America wasn't much of a drinker, not even socially. Sure, he'd go out for drinks with England after a conference every once in awhile, but he rarely had more than one and never enough to get drunk. He wasn't sure if it was because he didn't like the taste of alcohol, if he still had a bit of a moral struggle with it after prohibition, or if he just didn't feel right drinking while physically underage. Regardless, the point was he didn't drink too often.
But then how had he found himself up on the roof at 2 am with nothing but a bottle of whiskey and his old, ratty, blue, star-and-planet-covered blanket?
He stared up at the night sky, eyes red-rimmed and unblinking. He felt hazy and only half-there, barely registering which way was up or down and having no idea when or how he'd climbed out onto the roof of his Virginia home. All he knew was that he was glad he lived in the country where he could see every single star and the moon was almost as big and bright as he remembered it as a child. He only wished she was new. It would have seemed more appropriate for even Luna to put on a black dress today.
She was halved, though. Half-staff for her greatest friend and one of the first of her human children to come visit her. She mourned from a distance just as they did here on Earth.
Alfred took another swig straight out of the bottle, wincing at the horrible taste and caustic burn of the alcohol down his throat and in his gut. Maybe that's why he didn't drink. But the burn from the alcohol wasn't anything compared to the pain he was trying to dull, the pain of losing one of his greatest friends.
Neil Armstrong...
To his people the name belonged to a legend, not a man. They heard that name and stars sparkled in their eyes and those famous words rang in their heads, "One small step for man, one giant leap for mankind." And that was all they knew. That was all that was important to history.
But to Alfred, Neil had been a friend, a colleague. They'd worked together to achieve humanity's greatest dream at a time when they were all afraid they would be completely wiped out. Out of one of the darkest times in the history of the world, something so beautiful and uniting for his people had taken place.
To think that the lively young astronaut he'd called friend had succumbed to an old and weary heart. For something so trivial to kill one of the modern era's greatest heroes was like saying Captain America had been killed by a falling penny while walking under the Empire State Building. It was absurd! Certainly it couldn't be true and Neil would pop out from behind some rock, as young as he'd always thought him to be, and tell him it was just a joke, that he'd just been yanking Al's chain.
But that wouldn't happen. It was just a part of being a Nation, to watch your closest human friends wither away and die before your eyes as you stayed the same age for decades. He was only a few years older now physically than he'd been when Washington died, even closer to how old he'd been when Lincoln was shot. He hadn't even aged since Kennedy!
Suddenly a figure appeared beside him, sitting down next to the distressed American with no care for stealth even though they'd seemed to have snuck up on him. Maybe they hadn't been trying and Alfred had just been too caught up in his own drama. He wiped frantically at his eyes, which were wet even though he'd been convinced he wasn't crying.
"I came as soon as I heard." The deep, heavily-accented baritone came from his left side. No inflection of worry or even sympathy. The words just were. But he knew that the other was just as distraught as he was, as odd as that seemed.
For a long time they were silent, the only sounds those of Alfred passing the bottle to Ivan and the Russian taking a drink. He usually preferred vodka, but tonight could definitely be a whiskey night. He had expected the conversation to pick back up after they'd each had a few swigs of the burning amber liquid, but still Alfred stayed silent and lost in thought, a very unusual occurrence.
Ivan was the first to break the silence, something that only happened when Alfred was very upset.
"I used to be so jealous, that you had gone to the moon and I had not." He sighed, looking up at Luna smiling down on the pair.
"And you aren't now?" Alfred scoffed, rolling his eyes.
"No, I am. But not in the way I was then. I am jealous because you were able to experience that and I never could. I am not jealous of the achievement itself." Ivan explained, propping himself up on his arms and leaning back.
"Why not? You always seemed so mad at me for it." The younger Nation grumbled, seeming content to wallow in his misery. He didn't want comfort, he never did. But every time something happened Ivan would just automatically be there, like a guardian Angel that knew exactly when he needed him.
"Oh I was for the longest time. I felt that you had taken something from me that was my right. I learned better as time went on." Ivan hummed, gazing up at the stars and picking through the constellations. They had been his only friends in times of bitter loneliness. He took Alfred's hand gently to remind both of them that they were no longer alone.
Alfred sighed and didn't grab Ivan's hand, but he made no move to stop Ivan from holding his. "And why was that? Finally realize how awesome I am and that you'll always have to play second fiddle?" He scoffed, in a mood to hurt rather than to reminisce peacefully.
"First of all, I believe you have been spending too much time with Gilbert." Ivan chuckled, patting the younger man on the head. "And second of all, no. That is not why. I realized that going to the moon was never your victory." Ivan watched out of the corner of his eye as Alfred's face hardened like stone, knowing that was going to be his first reaction.
"What do you mean!? I worked my ass off right alongside those scientists and astronauts! I lost countless hours of sleep, I cried, I bled, I sweat! What part of any of that makes it not my victory!?" He snarled, letting go of Ivan's hand like he'd been burned and shoving him, half hoping he would fall off of the roof and break his neck again.
"It was never your victory alone, Alik." Ivan soothed. "What you did you may have done for yourself, but we all benefited from it. You may have sent Americans to the moon as surely as I sent the first Russian into space. But the second they left Earth's atmosphere the lines we draw between us vanished and they became simply human beings. They did not represent you or me or any one Nation. They were human beings and nothing more. Neil Armstrong is as much of a hero in Vladivostok as he is in Detroit. Or he should be. These men were too big for the borders of even our great nations to hold." Ivan spoke, his eyes never wavering from the halved moon.
"One small step for man..." Alfred murmured, trailing off.
