A/N: Just a cute little thing I came up with. I got the idea when I heard the song again, and it's what my dad used to sing to me all the time.

Also my headcanon dictates that it is reasonable for America to be afraid of storms.

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or the song. Both belong to their respective owners.

Thunder and lightning boomed and crashed in the night sky, illuminating the outlines of the houses in the large expanse of land that is New York City. The rain pounded on the roof of the American's house, the noise loud and rhythmic. Alfred always had a hard time sleeping during storms, especially when he was younger. Back then, though, he would cry and get scared by it. Then again, he had someone to comfort him at that time. His big brother would always sing a song to help take his troubles away, and it wasn't just any song, it was a special song. The words rang through clearly in the nation's mind.

He knew the song by heart, and whenever he got scared, he sang it in his head; imagining it as if Arthur was singing it like he did all those years ago. The accented and calming voice of the Englishman made him drowsy, and eventually helped him to drift off into sleep.

It brought back very clear memories to his mind, one resonating very clearly.

The young American curled up into a ball, quivering with fear as he heard another crash. He pulled the covers up over his head, whimpering and closing his bright blue eyes. He could hear Matthew's calm breath across the room; he wasn't affected by the storms in the slightest. He began to sob loudly, wanting his big brother Arthur to come help him.

As if on cue, light flooded the room from the hallway, and Alfred could hear light footsteps coming towards him. He brought his head out from under the covers, seeing Arthur smile sadly at him. The older nation bent down so he was at eye level with Alfred.

"Is the storm bothering you?" He whispered, and his voice was calm and caring—trying not to wake the sleeping Matthew. The younger nation nodded his head quickly, causing Arthur to pick up the small boy. England walked into the well-lit hallway with America in his arms; he stopped crying and was now resting his head on his older brother's shoulder. Arthur walked into the kitchen and put his brother into a wooden chair next to the kitchen table. He then went to the cupboard and grabbed two mugs, one which he poured milk into, and the other was filled with tea that he had made earlier. He sat the milk down in front of Alfred who eagerly drank it.

"Are you hungry?" Arthur asked his little colony.

"A little." The boy said quietly; Arthur smiled and grabbed a scone that he had made earlier. Alfred's face turned to that of disgust as he eyed the pastry.

England, confused at this, brought it towards America's face, "Come on now, its good! It won't kill you or anything!" The younger nation reluctantly took a bite to please his brother. It tasted horrible—just like petrified couch stuffing—and Alfred spit it out, which caused Arthur to frown. America giggled at his brother's reaction, causing the edges of England's mouth to lift up; he even chuckled despite the blow to his cooking.

"Okay, I think it's time for you to go back to bed." Thunder crashed again, making America jump and whimper. England picked him up in his arms and held the boy close to his chest. The whimpers ceased, and Alfred clung to Arthur's shirt tightly. The Briton stroked the Americans hair gently and began to hum a familiar tune. Alfred calmed down as Arthur began to sing.

"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are grey. You'll never know, dear, how much I love you, so please don't take my sunshine away." Arthur sung gently; he felt Alfred relax and go limp in his arms. When he looked down, he saw that the younger nation had fallen into a deep slumber with a smile on his face. England smiled and went to America's room where he gently put him back in his bed.

Alfred slept peacefully during the rest of the storm that night.

Alfred could remember when his brother would do that often, it made him happy to think of it.

Now, he wanted to hear the Brit sing it again, just for old times' sake. He gazed at the clock on his nightstand, the numbers were blurry because he had taken of his glasses, but he was pretty sure that it was close to 11:30 PM.

After sucking up his pride and convincing himself to do this, he stumbled out of bed and towards his desk to grab his phone. After dialing the familiar phone number, he waited for a response. A few minutes had passed before the other nation had answered the phone.

"Hello? Who is it?" The nation asked groggily.

"Hey Britain!" America's voice rang through with its usual annoying tone and volume, "What's up?" There was a pause on the other side, before he heard an angered sigh.

"Alfred, look at a clock right now. What time is it?" Arthur asked calmly.

America was confused, "Uh, around 11:30... Why?"

"And what is the time difference between London and New York?"

"I can't remember!"

"IT'S FIVE HOURS YOU BLOODY GIT!" England yelled, causing America to wince at the loud voice.

"So what? It's only 6:30 then!"

"More like almost 5 in the morning! Really Alfred, some of us actually need sleep!"

"Well... That's actually what I wanted to talk about..." America said sheepishly.

All the previous anger in the Briton's voice suddenly disappeared, "What? Is something wrong, Alfred?"

"Oh! No, not exactly. It's just, there's a storm and I remember how you used to sing to me..." Oh God, why was he saying all of this! Arthur would probably get angry at him for acting like a child...

To his surprise though, his brother didn't do that.

"R-Really?" England asked his former colony, he was generally surprised that America wanted that.

"Yeah, I do."

"Um, okay then." He cleared his throat awkwardly. His voice was still calm and melodic as it had been all those years ago.

"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are grey. You'll never know, dear, how much I love you, so please don't take my sunshine away..." Alfred smiled at the song, he sang it just like he used to.

"Thank you..." Alfred whispered into the phone before he hung up. He walked back to his bed, and as he lay down the words rang through his head again.

Except this time, it put him right to sleep.

Just like old times.

A/N: I enjoy writing fluff.

Reviews are much appreciated ^^