This would have been out sooner, but I got wrapped up in refreshing myself with historical events for World Conference:AP. Thank you to everyone who have left your kind words of encouragement for both pieces!
I felt that I should clarify a piece of information that I might have neglected to make clear over the course of this fiction. The timeline of this story has actually spread across the course of several months. I tried to keep a little accuracy with their travels - how long it would take to travel across the nations by vehicle, on foot, etc. Basically, our intrepid adventurers are coming to the end of their third month of being on this journey. Like the geek that I am, I actually have it all plotted out on a calendar on my desk.
If there is any confusion over why Alfred and Matthew are not so handicapped by their injuries anymore, hopefully that tidbit clears it up. I apologize for not being clear about it.
"General Winter is losing his touch." Ivan piped up as he leaned over the side of the jeep to survey the landscape racing by.
It was a welcome sight to Arthur on that morning when the reaching grasp of the snow began to recede to unearth the contrast of deep green. This verdant hue was the dark shade of winter; its true vibrancy had been frozen so that it would never realize its true potential to shine. Green like this was reserved for wild outcroppings in high hills, jutting from between relics of stone castles; it could be seen in the sprawling vines that choked those ancient man-made structures, eroding any trace of them away with time, reclaiming them back into the earth – back into him, like a breath of fresh air.
Everything there was green and green and green. This wasn't quite his green, but it was a green, and Arthur loved it. He inhaled deeply, drawing in air that was less harsh than the winter type; his eyes sought to close with pleasure, lashes fluttering as Arthur forced them to remain open. They were approaching civilized territory again and after the fiasco with the military he did not want to risk driving them into some sort of trap.
"It reminds me of home." Matthew said quietly from the passenger seat. He sounded as homesick as Arthur felt. How long had it been since the Canadian had seen his homeland? Three months? Arthur could sympathize with that unavoidable longing for the familiar.
Alfred scooted up to the edge of his seat, leaning forward to clasp his arms around the headrest of Matthew's seat. A smile played over his lips as he spoke to his brother. "What are you going to do when you get home, Mattie?"
Matthew blinked. "I don't know. I guess I haven't thought about it. Search for Kumijiro – see if he has wandered off into the wild or not. Maybe catch a hockey game in the area. Simple stuff. You?"
Alfred turned a musing sound in his throat a few times as he thought it over. "First, I'd give my boss a big hug. The poor guy has had a lot on his shoulders – even before everything went down. Second, I am going to swing by the house and pick up Tony. Then we'll take a cross-country road trip so that I can see for myself how bad the damage is." He turned his face towards Arthur's seat. "What about you, Arthur? Got any plans for when you get home?"
"Check on the progress that has been made in getting the United Kingdom into a semblance of order. Make certain that the armed services are being utilized properly – perhaps withdraw them temporarily from our foreign posts to assist with the extensive search and rescue that probably isn't being conducted on the scale it needs to. Then pressure Parliament into creating a monetary fund to aid those who were effected by the—"
"I don't mean on the business end of things." Alfred said wryly. "Of course that's the first thing to come into your head. You always have work on your mind." He teased the other man, earning a glare from the elder nation. "I meant what you were going to do when you got home."
"Oh. You might have specified better." Arthur shook his head. "That's rather easy: I intend to lock myself in the house for an entire week. I'll finally finish the embroidery that I'd started before my visit to France. And if Francis comes anywhere near my house during that time, I'll fetch my old powder-loaded shotgun from storage so that I can have the satisfaction of shooting him through the window. I intend to gorge myself on nothing but scones and Earl Grey the entire time. It will be blissful and quiet."
Alfred scoffed, skeptical. "You're telling me that you don't intend to drink anything else? Are you sure that you're really England?"
Arthur furrowed his eyebrows at the American's insinuation. He tried to look indignant, deflating into a slump as he added, "I suppose that I might very well fill the bath with whiskey and drink my way to the bottom. It's a lovely piece of fantasy. Though I think that I've rightly earned it."
"Is anyone going to ask me what I will do when I get home?" Ivan asked cheerfully. His violet eyes flitted between the other three nations, round face eager.
Alfred locked a blank stare on the boy. "No. We've had enough of trauma without you describing the crazy stuff you do in the privacy of your home. Besides, we're on your turf right now. We had a fairly good preview of the things you do here."
