"Can I tell you a secret?"
Blue eyes smiled from behind thin pieces of glass. America, in his worn uniform and boots, stood next to the elder nation as they looked up at the moon.
"I suppose, if you want."
Green eyes, still as a stagnant lake, move for the first time in the last few minutes. England looked back up at the moon, taking in the peace and quiet- the first silent night in months.
"You have to promise not to tell anyone."
Arthur nearly snorted at the childish request. "Fine. I won't tell anyone."
"Hey, look at me and promise."
England didn't even need to look to know the other was pouting. Giving a small smirk, he turned his head back towards America.
"I promise I won't tell anyone. Are you happy now?"
His smile was the only answer England would receive on that note. The younger moved closer, bending down at a slight angle to whisper into England's ear.
"One day, I'll make sure no one is killed by war ever again."
Eyebrows furrowing, England glanced up at the younger.
"How is that a secret?"
America grinned.
"Because, it scares people."
Tension shot through England like a bullet.
"…America… how do you plan on going about this secret plan of yours?"
America's smile dropped, his stance straightening again- face moving further away from England's.
"Isn't it obvious?"
Silence.
America's face looked like a cracked porcelain mask as he began to smile.
England looked up at America as he approached the desk. It had been nearly 500 years since the end of World War II. It had been nearly 500 years since America had told him his "secret". And now, England knew, that secret was about to become a formal plan. His head tilted down to look at the contract in front of him.
Pen and paper might have well been blood and soul.
"England, you don't look so well," America called out, pulling England's attention up to his face.
Sullen eyes looked up at the younger nation.
"… Ah, yes. But," Eyes moved over to the paper again for a split second. "That is why you are here, isn't it?"
America's lips curled up like a cat. His eyes, squinting has his cheeks rose, shined like a lake in the summer.
"Everything is going to better, England. You know that, I know that, everyone else knows it. Now," the paper was pushed closer to England. "Sign this, and we can go home."
Slow and somber England reached for the pen. At least America was a better choice than the others. Russia would lock him up and the others… Well, no one else really cared to see him stay alive.
"…You promise that-"
"I promise that you will remain. Your name, your people," Alfred placed the pen in England's hand. "You will remain. You will be safe, Arthur."
The ink looked like thick blood.
"Hey, Arthur?"
"Yes, America?"
Silent disapproval wafted through the air.
"Arthur, I told you to call me Alfred," America all but whined.
Arthur sighed as he closed his book and looked over at the other. The office was bright, with large windows facing north for a constant source of light. However, the large desk, bookshelves, everything else, was so dark… it fit America, Arthur had concluded one morning.
"That is not how territories speak to their owning nation."
Alfred frowned at that. No pouting, no whining, but a firmly set frown. Arthur felt his lips twitch, but he didn't know if he wanted to smirk or return the frown. So he settled back into indifference.
"Arthur, I don't own you."
Large eyebrows lifted.
"I'm pretty sure that I signed a contract stating otherwise, America," Swinging his legs back into a sitting position on the couch, Arthur quickly added, "I'm not complaining by any means. You saved my people from completely falling to ruin, and kept me from disappearing. I am grateful. But," His knees popped as he stood, making his way back to the bookcase across the room. "You will never be able to continue to be on top if you are so lenient with you territories."
America's mouth twitched. His eyes followed Arthur as he passed by in front of him, the large mahogany desk being the only thing between them.
"…America, do you still want to protect everyone? Do you still want to eliminate the word "war" from the dictionary?"
America's eyes softened in confusion. "Of course. I have a plan."
Arthur shook his head. "I know, I know. But do you still want to achieve that plan? Even if everyone hates you for it?"
Blond hair waved as he cocked his head to the side. "Why would anyone hate me? I'm going to be a hero."
Arthur placed the book back into the small hole created by dead trees- the levels of the book case and the surrounding covers of neighboring books. "America…"
"Alfred, Arthur. Alfred."
Arthur's hand fell, a sigh escaping his lips. "Alfred. A hero to one group of people is a villain to another. The crusades, the Inquisitions, every war fought- there is always two sides to a story."
"But, once everything is said and done, there will only be one side! No one will have to fight because everyone will be equal!" America grinned.
Arthur suppressed a huff. A childish dream, trying to be made into a reality by a so-called adult.
