A/N: HAPPY 4TH OF JULY EVERYBODY! Even if you're not American! And happy Canada Day to all ye awesome Canadians out there, too, while I'm at it. Here, have some AmeCan birthday fluff.
Surprises—at least ones with Alfred F. Jones involved—were dangerous, to say the least.
Matthew had found that out when the two of them had still been small colonies in England's care, the first time Alfred had told him he 'had something special' for his brother and it turned out to have exploded in a cloud of acrid smoke by the time the twins reached the attic to see it. Canada had never found out what that surprise had been supposed to be, but he figured after quite a few disasters of remarkably similar circumstances that he might actually be better off not knowing, anyway. From then on, Canada had always been extremely careful when he was on the receiving end of the crazy American's surprises. He never knew what was going to leap out at him next.
So today, he found himself sitting on his brother's old tire swing with an apprehensive twist in his stomach, hands gripping the rope carefully and one foot tapping anxiously against the worn black rubber of the tire.
What could America possibly be doing that would take him this long?
Up until his brother's announcement that there was a surprise involved, Canada had been enjoying one of the best birthdays he'd ever had with Alfred; it had become a bit of a custom for the two of them to celebrate together, on July fourth, every year, and to give each other presents and spend the entire day doing things that only they wanted to do. Today, in a way, was simply for each other, and nothing else. The two of them were perhaps a bit closer than most brothers, but Matthew always enjoyed it beyond words when Alfred's arm would sneak around his shoulders in the back row of the movie theater. Then he'd lay his head on the American's chest and listen to his strong heartbeat.
Last night Alfred had come to pick him up, and Matthew had slept at his house in America. This morning, he'd been utterly delighted to be awoken with a soft shake to his shoulder, and he could swear his stomach had done a flip when he opened his eyes drowsily to see America sitting over him, tickling his face with the petals of a bouquet of roses and maple leaves. Alfred had laughed when he sneezed from the teasing touches of the flowers, now wide awake, and Canada had shooed him out the door teasingly so he could get dressed. They'd had pancakes and maple syrup for breakfast (although America had also topped his with more than enough whipped cream and neon red, white and blue sprinkles to make Matthew cringe), and after breakfast had headed out the door to amble the ten-minute walk to town into half an hour of talking and smiling and holding hands and trying not to giggle. They'd spent a good two hours window-shopping, stopped for a lunch of burgers and fries at the nearest McDonald's, and then Canada had dragged Alfred into the ice-skating rink in the rec center in the middle of town. America was terrible at ice-skating; Matthew had ended up simply pulling him around with the American's arms around his waist, because if Alfred so much as twitched either foot he would always go crashing to the ground a split second later. Canada laughed even though he tried to stifle it.
They'd gone to see the Avengers later that afternoon, and ten minutes in Alfred had his arm tightly around Matthew's waist, cuddling the small, soft Canadian close to him as Matthew held the hand that wasn't around his small form. Alfred had never been able to figure out how Canada managed to wear that maple leaf hoodie even in the most scorching of summer weather, and still smell so much like fresh, clean pine trees and snow.
Canada hadn't even been watching the movie half the time; he'd let his head rest on Alfred's chest, as always, and simply closed his eyes to listen to that strong, steady heartbeat and feel the rise and fall of his breathing.
It had been a wonderful birthday. Up until now.
And now, he was nervous, to say the very least of the situation.
Matthew nearly jumped when the screen door finally slammed, quickly twisting on the swing, only to see that it was just America. Nantucket bounced happily as Alfred strode across the lawn with a mysterious spring in his step. Canada lifted his feet higher off the ground with a sudden notion that there might be activated land mines beneath him.
"Mattie, I promise you, there's nothing explosive buried in my lawn," America grinned, clearly reading his expression perfectly and trying not to laugh. Canada blushed, mumbling something under his breath, and curled up smaller with embarrassment; now Alfred really did laugh, and stomped on the ground right beneath the swing to prove that he wasn't going to knowingly blow his brother's leg off.
"Seriously, it's fine," America said with a grin, shrugging. Geez, that smile was contagious. Matthew blushed even more as he carefully uncurled from his embarrassed ball, meaning to step down from the swing with caution, but Alfred caught him before he even got that far. Before Canada knew it, he'd been swept up into his brother's arms. America had picked him up bridal-style before his feet had even touched the ground.
"You're really light, Mattie," Alfred murmured. "Do you ever eat?"
Now Matthew laughed, leaning into his brother's embrace as Alfred carried him back toward the house. His gait was smooth and almost lulling, and Canada sighed, looping his arms around Alfred's neck.
"Sure I do," he laughed. "I'm just not a pig—unlike certain brothers I happen to know..."
Alfred shot him a friendly glare. "I'm not a pig," he deadpanned. "I'm a growing teenager."
Matthew stifled a snort of laughter behind a cough, though if Alfred's glare was any indication, he figured the American had caught it, anyway.