The boy's smiling expression did not change in the slightest bit as he stared back at the American. Then Ivan's face twisted to the front seats, clearly intending to ignore whatever had just come out of Alfred's mouth. "Russia likes to curl up in front of the fire. I'll probably have to chop more wood when I return to my house. And my garden will be dead, so I will try to fix it. Again. Then I will polish my spigot." Longing swept over his youthful features. Both hands lifted up in front of him, Russia's fingers flexing as if they missed feeling the cold metal of the pipe.
"Right, sure." Alfred's voice was tinged with doubt, his next words spoken at a mutter under his breath. "At what point would you sit down to a nice dinner of babies, I wonder?"
"Ah ha ha! America is so funny." Ivan giggled at the other nation's words, knowing that the American would have said them more quietly if he hadn't intended to be overheard. His hand stretched up to pat the bigger man on the shoulder, small fingers settling on the juncture where America's collarbone began. The Russian's smile extended as he flexed those fingers in a subtle pinch that made Alfred choke, all of the American's muscles stiffening. "You should really tell your jokes loud enough for everyone to hear them, though. It's very rude to keep them all to yourself, da?"
Arthur's eyes shifted in the mirror, as the desperate choking sounds coming out of the backseat finally caught his attention. He sighed roughly. "Russia, please release America's pressure point. America, stop with provoking Russia. Honestly, if the two of you can't behave yourselves then I shall have no choice but to leave one of you behind."
"Sorry, England." Ivan said with a pout as he let go of Alfred's shoulder. The American breathed heavily with relief, rubbing his shoulder with a wince as he tentatively rotated his arm to test that it wasn't broken or dislocated. He didn't bother with an apology, scowling out the side of the jeep instead.
Matthew poked at Arthur's arm with a few fingers to bring his attention back to the front. "It looks like we've reached the city."
"Indeed." The open land had become dotted with rural buildings. Arthur could see the spread of the city in front of them. "Ivan? Is it safe?"
Ivan's head cocked to the side as if he were listening to some faraway music. "Hm. Da. It seems safe enough. Keep in mind, though, that we are getting close to the border of Mongolia. Some of these people aren't mine."
"Everyone stay on alert, then. If possible, we should stop here to restock and refuel."
"This will be a good place." Ivan said agreeably. "Kyzyl is a capital city, you know. Very culturally blended between Russia and Mongolia. We can probably find anything we need here. We could even take khoomei lessons!" He noticed that the others were giving him weird looks from his suggestion. Ivan's pale eyebrow lifted as he met their stares. "...Throat singing? Not popular in your homelands?"
Arthur made a polite laugh. "Ah, yes – khoomei, right. It's a very admirable… ah… art form, and…" His words pattered off, before he brightened. "Oh, look! We've arrived."
They ended up stopping at a small shopping plaza towards the center of the city. Their military vehicle earned them a few worried looks from the people who milled around the parking lot. Arthur led the others into the market, going over the list that he'd made one more time to be sure that they wouldn't forget anything. "All right. Canned goods, new tarps – they took the last of our non-perishables, too. We'll need more batteries for the lights. It also wouldn't hurt to pick up a few lighters. Ours are about out of fluid."
Alfred nodded in agreement. "We should get you a new jacket, too. Your old one is toast."
"That would be wise." The Englishman nodded as he added it to the list. "I can't keep borrowing Matthew's spare. The important thing is that we get this done in a timely fashion – I don't want to dally." Arthur began to tear the paper into segments, handing each of them a part followed by a stern warning. "Each of you will be in charge of gathering these items. We will meet at the registers in thirty minutes. No nonsense, no delays, no disruptions! Is that understood?"
They went their separate ways. Arthur took up a small basket to deposit his items in, looping it through his arm as he went. He wasn't familiar with the layout of the store but figuring out where everything generally was didn't take much labor. Walking down an aisle, the Englishman pulled his portion of the list up in front of him to double check the items.
A cart went rolling by down at the end. The wheels squealed, though the sound was muffled by a pleased giggle that sounded suspiciously like Ivan's. Arthur dragged his eyes up from the paper yet the cart had already vanished into the next section, so he couldn't be certain if it had been the Russian boy or not. He shrugged nonchalantly and grabbed packages of batteries off the shelf. Next on his list were emergency flares. Would they be in the automotive section?
Arthur followed the arrows of the signs hanging overhead. He passed a segment for house wares, after that came some aisles full of colorful toys, and Arthur spotted the automotive section just beyond it. There was a racket of noise that came from the aisle of toys as he went by, as though someone were pushing the buttons of every single plaything that made sounds. Arthur felt his right eye threaten to twitch as those noises were dotted by a familiar, idiotic laugh.
