Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. Or Dante's Inferno: "No sadness is greater than in misery to rehearse memories of joy. Donna Fargo's "The Happiest Girl In The Whole U.S.A."
Warning: Profanity. Some stereotypes. Some OCs for sake of plot. Some inevitable inaccuracies (historically, culturally, and grammatically). Because yeah, Ireland was sometimes a jerk (and that gets overlooked). Generalization that Puerto Rican food tends to not be as spicy as Mexican/Tex-Mex and that there's pick-pocketing dangers for tourists there. Saint Patrick's Battalion (And though this chap doesn't mention it, it was the largest mass execution in U.S. history because that was back when desertion and fighting for the other side *coughtreason* often equaled death penalty). First casualty of Mexican-American War: American Colonel Truman Cross because he never gets mentioned by textbooks. Alamo. Implied Las Castas System of Spanish Colonial rule. A hurting Alfred is a mean Alfred.
Special Warning: American/Texan view of the Mexican-American War. Sooo there will be a strong biased slant. However, there will still be facts...uncomfortable facts, ones that those who sympathize with Mexico won't like (and who knows I may get to do Mexico's side at a later date about the "U.S. Invasion" and the Niños Héroes) but I'm throwing that out there right here, right now. And I'll also throw out that everybody, their grandma, all of Europe, expected the U.S. to lose that war. Badly. That part never gets shared nowadays. (People fixate on Now!America and it clouds their perception of Then!America's power level in relation to Then!Mexico's.)
AN: Had to uninstall a Windows update that was foisted on me without my consent and crashed my laptop and swallowed my cursor. Currently rehabilitating the poor thing. In other news, I managed to write out the first draft of an essay for one class! Woo! Now I get to study for four possible essay prompts for another classes' midterm later today. D: Yay? Enjoy this chap!
Chapter 30: South-Of-My-Border Barbarians
England's eyebrows twitched.
Yes, he and his people were renowned for their prowesses in matters of secret intelligence.
But this…
He drew the line at this.
He shook his head and gave Hawaii a disgusted scowl.
Hawaii put a hand on her hip. "Oh, so now we're going the high road route, hmm? Look, this is the same crap he used to infiltrate your intervention meeting last year." She showed off the box that had been labeled in a scrawl of permanent marker: Tex's Spy Wear.
"I appreciate the pun," Reilley noted.
"If it is a pun," Puerto Rico muttered as he winced—Spain had his ear in a tight, scolding hold of paternal authority. "My brother's spelling's never been the best."
Spain twisted the ear. "Nothing wrong with your spelling mijo. Why did you not write to Papi the minute you knew?"
"Ehhh, uhh, welll...there was the war with you and...kinda gave me up and then you know, things, and Tejas…and you were having problems at your own home and...then whoa World Wars...and...is that a new shirt? Looks nice."
"..."
"I refuse to partake in this," Arthur muttered as he pulled on his coat. "I'm going."
He'd had enough of hiding in shadows or waiting on sidelines...using others to perform kindnesses or interventions he could've done himself.
Scotland withheld the keys to their rental, eyeing him warily.
"Whatever," was England's curt response.
He left the room, took the elevator down, exited the building, and began the long walk to the boys' homestead, deciding against a cab since it was a fair day. He was hoping that a long walk would provide the proper opportunity for inspiration.
He needed to figure out the right thing to say.
To resolve this…
To win back Alfred's trust or...or something…
At least to prove that he wouldn't let the past overwhelm their present no matter how horrible it was...
"...I don't know where to go from here…"
Arthur ran a hand through his hair. Well, little one, you could try confiding that in me.
Not that he knew exactly either but…maybe even that might help cure Alfred's tendency to assume Arthur was a pushy know-it-all.
A warm breeze ruffled his clothes as he walked down the streets, heading out to the rural outskirts.
His mind kept sinking into the past...as it had the entirety of the previous night.
"Good, Alfred," he encouraged as the child kicked his legs and Arthur held onto his hands, guiding him through the shallow water.
Alfred gagged a bit on the water when his movements were uneven and he started to panic.
"It's alright," Arthur lifted the boy up out of the water and patted his back as he coughed.
They practiced a bit more and Arthur was pleased to watch him improve each time.
When the child tired, they laid in the grass, drying off in merry, yellow sunshine.
"I did good?" Alfred asked, eyes wide with hope.
"You were splendid."
"Spwendid is...good?" The child looked at him, unsure if the new word was a compliment or complaint.
"Very, very good. Magnificent. Grand. Impressive."
How he loved seeing those bonnie blues fill with joy.
"Spwendid," he parroted back with a great smile.
