July 4, 1776
Heavy clouds hover over the battlefield, ominous with the threat of rain. Two men stand silhouetted against the horizon, battle-weary but still defiant. Blue eyes blaze into the steely green gaze of Arthur Kirkland, refusing to back down or show weakness.
Alfred Jones speaks. "Stand down Arthur," he commands. "You've lost."
He is a young man, barely entered into adulthood; but he holds himself with the fearless defiance of one who has weathered many storms. His blonde hair is rumpled and his face sweat-streaked, but he stands tall as he boldly returns the gaze of the British man in front of him.
Arthur stands motionlessly, numb with disbelief. There is nothing left for him to do, no words left to say. He finds himself wondering how they had gotten to this point here on this blood and sweat stained battlefield. Where is that happy-go-lucky little boy, Arthur wonders? Is it possible he has grown into the defiant man who stands in front of him now?
"Don't make this harder than it is."
Oh, that's rich; Arthur thinks bitterly, the muscles tensing around his jaw. As if Alfred wasn't already gloating, the gleam of victory shining brightly in those damned blue eyes of his…
He lets the rifle fall from his hands.
Rain begins to fall.
July 4, Present Day
Arthur could hardly see anything for the number of red, white, and blue flags that sailed in the wind.
It seemed as if the entire city of D.C was gathered in this park, the excitement bubbling over as the sun began its slow descent and the time for the fireworks display neared. Alfred's parties were legendary, although Arthur wasn't sure whose bright idea it was to manufacture explosives for the over-eager young man. As he stood invisible from beside one of the many tents, he watched as children raced around, shrieking in delight as they waved their sparklers and miniature flags.
He had to admit; these people really seemed to come together on this holiday. Even the food was better than expected, with the overwhelming amount of barbecue, corn on the cob, and cherry pie. Star spangled banners fluttered from every direction, but Arthur was only looking for one person: Alfred.
Where could he be? Arthur grumbled, dodging between pets and children alike as he searched for the familiar blonde-haired man. He felt uncomfortable amidst this giant crowd of people swathed in patriotic colors, some who had even gone as far as to paint their faces!
Finally, Arthur spotted the American sitting on a picnic blanket at the top of a nearby hill. He seemed to be the very picture of happiness, his hair rumpled, his collar half-sticking up, and his patriotic tie wrapped around his head. Arthur sighed. Typical Alfred.
As if Alfred could sense that he was being watched, he looked down to see Arthur at the foot of the hill, his entire face lighting up as he beamed down at the British man. "Iggy!" he yelled, waving enthusiastically. "Come up and join me!"
"If you think I'm going to go all the way up this hill, you're mad," Arthur called back, scowling.
"Pleeeeease?" the American pleaded, his brow furrowed imploringly. "This is the best place to see the fireworks! Pretty please, with cherries on top?"
"What is this cherry nonsense?" Arthur groaned, but he nevertheless rolled up his sleeves. There was no use arguing against Alfred, as he was all too aware. "You had to choose this bloody place to sit," he complained breathlessly, arriving at last.
Alfred grinned sheepishly, patting the spot next to him. "This is the best spot in the house, you know! Enjoying the festivities?"
Arthur grunted noncommittally. "The food's not that bad," he admitted grudgingly, gingerly setting himself atop the blanket. "Especially the fried chicken, no matter how hideously fattening it is."
"Hey, I wouldn't be complaining about the food."
"And what's that supposed to mean?" Arthur said dangerously.
"I hate to break it to you Iggy, but your cooking tastes like crap. And what about your fish and chips? Where are the chips, Arthur? I looked and I looked but the only thing I saw were French fries, so I'm pretty sure that's false advertis—oww, that hurt!"
"Good," Arthur replied calmly. "By the way, why aren't you down there with your people? I should think you'd want to be with them."
"Oh, I celebrated with them for most of the day, but I like it up here better," Alfred replied, rubbing his head ruefully. "It's quieter, it helps me think."
Arthur raised one brow (an impressive feat, all things considered.) "And what, if I may ask, are you thinking about?" he asked sarcastically.
"About my people," Alfred replied, an expression of calm on his face as he looked out into the crowd of families celebrating below. "Today is the day where they all come together to celebrate their independence."
"American patriotism," Arthur sighed. "Why are your people so patriotic anyways?"
"It's all about the American dream, Arthur," Alfred said mysteriously, grinning slyly. "We all want a slice of that American pie!"
"And what exactly is this American dream?" came the skeptical response.