No. No! He wouldn't cause a scene. Arthur was a pillar of calm, of serenity. Yes – listen to the little tune pumping through speakers high above. He nodded to himself. America would get tired of it soon enough and finish his tasks. There was no reason to go yell at him.
However, his passing by had somehow managed to attract the American's attention regardless of Arthur's efforts to ignore him. He heard the quiet squeak of shoes hurrying up behind him and suddenly the basket was being slid off his arm. Arthur's eyes averted to Alfred as the younger nation stole it away though he did not fight it being taken from his care. The American must have sensed his unspoken question, Alfred's lips curving up as he swung the basket at his side. "Thought I'd be polite. You've been doing all the driving – I figured I might as well keep you from being the pack mule, too."
"How very considerate." Left with nothing to occupy his hands, Arthur settled for crossing his arms against his chest. "Are you done playing around, then?"
Alfred at least had the sense to look embarrassed for having been caught. His sheepish smile always gave him such a charming appeal. It had already earned a few appreciative glances from different women as they walked together. Somehow that irked Arthur more than it should have. The Englishman's lips thinned. "Why are you following me, anyway? Have you finished with your list?"
"Nope. I haven't even started. I decided that it would be more fun if I waited for you. We can hang out together and be all domestic." Alfred explained. His smile had become a full-fledged grin. He was entirely too pleased with himself over something. Not that Arthur could, for the life of him, fathom what that might be. As valiantly as he had tried over the years, his brain still could not decode American logic.
"V-very well. Just try not to be so distracting." Arthur muttered. He felt his face growing hot. Good Lord, he wasn't blushing now, was he?
Alfred's eyebrows lifted. The American was radiating smug vibes now. "Oh. You find me distracting?"
"I didn't—" Arthur stopped in his tracks with an upturned glare. "Don't try to—" He threw his hands skyward in surrender and stomped his way into the next aisle. Goddamned infuriating brat and his cheeky insinuations!
He didn't bother to look to see if the American was following him. Arthur could feel the presence of the taller nation there at his back, hovering like a second shadow. The Englishman took his time searching the shelves with a withering glare. Once upon a time, brave men had trembled under the weight of that look. These consumer products just sat there and mocked him. Arthur roughly grabbed a handful of flares when he found them, throwing them carelessly into the basket. "What's on your list, Alfred?"
"Uh, it…" Alfred drew his slip of paper out of the pocket of his jacket. It had been crumpled up, so he had to balance the basket on his arm as he tried to smooth it out. He brought it up a few inches from his better eye. "I have some groceries. Cans of stuff."
"Clear on the opposite side of the market." Arthur's sardonic tone was unmistakable. He airily waved the American to follow him. "Let's go, then."
They went passing by a broad section of the market that had many clothes on different racks. Arthur found himself being taken by the sleeve, pulled off course by the American as Alfred dragged him that way. "Hey, we need to get you a coat, remember? Might as well do that while we're here. It will save us a trip back this direction."
"Right, right." Arthur shook himself free with a huff. He frowned around them at all the racks. It was the middle of summer – would there even be jackets in this season? Then again, this was Russia. There, in a corner, were a few passable looking ones. Arthur drifted to the rack to inspect the selection.
The choices were limited. None of the ones he would have preferred could have fit him. Arthur's hope sank further and further as he thumbed through the lot. His mind was nagging a whisper at the back of his head. Sure, one jacket in particular had the ideal structure – hood, lining on the interior, enough padding to shelter him from the cold – Arthur let the pressure of his mind get the best of him as he checked the size. It would have been a perfect fit, except…
He dropped his hand quickly away. "I really don't need a new jacket. This one should do just fine."
Alfred had been daydreaming nearby. He'd lost interest as soon as they'd reached the racks. Now he blinked in confusion. "What? Don't be silly, Arthur. Matthew's spare isn't even a proper coat. You've been shivering the entire time you've had it on." The American brushed up against his shoulder. "There has to be something here that fits."
"There is, but…"
"What's the problem? Are they ugly or funny looking? It's not like we're going to judge if you have to walk around in a weird jacket, Arthur." Alfred chuckled with a shake of the head. "Seriously – I never would have figured you to be so particular on what you're wearing. That seems more like Poland's angle."
"I'm not worried about my own discomfort. I'm worried for yours. Or are you honestly going to tell me that you'd be perfectly fine with me walking around in this?" Arthur slipped a hanger off the rack, holding up that particular jacket. His right eyebrow lifted quizzically. Alfred blinked at the coat that Arthur had thrust in front of his face. He took in a quick breath and held it, confirming Arthur's concerns with that act alone.
