"Bet I can beat you to Messina, Artie."
Arthur smiled and raised an eyebrow at his American ally.
"Is this a challenge?"
Alfred sat down a bottle of scotch Arthur had supplied. The corners of his mouth turned up into a painfully domineering grin.
"Maybe. If you want it to be."
He placed his lips on the edge of his cup, staring over at Arthur, pressuring him with his eyes alone.
It was the end of their Africa campaign, and the British and American armies had succeeded in chasing the Germans across the desert, earning victory over them through grueling amounts of tank warfare. Ever since the American defeat at Kasserine Pass, Alfred regained control of his troops, and Arthur knew that it wasn't through mere luck and timing that his ally had not lost a battle since. He hated to admit to himself that Alfred was rising up in the world and getting smarter, but regardless, he was still British, and the British didn't have a habit of losing.
The Englishman let out an amused huff, knowing what Alfred wanted his reaction to be.
"You're a cheeky little bastard, aren't you?"
"Whatever you want to call it."
Arthur leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs as if to ponder, taking a drag of one of the cigarettes he had been obtaining from the man standing before him.
"Well, I hate to make you feel bad, Alfred. Let's remember who you're up against."
He flicked the ash from the end of the cigarette, smirking up at Alfred with cool eyes, but was met with an obnoxious laugh.
"Me feel bad! Ha! Why, Artie, let's remember who beat you in that foot race the other day!"
A frown formed on Arthur's face. He threw the half smoked fag at the laughing American in defense.
"Shut it! It's only because your legs are longer."
"Aw, come on, Artie!"
Alfred stumbled forward to Arthur, falling into a seat next to him and slapping him, perhaps a little too hard, on the back.
"It's probably just because you're old. But hey! You got Matt! His legs are longer than anyone's I know!"
Arthur rolled his eyes, having the urge to laugh with the other, but managed to remain dead pan.
"We'll see, Alfred. What's important is that Lovino pulls through. And besides, I've got to look after Matthew. Not that he's incapable, but due to the face that he's never shot a German or an Italian before could work against us."
"I know, you've told me about 50, 000 times. You really do have a habit of repeating yourself. It's kind of annoying."
Arthur ignored the American's comment, focusing on finishing his scotch. He was going back home for a visit, but he'd have to go through Italy first.
The streets of Messina were filled with cheering Italians. They reached out their hands and threw flowers to the passing British and Canadian soldiers, waving American flags and Union Jacks. Arthur waved from his car, feeling triumphant and accomplished; the first time in a long time.
The allies had finally taken Sicily. They had fought hard in North Africa, forcing Rommel back across until he withdrew, and now they were headed to the heart of the problem. To stop Ludwig once and for all.
Arthur turned to smile at the quiet Canadian next to him, squeezing his shoulder with a gloved hand.
"You're doing good lad."
Matthew, surprised, grinned back, his shy face lighting up with Arthur's approval.
"T-Thank you, sir."
"Oh come off it! We're in Messina! And better yet, we beat Alfred! Call me Arthur!"
Matthew nodded as he watched Arthur lean down out of the car and suddenly kiss a local girl full on the mouth in celebration.
"They don't make them bad around here, do they lad?"
The Englishman continued to wink at the other girls and shake hands with whoever shoved theirs in his face first. The entire concept was altogether amusing and utopian-like for him. He couldn't wait until Alfred and his troops arrived in Messina. He intended on rubbing it in his face, knowing it would bother the overly cocky American to no end. For the next few days, it would be nothing but drinking, smoking, and sex…and perhaps some campaign planning. It was just like old times.
He wondered how jealous Alfred would be, if he, Arthur Kirkland, were to have gorgeous Italian women swooning over him and offering their bodies at the drop of a hat. He knew he was letting his fantasies run wild, but the thought of Alfred becoming visibly flustered and upset and wanting him in return was for too delicious to stop imagining.
Arthur's daydreams were interrupted by a sudden uproar of musical instruments, causing him to jump to his senses.
"The hell?"
He jumped out of the car, and began marching up through the halted British troops, trying to find the problem. He reached the front of the pack, only to see a mass amount of American troops, standing in formation, playing American military music on their brass and wind instruments. In front of them all was none other than Alfred, standing tall and proud, beaming at Arthur.
He couldn't believe it. Alfred played dirty sometimes, but a surprise, "I beat you," was just too much for Arthur.
The Englishman, jaw locked and hands fisted, spun to his troops.
"Come on then! Play damn it! March your arses in there!"
Bagpipes and drums started up, their sound mixing with that of the other troop's music. They made their way into the square, Arthur stepping up to Alfred furiously. The American smirked down at the angered man.
"What's wrong, Artie? You look positively pissed."
"You're an asshole, Alfred. And I can't believe you."
Alfred's smile widened, as the other's misery and embarrassment had fueled him more.
"I know, I can't believe me either. Who would have thought that I could have one day done something better than the very experienced Mister Arthur Kirkland himself?"
Arthur was thankful the sun wasn't shining their way, otherwise he would have been blinded by the ridiculous amount of tooth Alfred was showing him.
"This is not the time to be a smartass-"
"Why, because you're upset? You can tell me all about how much you want to gut me after we meet with Lovino. Just look professional, because you know what they say, Artie, 'when you wear a frown, another allied plane goes down!'"
Arthur squinted his eyes at Alfred skeptically.
"Did you just make that up?"
Alfred shrugged.
"I don't know. Is it worth telling my government about?"
Arthur let out a long, frustrated huff before giving Alfred a half-hearted salute and stomped away to fetch Matthew. He was unmistakably angry to say the least. He was angry that Alfred had made it to Messina before him, but what truly set him off was Alfred's stubbornness.
"Come on, Matthew. We're going to meet with Lovino."
The tall Canadian hopped out of the car and followed Arthur back towards Alfred.
"What's wrong, Arthur?"
"You're fucking brother, that's what's wrong. He has a smart mouth and a stick up his ass."
Matthew looked away, rolling his lips inward in an attempt to suppress a smile. Arthur shot a glare over at him, having the sudden urge to throw something and break it.
"What's your problem?"
The lanky man looked back as innocently as he could manage, knowing that what he was about to say might work against him.
"Well, a smart mouth and a stick up the ass sounds like you too."
Matthew bit his lower lip. Arthur's silence was not expected. The Englishman's face relaxed a bit as he pursed his lips together.
"No, that's impossible."
A quick update for once!
So now we get a taste of the friendly rivalry formed between the British and the Americans during the war, though I'm sure some generals *cough Patton cough* would strongly disagree.
Speaking of Patton, I was inspired to writed this chapter the way I did due to the fact that General Montgomery (Britian) and General Patton (obviously 'Merican) butted heads when it came to the invasion of Sicily. They got very worked up about who would make it to Messina first, and when the British troops marched in, the American's were there to greet them. Surprise, surprise!
Here is a clip that is a must see from the movie, "Patton:" .com/watch?v=rcnLZlLWbSQ
I really wanted to include Montgomery and Patton's exchange of words in this chapter (because it's not only hilarious, but potentially canon), but there is only so much I can take from other works and I'd feel it necessary to create my own. Damn...so perfect.
As for Matthew, I feel like he is the only one that can really see the similarities between Arthur and Alfred. He's Alfred little brother and was raised with him by Arthur. However, something makes Arthur skeptical, or does Arthur force himself to be skeptical?
Thanks for reading and PLEASE REVIEW! I love hearing from my readers!