America found this was the perfect day to go through his old stuff and get rid of some of it. It was raining and he didn't want to leave, and his games and movies just bored him. America paused in front of the old wooden door. He placed a gloved hand on the wood and sighed, this time he was going to get rid of the stuff to a museum or something. The door squeaked as America pushed it open. He met a familiar sight, a dusty old room and white sheets covering furniture. This room took the whole attic which was a big and long at the house itself. There was a lot of stuff in this huge room. It was easy. America worked for over 3 hours in the hot room and avoided the part of the room which he knew always brought painful memories.
It was apparent that it was the only part that was untouched. Then America had no choice but to work in that area. Well, it wasn't work really. The area was simple, it was a huge wardrobe and chair with several wooden boxes and a table, they were all covered with white sheets and looked like they haven't been touched in a hundred years. They probably had. All the junk in the room had been moved away from this part and it had a small window looking on the covered objects. With a flick of the wrist, the white sheet was off of the high back chair. He touched the faded fabric with longing. America had gotten this after the Revolutionary War, from Englands house. It was sitting out there next to the garbage and America knew that England couldn't handle the memories that it held. America sat down in the chair like somebody sitting on a bed of nails. The memories came back.
"Big Brother Englwand! Please read me a bedtime story!" The small little America hopped up and down as England looked up from his paperwork. He had his small glasses on and smiled at the young colony.
"Sure, after all I will protect you from the bad dreams." England got out of his wooden chair and grabbed a book from the shelf above America's head and pulled him into a red high backed chair, faintly decorated with flowers.
"Once upon a time, there was a young independant..."
"Whats independant mean?" America cut in looking curiously at England.
"It means that you no longer rely on a person or thing." England smiled at this and began his story.
"Where were we? Ah yes, a young independant boy who's name I shall not mention. He wanted to soar up into the clouds and meet his parents..." America stopped listening, he was silently thinking to himself.
What if I wanted to become independent from England? Would I no longer be a pest? America thought and fell asleep in Englands arms.
America sighed, yes this was where it all began. He gently stood up and soon the white cover on the wardrobe was off and its doors were open. Inside was two pieces of clothing. One was his blue coat he wore in the Revolutionary War, the other was an old suit, one that was big enough that even America today could wear. America touched the fabric like one would touch a flame, and then the memories came back from this one.
"America I got you a gift!" England called into his house. Feet bounced through the house and America appeared. He was taller than England and smiled at his smaller 'big' brother. His shirt was open and had tan or dirty trousers on.
"What? Need something to lift?"
"I can very well lift my own stuff, but I want to give you this!" England gave America a package with twine holding it together.
"Thanks England!" And America tore open the paper and found it was a suit.
"Tada! I got you your very first suit!" England beamed.
America didn't want to upset England willingly put on the constricting suit. It had a bowtie and it was in the very latest fashion.
"Thanks England! Though I don't know if I will wear it every day..." America smiled.
"It's alright. I am just glad that you like it." England smiled and patted America's back. "Now you are a true gentleman."
America's fingers dropped from the fabric and had a small smile on his face. Dang, he was even on good actor even way back then. Then his attention was drawn to a wooden chest and the table. He went to the box first, and opened the lid. It gave a loud creak and once it was open, the sight that drew America's eyes was not a friendly one. It was a small portrait in the box. It shown a rainy day, with the clouds covering one side, and the other side was blue and light. On the darkened side was a small redcoat, in the mud his head in his hands in obvious weepíng. On the other side was a blue coat, looking down on the redcoat. He had a painful expression on his face as he looked at the redcoat. Both of their guns were unused, forgotten.
A painter had painted when England and America had broken off, at the last battle of the Revolutionary war. Also in the box was a toy soldier, it was a gift from England. America picked it up and looked at it fondly. It was a gift from England who worked hard and also injuring himself in the process. He set it down on the table and then opened the drawer of the table, curiously wondering what was in it. There was a package of papers and America sat down in the red high backed chair and opened the papers and read what was inside.
Inside the top paper was messy handwritting but you could see what it said.
Dear big brother,
I miss you please some back soon! I want to come live with you!
-America!
P.S The maid here taught me how to spell my name, it is very weird!
These were old letters that he had exchanged with England before he had even gone to Europe. America read the response to the letter in the next paper.
Dear America.
I will come back, but France has me tied up in a war, I want for you to come without any wars over here. America is indeed very odd to spell but for one as unique as you, it has to be strange. I will come over in about three months, so please keep on waiting for me America.
-England
America smiled at the loopy handwriting, it was the same even now. England never really did change.
Then a pounding came from the stairs. Somebody was walking up his staircase. America lept up from the chair and safely put the letters on the table next to the doll. He rushed out of the room and only to see that the brit himself was storming up the stairs. He looked wet from the rain that was still thundering down on the house.
"America you git! I was at your door for the last 15 minutes and here you are! Gosh, it makes me wonder if I ever did raise you are not!"
"E-England, what are you doing here?" America stuttered, trying to keep the brits attention away from the door that led up to the attic.
"Toris told me you were here, I have paperwork for you to sign for our bosses. What's that you got back there?" England peered around America and saw the door. "Where does that lead to?"
"Um, the attic." America decided to not lie to the brit. Apparently he was already in trouble. This seemed to peak England's interest and he pushed past America and went into the room.
America was a bit shocked and then quickly went past England and block his way. "This is a no go zone dude." America stretched out his arms but didn't block much. England was looking around and picking up random artifacts.
"This is quite odd, why do you keep this area of the house clean?"Englands huge eyebrows furrowed as he thought about the mystery.
"No-nothing. Now lets get out of here ya?" America stammered and tried to get the brit out of the room. England began to hunt even more, poking his nose in America's stuff.
"England, seriously! Come on!" America picked up the Brit and threw him over his shoulder. He turned to go through the door when England stilled from his movement.
"What's that?" England whispered and America knew what he saw. It was the red high backed chair, that or the toy soldier. England was out of America's arms and was walking towards the section of the cleared room.
He touched the chair lightly and then picked up the toy, he looked into the wardrobe and touched the clothes gently. He peered at the letters on the table and looked up at America with tears in his eyes.
"You kept these?" His hoarse whisper cut through the air like a hot knife through butter. America stepped up and hugged England.
"How could I not?" America whispered back to the crying country. "How could I not keep the things that my brother gave me?"
They both held each other well into the night, each sobbing with tears. For each had thought that the other had hated the other, it seems that history had brought them back together again.
Ok, that weird! I would have never had made this if I wasn't depressed for some odd reason... I thought this was a little fluffy and so I decided to share it all with you. Anyways, even if this is a Oneshot please review! I would like to know how my America and England F.F are coming along.
-IAB