Warnings: Incest (they refer to each other as brothers), some US/OCs
Notes: Kinkmeme deanon, historical notes at the bottom. This is my first time ever writing Ame/Can.
It is not a well hidden secret that America married his own citizens before—in fact, as Canada remembers it, he seemed to get married at least twice a century. What was not well known was the why he did it. It was not normal, that was for sure; quite a few nations owned up to marrying at least one human, and Canada was certain that many more of them had as well, even if he himself wasn't actually included in that number, but no one made a habit out of it. America, on the other hand, did it so many times and so frequently that many of the other nations were certain he just had a weird fetish.
("Maybe it's some weird 'love 'em and leave 'em' sort of thing."
"Who 'loves and leaves' someone for up to sixty years?"
"Hence the 'weird'."
Canada ignores the jeers and keeps his eyes focused on the table before him, fingers curling into fists in his lap.)
If someone asked Canada, he could have told them. He remembered that day, back in the middle of December. Back during America's Civil War and his second marriage, when his southern neighbor curled up into his lap, trying not to sob from the pain. There was nothing he could do to soothe his brother, so Canada could only hope to distract him. So he asked.
"America?"
"Yeah?" His brother shudders again, so Canada tries to tuck the blanket around closer.
"Can I ask, and you don't have to answer this, but why do you…why did you marry another human?" When America turns his head to look up—the most intentional movement he's made since he crawled into Canada's lap—Canada stumbles over himself to explain. "I like Mary and all, and I liked Felicity, but I would have thought Felicity's death would have—oh God, I-I didn't mean that you-ah…"
"I know what you mean," his neighbor sighs, laying his head back down. He doesn't speak for a minute and Canada begins to worry that he really did insult his brother. "Felicity's death was awful…"
That was the understatement of the year; Canada remembered the night when America awoke him from a sound sleep by sobbing and banging at his cabin's door. It hadn't even been two decades since the War of 1812, since Canada forced his brother back into his lands, and barely more than a decade into their marriage. Her death was an accident. Canada nearly told his brother that he should have realized how fragile humans could be before he married one, but he wasn't so callous as to say that as he held his weeping brother. He was shocked when his brother married again, but he's grateful for Mary. His official stance is neutrality although his people willfully aid whatever side they feel like at the moment, so it's his only relief to know that at least one person is looking after his brother.
America surprises Canada by continuing. "It was so sudden when she died. All I could think was 'I just saw her smiling this morning', 'I just kissed her goodbye before I left', 'I just ate with her', all sorts of things like that. It was such a shock to go from having someone constantly at your side to…nothing." Canada wants to protest that that wasn't true—he was at America's side, wasn't he? But in the end that is neither here nor there, so he rubs his brother's shoulder as America continues. "It was so lonely. After awhile I stopped missing her, but I never stopped missing that feeling you get when you know someone's with you. I wasn't planning on marrying Mary, you know—but, then, it just kinda happened again."
"What happened?"
And then, for the first time during his entire (unofficial) visit to see his brother, America finally smiled. Canada wanted to take it and bottle it up, so he'd always be able to find it, especially in these days when they seem so rare. "Love. I didn't ask for it—it just happened. All the same," his neighbor sighs, resting his head against his brother's thigh again, "it's nice not to be alone anymore."
Canada stared down at America. "Is that the only reason?"
America is silent himself for awhile. "Do you remember when we were little and I asked Britain to marry me?"
Canada remembered. If nothing, the expression on their caretaker's face was amusing enough to erase some of the horror he'd felt when his twin had just asked the question when the topic hadn't even been on marriage. "Yes."
"Do you remember what he said?"
"Vaguely. It's been a long time," he lies as he fusses with a lock of his brother's dingy hair.
America sighs and Canada is almost amused to see his brother acting like the put upon one. "He told us that nations only marry for political reasons. Only to join two dynasties or governments together, to bind alliances," he explains before his roughened voice fell into a sleepy whisper. "Never love."
Canada's fingers twitch. "You…don't want to marry just for politics then?"
"I want to marry someone who loves me—not my land, money, resources, appearance, power, anything like that." Canada resists a burning need to cruelly tell him that he wouldn't have to worry about that at all at the moment, battered as he is. "I will not be someone's convenient tool or weapon or anything like that. Never—I promised myself back then, when Britain explained that to us."
And then America falls asleep before Canada can say or ask more, leaving the northern neighbor lost in thought.
Love, or what his brother insisted was love, happened time and again. After Mary died, of old age, America married a spitfire who kept him on his toes until her sudden death at the end of the first World War. Canada remembered his brother, embittered by the war and fed up with Europe, getting that news with wide eyed silence. For awhile, Canada was terrified that her death almost broke his brother; at least Lithuania's arrival and stay with his brother eased America.
