Happy birthday Alfred! I was feeling a bit patriotic and decided I needed to write something for my country's birthday.
Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. I did have a truckload of fireworks, but they were set off Saturday night.
It was a trivial thing that caused it all.
Of course, the personification of the United States of America would be the one to pay attention to something like that.
Jessie Goodwin, who was no more noticeable than an ant in the bustle of New York, was busy cleaning after an early Fourth of July celebration. It fell on a weekday that year, leading to the catering business she worked for being swamped with appointments for the weekend before. The business also offered clean-up, further excelling the appeal of the small group, especially to those groups like the one she was dealing with at the moment.
They'd gone several hours outside of town to a large field and set a few scattered campfires as opposed to the stereotypical bonfire outside of a few pavilions and canopies, setting off fireworks after it got dark. This left her and a few coworkers to clean up in the early morning light as the last of the college kids wandered away.
That's when it started.
Jessie was picking up far away from the others, who had finished taking down canopies and were currently dousing fires. She was sticking near whatever fire was left, the night being cold for those who hadn't spent the last few hours drinking and playing with pyrotechnics.
To be technical, it was when she noticed the flag that things really started.
One of her coworkers had tossed a large pile of what was assumed to be trash onto one of the fires. It was easier than hauling the extra stuff, though it had gotten them into trouble before. It was likely that no one would miss, or even remember, any of the many napkins and paper plates scattered throughout the area.
But Jessie just had to go and noticed something. There was an American flag buried in the pile, and the fire was creeping steadily towards it.
Feeling an odd sort of patriotism and pity, she reached over and carefully grabbed the warm cloth, pulling it out; careful not to touch the likely hot pole. The young student/worker deduced that she could hold the flag without a problem, placing it in her bag, though she had no idea why.
It seemed like such a little thing, maybe a moment of hoarding? Of course, when she walked to her car after everyone had left…
"I saw what you did there."
Obviously she did what any rational human being would do; shrieking and spraying pepper spray in the strange man's face. "Get away from me!"
He reeled back, but didn't quite react like a normal person would, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes. "Hey, is that any way to treat your country?"
"My…What?"
He stood up a little straighter, though his eyes were watering considerably, "I am the personification of America, and I'm the hero!"
She shrank back against her car, fumbling with the door, "That's nice…"
"Wait, I'm serious." He said, reaching forward and grabbing her arm, and immediately regretted the (rather stupid, in hindsight) action.
She slapped him, considering that was probably the most appealing option at the moment.
"Seriously, you must at least sort of know about us!" He exclaimed, rubbing his red cheek.
Jessie couldn't really deny that there was something…familiar about the man. Something about the way he spoke, and he couldn't be human with that reaction to pepper spray…
"Prove it."
He pondered this for a moment before going around to the front of her car. She started to open the door and drive off (possibly running over the creepy/familiar guy in the process) but he promptly picked up the front of the car.
Well that explained things.
"I believe you; now tell me what you want." She said quietly as he walked back around to where she stood.
"Just to say 'thanks', if you don't mind." He responded, "I was looking at some of the early birthday stuff and was passing by when you saved that flag."
Her green eyes widened, "Oh… that was nothing. I just…"
"Hey, it's still nice to see. I can't believe how many flags just get tossed around this time of year. It doesn't hurt to see that happen, considering it's a party and all, but it is nice to see one saved." He shrugged.
She smiled slightly, "Then you're welcome, I suppose."
It took a long conversation at a coffee shop early in the morning for Jessie to actually believe that this man was America, with some history quizzes and the like mixed in with caffeine.
In the end, she was happy that her random moment of patriotism and national pride had lead to such an interesting meeting.
Obviously our story doesn't end there.
Five days later it was the Fourth of July, the actual, official day, and Jessie was spending it in her apartment. She'd managed to get one night off work after being swamped for days. The city was still loud, but she had lain out on the couch to find the best fireworks display on TV that night.