"Al, your teenage years are long behind you," he grinned, giving America's neck a squeeze as he was set down gently on the patio. Alfred glared at him for a second longer, before it faded into a grin and he shrugged. Matthew grinned too. America still hadn't let go of his waist; it made his stomach feel all fluttery.
"Maybe so," Al murmured, leaning down to bury his face in Canada's neck. Matthew sighed and laughed quietly as he tried halfheartedly to push America away, but Alfred—
Ohholyshitwasthatakiss.
.
But before Matthew got a chance to unfreeze himself from the shock, America had backed off a bit awkwardly, with a quiet murmur of 'Meet me in the pool, okay?' that made Matthew shiver with the way his warm, fresh breath ghosted over his ear.
And then he was gone, most likely headed to his room to get on those worn American flag swim trunks that he always insisted on wearing.
Matthew stood there for a few seconds longer, trying to wrap his brain around what had just happened, before following his brother into the house and digging his own trunks out of his overnight bag.
Laughter echoed around the pool, water splashing as the sun finally disappeared below the horizon. Canada squirmed, giggling uncontrollably in Alfred's arms as the American swung him around in circles, splashing up water and nearly falling over, laughing too. America never let go of him or dropped him when they played like this, even when they'd been only small colonies; Matthew had never once worried about getting hurt.
As America's dizzy spinning slowed, he looked up to meet those blue eyes that were no longer clouded by Texas, brilliant and sparkling. Al's hair hung around his face, stained dark brown from the water and scruffed up in the back from his goggles' strap. Canada smiled, slipping his arms around America's neck and snuggling close to his brother.
"Happy birthday, Al," he whispered.
"Happy birthday, Mattie," Alfred murmured back.
They stood there in the pool in silence for a long time, neither moving or speaking, simply enjoying the companionship of each other's warmth and presence. As the moon slowly but surely rose into the deep velvet sky, the fireworks had begun to glow from just across the highway from Alfred's home; they had a perfect view.
And still, neither spoke.
Matthew could swear he felt America holding him tighter again.
As the fireworks went on, each display growing more elaborate and dangerously beautiful, Alfred carried his brother out of the pool and the two of them sat together on the deck, curled close, entwined under the same towel for warmth against the soft, cool night air. America couldn't help but reach out to stroke Canada's hair; it was like liquid silk when it was wet.
And then he felt Matthew reach over to take his hand, and it was just absolutely perfect.
Alfred sighed, leaning in closer, allowing himself to bury his face in Canada's beautiful hair to inhale that fresh, clean scent that didn't even seem to be the slightest bit marred by chlorine. How did he do that? God, America loved that scent. He slid an arm around Matthew's shoulders and watched the fireworks reflect in the lenses of his glasses, holding the small Canadian close against his body and rubbing circles into the back of his hand.
The fireworks kept escalating, all red, white and blue against the night sky, and Alfred couldn't help but get a little nervous; this was it. The grand finale.
The one he had made the rather lengthy phone call to Japan about earlier, just to make sure everything was set.
Sure enough, he could see the plane faintly, tracing the words in the sky...
And then the glint of its red landing lights was gone, and America held his breath for a moment, waiting for the very last firework of the show, gently pulling Canada into his lap and hugging him close. Matthew sighed and leaned into him, showing him a little smile that made his knotted stomach flip and heart skip a beat. And then, just as Matt turned back to the show—
A brilliant red-and-white heart exploded in the sky, illuminating the smoky words I love you, Mattie.
And Alfred felt Canada's breathing come to a complete halt.
"Surprise," the American whispered against his shoulder, a little shakily.
And a second later, just when America began to worry this hadn't been a good idea after all, Matthew leaned forward and kissed him sweetly.
Now it was his turn to quit breathing.
After all, who needed air when they had fucking Canada kissing them?
Matthew moaned quietly as Alfred slipped his hands behind his slim, soft neck, tilting his head for a better angle and finally letting himself let go. Canada made the sweetest noises, all light moans and sighs as he pressed himself closer and kissed back softly. America had a soft, warm piece of heaven in his arms.
But there was one thing that was bugging him.
He broke the kiss carefully, earning a confused look from his brother, and reached up to pull the glasses from Canada's nose.
"There," he whispered, kissing Matthew's forehead softly. "Now I can see those gorgeous eyes of yours."
Canada grinned and kissed him one last time softly, before pulling away and settling down with his face buried in America's shoulder. Alfred could feel his smile as he stroked the Canadian's back softly. Matthew had always been slightly underweight, just naturally, and sometimes it had worried America, but now he felt just perfect in his arms.
"Earlier today, before we got in the pool..." Matthew whispered. "You kissed my neck, didn't you?"
Alfred nodded, sighing and leaning down to kiss his neck again, a little teasingly; this time, he let his lips linger before pulling away from the soft skin.
"I just love you so much, babe," he murmured in Canada's ear.
"Love you too, Al," Matthew breathed softly, smiling contentedly and kissing Alfred's cheek. "Maybe your surprises aren't so bad, after all."