Because that jacket, while being precisely what he needed, was the perfectly right shade of red.
"I see that my point hasn't been lost on you. What a relief." Arthur said lightly, forcing a smile in an attempt to alleviate the sudden tense mood. He replaced the jacket on the rack and turned away. "Come along. Let's go get those groceries, Alfred."
"No, wait." Alfred lifted a hand up to stop him from leaving. His face underwent subtle changes as they toyed with a range of emotions. It finally landed on determined, the line of his jaw going taut as Alfred made up his mind. He yanked the hanger off the rack and pushed it against Arthur's chest. "Just get the stupid jacket, man. It's not a big deal."
Arthur had to either accept the jacket or let it fall to the floor. He curled his fingers over the hanger, eyes narrowing with suspicion at the American. The other nation wasn't entirely convincing despite his dismissive words. Arthur lowered his eyes to the coat, running his fingers along the downy faux-fur that lined the interior of the hood. It would feel really nice. He drummed the tips of his fingers along the stiffened shoulder of the jacket as a thought entered his mind.
"Fine. I'll take it, but only on one condition."
Alfred was smirking, the oblivious act fully in place. "Yeah, sure. What's that?"
Arthur swung his arm up and pointed to the nearby dressing room. His other hand held the jacket out to the American. "You have to put it on me."
"That sounds like a silly condition." Alfred's face turned aside but not in time to hide the splotch of pink on his cheek.
"Take it or I leave it." Arthur shrugged. He waited patiently to see if the other nation was going to accept or refuse the open challenge.
"Okay! Geez." Alfred yanked the jacket out of Arthur's grip, the basket swinging unsteadily on his arm as he stalked over to the dressing room. He pushed the door open a little harder than necessary, hand cutting through the air as he waved Arthur inside.
After stepping inside of the cramped box, Arthur's calm began to dissolve as he started to question the wisdom in making Alfred do this. It was rather late to start entertaining doubts now, considering the fact that the American had already set the basket down outside, stepped in behind him, and shut the door firmly. He hadn't been entirely fair to Alfred by making such a demand. "Alfred, perhaps we should just—"
"No. You're the one that issued the challenge, so don't even think about backing down now." Alfred said in a quiet rush of words. He slid the jacket off the hanger, face smoothed blank. Arthur sighed internally, shrugged, and turned his back to the other nation. The sooner they got this done, the better.
Arthur had become cautious about wearing the color red while in Alfred's company. The last time he could remember ever having worn it in front of the American had been right before the First Great War. Arthur could recall the look on Alfred's face when he had arrived to being mobilizing his forces, only to find Arthur waiting for him in that old coat of his empire years. That color on him, between them, somehow always conjured pain. So Arthur had given it up, without acknowledging the real reason behind it, shutting away all of his red coats in a deep closet. Now they were just old, painful mementos.
Alfred had been the one determined to get everything worked out. It would have been such a simplistic act, if it didn't mean something to the American on some level. Arthur took stock in the fact that he was, if anything, helping Alfred to put one more thing behind them. Considering how unhappy Alfred was right now, the subtle symbolism hadn't escaped the American's notice.
Their mutual silence was interrupted by the quiet sound of a zipper being drawn. Arthur was grateful that he wasn't facing Alfred. His face went scarlet as his mind dropped immediately into the gutter. He was as bad as France sometimes! It was a sobering thought. Arthur surreptitiously pinched the top of his hand to chase that inappropriate reaction away. Alfred cleared his throat loudly and Arthur belatedly stuck his arms behind him so that the American could slide the coat on.
It seemed that Alfred took his time. The sleeves of the jacket were unhurriedly pulled up the lengths of Arthur's arms, until he felt the soft weight of it settling on his shoulders. Arthur brought his hands up to adjust how it rested on his body, only to find his hands being knocked aside by Alfred's. The American had stepped around in front of him, Alfred's eyes serious and intent while Arthur's own green ones questioned his actions.
Alfred took control of adjusting the jacket. He squared it properly on the Englishman's frame, so that everything was balanced. His voice was just above a strained whisper, hands smoothing the fabric of the jacket against the front of Arthur's shoulders. "There. Looks like it fits."
"I can't be sure. It still needs to be zipped up." Arthur pointed out. That warmth filled him again, emboldening him enough that he could shove his usual embarrassment aside. Alfred was standing close, so close that he felt the heat radiating from the American's body. His eyes were fixed on Alfred's face, finally locking onto that wavering blue gaze and pinning it in place so that the American would look nowhere else as Arthur inched forward so that their bodies touched together.
