I wrote platonic!USUK for pointless reasons.

First fic. No pairings. I'm sure I'll look back in a few years and wince. Ah, who cares? (Does anyone read these A/Ns?)

(Also, I love parentheses.)

Part One.

Alfred contemplated. "What did he contemplate?" you ask. It's rather a 'Whom did he contemplate?'

Alfred contemplated Arthur; his ally, his friend, his brother.

England slept in the bed next to his own, forced to room with him after finding that France had successfully gotten Canada to spend a night with him after the World Conference.

(Alfred wasn't too worried about Matthew - Francis was a good older brother, right? Right? Moving on...)

Arthur was an... interesting person to say the least, always grinching on one thing or another.

(Earlier this day he had somehow managed to get into yet another fight with Francis with barely a few minutes into the meeting.)

But that was only his exterior, meant to cover up what was beneath the skin. Very few people, nation or otherwise, had seen past the mask.

(It would be only fair to note that all nations had a mask, and that all nations were careful on the people they let in. And yet... England was perhaps the most secretive.)

His older brothers were some of them.

(No matter how much he said he hated them (the actual amount of real hate is debated), they had been with Arthur since birth.)

France was another.

(France was one of the few who had known Arthur - not the small part of the island known as Britannia - when he was younger and more open; more naive.)

And a percentage of his former colonies made up the last few. Alfred was one of them. Alfred was the first of them.

Alfred was the first to open up Arthur's cold heart since early childhood. The beginnings of their relationship was a little murky to Alfred; all of the nations' earliest memories were a bit like fog, though some of them had centuries worth of it and some of the newer micro-nations had only weeks.

But he did remember the invincible force he had called his older brother. He was unstoppable, unbeatable, big, and so perfect.

Then that image shattered when America started to grow up.

It happened to all children, eventually. Their older sibling, guardian, or parent who had been God's angel on Earth became the Devil's advocate. After that, arguments followed. Alfred remembered quite clearly the shouting matches between them, with Matthew pleading with them to see reason. Then, in the end, he left. He was ready to leave.

(He did leave in a most forceful manner though - who among you can boast a full-on war in leaving the parents' house? Perhaps the leave was violent, but certainly not as violent as that, let us hope.)

(Was it necessary, the war? Yes, because he grew up. And maybe Arthur didn't know then, but Alfred was ready to fly from the nest.)

Did everything shatter after that? Did the first century and a half of Alfred's life amount to nothing?

No, his mind whispered. Lines can be cut, relationships shatter; but not forever. Pieces can be found, and everything can be rebuilt in time.

And wasn't it always there? That undertone of brotherhood, of being siblings, despite the past.

(Alfred had long since accepted that Arthur didn't have to be perfect for him to love his older brother.)

'Special relationship' indeed. Maybe the two would never admit it out loud, but they were brothers.

They always had been.

Arthur contemplated.

You know the drill.

He contemplated Alfred; his ally, his friend, his brother.

Alfred was an enigma. England had always wondered why America always insisted on acting like an idiot when he knew he wasn't. Well... scratch that. He always wondered why America insisted on acting like a bumbling idiot when he was an optimistic - but still slightly rational - one. Arthur may have been self-deprecatory sometimes, but he did store some faith in his parenting skills.

... No, he didn't wonder. He knew why. It was Alfred's mask, his cover; though why he would use stupidity as a cover baffled Arthur to no ends. Perhaps it was just that, a way to annoy him. The Lord knows Alfred loved to do that, and he was just as good as Francis.

Annoying, annoying, annoying. Was there an excuse for Alfred? Hm... hadn't someone once said that it was a sibling's job the annoy the hell out of the other sibling? Maybe the wording wasn't exactly like that, but Arthur thought that it held the same sentiment.

If so, then Alfred, all his older siblings, and he himself were the perfect brothers. Arthur almost snorted at the thought.

Siblings; can't live with them, can't live without them.

Could he?

No.

Arthur had always been wary of the four letters that spelled 'love.' It was a foreign concept, and a dangerous one. It was something for the weak to be broken on.

But then he learned. It became less foreign with a child that gave it unconditionally, with blue eyes that were filled with it.

(He had hated it. But then one child gave it to him and he started to give it back.)

(And then the child - no, he wasn't a child anymore - the young nation left and he had hated love again.)

It ended, as all things do.

Did it?

There was a reason why he had dropped on the ground instead of standing to look into those eyes on that muddy day. The rain had obscured his vision somewhat, but he could see the love in the eyes of sky replaced by anger, hate, confusion, and -

Hurt.

Did it hurt not to love?

Yes. Arthur knew. He tried hating Alfred - he really did. But the absolutely infuriating boy didn't let him.

(He had hated love again, but Alfred didn't let the hate last.)

(All things end. All things begin again.)

And along in the years he knew Alfred couldn't hate either. It just wasn't a natural part of him.

Despite their imperfections, the two of them had long since stopped being angry with each other. In the back of their hearts, they both knew that no matter what bullets and words had been fired, they had always been brothers.

(Arthur had long since accepted that even though his little brother had grown up he could still love him.)

And Arthur was proud of what his younger sibling had become. He would never admit that out loud.

Maybe that was because it would be stating the obvious.

A/N:

(Sorry for the influx of human names; I just got really used calling them that instead of the country ones.)

My first fic is pointless fluff for my brotp. I looooove platonic!USUK so much and decided that while the relationship between little!America and big-brother!England is also as cute as a giant fluffy unicorn, I needed something set in present day (platonic!USUK is both so bittersweet and sweet at the same time when it's set post-Revolutionary War). So I wrote this :3.