A/N: Hey, ya'all! This little one-shot is in honour of Alfred F. Jones, aka America, aka the most super mega foxy awesome hero ever! …Okay, if his ego weren't big enough before, it's probably bursting now. ^_^ I really am proud to be American and despite Alfred's flaws, he is a wonderful country based on ideals of freedom that our forefather's sacrificed their lives for. I only hope that we can improve and make sure that all of our people have those rights that we were guaranteed as time moves on. To whatever you believe in, wherever you come from, and on whatever side you stand—good tidings and fortune to you. USA forever!
P.S. This fic is rated K+ for very light slash romance. No cursing, violence, etc. Also, a Harry Potter reference is made in this fic. Please enjoy! That is all. :)
Alfred frantically scanned the airport flight board for the time of his plane. If they delayed much longer, the whole flight might be canceled and he would have to wait at the hotel until the next morning. That meant that his birthday evening would be spent in a Toronto hotel where the cleaning lady had accidentally dragged his discarded swim trunks out of the room underneath her cart. Needless to say, it would be totally awkward and un-hero-like to go back there and explain the situation to stay again.
"Stupid France and his stupid ideas," Alfred muttered, pacing back and forth around his terminal like a madman. "If he didn't suggest we have the world conference at his 'favourite, adorable son's' house, I would be setting up a ton of awesome fireworks!"
The blonde sighed and wiped his brow. "Now I sound like Iggy…" He chuckled fondly and gripped his superman suitcase tightly. "…Maybe he's still here, too. I don't know if he's leaving until tomorrow."
Sure enough, Arthur, the personification of Britain, replied to Alfred's text that he had not left either. He was leaving to come pick Alfred up at the airport so they could arrange a private jet elsewhere. In his mind, Alfred could see those bushy eyebrows framing lovely spring green eyes as they rolled in annoyance. Sometimes Alfred wondered if the British author J.K. Rowling had thought of Arthur's eyebrows when describing the character Hermione's hair. All of her hair could probably fit on his eyebrows, with extra space! He laughed silently, not caring whether his hilarious grin looked weird to anyone else waiting at the terminal.
"Arthur…" Alfred just barely whispered to himself. He had tried to forget over the years how painful it had been during his first celebrated birthday. That day had been beautiful and melancholy all in one; no matter how much he wondered or wished for a better outcome, what was done was done. He had won freedom for his people, in the end, and they would remember it for all time. That's why every year, on the same day, people would raise their striped, starry flags in the wind and sing with life's joy for him. Why everyone lit up the sky with beauty and pride. Why they had America to love, to be proud of.
And then Alfred remembered Arthur's face when Antonio and Francis taunted him, when little Peter ran away to become a "legitimate country." Worst of all, when Yao came to give America the fireworks he had invented for his birthday, he had asked Arthur why he didn't have a cool Fourth of July, too. It brought pain to both of their hearts and each country silently suffered the longing of friendship between them, hidden by arguments and annoyance.
Every other nation would claim their bets, but Matthew realized what was going on first.
Maybe it was the first time Britain accepted America as a legitimate country with, if not "respectable ideas," sources of great inventions, resources, and commodities. Back then, Alfred and Arthur had exchanged a cool, silent trading partnership that resided in little backlash. A spark of hope in spring green and ocean blue.
Or perhaps it was when they allied on the same side of two world wars against the tyranny of a delusional, hypnotized Ludwig, who they helped to finally break so Germany could earn a respectable, valuable standing in the world. When Alfred saw how Germany gave up so much to be with his love, his Italy, despite betrayal.
Needless to say, he ignored Matthew's soft suggestions to try and work things out with Arthur. Heroes have to think these things out on their own, of course.
So he didn't know when it had started, exactly. But he did know why it had happened, and how. Now all he needed was to find Arthur and tell him.
Arthur found him first. He had barely set foot on the terminal when Alfred barreled into him with a "thud" that sent them crashing onto the floor.
"What on earth are you doing, you crazy git!" Arthur snapped, dusting off his trousers before he folded his arms. "Unless you really were aiming to give me a heart attack, you might actually try not bomb-rushing me next time." There was the same exact eye-roll Alfred had pictured earlier and he felt deliriously happy.
"I have to tell you something, Iggy, something really important."
"Don't call me Iggy, half-wit."