"England…" Alfred spoke his name as nothing more than a weak breath. He couldn't escape those green eyes, as if they had pierced through straight through him. "I…"
Arthur unfurled his index finger and pressed it lightly to Alfred's stammering mouth. The corners of his lips shaped a phantom smile. Seeing the American flustered like this was quite an attractive sight. "America. Zip the damned coat." The words were intimate, commanding, and having the opportunity to talk to the younger nation in this manner made his stomach tighten.
And America, God bless him, squeezed his hands between them to take hold of both sides of the zipper and did exactly as he was told. Alfred had some trouble with it since his fingers shook, though it wasn't from fear or cold or any of the usual culprits. He dragged the zipper up slowly, the teeth quietly clicking together, until it stopped just underneath Arthur's chin. His eyes had been watching the zipper ascend with fascination. When it reached its end, they flitted back up to meet Arthur's. "…There. Satisfied?"
"Almost." Arthur pressed closer, that crimson jacket scraping against the fabric of Alfred's. He flattened a palm on the American's chest, pushing up on the toes of his boots. It was outright lecherous of him – it was downright inappropriate – yet Arthur simply couldn't give a damn, as he stretched his face up to Alfred's, lips parting as his tongue snuck out and slid a lazy line up across the American's mouth in the same exact spot where he'd put his finger just seconds before.
It pleased him to feel the muscles under his palm shudder in response to his action. Arthur relented quickly, withdrawing from the American with a mild smile. He unzipped the jacket with a casual motion, as if he hadn't just tasted Alfred's mouth with his tongue. "Yes. It fits. I think I'll take it, then."
He bent to reclaim the basket outside, folding the jacket over the top of it. Arthur smirking to himself as a rather dazed Alfred followed along after him, apparently unable to say or do anything else. Some might have said that he was a royal bastard. England would have conceded that they were probably right. Sniffing delicately, Arthur spoke to Alfred behind him. "Canned goods, you said? Yes, they should be this way."
Matthew and Ivan were waiting for them at the registers. Arthur, despite having been the one to impress punctuality on them before they'd parted, offered no apology for his own tardiness. He'd been handling Alfred, after all, which made anyone's uncharacteristic behaviors entirely excusable. Matthew was leaning against the cart, elbows draped on the handrail as he wheeled the cart slightly back and forth. Ivan stood inside of it, next to the pile of supplies that they'd gathered. The boy climbed over the lip of the cart and dropped down as they approached. "We got everything on the list. I think this should be enough to carry us through Mongolia."
"That was my intention." Arthur replied, as he began unloading their items with a kind smile to the young female cashier who was staring at them all. "I'll handle it from here. Matthew, why don't you and Ivan step out and start getting the jeep ready? We'll need to pack in all of these new supplies without completely overwhelming the backseat. Alfred can stay and help me carry everything out."
Once their purchases had been made and everything was secured in their vehicle, they were ready to start the last leg of their trip in earnest. With some charming persuasion on Ivan's part, they'd even managed to get a good discount on a surplus of gasoline to replace the barrel that had been sacrificed in their getaway from the military camp. Arthur gave the map a thorough study while their jeep was being fueled.
They were nearly there. Nearly there! All it would take was a long drive through Mongolia, down into China. Then it would be a matter of locating Wang Yao and transporting him on the long ride back to Geneva. Perhaps they would even have a spot of luck – it had been several months now. That was certainly enough time for all of their governments to work out some sort of balance, maybe the flight restrictions would have been lifted so that they wouldn't have to risk the trip back through Russia. Arthur allowed himself a glimmer of hope.
They left Kyzyl during the middle of the afternoon. Arthur was convinced that he could stand to drive through the night so that they wouldn't need to stop and camp. It helped them to cover a considerable amount of distance. The only break that they took had been to stretch their legs before entering into the impressive range of mountains where the air was going to be colder and the elements less inviting. Their nearness to their destination had invigorated Arthur's willpower to the point that the Englishman would allow them no more delays. He even managed to tune out the others, ignoring Alfred's whines, Alfred's complaints, Alfred's – all right, so he'd basically tuned out Alfred.
Finally, when the sun was creeping up on the horizon beyond the range of the mountains, Arthur pulled the jeep over to the side of the road. Everyone else had fallen asleep when the endless twisting turns of the mountain path had offered no further interest. The Englishman flexed his fingers on the wheel, blinking out through the windshield. Out in front of them, spread out as far as he could see, was a lush green valley. A long, sloping river ran through it, reflecting the pale colors of the distant sun in rippling yellow. Arthur smiled and shook Matthew awake. "Look. We've finally made it to Mongolia."
