AN: So I'm sitting in front of my laptop taking a break between writing part two of "Redemption" and continuing on with chapter 7 of "Operation Cherry Picker" when I was inspired to write this while listening to my MP3 player. The song playing was "Song For Lisa" by The Japanese Popstars, and for some reason the lyrics made me want to write a story featuring a Child!America and Child!Matthew having an adventure and scaring England and France half to death. So, I did. Remember, the authoress has no regrets. Seriously.
DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN HETALIA, NOR DO I MAKE ANY PROFIT FROM THIS WORK OF FICTION. HETALIA IS THE PROPERTY OF HIDEKAZ-SAMA AND STUDIO DEEN. THIS IS FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES ONLY!
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The following takes place between chapter 6 and 7 of "Operation Cherry Picker", but has been written to stand alone. If you are confused in any way, I would suggest that you go and read it first. If you don't wish to do so, then disregard any references to that story. I hope you enjoy this as much as I did writing it.
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As Alfred lay sleeping on the bed, every now and then his face would scrunch up as though he was concentrating on something unpleasant, or smile like he was remembering something that made him happy. Matthew, having moved to sit on the other side of him closest to the window, couldn't help but react to the emotions flicking across his face. He looked over to Arthur, who had resumed reading his book and looking quite content. Waving his hand to catch his attention, he pointed down to his brother when he finally paused long enough to look, smiling as Alfred's lips curved upwards yet again.
"I wonder what he's dreaming about." He unconsciously stroked his hair, hoping that the other expression didn't return, the one that suggested he was troubled by something.
Arthur, in turn, gazed down at his former charge with an endearing expression of his own. The boy looked so young when he was sleeping. If he concentrated hard enough, he could almost believe he was a child again. "There's no telling, knowing him. Probably something featuring him as the hero." Chuckling, he turned back to his book, leaving Matthew to continue his study of the snoozing America.
When Alfred murmured something intelligible, Matthew snickered. "Probably so. He's always wanted to be one."
Mentioning the one in question's resemblance to his child self, it just so happened that he was at the start of a very vivid dream about a time when was just that, a child.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-*Let's do the Time Warp – Late spring, early 1700's*o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
It was early morning, some time around eight. The air was cool but humid, the promise of afternoon storms heavy in the air. The grounds of the plantation house were quiet save for the sounds of animals in the barnyard, and the song of birds in the air. The house itself, white with red shutters and a wrap-around porch on both the first and second floors, completed the picture of what would be a beautiful painting, if one was of a mind to put it to canvas. Yes, it was a peaceful morning, perfect for a lovely walk around the grounds perhaps.
That was all ruined with the sudden bang of a screen door being flung open, followed by the giggles of two boys tearing out the back door towards the pond at the back of the property.
"C'mon Mattie! If we don't hurry we won't have any luck catching any!"
"A-Alfred! Slow down!"
As the children ran towards the large body of water, a harried looking man appeared in the doorway, hands on his hips, lips bowed in a disapproving frown. He called out to the boys, who were almost to the pond already. "For the love of God, stop slamming the door! And don't you DARE get those clothes dirty. You can go fishing without wallowing in the muck with your catch, you know!"
Another man, this one making his way to the morning parlor, chuckled at the sight the other made standing there. "My my, Angleterre, one would think you were a mother hen, the way you fuss over them."
The accent the other had, very French and VERY annoying, turned slowly to give him a glare, green eyes filled with a venom reserved especially for this individual. "You know just as well as I do if you don't say anything to them, they'll come back with half the dirt in the Virginia colony clinging to them!"
The Frenchman chuckled again, brushing back a lock of his carefully styled hair. "Ah, but they are but children, mon ami! Boys, at that. They cannot help but attract the dirt." He motioned for him to come along to the parlor. "Come, let's sit and enjoy the peace and quiet while it lasts. I do believe Anna has served your tea already."
Sighing, Arthur pulled the screen door closed, but left the wooden one open, in case one of his precious babies called out in distress. He followed the other, Francis, into the other room where his tea was in fact already waiting, along with a stack of messages from various colonial government offices. Sitting down, he began to prepare a cup, pausing to give Francis a questioning look. "Would you like a cup? Not that you would appreciate it."
Francis, who had taken the seat opposite Arthur, snorted but motioned that he would accept the offer. "Can't we have one day where we are not at each other's throats?" He sat back and waved a decorated fan to cool himself in the growing heat in the room. "It's too nice of a day to ruin with petty arguments."
