A/N: HAPPY FREAKING FOURTH OF JULY! 8D This has got to be my most favourite holiday... next to Christmas of course. Not only is it my favourite fictional American's birthday, it's also my baby brother Nikolai's seventh birthday! SEVEN! Woot! /parties When he's older I may let him read this because he has an affinity for America-Alfred. yup...
Anyways~ The picture I describe is "Indians Spear Fishing" by Albert Bierstadt. It's really pretty so you should go look at it when you're done reading this~
I wrote this as a make-shift for the fire/fireworks ban my country and the surrounding area has so~ If I can't have real BOOMING fireworks, fictional ones are the next best thing! Yup!
Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy it as much as I had writing it. And have a happy Fourth of July everyone! And for around the world, have a great day~ Yup-yup-yup~
EDIT: I just noticed that none of my space markers were showing so I'm re-uploading this using linebreaks... /rage It seems this site has been giving me a lot of trouble lately.
July fourth was the – without a doubt – most patriotic day in America. Weeks before the date, stores begin selling more flags than usual, anything and everything that can bear the iconic three colors have them, there are Fourth of July sales, and most of all… fireworks. There are firework warehouses and stands down almost every stretch of highway or back, dirt roads, crowds of people, young and old, coming to fro at all times of the day.
If Alfred F. Jones entered a contest, he would come out with a 'Happiest Person in the World" trophy. His Hollywood smile was even bigger and whiter than usual. His wheat-colored hair was shining more and his golden tan was glowing. Alfred F. Jones was so happy because he was the personification of the United States of America.
His independence from the original world superpower, Great Britain was one of the best things to ever happen to him, in his opinion. Being able to still have a strong bond with the country was even better. Even if he almost took that single shot on that cold, rainy day, Alfred never regrets his fight. What came after was definitely worth fighting for.
On a particular Sunday afternoon (one July third), Alfred F. Jones was strolling in a local shopping mall just outside of Houston, Texas, smiling radiantly at all the people around him. His brother, the personification of Canada, was by his side. The American had dragged his brother to go people watching with him.
"Don't you see it, Mattie? Everyone's so happy!"
"I know, Al. It was like this at my place the other day."
"Yeah." Alfred was distracted with a family of three each wearing a single color of their flag. It made him chuckle. "I can't wait for tomorrow!"
Canada, or Matthew Williams, smiled at his younger brother. It had been the same thing for the past two-hundred years or so. As soon as Alfred was physically old enough to drink, he went out on July Fourth to drink and party with the rest of his children. Matthew was always the designated driver, always happy to see his brother having so much fun.
"Oh!" Then he remembered. "Arthur wanted to meet us in Houston, Al." Matthew tapped his brother's shoulder, trying to shake his attention from all of his children. "Al."
Alfred 'hmm'ed and turned to his brother. "Really? What for? He's usually at his house drinking this time of year." This was said with the same smile he had been showing to everyone else.
Matthew chuckled knowingly. "Yes, but he said he wanted to see us before dinner time. In the museum district."
"There? Why? That place is so stuffy!"
"Don't say that about your places, Al," Matthew chastised. "I think the museum district is very pretty. And Arthur didn't say."
"Oh well. I guess we should go then. There's bound to be traffic." Alfred followed the flow of the crowd to the exit and remembered that he had parked on the other side of the mall. "Sorry." He told Matthew as he rubbed his neck. The two made their way again through the mall to the correct parking lot.
Cars were everywhere, incoming and outgoing. Horns blared from all angles and some people were even shouting from their windows. With some practiced maneuvering and a few close-calls, Alfred had his car out on the I-45, driving towards Houston.
"That was hell," he commented as he flipped the radio on. The station was playing a new pop song. "Hey! It's your girlfriend, Mattie!"
"For the last time, Alfred. I'm not dating Lady Gaga." Matthew swatted his brother's hand away from the radio knob and quickly turned the station.
"Whatever you say, Mattie~" Alfred made a kissy face and swerved to avoid rear-ending the car ahead of him when Matthew shoved his shoulder.
The two made it relatively unharmed to the Houston Museum District a good forty minutes later. There had been a bad wreck (no deaths) on the south-bound that backed up the highway quite a bit. Both brothers stretched out their arms and legs. Even with the AC blowing, the car had been starting to get stuffy with the summery Texas air.
"Did Artie say which building?" Alfred asked as he looked around the sidewalks. Families, couples, and singles were walking every which way down the sidewalks. Some were holding maps of the district, lest they get lost.