Matthew rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands before plucking his glasses up from where he'd hooked them in his upper jacket pocket. He slid them on, lips parting with delight as he marveled at the scenery. "Oh! It's beautiful."
"Should we wake those two up?" Arthur jerked his head towards the backseat. Matthew looked back with him.
Alfred was slumped deep into the backseat, legs stretched out across the leather to cover the entire thing. Having left Ivan nowhere else to go, the boy curled up on the American's chest, pale hands twitching where they hung limply over the side of the seat. Alfred's arm had folded over the Russian boy at some point in time during the night, securing him in place.
Matthew turned back in his seat with a smirk. "Nah. Let them sleep. Though I really wish I had a camera with me. You know that they would never admit to something like this."
"Blackmail is a terrible political move." Arthur murmured. "It's tempting, though. Very tempting."
They chuckled quietly while Arthur pulled the jeep back onto the road. Now that they'd passed the peak of the mountains, the trip would be a smooth, downhill run from here. "Mongolia now, and another three day trip – then our next stop is China. Thank God for small miracles."
A small caravan of military jeeps sat idle outside of the shopping plaza in Kyzyl. Many of the vehicles looked like they had just received some extensive damage. Some of the soldiers had gone inside; following reports that they had received during their investigation that the men they were searching for had stopped at the location. One of the soldiers came back out after a time with a young woman at his side. He marched her up to the vehicle at the head of the caravan, saluting as he spoke through the window. "We have confirmed the reports, Sir. This young woman claims to have performed a large transaction for them a day and a half ago."
The Commander leaned forward to look the girl over. She looked afraid to find herself in this situation. He smiled, trying to make her feel more at ease. "Don't be afraid, girl. You are not in trouble – you were simply doing your job, yes? Do you remember anything of importance from when you dealt with them?"
"Not really, sir." She shook her head, fidgeting with her work apron. "They bought several items, if I recall correctly. It looked like they were preparing for some outdoors trip. I only knew who your men were asking about because of them being foreigners. The British one was the man that spoke to me most during their transaction. He kept getting angry with the tall foreigner that was with him – American, by the sound of his accent."
"They said nothing to you about where they were heading?"
"No, sir." She shook her head again. Then, as she searched her memory, she perked up. "Wait. I did overhear one of them saying something about Mongolia. It was a small boy that was traveling with them. He, I think, was Russian."
"Mongolia?" The Commander squinted his eyes thoughtfully. "I see…" He waved a hand through the air. "That's all we need, I believe. Young lady, you are free to return to work."
She hurried away, openly relieved to have been dismissed. The soldier saluted again. "What are your orders, Sir?"
"Inform the other drivers – we are heading for Mongolia." The Commander stated, sitting back in his seat. His soldier ran along to deliver the order to the other vehicles, the lights on each jeep turning on as they prepared to follow. He folded his arms together with a pleased smile, murmuring to himself. "Mongolia, hm? Well, we shall see how far they get."
"Arthur! Arthur! Come on - let's pull over. We've been driving forever now." Alfred's complaints had reached a steady, loud volume. "Look, there's a river over there. We could take a break, wash up a little; maybe enjoy the shade. Come on. Come on, come on, come on—"
"Shut up!" Arthur finally had enough. His teeth were bared as he ground them together, the American snapping his patience at last. "I'll pull over. Just please good bloody God in heaven stop talking!" The Englishman grumbled under his breath as he steered the jeep into a low overhang of trees, deep into the shade, so that they were hidden from view of the road. Dust curled up around their tires as they parked. Arthur unbelted himself from his seat and grabbed the map from nearby, which he quickly started pelting Alfred over the head with. "There! There! Are you goddamned happy, you insufferable git?"
Alfred fended off the swats with an upraised arm, having extensive practice at deflecting Arthur's temperamental strikes. "Actually, yes, I am. Though it would be better if you stopped hitting me."
Matthew slid out of the passenger seat, abandoning the two of them to their quarrel as he went over the to the edge of the river. The water was deep in some places. He could even see fish swimming by; it was crystal clear, so that Matthew could see the rocks resting on the river's bed. Kneeling down, the Canadian stuck his hand into the water to test its temperature. It was all too inviting. "It feels so nice. You guys should come check it out."