"Endless opportunities!" Alfred exclaimed, flinging one arm wide. "This is the land of dreams, Arthur! The land of freedom and democracy! Anything is possible here. And think about it – this is the cultural melting pot of the world, and everyone who lives here – except for the Native Americans – have ancestors who camehere to find lives for themselves and their children! That's why this is the peoples' land, and it gives them something to be proud of; because no matter where they came from, they found a home here."
Arthur was speechless. Was this the same Alfred that bounced off walls and spouted ridiculous theories about aliens and Mars?
Alfred grinned sheepish, ruffling his hair with embarrassment. "My new boss is really eloquent," he explained, blushing slightly. "It kind of catches on…"
"I can see that," Arthur said finally, sounding vaguely impressed. "Well then. I'm glad you feel that way. Maybe he'll help you get rid of your ridiculous hero complex as well."
"What are you talking about!" Alfred yelped, panicked. "Don't even say such things, Iggy! The world will always need a hero!"
"Don't you understand that the hero is the one who always gets hurt?" Arthur exclaimed, exasperated.
Alfred flashed his thousand-watt grin at the British man, who flushed slightly in response. "Hey, it's a dirty job, but someone's got to do it," he said, winking. "Besides, chicks love a knight in shining armor."
Arthur scoffed. "Knights are part of British folklore, you know."
Alfred shrugged carelessly. "Hey, you raised me for over a hundred years; a few things were bound to catch on."
"Yet you still can't wear a tie properly."
"Hey, I can! I just think ties look better wrapped around your head…"
Smiling to himself, Alfred stretched out on the picnic blanket with a yawn, closing his eyes with contentment. "Ah, this is right where I want to be," he said happily. "Celebrating my Independence Day with my big bro'!"
"What?" Completely stunned, Arthur stared at the American with disbelief. "You…you want to spend it with me? Why?"
"Well, I wouldn't be here without you, would I?" Alfred replied, opening his eyes again to look at the British man. "We had some good times…it was just my time to go. A bird's got to leave the nest eventually, right?"
Arthur stared. "Alfred. We're not birds. We're countries."
Alfred waved his hand dismissively. "Iggy, you raised me – you taught me everything I know. Even if the tea and crumpets didn't catch on, you did teach me that a man ought to be able to walk with his head held high, as his own master."
Arthur didn't say a word. Above, fireworks suddenly shot into the sky, soaring upwards before exploding into thousands of colorful sparks. The sound of the explosives reached deafening heights and Arthur watched peacefully, finding himself as caught up in the colorful explosions as Alfred, who was ooh-ing and ahh-ing as he wouldn't admit it, but Arthur was dazzled by the frenzied storm of fireworks, sparking bright against the dark night sky.
Gradually, more and more fireworks shot into the air and all of a sudden, it seemed as if the sky exploded with sparks and smoke as the grand finale was released; a wave of red, white and blue that exploded into the night all at once, thundering through the air. Adrenaline coursed through Arthur's veins as he watched the shimmering of the fireworks, barely noticing the patriotic music that was playing in the background. Gradually, the momentum faded to be replaced with cheers, applause, and laughter, as the final waves of sparklers dissipated into the darkness.
"Ah, gets better every year," Alfred beamed contentedly, clasping his hands behind his head and stretching out his legs.
"Two hundred thirty-four and counting," the British man sighed, allowing himself to relax and close his eyes.
"You remembered?" Alfred yelped, utterly shattering the moment as he bolted upright, glasses flying askew in his excitement. "You actually remembered?"
Arthur muttered darkly under his breath, shooting an irritated glance at his former charge. "I remember only too well your youthful rebellion."
"Hey, I didn't tell you to tax the shit out of me."
"It was a small tax! I didn't think you'd react that badly!"
"What was that? I can't hear you over the sound of my independence ~"
"This relationship is dysfunctional," Arthur said resignedly. "We can't go five minutes without arguing."
Alfred grinned happily. "Yeah, but would you have it any other way?"
"Guess not." Arthur sighed in relief. "Happy Fourth of July, Al."
"Happen Fourth, Igs."
"Igs?"
"Aw, and we were doing so well with not biting each other's heads off…"
Author's Note: Happy Fourth of July everybody, and happy 234th birthday to my favorite country (but I might be biased =3=), the good ole US of A! I hope you all had a fantastic time celebrating with your loved ones. Please leave me a review and tell me what you think. For those of you who don't celebrate the Fourth, thank you for reading nonetheless!