"Arthur said he would be waiting outside the Natural Science Museum." Matthew began walking towards the giant, silver, spinning orb in front of the destined building. To the left, you could see the Butterfly Garden; hundreds of butterflies fluttered about the green garden. On one of the benches outside the entrance, a blonde-haired, bushy-browed man sat - the personification of Great Britain.
"Artie! Hey!" Alfred ran ahead of Matthew. "What's it you wanna tell me at the museum?"
"My name's, Arthur, you bloody git! And it's 'want to' not 'wanna'." Arthur stood up and hugged each of his sons.
"Whatever. So what'd you want to tell me?" Arthur led the two boys into the busy museum.
Inside, the butterfly exhibit to their left was quiet and tranquil while children to their right were exclaiming to their parents, "Look, Mom! A dinosaur!" There were temporary exhibits set up in the main hall, people passing through with their "FREE MUSEUM DAY" ticket. Arthur led them down a hall, past the ancient dinosaurs and fish and plants, down to where there was a travelling exhibit set up. It read "THE AMERICAS" on the banner.
Alfred looked at the sign. "You wanted to show up some museum stuff?" It was more of a whine than anything really. Matthew resisted the urge to hit him.
"It's not just 'some museum stuff' as you so delicately put it. It's about the both of you and South America. I thought it would be very interesting to see what people found." Arthur huffed.
"Do you think there will be any Canadian things?" Matthew asked hopefully.
"Canadian? What kind of stuff happened there?" Matthew once again resisted the urge to hit him as a group of children walked by.
The three personified nations made their way into the exhibit. The lights were dimmed, specific artifacts and paintings highlighted with their own spotlight. The walls were painted an earthy theme and added to the 'back-in-time' feel.
There were pots and cooking ware from before European intrusion. Alfred kept laughing, saying in a loud voice, "I remember cooking with you and Mama, Mattie."
"Mama? You mean that woman Francis and I saw with you two?" Arthur thought a moment. "What was her name? Azteca? No, that was Mexico…"
"Her name was Cheyenne. And she represented North America, Artie. Learn your history." Alfred teased his pseudo-father and stuck out his tongue. Arthur flustered and nearly knocked over a pot.
"Hush, Al. What if someone hears?" The Canadian slapped his brother's arm.
"And?"
"Matthew's right, Alfred. Keep your voice down. If anything, do it for the museum."
"Fine. Oh! What's that?" Alfred ran ahead to look at a painting that usually hung in the Contemporary Arts Museum just next door. It had two Indians in a tree-carved canoe, spears in hand. A giant mountain was painted behind them. The trickle of river they were headed down cut off at the shore and the expanse of the rest of the water was seen behind them.
"They're Indians, git."
"I know they're Indians, Artie! And if I remember, you used to always call them barbarians." Alfred stuck his tongue out again.
The Briton blushed with embarrassment. "T-That's because they were. Dirty and uneducated."
"But you still took us in." Matthew thought Alfred had a good point. Even before Arthur and Francis had taken them two in, the Nordic Vikings had taken care of him for a while. Both Alfred and Matthew had been taught to live with the land and to use what was available to them. Arthur and Francis took them away and taught them different – they taught them the modern way of life.
The three men walked further into the exhibit, reminiscing in simpler times and by the time they made it to the last artifact (an open journal that people could flip through), Alfred was complaining for dinner.
"Come on, Artie, I need some hamburgers!"
"Shut up, you twit, you don't need anything."
Alfred kept whining and complaining. Matthew, on the other hand, had been mostly quiet, as per usual. It was at his wits end that Matthew finally suggested they just go out to eat before heading home (or to the hotel in Arthur's case). "You're real into sushi right now, right?" Kiku's influence no doubt.
"Yeah, but I want some hamburgers! Come on! Think of them as pre-celebratory hamburgers!" Alfred then proceeded to rant on to his brother and father about how much he was excited about tomorrow. "There's going to be fireworks and everything!"
Arthur, having worn the skin on his nose down so that is was red from rubbing, sighed. "Alright, Alfred. This is where I get off. I hope you enjoy tomorrow." Was there a hint of jealousy? "But I'm tired and have a flight in the morning. It was good seeing you both." With one last hug for each son, Arthur bid his farewell and started walking in the opposite direction towards where his car was sitting in an underground parking lot.
"Just you and me, broski!" Alfred slung an arm around Matthew's shoulders. "So, where do ya wanna go? Dinner? A movie?"
"Al, shut up. You're starting to sound mushy." Matthew picked the fingers wrapped around his arm off and stepped ahead of his brother. "And I just want to get something and go to bed."
"Oh. One of those moods. What? Prussia being an asshole again? Do I need to beat him up again?"