"If you say so, Ameri-"
"Alfred."
"If you say so, Alfred," Arthur turned away. "If you don't need my company anymore, I'll be taking my leave."
America said nothing more, but his gaze stayed on Arthur till it no longer could.
"Hey, let's go out for dinner."
Arthur looked unamused.
"Is that what you called me away from the garden for?"
Alfred only grinned.
Nails dug into Alfred's back as he carried Arthur to his room. Lips searched for any skin they could touch, playing a mindless game of who could leave the most marks.
Once in the room, Arthur fell onto the bed, pulling Alfred with him.
"Alfred…" Arthur panted, no hesitance in the name.
Yes… there, in that moment, there was no ownership as Arthur stripped Alfred of his shirt. There was no title of "territory" or "country" as Alfred suckled at Arthur's chest. There was no difference between them as Alfred settled in between Arthur's legs.
Reaching nirvana together with no demands or demeaning words, whether to each other or to themselves, they were one. In that moment, they were equal.
America shuffled around the room. Everything had to be perfect. Once Arthur came home from shopping, America would surprise him.
A National Holiday of when they became one.
"America?"
America smiled, deciding to let that one slide.
"Happy 10th anniversary, Arthur."
"Arthur…."
"What is it, Frog Face?"
France smirked.
"Just making sure you didn't lose that bite when you became America's pet."
Glares and silence.
"Another glass?"
"I suppose I can take a bit more of your sad excuse of a means of getting drunk," Arthur quipped.
"Wine is for flavor and class. Not to get to the point of stripping and trying to bed anyone who is willing, Arthur."
The waitress pours two more glasses before leaving the old friends.
"Speaking of which, how is he in bed?"
"I don't believe that is a topic for drinking something so classy as wine, don't you agree?"
Dinner arrives.
"….But really, mon cher, are you happy?"
More silence.
"France…"
"Oui?"
"Don't let your food get cold."
"Arthur?"
The smaller blond turned around quickly at the call, eyes wide and fearful at the sight. "Ame- Alfred?"
His uniform was tailored to him to a T. The lapels still pressed and pants straight without a wrinkle from belt loop to hem. All of Arthur's work, perfect and clean.
And there he was, covered in dried blood.
"I'm sorry I ruined all your hard work, Arthur," Alfred apologized as he took a seat in the dining room, facing Arthur, who was zeroing in on him from the kitchen.
"What happened to you?" Arthur began to search for wounds, his panic causing his fingers to tremble.
"I'm sorry. I tried to keep everything clean-"
"Nevermind that!" Arthur nearly shouted.
"… Mexico just wouldn't listen…"
Arthur's lip began to shake as he realized that the blood was not America's own. His hands fell as his feet involuntarily moved him away. In hushed tones, Arthur finally asked:
"Alfred… What did you do?"
"What do you think?"
Arthur looked at America from the bed.
"Alfred…"
"Both North and South Italy are close to folding, and Germany will be right behind them! And once he agrees… Well, everyone else will soon see it's the best way to-"
"Alfred."
America stopped and turned towards Arthur. He smiled softly before approaching him, sitting on the bed next to the other.
"Don't worry, Arthur. No matter what happens, I'll always protect you," Alfred whispered softly touching their foreheads together. Intertwining their fingers, the shine of the silver ring on Alfred's hand twinkling in the morning light, Arthur closed his eyes to take in the moment. The softness America was showing him…
"I love you, Arthur."
"They refused."
"What do you mean 'they refused'?!"
"Germany's Prime Minister has refused to sign over any land to us, Sir," the young man swallowed, nerves freezing up in his throat.
"… We'll see about that," America's eyes narrowed.
"You're leaving?"
"I have to make them see this is the right way."
The door slammed shut.
Arthur felt a tear begin to form, but it never fell.
"…Is it though?"
Arthur sat in the kitchen, mind wandering as he played with the silver band on his left hand. The tension in the house was-
"Arthur…"
Green met blue.
"Alfred… You're home."
America approached Arthur, his hands coming up to rest on his waist. They then proceeded to travel downwards towards his hips. Thumbs pressed into the soft flesh under the garments of clothing, leaving trails along Arthur's nerves. He felt naked under that gaze.
"You should eat more."