Sitting a cup of tea by his elbow, Arthur began to fix his own, making a sound of agreement from between pursed lips. "I guess so. Besides, I really need to attend to my work." He paused, cutting the other a warning look. "I don't need another incident like yesterday, what with you getting drunk off your arse and causing mayhem with the children."
Blue eyes rolled, and the cup lifted for a delicate sip. "I do not entertain getting as imbibed as I was, my dear. You will have your peace and quiet."
"I better have it, or I'll take my riding crop to all of you." Taking a grateful drink of his own beverage, Arthur turned and picked up the first message. Opening it, he saw it was an inquiry about the most recent attacks by the natives, and what the British officials were going to do to quell the violence. Sighing, he began to write his response. It was going to be a very long morning.
Meanwhile, while the adults were inside acting civilized, Alfred and Matthew had collected their poles from the shed by the water, and had baited and cast their lines out. They sat side-by-side on the small dock that extended out several feet over the water, bare feet dipping in the cool water.
Turning to his brother, Matthew smiled. "It seems like it will be a nice day, no?"
Alfred nodded, focusing on the cork bobbing in the water not too far from their position. "Yeah, seems like it is. It's going to be hot though. The air is too damp for it not to be." Frowning when it looked like he had a nibble, but didn't, he sighed and leaned his head on the other's shoulder. "We might want to go swimming later on, instead of fishing all day."
"We can't! We have our lessons this afternoon, and lord Kirkland said something about us taking a trip to town, and-"
"Ugh, Mattie, please! Don't call him that. His name is Arthur, or Britain."
"But that's his title, and we should show respect for his position!"
Blue eyes rolled in their sockets. "Cry me a river, brother. I'll keep calling him Arthur, and you call him whatever. But I will NOT call him lord anything! It's too formal."
Alfred shuddered at the thought of formal. For him, the word meant having to dress up in velvet suits and polished shoes, one of those aggravating silk cravats tied around his neck like a noose while sitting properly and sipping on tea and nibbling on over-the-top fancy pastries while carrying on a conversation in a quiet, demure voice in his finest English.
Needless to say, it wasn't his scene, at all.
Matthew, meanwhile, loved it when they were dressed up, their hair brushed and tied back with a silk ribbon to match their eyes, while conversing with the finest of gentry from the cream of the empire's society. It made him feel more mature, especially when Britain would compliment him on his ever-growing vocabulary of large, obtuse English phrases and proper mannerisms.
He couldn't help but feel a bit smug about that. Alfred was always being fussed at for wrinkling his suit, or slurping his tea when he should sip it quietly. The last time they had been at a formal gathering, he thought the man would die of embarrassment when Alfred, in his typical up-front fashion, had asked one of the ladies if she had as much lace under her skirts as she had above.
He giggled as he recalled how they had both been ushered out of the room in a frenzy by Arthur, his face beet red, to the informal dining room so that they both could benefit from the hissed lecture he gave about what was and what was not appropriate topics of conversation for the fifth time that night.
Alfred looked up at his brother, his head still resting on his shoulder, and nudged him. "What's so funny?"
"Oh, nothing important."
He huffed at the short answer, but quickly forgot when the end of his pole was tugged downwards, indicating he had hooked a big fish.
"Oh man, this one's going to be a whopper!" Standing up, he began to fight with his catch. The trick was to tire them out before pulling them in, so that they didn't snap the line when it was tightened.
Matthew forgot his own pole, and jumped up to cheer his brother on. "Come on Al, you can do it! Show it who the boss is!"
The fight continued, the line making a whizzing noise as it zipped back and forth through the water. The prospective catch came to the surface long enough that the flash of its belly gave away that it was a trout, and a nice one at that.
Both boys were now excited, one growling and calling the fish names as he battled on, while the other continued to yell encouragement. Suddenly, the monster fish leapt from the water, catching them off guard. The gleam of its scales in the sunlight cast off rainbows that caught their eyes, making them both forget what they were doing.
Unfortunately for Alfred, the momentary distraction caused his grip to slacken on the pole. So when the fish went back under, the pole was suddenly yanked out of his hand. The two stood there and gaped, minds slow to grasp that not only had the fish got away, but the pole now lay a good dozen meters out in the water, the line having broken at some point.
Then Matthew whacked Alfred in the back of the head in disgust. "Why did you let go of the pole, you idiot?!"
"Hey!" Rubbing his abused scalp, he turned and scowled at the other. "I was distracted, alright?! You don't have to hit me, ya know."
Matthew whacked him again. "Use proper English!"
The scowl deepened. "I'm sorry, alright?! It was just so big, and it shined so pretty in the light! You saw it!"
Another smack to his head came, this one even harsher. "It's shone, not shined!"