"I'm not in 'one of those moods,' Alfred. And no, Prussia has nothing to do with this." Matthew waited for a snarky quip, but it never came. Alfred had become very quiet. Matthew turned around to find Alfred had run off to the nearest McDonald's and was currently ordering a shit-load of hamburgers.
"You'd better not eat all of those in one sitting." The lanky Canadian warned. Alfred turned around with his three bag fulls of burgers. One was already half unwrapped and stuck in his mouth. "And don't even try and talk." Matthew pulled his brother out of the fast-food joint and down the sidewalk towards their car – well, Alfred's car.
Matthew took the wheel this time, not trusting a hungry Alfred and the night-time lighting to be a good combination for ideal driving conditions. So while Alfred pigged out next to him, Matthew sped down the highway, glaring past the setting sun. The visor would move any more to the left so he had to deal with that small annoyance until they made it out of Houston and the sun had completely set.
Alfred was already on the second bag when he reached Conroe. It was a nice, semi-quiet place not fifty miles outside of Houston. Alfred said he liked it for the ambiance. Matthew knew Alfred didn't know what that word meant. He knew Alfred liked it because it was about a mid-point from Houston, Dallas, San Antonio, Galveston, and the state capital, Austin.
Matthew pulled into the small drive-way of an A-Frame house in a dead silent neighborhood. The sounds of a far off ambulance could be barely heard over the buzzing bugs. The two young men made their way into the house and out of the sticky night air.
Tony was waiting at the door. "Fucking Limey." He said, even though Arthur was with them anymore. The static noise that seemed to come out of nowhere whenever the alien spoke was still creepy as ever.
"Hey Tony!" Alfred "You ready for tomorrow?"
The grey alien seemed to materialize from the room and appeared a moment later with a "USA" hat and a mini American flag in each hand. "Ready. Fucking Limey."
"Dude, Artie's not here." Alfred went into the kitchen to finish off the last bag of burgers. Matthew followed quickly because he noticed that he had not gotten anything to eat, but mostly because Tony just seemed to give off a scary aura.
"Don't eat all those burgers, Al. I'm hungry too."
Alfred turned to his younger (physically) brother and threw two wrapped burgers at him. Matthew caught them easily, but it still shocked him. "Thanks."
After he swallowed his last bite, Alfred suggested they watch a movie. "It'll be like a pre-celebratory movie!"
"That was your excuse for the hamburgers." Matthew sat down on the couch anyways.
"It has to be scary." As long as you don't come crying to me at two in the morning, Matthew thought.
Matthew sat on the couch, head in hand and nodding off every few minutes. The movie was scary, but not so bad that you forgot it was fake. I mean, that was a ridiculous amount of blood for one cut. Alfred, though, was sniveling into the throw pillow he was hiding behind. He jumped at every turn, nearly burst Matthew's eardrums when the girl had narrowly escaped death, and was now on the verge of shouting again if the same girl and her boyfriend didn't get out of that damn haunted house.
The girl in the movie was limping from an earlier wound and was holding onto 'Jet' as they made their way down a seemingly never-ending hallway. They were trying to get to a door to get out, but Matthew couldn't understand why they didn't just break the window at the end. They were on the first floor anyways. The girl gave the most fake blood-curdling scream Matthew had ever heard mid-thought. Alfred screamed too, shouting about how scary it was and clung onto Matthew.
"You'll knock my glasses off, Alfred! Stop!"
Matthew spent the rest of his night locking his door and finding ways to keep his brother out of the guest room so he could sleep.
The quiet Canadian woke up to an equally quiet home. What usually would have been welcoming, Matthew only felt dread. Alfred was only quiet when he was sleeping (sometimes) or when he was planning something.
Matthew got out of bed as quietly as he could and removed the chair from under the knob of the door. The hallway was dead except for the soft hum of the AC. Down the stairs, the living room and second hallway was also quiet.
"Al?" Nothing. Not even a "Fucking Limey" from Tony. Even Alfred's cat, AmeriCat (an original name by Alfred himself) was prowling around looking for Mochimerica who was also apparently missing in action. Now Matthew was getting creeped out.
"Al?" He called again, this time louder. Still nothing. He was probably outside already, annoying the neighbors again. The Aadams really weren't bad people, but Alfred always decided to grace them with his annoying and obnoxious self.
Matthew opened the front door and found Alfred's car gone. Figures. He must have gone off to buy some last minute fireworks for the night. He stepped outside into the already sweltering morning heat. How Alfred could stand to live in the unbearable Texas weather was a mystery to Matthew – who preferred his home in Ottawa.