Then everything went to hell for the two of them: the stock market crash, the Dustbowl, the Depression. And yet, one day as Canada tried not focus on his hunger pains, an especially raggedy and gaunt America arrived with a new girlfriend on his arm. Canada honestly thought his neighbor went mad for a moment, but seeing him and Patty smiling at each other, despite how terrible everything was, gave him a kernel of hope to hold on to. They waited until America finally began to recover before they married. America asked Canada to be his Best Man and Canada managed to sit aside most of his grievances and resentment to be happy for them.
However World War II arrived, where America shipped off to various places, sometimes masquerading as one of Canada's own pilots to help out, and then the stress of the Cold War and politics finally drove them apart. That ended in America's first divorce. Although America only gave him a tired shrug from where he lay on Canada's couch—as a conscientious objector or, to be more honest, as a draft dodger—and Canada felt bad enough that he let his brother stay there until his president came promising amnesty.
For a decade there, Canada thought maybe the divorce would change America's mind. Then, however, came the 80s and Kyle.
Kyle was a complete surprise—not because he was a man but because his brother shocked him by falling so head over heels for this soft spoken, intelligent young art student from New York. He was sweet, playful, and actually knew a thing or two about hockey.
It was so unfair that Canada actually punched his brother while drunk. That led to an embarrassing night when a too amused to be disappointed Britain bailed the both of them out of jail, both sporting bruises and bruised egos.
There was no traditional wedding, no fanfare to signify that America had a husband. It came in little things—canvases stacked in America's living room, a sleepy eyed dog that would let Tony use it for a body pillow, fresh fruit always restocked in the fridge, and finally the cocktails of various medicines that Kyle ingested to stave off his disease. America was out of touch a lot with his government and other nations back then, as he often refused to leave home when Kyle's bad days outnumbered the good.
America didn't even get a decade with Kyle. Canada held his brother during the funeral that consisted for once of mostly humans. America could claim to be a husband of the deceased, instead of a son or grandson.
After that came a long string of girl and boyfriends that Canada never bothered to keep track of. It wasn't until America finally settled down once again into peace, until his un-proclaimed empire (and oh, does America hate that thought) finally began to slip in favor of new powers did America remarry. America still looked twenty four and snagged a pretty celebrity for a few years before divorcing her too.
He got married again off and on in the intervening years, losing some spouses and divorcing others. Men, women, in diverse selections from a porn star to a politician, in almost any flavor of nationality, race, color, or religion until Canada's head spun. America once cracked that he was "trying to catch 'em all", whatever that meant.
It wasn't until the next great war, when most of the rest of the world seemed to be burning down around them, when America rearmed himself and Canada dusted off his legacy of military prowess, did he once again ask his brother. "Why did you marry only humans?"
And finally America looked up across from across the campfire, banked low to hide the smoke. Canada remembered his brother, once laughing and teasing, asking him to join him, and then again serious and sincere.
"I'd…I'd make a good husband," he whispered in the dead of night, standing outside Canada's cabin, shivering in the rain because Canada is too tongue tied to ask him to come in. "I'd be faithful and, and respectful, and I swear I wouldn't ask anything of you that you wouldn't want to do."
Canada had looked at his brother, his neighbor, his other half before thinking of what he wanted versus what his people wanted, what was right, what was fair, and why could he never get what he wanted? "You're drunk, America. Go home," he said finally, easing back into his cabin.
Anger and hurt flashed in his brother's eyes. "I am not. Either or."
In the end, Canada had to take up arms to chase his neighbor back to his lands, into a stalemate they never did break.
America blinked as the fire popped loudly, smiled, and shrugged, those once energetic blue eyes looking so tired but still so sincere. "'Cause you wouldn't say yes."
Canada just looked across the fire, to that still warm smile, those compelling eyes, so loving and cruel all at once, and resisted the urge to chuck his can of soup at his neighbor's head. Instead he swallowed against the tightness of his throat and looked down at his spoon, stirring the contents of the can. "You realize if we married now there would be politics involved."
"Well, yeah," he shrugged, stabbing the fire to keep it from dying. "That kinda goes without saying—two of the last remaining free countries with strong militaries joining together? Besides, I realized that back when I was still a superpower, you know."
"Hyperpower."
"What-the fuck-ever. You know what I mean. I could live with a little of it though, as long you loved me back."
Canada fell quiet for a long time before standing up and circling the fire to join his brother. America merely stared up at him. "Does that proposal still stand then?"
America's smile changed, and for a moment Canada saw the years roll back, back past superpowers and empires and rejection and hurt, back to a nervous young man standing in the rain, asking him a question he couldn't answer back then. "I never took it back, did I?"
That was good enough. "Okay then." America's eyes narrowed then widened and all Canada can do was shrug sheepishly.
"Jesus, Canada," America finally managed with an actual laugh. "That was one of the most unromantic marriage proposals of all time."
"That wasn't a proposal," Canada replied as primly as he could manage without stuttering in embarrassment as he sat down next to his neighbor. "That was just me saying yes."
