United States of Alfred

-*Alfred's got you damsel, cause the heroes got to save the girl, and sing a-ring-a-round-a-rosie while he tears apart your world*-


"Iggy?" He was crying, tears overfilling his beautiful green eyes and trailing down his cheeks. I let go – why was I holding his wrists? And wiped frantically at the tears. "Artie … I'm, don't, what happened? Don't cry."

Arthur blinked and drew his (now free) hands up to cover his face.

"I'm not crying you stupid American!"

"Sssh, ssh." What the hell? What was I supposed to do? Okay, hero; check, crying man; check. Okay. Change crying man to damsel in distress. Add fluttery eyes and denial of need for help when damsel really does need help.

Situation figured out.

Need gun.

I leant forward and kissed the tears off, ignoring Arthur's half-hearted struggles.

"Why did you say that? Did you truly mean it?"

"I – what did I –." I blinked, because the light was hurting behind my eyes. My hands rested in Arthur's hair though I didn't know I'd been stroking it.

I'd just said – I'd.

"At-at one point I did Artie, but not anymore. I, I was just so angry at you then cause you didn't see me as anything other than a child. You wouldn't let me go," I said, because I remembered that I'd said something, been saying something. It was bad.

"You used to be so big Artie, but now you can't stop me. You couldn't even stop me if I tore off your clothes and introduced myself to all your little cities."

Oh. That's what it was.

"Dad-"

Arthur jolted. "Don't call me that," but his voice was pleading and thick. "I'm not your father, if I was than you wouldn't have left me."

My heart nearly broke and a part of me wished that I could be like I was during the second World War. That I could be full of rage and anger and not this odd pain in my chest that came with seeing Arthur crying.

I hardly ever called him Dad because our relationship had been so strained that the name couldn't leave my lips and well, he wasn't actually my dad. Just like he was and he wasn't my brother, or my friend or someone I loved. Our relationship was a little messed up and undefined but it was special.

'Special relationship,' for both America and Alfred.

"Oh Artie, I wasn't going to leave you." I smiled and he wasn't looking at me, his chin was down and I knew how much it irked his British pride for him to tear up in front of me. The last time had been – no, back to consoling the damsel.

Hm, I'd have to see Artie in a dress one day; I'd talk to France or Kiku about the possibilities.

"I would have stayed by you even after I became my own Nation. But you wouldn't let me have my Independence."

Arthur's hands curled up to his chest and I slid my hands down to his shoulders. "Why did you need it? Why couldn't you just be happy with me?" He asked and he'd asked this before, once, when he'd been so blind drunk that Canada would usually be the one taking him home. But he'd been trying to get Francis off of him so I'd been left to deal with the drunkard.

"You left me. Everyone's always leaving me."

"Artie, you know why."

"Didn't you say that during the War Artie? I didn't listen then. I won't listen now."

"Aww, don't get upset. This is your fault. You made me fight you, but now it's my turn to be the stronger one."

I rested my chin on the top of his head and I could remember when it was me that would look up, look up to the tall, angry British Empire.

"I was just trying to protect my people. I didn't mean to tax you so heavily, but, but I needed to."

I could say a lot of things to that but I bent down and kissed more of his tears away, though he tried to keep me away. I placed two kisses over his eyelids and when I moved away he had opened shining green eyes.

"It's over and done with now Arthur. Can't we just move on? We've come so far. I'm not a little colony anymore. I'm a Nation now. We can help each other."

My words didn't really match my thoughts because England, all bleary-eyed and red-cheeked had me nearly half-hard in my pants. I wanted to throw him down on the floor, yank off his pants and have him claw through my shirt and line my back with scratches.

"Where's all that Great Britannia spirit Artie? Are you giving up so easily?"

I swallowed and England's arm was between us.

I was close; my body was encircling him, trapping him. Prey.

"Feeling a little rebellious Artie? Feel like I'm taking you for granted?"

England pushed me off and I had to let him because I wasn't quite sure what I would do. I wasn't this person. I – I didn't do these things.

He'd look so pretty underneath me, back arched and mouth open as he screams. Only I could make Arthur look like that, feel like that. He was mine. Only mine.

Heroes don't think these things.

"Why …" I began and I wanted to stop myself, but not saying what I thought had never been a trait of mine. "Why did you say 'There's no point?"

I licked my lips and tasted the salt of England's tears, watching as he scrubbed at his face with the cuff of his sleeve. His furrowed his brows (earthquakes, everywhere I swear, maybe he was the reason everyone else was experiencing it? Like that sheep place near Stephen? There was a Z in there somewhere … and lots of sheep) and straightened his posture, still unable to look me in the eye.

And I have nice eyes, so it must've been hard for him not to.

"Why are you asking now? It has been years."