The sprinklers around the neighborhood had just shut off and the grass was already almost dried. Two small children across the street were yelling and playing in their front lawn while their mother watched from the porch with a glass of iced tea. The Aadams next door were packing up their car. Mary waved to Matthew, who she knew was Alfred's brother who frequently visited from Canada.
"Hello, Matthew!" Mary called as she handed her husband the picnic basket.
Matthew waved back. "Good morning, Mrs. Aadams. Um, you didn't happen to see Alfred leave did you?"
"Yes. I did in fact." She handed Gary the blanket. "He told me to tell you that he went to town for a bit." They finished packing up the car and before they left, Mary called again, "We'll see you tomorrow maybe?"
"Maybe!" Matthew waved them off. Well, Alfred would probably be home soon. …And he was still hungry. Matthew decided to make pancakes.
Alfred burst through the front door with two hands full of fireworks. "Honey! I'm home~" Alfred dropped the bags by the door and followed his nose to the kitchen where he could smell his brother's pancakes. "Mornin' beautiful."
"Ha. Ha." Matthew flipped his brother off. "Thanks for telling me you were leaving. Such a great host you are."
"But Mattie, I had to get fireworks!" Alfred whined. He emphasized his excuse by pointing down the hall to the bags.
"And you could have at least left a note instead of making Mrs. Aadam tell me you left. Whatever. It's fine." Matthew set the platter of pancakes he had made onto the bar counter and pulled out a bottle of maple syrup he always kept at Alfred's house for emergencies.
"Mmm, pancakes. The orgasm of breakfast foods." Alfred helped himself to three of the pancakes and drowned them in syrup like his brother.
To Matthew, the day couldn't have been any slower. Alfred had gotten Arthur and Francis – the personification of France - to come over to his home, set up even more decorations (if that was possible), and the yard was now set up for the barbeque that Alfred was currently making.
It would have been a nice sight, if not for the fact that Alfred couldn't sit still in one place for more than a few seconds. Matthew had to put out small fires around the pit several times before calming Alfred down enough to cook sanely.
Arthur and Francis had to be separated multiple times by Matthew and Alfred together. The Canadian thought that even their pseudo-fathers could set aside their history for one day on Alfred's birthday, but they really couldn't put their differences aside for a few hours.
Alfred wasn't expecting any other guests so after separating their fathers one last time, so Matthew made himself at home in the front lawn, waiting for Alfred's barbeque, because he could make a mean smoked chicken. Kumajirou sat by his feet, passed out and soaking up the sun.
The sun was setting when Arthur and Francis decided to show their faces again. The Briton's hair was mussed and Francis' clothing was wrinkled. Matthew and Alfred shuddered.
"They'd better have used the guest room," Alfred mumbled to his brother as they watched the two older nations sit at the picnic table.
"Oh, yeah. Thanks. Now where'm I sleeping? And if you say the couch, I'll hit you." Matthew emphasized his threat by raising his fist.
Alfred laughed. "Like you could!" Matthew then spent a good deal of his energy trying to hit his brother who just swatted each throw away, all the while laughing like an idiot. "You're so slow, Mattie!"
"Shut up, Al! I am not!"
The Garrison's were the first people on the block to start their fireworks. The four nation-people heard the iconic popping and the whistling as the rocket shot into the sky and then the loud boom as it burst into a million sparks.
Alfred was beside himself with laughter so Matthew had to finish off the cooking. He didn't mind it because the sound of his brother's laughter and excitement meant too much.
When he set the platter of smoked chicken on the table, Matthew's odd family all sat down and started eating. No fighting, no underlying sexual tensions, just a happy moment – even for the usually drunken Arthur who was surprisingly sober.
They watched each neighbor shoot off their own stock of fireworks until it came time for Alfred. The robust American – as only the personification of the country could be – excitedly lit the first fuse to the row of bottle rockets he had assembled and stepped back to watch with pride. Tony materialized beside him with a "Fucking Limey" thrown at Arthur and the two watched as the fireworks exploded to spell out "THE USA" in a fit of elegant and untamed beauty.
Alfred's iconic laugh could be heard all the way up and down the street as he lit off the rest of his stock. Mochimerica and AmeriCat had wandered outside as well and sat down in the grass with Kumajirou to enjoy the fireworks as well.
Arthur and Francis sat at the picnic table and watched their son laugh and have a great time. Before the last rocket bloomed into a giant red flower, they snuck a kiss in the dark.
Matthew sat across from them, watching Alfred as well. Alfred really knew how to be conceited. But in a good way, he thought.