America was having an entirely different time. He'd gotten "Happy Birthday" messages from a few other countries, avoided England's attempt at baking a cake, and guzzled maple syrup with Canada, topping it all off with…nothing. No one actually cared to celebrate his birthday with him for long, even his own brother had other things to do. England was especially bitter (hence half the reason not to eat the cake, if it could even be called that), so he was out of the question…
It was all very pitiful, really.
Normally he would blend in with some humans long enough to see some awesome (as Prussia had called it after seeing a display on TV and for some reason feeling the need to compliment America) fireworks, but tonight he was thoroughly bored and, well, lonely.
Then he remembered the "patriot" he had met a few days before.
Obviously this meant he would have to go to her apartment (which was surprisingly easy to find) and break in (which was even easier, thank you crime rates).
So now we have a stunned young woman trying to relax being harassed by a nation who just wanted to celebrate his birthday with someone.
"Umm… Hello?" She said hesitantly, and America didn't exactly return the greeting.
"So, what is a patriot like yourself doing for your wonderful country's birthday?" He asked, sitting on the end of the couch.
She sat up, "I'm watching fireworks on TV."
His face fell, "Is that all?"
"…there's some cookies and ice-cream in the pantry that sounded good…"
This did not bode well for his birthday plans. "That doesn't sound like a party…"
"It isn't a party. It's the only day I've had off for a week." She was starting to get annoyed at this point.
"Oh, I see." He sighed, standing up, "Sorry for bothering you."
Do you realize how hard it is to resist hugging a dejected looking America?
She sighed and ran a hand through her long brown hair, resigning herself to the immediate future, "Alright, what do you want me to do?"
He was like a cartoon character, his face brightening and his stature becoming more confident, "First, change out of those sweats! We're going out!"
What had she gotten herself into?
She came out of her room dressed in a comfortable sweater and jeans to find America was no longer in her living room. This was a very bad sign.
He was in the kitchen, poking through her pantry, not bothered at all by the fact that he really shouldn't have been doing that. Thus, Jessie was left standing at the entrance, because there wasn't really a door (or a wall, for that matter) separating the kitchen from the living room, staring at the nation currently raiding her pantry.
That sounded more insane than it should have, in hindsight.
She started to say something, but then another thought surfaced.
"What should I call you? It's a little weird saying America all the time." Jessie asked, catching the nation's attention.
This caught his attention, and he turned around, chocolate chip cookie still stuffed in his mouth, "Alfred works. I go by that when I hang out with humans."
"That works. Now, where are we going?" She responded, taking the box of cookies out of his hands and placing them back on the shelf.
He looked up, a thoughtful look on his face, "Ah…I don't really know."
This earned him a passive aggressive glare that nearly bore through his skull.
He caught her eyes and had a very convenient epiphany, "I was talking to a guy at one of the parties and he told me about this hotel with a roof with a perfect view of one of the best fireworks shows around here. Not many people can come up with a reason to get up there though…"
"You're the United States of America; we'll just say it's your birthday." She responded sarcastically.
"That's a great-!" His enthusiasm faltered, "Oh, sarcasm, right."
"Wait, if you're really America, you must have some connections around here, right?"
"Well, yeah…"
Now it was a matter of him connecting the dots.
"Oh! I know someone I could call!" He pulled out a cell phone and dialed, pulling Jessie out the door.
He spoke quickly, asking for a few people with strangely common names. He hung up after relaying some information that Jessie didn't quite catch.
He finally stopped dragging her as they left the door of the apartment building. He looked around in the dark for a second before quickly walking to a nearby car, a model she couldn't identify in the dark. She followed a step behind the tall nation, sliding into the passenger seat.
"Hey Alfred, where exactly are we going?" She asked after they were on the road.
"The hotel is called...something French, I remember…" At her worried look, he added, "I remember where it is, though! And I know I'd recognize it if I saw it."
"What am I doing here again?"
"It's my birthday!"
Jessie looked out the window, trying to place where they were going. It was a part of town she rarely went unless she was working, giving her only a vague idea of where they could be going.
"I have a question," said America, "why do you live in such a dinky apartment?"
Restrain yourself, this is your country… "All my money is going toward a college fund that my parents neglected to do much with." She answered truthfully.
"That explains the horrible job too."