"Well," America's smile was soft and sweet. Canada realized that he could finally kiss him now if he wanted. "Took you long enough."
Canada smiled back at his brother, neighbor, fiancé, and oh how he has waited to call him that. "Well, genius, what comes next?"
"We get out of this war alive," his ally replied like a promise before reaching out to intertwine their fingers with a smile. "And then, since we don't got rings at the moment, we get those. Then you get drunk as a skunk at your bachelor party and get married with a hangover."
"Can't we skip that part?"
"'course not. It's part of the experience!"
The two of them looked at each other, really just looked and Canada wondered if America was suddenly realizing just what they were talking about, what they agreed to like he was. Perhaps he was because that smile just grew wider and it was a struggle not to start laughing. (Because there was no knowing where the enemy was, if they were ever safe or not.) But for a moment, Canada seriously considered tossing his southern brother to the ground and kissing him senseless.
"But that's gotta wait for now," America reminded him with such a solemn face that Canada's fingers twitched to touch it.
"Of course."
"Although," America's voice went husky as they drifted together. "You don't have to wait until then for the fun part."
Canada couldn't keep his fingers still any longer; they drifted upward to rest against America's jaw. "And what would that be?"
America didn't answer with words because neither of them needed them. Their mouth met and the years and want and need and hurt and rejection and that painful, wonderful feeling that always threatened to overwhelm him whenever America smiled built up in Canada's chest until he felt like dying on the spot. At least he'd go out happy.
America pulled back with a smile and Canada smiled and realized, no, he really didn't want to die then. They would get out of the war alive; they had a promise now, a future to work for. And Canada, for one, wasn't planning on dying until he got his fill of kisses, love, and marriage with his southern half and he damn well felt like it.
"We get out of this alive," he whispered, "and I'm finding the first priest around to officiate right then and there."
"I'd say that's no fun, but hell, what better way to cap off a war than a wedding?" America hummed, tangling his finger in the other man's hair. "Count me in. Guess we got a war to end, huh?"
Once he would have shaken his head at the impetuousness of that statement, but now Canada believed in that foolish, brash hope where desperation lurked only out of sight. Hasty impulse seemed to work for America. "Nothing we haven't handled before though, innit?"
"You bet your ass," America smirked.
The world was going to hell around them, so many had fallen, so much was lost, and here they were, planning on eloping the first moment they could. Knowing America, that seems about right, he thought to himself and pressed his mouth back to America's.
It wasn't anything they couldn't handle after all.
The War of 1812 was a war between the United States of America, the British Empire, and several Native American tribes that lasted from 1812 to 1815. American forces wanted to expand into Canada and managed to capture a bit of land (including burning and looting York) before being forced back (leading to the only time besides the Revolutionary War that the capital was captured). Depending on who you asked, America won since he benefitted overall, Canada won since he stopped America from taking him over, or Britain won but just didn't really care since he was busy with France at the time. In truth, the only ones for sure who lost were the Native Americans.
The American Civil War lasted from 1861 to 1865 when 11 southern states seceded from the Union. It is the bloodiest conflict ever fought on American soil. Canada, along with the rest of the British Empire, tried to remain neutral.
WWI ended with America extremely bitter-it was a gruesome conflict he felt he had no part in, being Europe's War rather than his own. The American people felt tricked into it by their allies and was one of the reasons America hesitated so long to join in WWII.
The Stock Market Crash of 1929 helped start the Great Depression.
The Dustbowl lasted from 1930 to 1936 (in some cases up to 1940) was a series of dust storms that damaged the American and Canadian prairies. Farmers had to abandon their land and search for jobs, something that was not in great supply during the Great Depression.
Some Americans joined the Canadian forces before the rest of America joined in WWII. One group, the Eagle Squadrons, consisted of American volunteers.
"...and then the stress of the Cold War and politics finally drove them apart." Politics faced a great upheaval with various civil rights movements, scandals, and things like McCarthyism.
Conscientious objector is someone who claimed the right to not do military service on religious, moral reasons, or freedom of thought. Draft dodgers were people who avoided going to war by leaving the country. During the Vietnam War, many people left for Canada to avoid the war. Later both Gerald Ford and Jimmy Carter gave amnesty to the draft dodgers.
In the 80s, homophobia ran rampant when people pinned AIDS on homosexuals. It wasn't until Ronald Reagan that the AIDS epidemic was even acknowledged. Homosexuals couldn't legally marry in the US in the 80s, but that didn't stop them from having commitment ceremonies.
The American Empire is a term referring to America's massive influence in the world, first popularized with the Spanish-American War. Some theorize that "the empire" is already beginning to fall with the War in Iraq and the Recession.
Hyper Power is a term applied to a state that dominates all other in all activities, a step above a superpower. The Roman and British empires have been retroactively called hyper powers as well, but the only current hyper power since the fall of the USSR is the US.