Arthur sighed as he leaned into Alfred.
"… Alfred?"
"Yes?"
"Am I not enough?"
"What do you mean?"
Arthur pressed further against Alfred, his arms moving to that strong, wide back covered by that old aviator jacket from centuries ago. He wondered if it was as immortal as they were.
"Am I not enough to protect? Or the other half of the world that you have conquered? Aren't we-"
"I have conquered no one!" Alfred barked, arms dropping.
He shoved Arthur away.
Arthur had to wonder what would be more alarming. The Crack or the Squish?
"Arthur? Babe?"
Silence.
"It's our anniversary."
Silence.
"The war is over."
Silence.
"We won."
Silence.
"Russia and China both signed today."
Silence.
"Everyone will be safe now…"
Silence.
"… Arthur…"
Silence.
"Arthur."
Silence.
"God dammit Arthur! Speak to me!"
Silence.
Silence.
Silence.
"…Please?"
Silence.
"Arthur… England… Please. It's so lonely."
Silence.
"I'm sorry… I just wanted everyone to be safe."
Arthur's eyes moved under their lids.
His breath came out in soft puffs.
But the only sound was the beep, beep, beep of the heart monitor.
"I just… I just wanted to protect you…"
Silence.
"Sir?"
Alfred's head shot up to look at the government worker.
"It's time for the annual meeting."
"Hey, England?"
"Yes, America?"
"What does it mean to love someone?"
"… I- Well, um… it's complicated."
"Really?"
"Well, yes. But I don't think I could explain it to you all that well.'
"Why not?"
"W-well, see… I've never really "loved" someone."
"Not even that pretty girl down the street that you were talking to-"
"That's not love!"
"…It's not?"
"No, It's not."
"Well…"
"Yes?"
"I think I love you."
"Heh… how is that now?"
"I get sad when you leave… and I get really happy when you're here."
"Really now."
"Yeah! And, England?"
"Yes?"
"I want to protect you."
"W-what?"
"France said that when you love someone, you do everything you can to protect them. And I want to protect you, so I must love you, right?"
"I-I…"
"Am I wrong?"
"No… just…"
"England?"
"Heh, if you already knew what love was, then why did you ask me?"
"Hey, Arthur, remember that day?"
Silence.
"I asked you what love meant?"
Silence.
"And then you asked me why I asked you to begin with?"
Silence.
"Well, I have a secret …"
Silence.
"I wanted to see if you loved me."
Silence.
"… I gave everyone back their land yesterday… countries were starting to disappear…"
Silence.
"I want to give you back your land to, Arthur. I want you to be England again."
Alfred's eyes began to water for the first time in a century.
"I could barely hold everything together for a century… I guess I was never meant to be the hero I thought I was…"
Tears rolled down his cheeks as he held Arthur's frail hand up to his face. One by one, the salty tears wet Arthur's hand as Alfred wept.
"I'm sorry for pushing you, Arthur… I didn't mean for you to fall like that."
How many times had he said that line?
Every day since it happened.
"I'm sorry I made you a territory."
How many times?
50 years worth.
"I'm sorry I forced you to say you loved me…"
How many-
Now, that one is new.
Eyes began to flutter, squinting at the bright lights. Arthur felt his body to be heavy and weak, as if he had been laying on the ground for too long. Like a dream had him caught in a snare for far too long.
He turned his head to see Alfred crying into a skeleton-like hand. Boney fingers with tight, yellowish skin clinging to them. It wasn't until his hand felt wet and warm that it registered that it was his own hand.
"…Alfred?"
A/N: So… I'm alive…. It's kind of weird writing fanfiction after being out of the game for so long. As a side note: This short was kind of inspired by Claudia Rankine's "Citizen". If you haven't read it yet, do yourself a favor and go find that book. Especially if you have been living in America for the last three years. Really though, this short was inspired by her style of writing of Prose Poetry. I wanted to give it a shot, so this kind of happened. Also, this is kind of a warm up before I go back into "Of Social Importance" (Can be found on AO3 and tumblr for anyone who hasn't heard of it). I hope you enjoyed, and any feedback it very much appreciated! Even though this was my way of relaxing and getting back into the mood of writing for pleasure (I just finished a year at University as an English Major), I really want to know what you all thought of this. Thank you!