Authors Note:
Breaking one of my ships for this one you guys! But it HAD to be done...My mind couldn't help it.
Enjoy!
_
England was in America's house, in his room. America had let him stay over since the world meeting ran so late, and England had had a few too many, but now, the american idiot was no where to be found.
England desided it would be the perfect time to snoop. He went through America's sock drawer, book shelf, and desk, only to come up short.
All he learned from those things was that America had a fancy for some of Japan's porn, and had a box of doughnuts, a month too old,
sitting in his desk.
The brit sighed, and finally flopped back down on the air matriss,
giving up his snooping. So maybe the great "Hero" didn't have any secrets aside from his zombie fighting kit that was sitting in his closet. England pouted slightly, and rolled onto his back, looking at the desk, then face palmed when he noticed something he probably never would've seen other wise.
A leather bound book was taped to the under side of part of the desk.
England rolled over and retreived the diary.
"Aha! That bloody git! Now to get some dirt on you!" He taunted the air, as if expecting a reply. He opened it to the first page, to find, in a child's hand writing, 'Property of: Alfred F. Jones'.
England scoffed, and flipped to the next page. The second entry caught his eye in particular.
I miss my mom...Why did he have to leave me alone? He used to be able to find a rainbow, even when the sky was really grey. I want a mom to read me stories, and to tell me it's okay to cry.
To make the scrap on my knee feel better. To tell me not to be afraid of this big house. Someone to last forever, and to protect Mattie and me. I want a mom to tuck us in at night, and keep the monsters away. Why does England have to be so far away? I want a mom to play with so I don't get lonely. But most of all, I want my mom...
England felt hot tears rolling down his cheeks. "Mom". He had never been called that by America. At least, not aloud. He supposed he would be the bloody idiot's mother, but even then, the diary entery made him feel as though he had abandoned what was his child.
England wanted to hide, yet find America and hug him tightly.
That time had been hard on his child as well. "His child".
That's right, Alfred was his son, as was Mattie. His boys...
He had almost forgotten his own sons. Their smiles, and the memories from their youths.
"I'm a horrible mother..." England whispered, throwing the diary at the wall, and pulling his knees close to his chest.
"You're not." A voice, firm, but full of sadness, stated loudly,
making England jump.
England didn't have to turn to know who it belonged to. "I left you and little Matthew alone, to fend for yourselves, didn't I?"
"You were a good mother to us. You did everything you could do!
You had to balance out being a good mother, while leading an empire.
You had your reasons to leave us, you know. You knew we would be fine alone." America said, forcefully. He sat down next to England.
"Why didn't you say anything about this after I came back?" England asked, not even trying to hide his tears from America.
America thought a moment, then sighed. "I wanted to show you how big I got. That I was able to stand on my own two feet. I didn't want you to look at me like a child when you got back, even though I missed having you read me and Mattie to sleep, or playing treasure hunters,
I just wanted you to be proud."
England fought the sobs as he hugged America close. "Alfred...I'm sorry I wasn't there for you..."
"Hey, you're here now, aren't you?" America asked. "Just because I'm an adult now, doesn't mean I'm not your son."
"I know..." England whispered, the sobbs subsiding. "And even though you're a bloody idiot, I'm still proud of you..."
"Even when I'm the 'asshole of the world'?" America asked, laughing slightly.
"Yes Alfred...Even when you're a complete arse."