Author's Note: Short first chapter is short. orz This is my first series in a while, and I'm kinda scared 'cause I don't actually have the whole thing written up beforehand, but I really wanted to write some brotherly north American fluff, so... here you go. XD I'm hoping the chapters will get longer, but it depends on how soon I'm able to settle into the story. This should be fairly short, maybe five or six chapters... so... yeah. Here you go. And please remember to review! It makes my day! :3
Oh, and as an aside, the title is also the title of a song I like that makes me think of the North American Bros every time I hear it. :3 Check it out, it's really pretty! You know the drill, remove the spaces; www. youtube watch?v= UlpBpyv7n9A
England and France were fighting.
Again.
From what America had heard, that was nothing new. But it was still stressful, seeing his father come home with new bruises and bandages, tired and hungry and without the energy to do much more than have a cup of tea and go straight to sleep. It struck America as odd that he always seemed to have the time for tea, but never to undress himself before flopping exhausted onto the bed. "Priorities, Alfred." England told him when he asked. "Priorities."
Which is why America was surprised when, one day, England burst in the door with a grin on his face, and immediately scooped his little colony up and began twirling him around.
"Fastew daddy, fastew!" America giggled, loving the feeling of whooshing through the air. Almost like being a bird. Soon enough, though, England fell to the floor, America tumbling down with him.
"Ohhh, that was a bad, bad idea." England said, laughing as he clutched his dizzy head.
America climbed into England's lap, still giggling and slightly dizzy himself. "Why awe you so happy?" He asked.
England smiled down at America. "Why, I'm glad you asked, my boy! You'll never guess!"
"Did you win?" America immediately assumed.
"Er, well, no, nothing quite as monumental as that."
"Did you win a wittle bit?"
England chuckled. "In a way, yes. Alfred, you're going to have a brother!"
America blinked. "A… bwothew?"
"…Alfred, you do know what a brother is, correct?"
America puffed out his cheeks and frowned. "Of couwse I know what a bwothew is! But how did you get one?"
England grinned. "I took him from that bas- er, I mean, I got him from France!"
"France gave you a bwothew?"
"Well, um… not so much gave… but that's not the point! You're going to have a little brother, Alfred! A playmate! A friend!"
America stopped to consider this. And the more he did, the more a little brother started to sound like the most amazing thing in the world. After all, he had England to play with, of course; and the Brit would always try his best to indulge him in a game of soldiers or hide-and-seek when he could, but… the times when he could only amounted to so many. He was always out fighting, or on business, and America got lonely in their big house. He'd tried to play with some of the human children in the town, but… after a while they always went away. Forever.
But if he had a little brother… surely this little brother would be like them, right? A nation? If he was, then he would never go away! He could stay with America, and they would play together and have adventures and maybe, between the two of them, they might even be able to reach the cookie jar on the top shelf of the cupboard!
"Awesome!" America exclaimed, diving into his father's arms. "When awe you bwinging him home?"
"Soon, my boy; soon." England said, hugging his colony. "Just be patient."