"Sure thing, Iggy. Anyway, I haven't talked to you about it in a long time, but I know that it isn't every hero-like of me to keep avoiding it, so…"
"You mean 'unheroic,'" Arthur clucked, tapping his foot impatiently. "Whatever it is, you might as well get on with it, Ameri—I mean, Alfred," he murmured, checking to see if anyone had heard him use the other nation's non-human name. "Although, I am curious as to what you have to say to me. You are not exactly the best at keeping secrets." His face contorted into a Cheshire cat grin.
Alfred's face went as red as his flag's stripes. "W-well, what I mean to say is—is… IloveyousomuchithurtsandIdon'tknowwhatelsetosay!"
Arthur laughed and clapped Alfred's back as if trying to make him spit out something he was choking on. "A little slower, lad? Mind you, I'm not old, but you had better take it down a few kilometers per hour.
The American pleasantly shivered under Arthur's touch. He took a deep breath and went on. "…I love you, Britain. I always have. But now I know why I can do it right—that's the other part of what I have to tell you. And it has to do with a touchy subject… Do you know what day today is?"
A small silence lapsed between them, so wide that Alfred almost cried. But then a pair of warm arms encircled him lovingly. The relief felt so good, it made them both sigh with happiness. "It's your birthday, America," Arthur whispered.
Alfred nodded and returned the embrace with fervor. "Yes, it is. And don't get me wrong—it's a great day—but sometimes it makes me sad because I remember—what we lost," he whispered. "But I'm not sad about it anymore, Arthur. I just couldn't be your little brother anymore; I couldn't keep doing what you told me to. By being separated like that, we were able to grow, to be more than that."
"What… do you mean?" Arthur asked softly, afraid that Alfred might still reject him despite his previous words. He of all people should have known the other nation would keep to his declarations.
"We had to let go so that we could respect each other, so that you could love me as an adult and not as a child. It's a new age, a new world now, Arthur. We can be together now, like our people are."
After a moment of silent thought, Arthur nodded, burying his head in the crook of Alfred's neck. "I love you, Alfred Jones—America. You're a bloody pain in the ass and a git, but you're my git, and I'm your foolish sap. And why is it that you're only eloquent once a year?" he snorted against a warm, smooth shoulder.
"Only when it counts, Iggy, only when it counts." Arthur could tell that Alfred was smiling into his hair even though he couldn't see him. "Today's my birthday and I want to spend it with you.I want to spend it with all the world and let every nation know how much I love you. And that you're mine! I've seen Francis leer at you—he better not try coming anywhere near my Iggy tomorrow, or I'll kick him where the sun don't shine!"
Arthur burst into laughter and bumped Alfred's nose lightly. "Oh, you know France; he'll snog anything that moves… Francis, that is," he coughed, looking around again. His face flushed again as he realized a crowd of previously-bored frequent fliers had gathered to join the lovey-dovey entertainment. "…Oh, to hell with it, Alfred... I'm madly in love with you and I'd really, really like to kiss you now."
"Ever the gentleman, huh? Well, you haven't given me my birthday present yet, so I suppose it shall have to suffice…"
"Oh shut up and kiss me," Arthur muttered.
And Alfred did.
There was no need for fireworks. Arthur could barely register the feeling of being twirled around in the air as Alfred lifted him up because the effect of their lips mesmerized him. Warmth like he had never experienced before filled Arthur and Alfred from head to toe.
"Happy birthday, Alfred," Arthur whispered so that only Alfred could hear over the clapping crowd. "And now, I can say this in earnest… Happy Fourth of July, happy Independence Day. Without this day, you would not be who you are, and I could not love you if you were anyone else. I may have had to let you go, but now we have something even better. And I want to treasure this forever."
"Thank you, Arthur. That means the world to me. And it means a lot to my people, too. They've taken quite a liking to you, with tourism and culture and all, you know."
"After all this time, I should hope so," Arthur sighed in relief, laughing and pulling Alfred closer. "We have a private jet to catch, you know. What do you say we catch the fireworks at your house tonight?"
"I'd say that's a plan fit for a hero! But, you know what, Arthur?"
"What, love?"
Alfred grinned and pulled the Brit in for another kiss. "I think we've got enough fireworks on our own."
Happy birthday, Alfred! I love you so much, and my family and I did enjoy the lovely fireworks down the street from my house. I hope you enjoyed this fanfiction and care to leave review. I enjoyed writing it and reflecting on my freedom as a citizen of these United States of America. Peace, ya'all!
