Today's sun is completely intoxicating. The sea is salted addiction, and the sky tastes of chemicals and sugar. America had missed the beach badly.
When Canada visited, it was always one of the bigger cities lining the outskirts of the country. America didn't exactly have a great explanation as to why, this time, he wanted to pay the Gulf Coast hugging Louisiana a visit, but his brother obliged anyway.
The culture of New Orleans didn't seem to have lost its charm for Canada since his last visit. On the way down to the beach, the two had eaten and shopped wherever he'd enthusiastically request. Was it perhaps the French influence that made him feel at home, or just the same charms that drew other tourists to the spot? America didn't know and didn't think about it too much. He was just happy Canada was visiting.
The tides crawled up closer, as if chasing the two, who sat contentedly in the sand before the ocean.
"I might go get the food out of the car," mused America, looking back to the vehicle parked a short walk away. "The towel, too."
Canada looked over the coast, as if searching for something, before closing his eyes. "I could eat."
America paused, thinking of how England would have killed him for using that particular grammatical construct. But nobody would have been bothered by Canada saying that, and America was glad to let him have it. May his little brother always speak his mind.
Canada opened his eyes and looked to America, and for a moment the older boy wondered if he'd spoken aloud just now. But Canada merely tilted his head before asking, "Are you going to do anything weird with the sandwiches? Put Doritos on it or something?"
America felt a smile trying to show, and pushed up his (prescription) sunglasses in an effort to maintain a straight face. "Well, uh, no, I have not done anything weird with the sandwiches."
"You know that wasn't my question."
"There are currently no Doritos on the ham sandwiches."
"But you brought some to put on them?"
"Of course." America finally grinned, watching his little brother roll his eyes.
There were a few moments of silence, and America was glad for them. He didn't feel the pressure to entertain Canada. He's the only person, thought America, who comes to just visit me, instead of trying to gain something.
How sad.
Only then did he notice Canada squinting at him, tilting his head and trying to read his older brother's expression.
"What's up?" asked America.
"Why June 18?" asked Canada. "Tell me why it's always on June eighteenth you want to do this."
America knew Canada hadn't forgotten the date their war started. He didn't understand why he'd press him on the subject. "Before hurricane season, after spring, almost the hottest day of the year. It's perfect for taking your little brother to the beach and letting him get a sunburn. You know, you were almost translucent this winter."
"Yeah, yeah," Canada muttered. He grabbed a fistful of sand before opening his hand and letting the breeze carry it away. "I just want you to know you don't have to do this."
America raised an eyebrow and looked back to the sea. Does he think I feel like I have to do this?
"I don't mean it like that," Canada corrected quickly. "I just mean, I know you want to see me, and it's okay to do it on days that aren't today. Er, and it's also okay to do it today, too. You know. If you want to." The boy sighed, seemingly frustrated by his rambling clarification.
"I'm never going to let something like that happen again."
Canada nodded. "No, no, I know-"
"In fact, I won't even let it take up space in our memories," America continued. "June eighteenth is the day we go to the beach. It's the day we eat good food from whatever town we're visiting. We both drink too much coffee that morning and can't sleep at the hotel that night, and instead stay up and read ghost stories. We go out and get some sun and complain about the state of the world."
America then stood up and took a good look around him, at the beautiful coast he'd bragged so much about before their trip. He then looked back to his younger brother. "We're never going to fight again."
Canada absently played with the sand, but looked back at America. "No, we're a team now."
"That's right. And you have my word that's never going to change again. From then on, my job has been keeping you safe, and damn it if I can't manage it after how hard I worked at winning everything this fuck of a life has thrown my way."
"Yeah," said Canada. "I think June eighteenth is a good day for this."
America offered a hand to the younger nation, who dropped his sand to take it. Pulling Canada up, America couldn't help but beam. "I still can't believe you're taller than me."
"Smarter, too, y'know."
America snorted. "Whatever. You wanna come get lunch from the car with me?"
"Do we have to get the Doritos?"
"Yep!"