And that was his new word for the day.
The walk home through the meadow to their cabin was spwendid with all the flowers in bloom.
Dinner was spwendid.
The story Arthur read that night was spwendid.
Several centuries later, Arthur's heart ached for that "spwendid" day.
"You were supposed to adore me."
Like he'd ever stopped.
Alfred slipped into a pair of jeans and boots and then buttoned up a small western style shirt. The house was very quiet even with the radio cranked up and Tex singing.
And it was empty even with all the clutter.
Tex got a kick out of his outfit. Al had ordered it a while back using an online vendor. He'd packed it for his previous trip knowing Tex would've liked seeing him take selfies of himself as a cowboy in merry ol' England.
Tex sometimes lamented that Al just didn't dress to match him much anymore.
"Lookin' handsome, cowboy!" Tex crowed, sounding a little less congested than he had the previous day.
Alfred smiled.
His brother was still a little pale and shaky and his eyes were overbright and the fever had lessened but not broke but…his brother looked so genuinely cheerful.
It was obvious he needed a break from….everything...everyone.
It was a day to be on their own. Traveling across states today was out of the question but he'd remembered when their plane touched down...how much his brother had wanted to enjoy a bro-day with just the two of them...so he'd give that to him now.
They'd do whatever he wanted. He got to be the boss.
"Whiskey bacon makes everything better," Tex twittered optimistically as he fried up some breakfast and gave a small bit of meat to Americat, who kept winding between his legs.
Alfred cut up red and green peppers for their western omelets.
Later, they went through a few crates, laughing over photos where they were both so serious. They set all the taxidermy into one guestroom. They played some records, found some old toys they could offer to museums for a sum (Alfred would price gauge them), and set aside some old birdcages they could send to a consignment shop since that was a popular decorating trend right now.
Tex freaked him out with an old dead scorpion in one box and Alfred got his revenge by putting on a record of yodeling.
Later, they packed a picnic and headed over to their ranch, several acres away, and roved through tall dry grasses swapping stories and jokes.
It took the horses a little while to realize Alfred was still Alfred and grooming and massaging them helped with that.
Horsemaster Tex was nuzzled by the lot, butting their noses and heads against him for affection.
Until America had met Texas, he'd considered himself an excellent horseman but...his brother was simply at a different level.
Tex rubbed and pet and spoke gently to the animals and it was obvious he was the favored rider out of the two of them.
Not that Alfred hadn't had faithful horses...ones who'd been more than beasts of burden or companions but all out friends.
Alas, his responsibilities had continued to balloon as the decades passed and bonding with their horses was no longer as great a priority when he had cars as an option of transportation.
Once, when he'd commented on being envious of Tex's natural affinity, Tex had looked surprised. "What're you talkin' bout? The horses love you."
And they did...just not as much.
Tex had looked a little privately smug when Alfred clarified that and then shrugged. "So I got one advantage over you, you gonna whine? You have goddamn birds and eagles that perch on your fingers and all the dogs and cats and goats you could want. Cows never give you trouble when milking and you've never been bit by a rabbit in your life. You won't grant me a horse or two to love me?"
Alfred smiled from where he was sitting on the fence.
Tex grinned at Al and waved as he belted, "It's a skippity do da day. I'm the haaaappiest gu-uy in the whooooole U.S.A.!"
And with that Alfred realized that his brother had felt neglected.
When was the last time he and Tex had real bonding time?
He'd make up for it now.
They spent hours performing low level stunts for themselves and the ranch hands while Alfred relearned his horsemanship to accommodate his new size and they made plans to purchase new gear for him.
But it sure was fun throwing out lines they remembered from Buffalo Bill's Wild West Show and chortling over how cheesy they were.
And Tex showed off how he'd been teaching their, but really his, horses how to do line dancing.
And that Chomp was learning how to do the Cha Cha.
Seeing Tex's brown eyes light up as they hadn't for months gave him made him realize he'd been super self-absorbed not to notice his brother's unhappiness.
Well…
Once he got all healed up, Alfred would see whether he was interested in a little road trip on their way to the campgrounds. There'd be plenty of time to enjoy each other's company, open the portal, and then spend May Day with the U.K. clan...plus Canada.
Arthur was dirt stained and sweaty by the time he reached Texas's ranch house in the very late afternoon.
The weariness in his limbs made him nostalgic, reminding him of coming home to his dear little colony after a battle with France, or the natives, or the Spanish, or…well...pretty much everyone.
It intensified when he saw a clothesline with laundry flapping in the breeze.
At least until he saw Alfred battling with the top rung of a stepladder and a stubborn bedsheet.
