"Bloody Americans," I grumbled as I flipped a pancake. Of all places, why did we have to meet at Alfred's house? "He invites me to stay with him while we discuss this war, but he's not even up to make breakfast! I mean really, isn't that common courtesy!" I let out a sigh. That's Alfred for you… His house is relatively big, and his kitchen is no different. It's more like a fast food restaurant than a home kitchen. Fryers sat next to a giant stove next to a massive sink. A monstrous oven took up the whole left wall of the kitchen. The floor was a sparkling white tile that contrasted against the granite countertops.

I flipped another pancake onto the waiting plate on the table. Sighing, I knew I was in for a long wait. It was the crack of dawn. No one in this bloody house woke up until high noon… I was soon proven wrong. I heard a creak and footsteps down the hall. Ah, Frankenstein awakes. Alfred stood in the doorway of the kitchen, rubbing his blue eyes sleepily. His wheat blonde hair looked as though it hadn't been brushed in 3 weeks. He still wore his white "Hero" sweat suit. He's usually dressed before he ever leaves his Man Cave…

And that's not the only unusual thing… There, on Alfred's nose, sat a giant pimple. It was impossible for a pimple to be that huge… Wasn't it? It was as big as his nose! No, I had to be exaggerating… Despite my class, I couldn't help but stare, not knowing if I should inform him or stay quiet. "Arthur, what time is it?" He stretched and walked into the kitchen. He sat down in front of the pancakes… The bloody wanker better not eat them…

"About 7 o'clock…" That zit was bigger than his ego…

"Can I have one of these?" He pointed to the plate.

What! Asking before he takes? What's wrong with him? This is NOT the Alfred that I know and lo- That I know and care about! "Uh… Sure, help yourself." I said, for reasons unknown. I'm sure he uttered a thanks… What's the matter with him? Where's my Alfred? The boisterous one that always goes around and gives me a headache all the time? Is there- Wait… It's only 0700. I'm sure it's just because he's tired. Yes, that had to be it…

But that zit...

He grabbed a pancake and stuffed it in his mouth.

All sleepiness left his weary face as his eyes widened and gagging noises ensued. "ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME!" He spewed the half-way chewed food across the table and the remaining pancakes. "WHAT'S THE MATTER WITH YOU?" He ran to the massive refrigerator and grabbed a small, glass bottle of Root Beer. The entire soda was gone within the second. He looked at me after washing out the taste. I couldn't say anything. The zit had grown 3 times since he drank the Root Beer! What is this zit! Maybe it's from his little Alien… That's why it's so huge… yes, that had to be it! His blue eyes caught sight of the spatula in my hand. "Give me that." His tone was deathly. I mindlessly handed it to him, not able to take my eyes off that huge zit… I was brought out of my trance as the spatula collided with my head in the most unpleasant of manners.

"What are you doing, you twit!" I demanded.

"Teaching you the RIGHT way to flip these pancakes. It's too late for those little guys." He indicated to the pancakes on the table.

"Because you killed them!" I argued. Did I just say that Alfred KILLED the pancakes?

"They were already dead when I got here." He said. "Now watch carefully…" he began flipping the pancakes and showed me the 'proper' way to do so… The griddle seemed happier now that Alfred was cooking with it. About half an hour passed before he finally allowed me to eat them. I took a small bite. I tasted no difference.

"I still think mine were better…" I said sourly.

Ignoring me, he stood up and stretched greatly with a yawn. "I think it's time to brush my teeth! A hero can't go around with bad breath!" He announced, running out of the kitchen and down the hall.

"He certainly can't…" I mumbled as he sped past me towards the bathroom. Sighing, I decided to take care of the remaining pancakes. I bid adieu to my own, regretfully throwing them in the trash can. It wasn't very long before I heard the bathroom door open and footsteps running towards the kitchen. Chuckling to myself, I was reminded of the time when Alfred was little and he ran out of the bathroom, claiming there was a monster in the sink. The little guy just didn't want to brush his teeth. So I had to brush mine first before he would even attempt it. But as he ran into the kitchen, the panic on his face shoved that memory aside.

"THIS IS TERRIBLE!" He screeched in a horrified tone… A tone I had never before heard him use. My worry for him sky rocketed. "I HAVE A PIMPLE!"

…

Really? I was worried… Over his acne?

"For goodness sake, Alfred, it's just a pimple. You won't die, you twit."

"Shut up!" He snapped angrily. I stared at him, taken aback. "You don't under-" his eyes caught sight of something. I don't know if it was me or something behind me, but I had a funny feeling I was going to find out very soon. "Turn the radio on," he said urgently. "Please." His voice was desperate. But I couldn't put two and two together… I looked around, trying to locate Alfred's radio.

"S-sure. J-just let me…" I still couldn't find it.

