
Thinking fast, America spun back to the counter and began to put mounds and mounds of melted butter on the popcorn. He couldn't have stared at England for any longer or else his face would've exploded.
Heading towards the couch and plopping down, Arthur couldn't shake off that weird connection between the him and Alfred moments ago. Their deep stares at each other- what was that feeling?
America awkwardly walked into the room with the snack and the movie, refusing to meet eye contact with Britain again. He shoved the DVD in the player, grumbled, and sat on the farthest side of the couch, away from England.
The two uncomfortably shifted their weights as the ever-lasting commercials raged on. Both wondered what that spark between them before was.
The previews finally ended and the tittle screen for the move popped up.
England chuckled.
America groaned.
The tittle screen read "Romance in the U.S.A." Alfred went to stand up to eject the movie he bought by accident, but he felt a hand grab his.
England, still holding his former brother's hand, was looking straight at the television and said, "Well, we can give it a shot, right? You already opened the case so we can't return it."
America sighed, freed his hand from Arthur's grasp, and stuffed a big wad of popcorn in his face. The movie clicked on.
England couldn't help but laugh at America's poor eating habits. "Boy, you sure never ate like that with my food."
Alfred eventually swallowed and smiled at the dirty blond. "Back when I was a kid, the last thing I needed was a pissed of British dude flipping shit over the way I ate."
England laughed even harder at his former brother's comment, though it was somewhat an insult.
All went silent as the man character in the romance move started talking.
Two hours later, near the end, Alfred was gripping his throw pillow, his eyes building up water behind it. "STEPHENIE, DON'T LEAVE HIM! HE'S INNOCENT!" America shouted at the main character.
Arthur rolled his eyes. Was America emotional to every movie?
A couple of minutes passed, and the television screen went blank, then the credits started to roll. Out of the corner of his eye, England saw America taking off his half rimmed glasses to wipe his eyes. "What a great movie," Alfred commented.
Once again, Arthur rolled his eyes. Realizing the time, he asked his former brother, "Hey, could you show me my room? After all these years, I barely remember this house."
America blinked at England and put his glasses back on. "Sure, man."
The both got up and the dishwater blond lead the way to Britain's old bedroom. "Thanks," Arthur said, walking into the room that he hasn't seen for over two centuries. "Goodnight, Alfred."
Even though England sad his farewell, his former brother remained in the doorway. He was shifting his weight uncomfortably and staring at the ground.
"Hey, dude... Iggy.. could I.. sleep with you tonight?"
England blushed. He opened his mouth to protest, but America cut him off before any words came out.
"I don't mean anything bag, I just mean that in the movie the girl was so alone and, well, I don't want to feel alone, also."
Arthur suddenly remembered that Alfred's room was on the other side of the house.
"Besides, we slept together all the time when I was little! What's changed?"
America's word "what's changed?" rand in England's head. What hadn't changed was the question. For one, their age. Alfred was still a lovable kid on the inside, but physically he was nineteen. Also, England wasn't America's guardian anymore. Oh, Alfred made that very clear a couple hundred years ago. Lastly, Arthur lived overseas in London. Now the dishwater blond was lonely?
"...Sure," Britain said without realizing it.
Both a wide grin and a deep red blush were plastered over Alfred's face as he sheepishly scooted his way into the bed and climbed in on the right side.
England sighed and gracefully slid into the bed as well. When the countries were face to face, inches apart, Arthur frowned. "You forgot to to take off your glasses, git."
Britain's hands rose from beneath the sheets and reached up to America's face. When he accidentally tugged Alfred's dishwater blond hair, his hands froze.
They were so deliciously close together. Their chests were almost touching. They could feel each other's warmth.
England had never felt this way before, especially with America. He had always looked down at Alfred as just an innocent little kid, yet now this tingling feeling was completely different from their own brotherly love. This was new. This was foreign to him.
But that didn't mean he didn't like it.
America, on the other hand, was lost in England's emerald eyes. He had never noticed the way Arthur's dirty blond hair tended to fall in front of his eyes, or how his thick, black eyebrows complimented the green shade.
After what felt like a lifetime, England finally found the willpower to get out of that trance. He took America's glasses off his face and gently placed them on a nearby nightstand. Britain pulled the chain of the lamp that was shining.
Now it was just America, England, and a bed in complete darkness.
Alfred wasn't planning on trying an funny business, but he did have one trick up his sleeve...
"Hey Britain?"
"Yes?"
"Um... In my bed, I usually sleep with one of the toy soldiers you made me me when I was little. You think I could put my hands around something else...?" America wanted to kick himself for how terribly that came out.
Luckily, England was fading fast and was half asleep. It had been a long day and the dirty blond still had some jet lag from the five hour time difference. "Hm? Sure."
Slowly, Alfred wrapped his arms around England's waist, nearly forgetting all his former brother had on were boxers. Arthur turned on his side so he faced America again.
England gently reached up to America's forehead with his lips and and brushed a light kiss.
"Goodnight."
End, Chapter One
A/N: Two and a half hours. TWO AND A HALF FREAKING HOURS TYPING THIS! Phew! But more importantly, I have NOO idea when I'll get to add the next chapter. First I have to hand write it, then type it, then post. Harder than it sounds!
Sorry for a lot of mistakes, I'm too tired to proofread now :3
REVIEW AND COMMENT PRETTY PLEASE!