Arthur's tirade had run its course. He stalked around the back of the jeep while pointedly pretending that Alfred was nowhere nearby. The Englishman began unpacking their food supplies. "We might as well have a bite to eat while we're stopped. Ivan, where's the can opener packed away at?"
The Russian boy stretched over the side of the jeep to dig an arm inside one of their bags. He pulled the item out, depositing it into Arthur's waiting hand. "Here you are, England. I am going to go to the water now." Ivan hurried away from the jeep to run up beside Canada. His violet eyes darted over the river with a pleased smile. "Da, da! It would be nice to swim in here, wouldn't it? There's no ice at all."
"I already had a swim in a river." Arthur said darkly as he dropped the pack to the grass. He began to pull some cans of food out. "You boys can enjoy yourselves but I think I shall pass."
Alfred sat down on the grass beside him. Apparently the American forgot that the other man was mad at him. He stretched his long legs out, leaning back against his elbows as he squinted up to the sun through the shade of the trees. "It's hardly the same circumstance. If it makes you feel safer, though, I guess I could hold your hand for you while you're in the water."
Arthur cocked a can of fruit in his hand with the intent to smash it across the younger man's head. He quickly decided that it wasn't worth creating the dent. "You cheeky bastard! I'm the one that taught you how to swim in the first place!"
"Was that what it was?" Alfred's head rolled to the side, eyes falling shut as he let the warmth and the sunlight surround him. "I distinctly remember that you just threw me into a lake a few miles behind the house one day. That was hardly a swimming lesson, Arthur. It was more like attempted murder."
"Would you have actually taken the time to listen to me if I had tried to instruct you properly?"
Alfred smirked. "Eh. Probably not."
"Precisely. You weren't at any risk for drowning as it was. I would have stepped in if I had thought you were in any danger." Arthur shrugged as he began peeling open the can. "My teaching methods were a little unorthodox, but the lesson came across. That's the exact way that I learnt how to swim. Scotland thought it would be funny to throw me in the ocean one day."
"…Really? How did that go for you?"
Arthur made a face. "About as well as could be expected. I was very little at the time and the currents were quite strong. For a while, it was a bit frightening – I became convinced that I was going to perish."
"Did Scotland fish you out?" Alfred opened his eyes to peer at the other man.
"Goodness no. He'd already gone on his way home. I think he was disappointed to find that I'd survived. Though I became an excellent swimmer as a result." Arthur handed him over the opened can. "Enough of the past – eat up. I'd rather not have you complain about being hungry once we get back on the road."
They sat quietly together, Alfred carefully plucking bits of fruit out of the can, watching Ivan and Matthew as the other two began to dress down to get into the water. Ivan had shed his jacket, spreading it carefully out on the grass so that he had somewhere to fold his cherished scarf. He jumped into the river with a pleased laugh, his small figure still managing to send an impressive splash of water showering onto the Canadian nearby. Matthew snapped at him angrily in French, diving in after the boy once he had removed his glasses and his shirt.
Ivan had surfaced just in time to have his head pushed back under the water as Matthew thrust the boy down with his hand. He sputtered water when he came up again, hair turned silver from the moisture. The Russian boy laughed lightly. "Good to see that even Canada has a temper sometimes! I would hate to drown you, though, so please don't try that again, okay?"
"Those two seem like they're having fun." Alfred remarked casually. He'd finished eating and placed the can down on the ground beside him. The American glanced to the man beside him. "It wouldn't hurt you to cut loose like that once in a while."
"Nonsense. I'm too old to engage in that sort of behavior." Arthur brushed some bits of grass off the legs of his trousers. "If you want to play in the water with them then go. You don't need my permission."
Alfred stood in one easy motion, contemplating the distance to the river. Then, his mouth slowly curved in a devious smile. "You're right. I guess I don't need permission, huh?" He angled a sidelong look at Arthur.
The Englishman was distracted with sorting their food, so he was not alert enough to catch the warning tone in Alfred's voice. He yelped, dropping the can opener as he found himself being plucked up off the ground by the American. Arthur squirmed in Alfred's arm as he was hoisted onto the man's shoulder, kicking at the air. "Al-Alfred! Put me down. I have no desire to—" He noticed where they were headed and his struggling protests increased. "Goddamnit, America! Don't you even think about it or I will end you!"
"In we go!" Alfred announced merrily. Matthew and Ivan had time to swim out of the way as he jumped into the water with his unwilling passenger. The river swallowed up Arthur's shouts when they submerged below.