"Dammit!" He cursed, running to where I was. I was taken aback once more as he loomed over me, his hands behind me fumbling with the radio. "Come on, come on, come ON!" He pleaded urgently. The radio finally turned to a channel with little static, where his voice was audible. His eyes were ice… colder than I had ever seen them. He looked… Scary, threatening. He clutched either side of the granite countertop. I glanced down at his hands. His knuckles were white from holding on so tightly. "No, no, no…" he mumbled. He hung his head as the words flew from the radio into his ears. His hair brushed my shoulder.

"Six Japanese ships… At least twenty aircrafts… All on the shore of Pearl Harbor… Fatalities are unknown."

"Alfred…" I said uneasily.

He closed his eyes and his forehead met my shoulder. I looked back to his hands. Small drops of blood ran down his hand and onto the floor from clutching onto the edge of the countertop as hard as he was. His face was contorted in pain. It pained me to not be able to help him. I know he doesn't care about me, that's obvious from his Revolution, but… But I can't stand to see him like this. So weak, so vulnerable. With each and every word that flowed from the radio brought a new pang of guilt on Alfred's face.

I put my hands atop his in an attempt to comfort him. To my relief, he released some of the pressure on the countertop. But he pulled away from me, to my dismay. He took a few steps back, staring at me like a child who just stole from the cookie jar. He turned his back to me, placing a hand over his face. "This is… Awful…" he said, barely a whisper. I didn't know what to do. I slowly walked to Alfred. I removed the hand from his face, holding it in my own. With my other hand comfortingly on his shoulder, I lead him to the table.

"The Japanese are dropping nuclear bombs." The voice on the radio never ceased. I wished I could punch that radio… Alfred's face grew even more depressed. His blue eyes glazed over in tears. He ran a hand through his unmanaged, wheat blonde hair. I didn't know how to comfort the younger nation, and I hated that feeling. That feeling of helplessness…

"They're dying, Arthur." He said quietly. "My people are dying."

To my surprise, Alfred did something very un-Alfredy. He threw his head in his hands, stifling a sob. I didn't know what to say, what to do. But I knew I had to do something, anything. All I could do for now was place a comforting his hand on his shoulder. Every time more bad news was announced, I'd give a comforting squeeze.

This went on for 3 hours. 3 hours that would forever be one of America's darkest hours. 3 hours of the Japanese on American shorelines. 3 hours of losing American after American. 3 hours had passed.

We sat in silence for another hour. My hand never left his shoulder. I wanted him to know that I was there for him, no matter what. Suddenly, after the fourth hour had concluded, he placed a hand atop mine. "Arthur?" His voice was hoarse and raspy. He was so used to talking nonstop for hours on end, so being quiet for so long was a drastic change for him. I couldn't stand to see him like this. "You know how I said I would be neutral in the war?" I nodded, not able to find my voice. "Not now." He was starting to sound more and more like the Alfred I know. When he looked up for the first time in nearly 4 hours, there was a new gleam in those icy orbs. He looked beyond angry. The main emotion in his eyes was rage. Yet at the same time, I could see a sorrowful gleam. That's the part that needed to be out right now. He needed to be sad, to grieve his loss. "America will stop the war and save the day! I'll be the hero!" He laughed hysterically.

"Stop fooling around!" I finally blurted out. Alfred's smile faded as he looked at me questioningly. His eyes didn't request an answer… They demanded one. "S-Stop flailing around PRETENDING to be a hero!" I couldn't help but sound small. "Focus on your problems…" My eyes averted his gaze. I knew I was crossing the line, but this was something he needed to hear. "Your shore was just blown up by the Japanese! You're angry, and I understand! But you're hurting too. Just… Take a day or two before making any rash decisions, ok? You can't always be the hero."

What happened next was quite unexpected.

Alfred stood up and turned to face me. His shadow once again loomed over me. I half-expected him to hit me, half-expected… I don't know what else I expected. I had never seen him like this before. I felt… threatened, like he would actually hurt me. He was glaring daggers at me before suddenly wrapping his arms around me in a bone crushing hug. This was awkward, yet… comforting at the same time. Is it wrong to wish we could stay like this forever?

I slowly returned the hug.

"Can you blame me?" His voice was edgy. "I want to prevent this from happening to any other country. If I'm there to help, that's better than sitting around here doing nothing. I don't want anyone else to have to sit through what I just sat through… It wouldn't be fair. Now that I know about it, I can stop it. No one else should have to endure that… Especially you, Arthur."

"It's a noble cause, Alfred, but-"

"NO buts." He said firmly. I looked up at Alfred. I couldn't pull my gaze from him. Not only was the pimple gone, but he was… crying. Tears left his eyes and ran down his cheeks… And they fell from his chin and dripped onto my upturned face. How could I not tell he had been crying? Why did it make me want to cry too? Such honest, true-blue eyes… He looked down at me, and I wasn't able to pull my gaze away once more. A grim smile crept upon his angelic lips. "Let me prevent another Pearl Harbor… Let me protect you."

I cracked a devious smile. "Go ahead. Be my hero…"