Cause I felt like it? Honestly, why wouldn't I ask? It was like Iggy was searching for some deeper meaning to it. It just felt right and it hadn't before.

"Because I want to know and you never told me."

"I never wanted to."

I wanted to whine and prod at Arthur with a stick but he was a little red and puffy under the eyes and he kept fidgeting with his outfit. It made me remember why he was crying and I didn't really want to remember that right now so I couldn't be an ass. Not that I would be an ass, because he should just tell me.

As a matter of fact, he was being the ass for not telling me. Which is unawesome and so totally why I was the hero and he was the damsel. I'd have to call him Miss Damsel from now on. Ahaha.

"I deserve to know." There, that was quite calm but heroically demanding at the same time. Like an order. You tell me, because I am me and that is why you will say what I want to know, because I'm me, I'm the United States of Alfred.

That's with Capitals.

I really needed a gun. I could've dramatically cocked it and everything.

"You don't deserve anything! I don't owe you anything. You left me, you ruined our relationship."

And there went my calm mood. It was his fault, not mine. I'd went through a lot of crap to get free of him and he'd laughed in my face. Laughed in my face until the war drained on him and he got bitter and bitter and hell, I was feeling a little bitter (and hurt) too.

"I never would've been happy if you didn't let me go. You ruined it. We would've been fine if you had cared more for me than what I could do for you as a colony."

"Britannia fork," he screamed and threw a random fork at me (seriously, it's like he has a whole kitchen attached to his body – not that he could cook anything edible with it.) "Is that what you think it was? Did you think that's why I refused you independence?"

I threw the fork on the ground, its metal rang sharp in the air and now Arthur and I were yelling at each other, he's eyes still red and my mouth plump from kissing him.

"What other reason is there?"

"You idiot! You naïve fool." He pushed at me and I pushed him back. "You don't deserve to know. I won't tell you."

I was getting angry again.

Mine. Make him mine.

"You're wrong Arthur. If there was another reason I deserve to know." I did. It had been years, decades, I deserved to know. I would make him tell me. "Though there wasn't. There couldn't have been. You're lying to save face because the truth makes you look like the empire you used to be."

"And what's that?" His gaze was hard and his fists clenched. I wanted to throw him on the ground and either beat him unconscious or fuck him raw. Who knows, maybe both, maybe not in that order.

Heroes shouldn't think this but I didn't feel the emotion behind that thought. I was a hero, right? So why didn't I care about anything but breaking Arthur right now?

"Cruel and selfish and greedy."

Arthur's jaw clenched and eyes were shining emeralds. "Shut up! You know nothing America. You've never had you're citizens starve before. You haven't gone through all the wars I have. I needed those supplies to keep my land alive, to keep my people living and not merely surviving."

"Excuses, excuses."

"And you didn't care who suffered for it, did you?" I grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him.

"They had my protection! They owed me for that, for my people dying to keep them safe."

My nostrils were flaring and I shook him again, wanting to lash out at something. I took a deep breath and said slowly, "you're lying to yourself Artie. Lying."

"And you don't lie to yourself?" He laughed. "You call yourself the hero?" He reached up, grabbed my jaw in one hand and with a tilt of his lips, he said, with intent to hurt, "let's ask Vietnam how she feels about that? Let's ask Japan if his scars have healed yet? Let's ask Iraq and Afghanistan if you're a hero or if you just want their oil? And what about your indigenous people? Your Red Indians. How are they?"

I yanked at his hair and we were holding each other close and he was being stupid England all over again. The one that had refused to let me go, the one who killed my people during the Independence War and who sided with one half of my people during the Civil War. He wasn't being the older brother I'd loved and who'd rarely visited but who would sing me old tales of great warriors, recount great plays, tragedies, comedy's and who would embroide me a blanket that had unicorns and fairies all over them.

Cowboys were better anyway.

"I'm defending myself. You know there are terrorists in there. They bombed me, they started this war."

"And I've had half my land taken from me, my people invaded. You got two buildings attacked. You think that's hard?"

I wanted to throw his head against the wall and slam it until there was nothing but meat and blood dripping onto the floor.

"Don't you dare belittle what happened with the twin towers. Don't you dare."

I wasn't crying, and if I was, they were tears of anger. He'd broken down my door, he and Mattie and France and they'd found my body bleeding on the tiles, my rib poking out as the second plane hit and then I was trying to get out, to the towers, to save my people but I couldn't move and the bone grated on the floor and they'd held me. He'd held me as I was attacked. I'd hated him, hated them for not letting me leave but I knew they did right, even if it had taken me a while to realise that.

"Then don't you dare pretend I'm the villain. I've done my best, and my people are happy. So I have no regrets."

I threw him away.

"But Iggy, isn't that what they call a psychopath?"

England's eyes were suspiciously watery too.