"Dammit, stop hitting me, Mattie!"
The other gasped, a hand coming up to cover his mouth. "Oooh, you said a curse word!" This made his brother glare even more.
"Yeah, so what if I did?!" Alfred puffed his cheeks out, propping his hands on his hips in an act of defiance.
The Canadian studied him for only a moment. "I'm telling lord Kirkland on you!" And with that, he dashed off, his feet almost tripping over the uneven ground that led up from the pond and into the back of the yard. His brother was quick to give chase, scrambling up the slope after him. Matthew glanced over his shoulder and saw him coming, and shrieked, speeding up as he reached the flatter part.
Alfred was not going to let him beat him, no sir! He sped up as well, roaring at him to stop and face him like a man! "Get back here, you chicken!"
"No! You'll try to stop me!"
The boy growled, and did his best to catch up to him. But Matthew was light on his feet, and stayed several feet in front of him as they headed towards the house. He had to think fast! He didn't want to be strapped, and that was what Arthur would do if his brother told on him for cursing. Then he remembered his pole, still floating out on the water, and came to a slipper stop. "Mattie, wait! What about my fishing rod?!"
Matthew stopped as well, sliding on the grass a bit, and then turning to eye his brother warily. "What about it?! It's not like we can reach it. It's too far out." The grin that lit up the other's face spoke only of mischief.
"We can take the boat out to reach it. It'll only take a few minutes, I swear!"
Now he was the one with his fists propped on his hips. "You KNOW we aren't allowed to take the boat out on the water without an adult present to supervise us, Al. We'd both be in trouble then!"
Alfred held a finger up, and wagged it side-to-side. "Ah, but we'll get in even more trouble for losing the pole to begin with." Stepping closer, his grin grew. "And you know that Arthur will look at you being responsible for it too. Because you were there, and you should have been watching me, because I'm the irresponsible one while you're the mature, careful twin."
His grin turned to a smirk at the sight of his brother's gaping mouth. Yup, he had won this one. All he had to do was play on that insecurity his brother had about being the perfect young gentleman, and he'd have him like putty in his hands.
Matthew, on the other hand, couldn't believe how manipulative he was being. But, he couldn't help but fear that he'd be in trouble as well for not paying closer attention to Alfred. Sighing, his shoulders slumped as he began to make his way back towards the pond, Alfred falling in step beside him. "You know, one day you're going to get us both in big trouble, and when you do, I will NOT defend you. Especially if I'm blamed as well."
"Aww, Mattie! All we're going to do is go out and get the pole. Like I said, it won't take that long, and no one will ever know the difference." Alfred gave him a thumbs-up, smiling with what he hoped was reassurance. Matthew only groaned in response, a heavy feeling settling in his stomach. He just knew they were going to be in trouble for this.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-Exactly Three Hours Later-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
Matthew sat opposite of his brother, glaring viciously. Alfred grinned sheepishly in response, rubbing his neck. A foot began tapping on the bottom of the boat, violet eyes filling with what promised to be a violent end. Blue eyes widened in response, and the other swallowed hard. Oh boy, he had gone and done it this time, that's for sure!
What Alfred had failed to mention to his brother was that he didn't have the slightest clue how to use the oars to paddle the boat.
Oh, they had managed to make it out to the pole, which had floated out to rest half way between the shore and a small outcropping of rock in the middle of the pond. It had been the return trip that had damned them. Because Matthew didn't know how to row a boat either.
They had spent the first hour after retrieving the pole spinning in circles as they drifted out farther on the water.
The second hour had been spent bickering at each other, both trying to figure out just how in the hell they were going to make it back to land. They had tried yelling at the top of their lungs, hoping someone would hear them.
No one did. They were too far out for their voices to carry up to the house.
A short time later, in a fit of rage, the boys had set upon each other, dueling with the oars like they were swords. Alfred, being the bright and intelligent boy he is, whacked the one Matthew was wielding out of his hands and out into the water, far beyond their reach. Now thoroughly pissed, he had reciprocated by kicking the other out of Alfred's hand, the oar soaring out to land on the opposite side of the boat, beyond their reach as well.
Once again, they had been reduced to gaping in shock, slow to grasp the situation they now found themselves in.
So here they were. Two children, adrift on a very large pond, no oars to help them guide the boat. A boat with one very upset Canadian staring down a very guilty American colonial inside it. Matthew was the first to finally break the silence, foot tapping even harder.
"Well? Any other bright ideas, Mr. Know-it-all?"
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AN: Going to stop here for now. I worked well thru lunch and I need a snack -_- The tale will conclude tomorrow, so stay tuned!