Both of them came up out of the water individually. Alfred tossed his head to shake water out of his face, laughing at the look on Arthur's face. The Englishman's face was an unhealthy shade of purple. It only took five seconds of Alfred's laughter before Arthur had grabbed hold of the American in a headlock, promptly forcing him under the water. "How do you like that, you fucking wanker? Riot of laughs now, isn't it?"
"Can I do that to him next?" Ivan asked innocently, openly appreciating Arthur's manner of dealing with the American.
"No one is drowning Alfred." Matthew sighed. "Arthur, let him up for air. He's just being an idiot."
Arthur relented with a huff, treading water as the American's head popped back up from under the water with a gasp for air. "Hey! That wasn't very nice, Arthur. You really could have killed me there."
"I'll endeavor to do better next time." Arthur muttered sullenly as he treaded water.
"You have to admit that it does feel nice in here." Matthew interjected as a means to diffuse any further argument between the two. "It would appear that the temperature is going to rise. This will keep us cool a while longer as we dry off."
"I suppose." The Canadian was, as ever, quick to point out something that was based on reasonable logic. Arthur couldn't argue against it. He grudgingly stayed in the water, pushing his matted hair back out of his face. "You both should get something to eat before we go. I'd prefer not having to stop again for the rest of the day, if we can manage."
"You're a slave driver, Arthur!" Alfred complained. "How can you expect us all to sit still for that long?"
Arthur glared at him. "Out of all of us, you seem to be the only one who has an issue with it. Don't try to tell me that you aren't capable of the level of patience it will take to manage. We're all aware by now that it would be a lie."
"I didn't say that I couldn't do it. I just don't want to do it." Alfred pointed out with a shrug.
"America is such a child sometimes…" Ivan let out a long, weary sigh beside them. The boy began to swim for the edge in order to get out.
That managed to tick off the American. Alfred scowled, snapping after the Russian. "So says the Commie midget! You hardly have room to talk."
"Russia might be small right now, but I am hardly a child." The boy said as he picked his scarf up off his jacket. He wound it slowly around his neck with a vague smile. "America is a baby in comparison. Not even five hundred years yet? Da." Ivan waved him off, heading for the food to select something to eat from their stock.
Alfred sulked from not being able to get the last word. He drifted closer to Arthur with a frown, whispering to him. "How old is that bastard, anyway?"
"Russia?" Arthur turned to look where Ivan was opening up a can of food. "Well, it's difficult to say. As far as I know, there have only been estimations."
"So, what then? Like – turn of the millennium? A thousand years or so ago; that would make him pretty ancient."
Arthur gave the American an incredulous look. "Is that what you consider ancient? You really have no capacity to think beyond that point?"
Alfred shrugged. "The only thing that really ever interested me past the turn of the last two millennium, aside from Jesus, were the dinosaurs. Aside from that, I never really paid attention much to the history of other places."
Arthur shook his head, not at all surprised by the American's admission. He really should have been better at ingraining the other nation with an appreciation for history when he'd been raising him. Alfred could have dutifully spouted every event in his own lifetime; so long as it was a piece of his history – beyond that, he remembered nothing. "Russia is around seven, I think. I'm around five. Though these are just estimations, like I said. We're both from time immemorial, so there is no firm event to tie us to our birth. I've long since forgotten the exact date my life began."
"Wait…" Alfred blinked without comprehension. "Five and seven… hundred?"
"Five and seven thousand." Arthur swam to the edge of the river to get out. "So now, in the future, when we refer to you as an irritating infant, you'll know that we mean it precisely as it sounds."
Alfred gaped after him. He was stunned; turning quickly towards Matthew who was the only one left in the water. "Mattie – did you know that they were that old?"
Matthew looked pained. Sometimes, the fact that he was related to a nation as oblivious as Alfred left him feeling depressed. "It wouldn't hurt you to pick up a history book sometime, Alfred. A world history book."
"Maybe…" Alfred went quiet, swimming in place in the water as his brain processed the information. His eyes lit up as a thought popped into his head. "Hey… Do you think that Russia knew the dinosaurs?"
With a disgusted noise, Matthew shoved a hand through the water and splashed his brother directly in the face. "Don't talk to me anymore. I don't know you. You're just an anonymous moron."
A/N: Evil Commander seeks revenge! Being from Russia, would he be a "Mwa ha ha ha!" villain or a "Kolkolkolkol" type?
And the thing about England has his reluctance to wear red: I might be wrong on that point. He wears a red suit in Hetalia: Paint It White! and I've seen some official art of him wearing red ties - but never anything more than that. It is a shame, though. He looks good in red.