"At least my people are safe and happy. I'll do whatever I have to if I can keep it that way."

I wanted to scream and rage and pick up the table and throw it somewhere. Maybe at someone, maybe not. I was furious and I didn't like what England had said. But I'd started this and I would finish it.

And I knew that I too, would do whatever it took to keep my people happy and safe. I think. If it really came down to it.

Heroes shouldn't do that. Heroes should try to help everyone.

"And that's why I left," I said and England wasn't showing any weakness, he wasn't looking away, his back was straight and in this moment it showed that he had lived for longer than I had.

But who gave a fuck about that.

"Because you would have used me and my land until my people died of starvation and everything I was and am would have dried up and died." It hurt to say it. It might have been because I believed it and it hurt that I knew he would have done that to me.

And he didn't deny it.

I was biting my lip and it started to bleed again, and both of us were still, standing in silence, shaking with things that were said and better left unsaid.

I went to leave the room, but as I passed England, he inclined his head towards me, mouth breathing air against my ear, so I paused beside him.

"Maybe I would have, maybe I would have made you weak and defenceless and kept you in my house." It sounded threatening and dark and Arthur had spoken to me like this during the Independence.

My mind ran over his words and they felt familiar.

My tongue moved in my mouth, like I'd been the one to say those words.

Weak and defenceless, kept you in my house.

I closed my eyes.

Shackled you to the bed and make you cry out my name. Grabbed you by the hair, blood sinking into your clothes and dragged you across the state line.

I threw you in my room, shackled you to the bed. Touched you. Shackled to the bed.

Shackled – shackled sh-

"Let's play a little game, shall we?" Game. Game.

Shackled you to the bed.

I'd show Russia who was stronger and then he'd fall at my feet and beg and maybe while he was there I'd undo my pants and –

Kiku crying. Hands around his throat.

Shackled to the bed.

Vietnam crying and Korea tearing in half, and Kiku. Shackled, in a wheel chair. Sorry, sorry. You made me. I had to.

Ground Zero.

Iraq. Kill. I don't care. I help protect your innocents, kill the Taliban. Maybe I should just shackle you to the bed and make you cry out my name. Grab you by the hair – grabbed you. Mattie.

Ring-a-round-a-death-bed, we all pissed off Alfred, scream mercy, scream mercy, he throws us into bed.

"At least then you wouldn't have been able to leave me." Arthur said, voice level, even and the tone giving nothing away. I waited a moment but he didn't add anything else.

"I still would have tried."

I could feel the heat radiating from him and I just had to reach out to touch him.

"I know," he said softly.

There was nothing to say to that. Not now anyway. So I opened my eyes and I left the room. It wasn't the first time I'd walked away from Arthur like this but I'd hoped that it wouldn't happen again. As I closed the door behind me I thought that even sometimes I had to let go of a pipe dream.

Mattie and Al, fought up the hill, cause Al thought he was stronger. But stupid Al …

Well stupid Al, forgot that maybe burning down his brother's Capital wasn't so smart because now he was bleeding and clawing at the dirt as –

Mattie and Al, fought up the hill, but poor Mattie got caught. It ended too soon, shackled in that room and Mattie was very distraught.

Kiss it better. Lick all the blood of the door. Mattie's blood was sweeter than all that maple syrup he ate.

America and Canada sitting in a tree, burning down your ci-ity. First comes invasion, then comes the killing, then comes a lit torch burning down your building.


As I wrote England and America's fight the whole Twin Towers thing came out and I think I did their reactions right, as I see it, BUT I felt so iffy about England basically saying, well it sucked but that's nothing compared to what I've experienced. I hope no one gets offended and if you do, well, there's worse stuff out there (have you seen comedians joke about it? I'm not even American and I find it a big no-no.) I wanted to cry when that came up but it's the way their argument went and England didn't mean to downplay it but they were arguing and being stupid and America got all 'killer-mode' angry about it. So I want you all to know that these are the characters, not my, personal beliefs, so that whole oil thing in Iraq/Afghanistan as well. They were intentionally saying things to hurt anyway.

So! Moving on! This has only been one day, story-wise, so the next chapter will be the night after today's meeting! Ooh. America's pov should be in every chapter but I like writing others as well. And when I said this was a multi-pairing fic, I really meant it. Cause everyone's got history with each other.

Except Australia, which is my home, because we're fairly 'new.' And I don't really know or care about aboriginal history (no offence there either but I know the basic stuff I got taught in school and it doesn't really interest me, especially since the recorded history is uh, non-existent.)

The Nursery rhymes were an absolute delight to do. I love them. It's ring-a-round-a-rose, Jack and Jill and blah-blah and blah-blah, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G, in case it wasn't obvious.

So bye! And thank you for all the lovely reviews

Oh and does anyone want to beta for me?