"Shut up."
He chuckled, but just kept driving. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. One second he was more childlike than one of her younger cousins, the next he seemed like any other guy. He couldn't read the atmosphere any better than her old friend from Italy, but he seemed entirely different now.
"Are we by some chance going to the Petit Paris?" She asked, remembering something.
America looked thoughtful for a moment, "Actually, yes."
"I catered there once. It seemed nice enough." In truth, the building was old and not quite impressive; she was surprised to have remembered it at all. "But there's one problem."
"What's that?"
"You missed the turn back there."
Then she was clutching the seat, trying very, very hard not to die. America had made a sudden turn back around into another lane, narrowly avoiding other traffic. He sped back a short way before making the necessary turn, and suddenly everything was normal again.
Feeling considerably less patriotic, Jessie slowly relaxed.
"There, much better."
She punched him in the shoulder.
A few minutes later, they were there. America parked the car and rushed out like a kid…at his birthday party. She hurried after him, to briefly see him speak to a man in a suit at the front desk before realizing that, look at that, she wasn't there yet!
"Come on, Jessie! It's about to start!" He grabbed her wrist and pulled her into the elevator.
She looked up at him, a huge smile on his face, and couldn't help but smile herself. The smile was almost that of a child's, but pride dominated most of his features. She felt a surge of pride herself just looking at the nation, and felt herself stand a little taller.
This time when he ran out of the elevator and down the hall toward the stairs, she tried to keep up, only a few steps behind. A few people were gathered there, some teenagers and a stern man in a suit. America talked to the man for a moment before going up the stairs, earning some glares from the teenagers who, presumably, had been trying to get through to the roof as well.
She followed, a bit out of breath by the time they emerged on the flat rooftop. He had grabbed something from next to the door, a blanket, and spread it out over the concrete.
"I asked one of the guys to put it here, since he already owed me." He said, sitting down and patting the spot next to him.
Jessie pondered for a moment why he didn't asked for chairs or, well, anything more comfortable to sit on, but smiled and shook her head, sitting down next to blonde.
America looked at his watch and adjusted his glasses, "It should start any second now."
And then it did.
It startled them both for a second, seeing as the fireworks weren't nearly as high or far as they would be on the ground. She could only see America mouth something over the noise.
Suddenly they were both laughing, watching the bright fireworks above the city. Most of the lights had been turned out; no doubt by whatever company was managing the show. Jessie glanced at America, seeing his eyes light up as he watched.
The bright explosions lit up the sky in all colors and designs, making the night seem overwhelmingly bright and beautiful. The young student had to reluctantly look away from the lights after a while, glancing around before finally settling on America again. He was still transfixed, dozens of emotions passing through his eyes.
It dawned on her then that he must have been remembering everything. Not just like at her birthdays, when she just got messages from some family members and maybe a visit that primarily consisted of idle conversation. She would have friends over for dinner or possibly a movie, and that was it.
For her, it was all about the future, but for the man sitting next to her, it was about the past.
She smiled, and laughed with him as the fireworks made a red, white, and blue smiley face.
The show ended far too quickly, and they were left sitting on the blanket, not quite ready to go just yet.
"That was amazing!" America said as the noise from below faded into the sounds of traffic.
Jessie could only nod before realizing what she should probably say, "Happy birthday, Alfred."
He smiled wider, "Thanks! You know, you're the first human this year to day that to my face."
She couldn't quite match his smile, "Then I'm glad I did."
After a particularly loud car horn and some yelling, America stood and walked over to the edge of the building, peering over without fear.
He came back smiling, but wasn't exactly happy. "I have no idea how we're going to get out of here."
"We're at a hotel, and you're the—"
"United States of America, I know. I'll just go find my buddy from the FBI and swing us a couple of rooms." He flashed her a knowing smile.
"Should you have told me he was in the FBI?"
"Nope."
Jessie smiled, and stood as well. She helped him gather up the blanket, and followed him back downstairs.
As he dropped her off at her apartment the next day, she doubted that this would be her last meeting with the nation.
She didn't really notice that after spending the holiday with America, she stood a little taller.