A whole year of hell had Alfred F. Jones in complete… well, Hell, to be frank. His country had been in complete and utter chaos since the Presidential race started. The final race between Hillary and Trump gave him flashbacks of Jefferson vs. Burr way back in… 1800? Yeah, that's what it was… The Electoral Race of 1800. He was sickly, thin, and conflicted with himself. He had regained some weight, thanks to consuming countless burgers and the chaos somewhat calming down in America. There wasn't… As much controversy as there was in October and November. He could only wait for four years to pass…
Arthur Kirkland, his friend, walked up behind him. "Quit reminiscing in the past, you moron." The human embodiment of England had come from England to celebrate the holidays with him. They didn't hang out often… ish… Ok, yeah. They hung out a lot. But never alone. The other countries accompanied them: Ludwig Beilschmidt, Germany; Feliciano Vargas, Italy; Kiku Honda, Japan; Those were the Axis Powers back in WWII. Then, the other Allies accompanied them as well: Yao Wang, China; Ivan Braginski, Russia; and Francis Bonnefoy, France.
His friend smacked his arm. "Are you even listening?!"
Alfred snapped to attention. "Wha-huh?"
Arthur rolled his emerald-green eyes. Snow fell in the background. He decided to escape to the countryside of Pennsylvania to hide from the other countries in Times Square. The snow in Arthur's hair made his pale skin stand out, the chill of the air making his nose and cheeks pink despite being bundled head to toe in fur coats. Allen was dressed similarly, only in a larger size of coat with wire glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. His breath came out in minty, steamy puffs of white. He leaned on the balcony railing, a radio playing in the background.
"I said," he went on with boredom, "We have a few minutes. Did you want champagne or cider?"
Alfred laughed sheepishly. 'Sorry, old man. Guess I got distracted with reminiscing in the past."
He smacked his arm again. A rustle came from below their peaceful spot on the balcony, the falling snow making the air calm. They paid no attention to it, or the creak of the branches of a nearby willow tree, simply dismissing it to the falling snow and the decorations that Alfred insisted they put up before Thanksgiving and take down after January, as per tradition.
Arthur sighed. "Cider it is, then." He left to pour the chilled drinks, returning about a minute later.
Alfred smiled when he was handed his glass. "Thanks a lot, Artie!"
"Don't call me that, bloody twat!"
Alfred laughed loudly. "Make me!"
Arthur huffed in response, glaring up at him, looking into his tanzanite eyes behind smudged glass. "You are SUCH a wanker!"
Alfred hummed lightly, turning his attention to the softly falling snow. The radio voiced that there were thirty seconds left before 2017. Arthur looked up to Alfred. "There's thirty seconds left, Lo—Alfred. And I need to say something."
He looked to the smaller man, who was now looking down at his feet. "It's been 239 years since you left in 1776."
Alfred raised an eyebrow. "What are you getting at..?"
"Don't interrupt me! It's been 239 years, and I've really missed your company.."
"But I'm right here! Why d'ya miss me?"
"I just—I—"
A groan came from beneath the balcony, followed by a heavy French accent. "Mon Dieu, just kiss! I'm getting cold, and if I get sick, it will affect my gorgeous complexion—"
"Three!"
Alfred looked down at Francis, glaring.
"Two!"
Arthur scanned Alfred's face critically, before grabbing his coat collar and—
"One! Happy New Year!"
A camera shutter clicked and a happy chuckle came from the willow. Alfred's eyes were open, staring shocked at Arthur's lidded orbs. After a few seconds, he relaxed, closing his eyes and wrapping his muscled arms around Arthur's slender waist, pulling him to his chest. Arthur's arms snaked around Alfred's neck as he leaned into his soft lips, his already pink cheeks slowly gaining in colour. One of Arthur's hands tangled in Alfred's hair, deepening the kiss. Alfred blushed. After a few more moments of the make out, Alfred pulled away, Arthur left breathless by the American. He looked up at him, his cheeks rosy, his breath coming out in steamy puffs. Alfred looked back down at him, his hair disheveled and his glasses askew.
"Happy New Year, Love."
"Happy New Year, Artie."
"Shut up, wanker."
"Make me."
The couple was pulled indoors by Ludwig and Feliciano, both of them looking similar to Alfred and Arthur. Yao walked inside, holding hands with Ivan. Francis walked alone, his arms crossed, his cheeks rosy and complexion perfect. Kiku held a polaroid, which had all of the couples kissing. The snow outside fell heavier… It looked like they would be trapped inside for a while. Not that any of them minded.
Meanwhile…
Matthew was cold. He was about to walk in when the door shut behind Ivan and Yao. He turned to the cold air. It looked like it would be a long night ahead….