"One giant leap for mankind." Ivan finished softly. Silence lapsed again, falling over them like a thick blanket. Warm and comfortable this time rather than confused and cold. They both sat there in quiet contentment for a few minutes, but Alfred never could stand to stay quiet for long.
"Did you ever meet him? Neil, I mean." Alfred asked, looking suddenly over at his companion. The Russian man paused, looking back up at the sky again and pondering each time he'd been thrown into situations that brought him together with the astronaut.
"Several times, actually. He was a good man, very modest. You would not think him one to do things as great as he did." Ivan nodded, pulling his legs up to his chest. He had meant this visit to be comforting for Alfred, but as the loss registered in his own heart a hollow sort of feeling arose.
"I never got to meet your guy. Yuri Gagarin. He looked really nice, I would have liked to shake his hand." Alfred sighed, laying back on the roof and folding his hands behind his head. There were so many people he'd missed, so many important events, just because he'd been hurt and angry with Ivan.
"He was." Ivan smiled; a soft, sad smile that grew slowly. "You would have gotten along well with him. Perhaps he and Armstrong are somewhere in the afterlife, having drinks and talking about space." He chuckled at the absurdity, but by the look on the young American's face, he seemed to like that idea.
"It seems almost appropriate, ya know? For us both to be here. I should have been there when Gagarin died." Alfred sighed, a sad look on his face. Another thing he had missed. Ivan was here for him now, but where had he been on the day that plane had crashed?
Ivan laughed at that, shaking his head. "I do not think I would have taken as kindly to you showing up on my doorstep in (insert year) as you have to me showing up now. Times were different, though I would have appreciated company." He chuckled once more at the thought of Alfred trying to comfort him at the height of the Cold War. It would have been much more awkward than their conversation tonight, and with much more yelling.
Alfred laughed too, the thought almost as silly as Neil and Yuri up in heaven getting shit-faced together. "I think I would have come anyway if I'd known what it was like to lose a friend that important. I mean...losing Washington and Lincoln and Kennedy was bad. But Neil? It's just different. It's like you said, he wasn't just my citizen. He and what he did belonged to everyone."
Ivan nodded, not knowing what else to do. What could one say to that that wouldn't seem trivial, heavy-handed, or terribly naïve? Instead, he simply drew Alfred into his arms, cradling the young blonde to his chest and holding him like he'd wanted to be held so many years ago when Yuri had died. At first Alfred was stiff in his arms, but as the tears started to flow he slumped and then clung to his lover, face buried in his shoulder and wetting the Russian's thin sweater with his tears.
Ivan didn't say anything for long moments as Alfred cried, knowing it wasn't words he needed right now. Words wouldn't bring the man who had inspired countless American children to declare astronaut their future career. Words wouldn't sooth the hurt or change the past between them. What Alfred needed was someone who understood to just...hold him.
Soon, Alfred's crying quieted and even the shaking of his shoulders stilled as he wiped away the last of the tears and pulled back only far enough to plant a kiss on his boyfriend's cheek. "Thanks, babe. You're the best." Alfred murmured, not having the emotional strength right now to raise his voice very far above a whisper.
Ivan responded with a smile and a tighter hug, pressing a kiss to soft blonde locks and humming under his breath a song Alfred hadn't heard in a long time. A song he hadn't thought he'd hear ever again, let alone from Ivan. He looked up at the larger Nation with wide eyes and a questioning look. "How do you know that song?" He asked breathlessly. "I haven't heard it since my mother disappeared."
"I had the great fortune of meeting her once, not very long before she disappeared." He answered, voice barely above a whisper itself. "She told me that you and I would spur each other to do great things both together and apart. She told me also that some times we shared together would be sad ones and that I should sing that song for you, to show you that you are not alone and that she is always watching you. Even right now." He smiled softly, running his fingers through Alfred's hair. "She knew she wasn't very long for this world and she wanted to know someone would be there for you in your darkest days. I may have failed her in some aspects, but I am glad I could be here now." He sighed.
"You know...I don't think you did fail her." Alfred said slowly, seeming to think it through. "She said we would spur each other to do great things and even specified that some of those things we would do separately. I don't think I ever would have gotten to the moon in the first place if I hadn't wanted to one-up you." He snorted, rolling his eyes at his own foolishness.
"This is true. I know I would also not have done half of what I did in the space race without you there as my rival." Ivan laughed. "So perhaps you are right. Your mother was a very wise woman and I would not doubt it if she had revealed to me then that she had already seen our futures."
Alfred nodded, looking back up at the stars again with new meaning. His mother had told him once that she could read them like the Europeans read their books. He had asked her what she meant, but she'd merely smiled and told him he would understand one day when he was an adult looking up at the stars. He still didn't think he really understood, but this was as close as he'd ever come.
"I don't think I want to go inside tonight." He said suddenly. "You wanna just grab a blanket and a few pillows and camp out on the front lawn and just...stargaze until we fall asleep?" He asked Ivan, a hopeful look unmistakable in his eyes.
With one last look up at the bright stars Ivan nodded and hoisted himself up, making his way across the roof towards Alfred's bedroom window. "Another blanket, perhaps, than the one you have now. This one may dissolve under us if we lay it in the grass." Ivan teased.
Alfred huffed and got up behind him, scrambling over the roof and flicking Ivan with the blanket as he passed and hopped through the window first. "I'll have you know that this blanket's been to the moon and you still haven't. So suck it!" He teased, sticking his tongue out for emphasis. Ivan just laughed heartily and climbed through the window after him.
He paused for a moment, looking back over his shoulder to the stars in the sky and sending a quick, silent thanks to Armstrong, Gagarin, and Alfred's mysterious mother for bringing him to his true love.