He wobbled on seeing England and the Briton hastily sped over, jumping the wooden fence surrounding the home.
He ignored the twinge in his leg and stood opposite of the child.
The boy had recovered his balance and then looked at the basket at his feet and then at England.
"I-I like it when there's the smell of wind in the linen," he threw out a bit defensively.
No...defiantly...
Because it was a menial task...a peasant's task...a deliberate decision to not make use of his modern appliances…for a sentimentality...he somehow thought was alien to his ex-colonizer.
At the peak of England's glory, he'd shown off his multitudes of servants…
He'd shown off his fine velvet and silk ensembles...
He'd shown off his pressed trousers and polished shoes...
Because he no longer engaged in such low labor.
And his child...remembered that strongly now, since his episode…and it eclipsed all the chores he'd recently helped out with…
Bleached the memory of Arthur and their cabin and a clothesline and homespun cloth into something worn out and tired and...uncherished…
The British Empire reveled in finery.
And he had...did…
But that didn't mean he was divorced from domestic bliss.
He remembered being the one to hang Alfred's things...to darn his socks...to see to it the bed warmer was used during cold seasons...until he wasn't…
Not all the things on that line looked to be Alfred's. There were man-sized western styled shirts that could only be Tex's.
Alfred and Texas...they...took turns...didn't they?
Who was the parent, who was the child?
Who'd been taught this? Who knew how to do that? What they didn't know they either left out or hazarded tries at...
Combining their skills so they could run a household…to the best of their abilities anyway…
And he thought of two teenagers tromping through open prairies.
What was home supposed to look like? Mine was like this. Was yours like that? What parts did you love best? We'll stitch them together…make a bit of softness in a world that's hard.
Arthur breathed shallowly.
It made him sad.
Thinking that…
No...
Knowing that...
Alfred wiped his hands on his pants. "Dude...did you walk here?"
He nodded.
He had needed the journey to...think…
Not that any of it was constructive...
Alfred's face soured. "But Mr. Gray can't make a trip back like that! And Tex can't drive and it'd be treason to lend you Tex's truck. Whaddya expect me to do?!"
Mr. Gray was here? Already?
Good Lord, he hadn't expected the old boy to make it there in such record speed!
"...you to do?" He repeated, catching up to the last bit.
"How do you expect me, the-the hero, to-to fix all this? I need time to figure something out! Go away! I need more time! To...get over this...to know what to do. I need-I..."
"I don't," He replied simply. "I don't expect you to fix everything."
"You don't think I can!" he snapped. "You never do. Dammit! Why are you here?! We sent you away!"
"I just...I love you and I'm worried for you and I...I," he chuckled though his eyes stung. "I just...cannot stay away." England smiled weakly and shrugged.
And that was the truth.
Simple and inconvenient for the child as it might well have been.
Alfred frowned down at his linen. But it wasn't coming out of the basket easily and he'd have to come back down the ladder steps to untwist it.
Arthur shuffled forward and pulled the sheet to help.
Even with the aid of the stepladder the chore was hard for the little one.
Trust Alfred to likely choose the task because it was difficult, for nothing else than to prove he could do it.
England set the sheet over the line.
"So you came all this way just to do laundry?" the boy sneered.
Arthur forced a deep breath through his nose and said evenly, "If that's what I can do to help, then yes."
Alfred pulled the clothespins from the pocket on his oversized apron; he very hesitantly handed a few over.
"Gray says you called him to help us with the house." He frowned and fiddled with his sleeves. "Nobody asked you to-"
Green eyes narrowed. "They haven't scheduled repair appointments for you yet. I won't let them forget you-"
"W-well, they'll probably squeeze us in at the back since you've made it so we're not paying cust-"
"Unacceptable."
Alfred looked up sharply.
"You've been patient with them and their schedules and their whims...no, they get to wait on you a bit."
"..."
In the awkward silence, Arthur started to hum Greensleeves.
"Why did you come back?" Alfred demanded again, interrupting.
"I already told you." He pulled another sheet and smiled when Alfred untwisted the bottom. "I love you and I can't be parted-"
"Is it that hard...to be away?"
He'd lain awake almost the entire night staring at the ceiling listening to Spain's misery and knowing it as well as his heartbeat.
"It's...impossible..."
"..."
Arthur swallowed, "...when I know you need me."
Alfred stilled. "I could have things laundered if I wanted! If it was that hard!"
Arthur chuckled tiredly. "Are we back to bickering? It's safer there? In the heat of an argument? You've already showed me your hand time and again. I know you love me still…" he touched his hand to his chest. "Wretched rogue I am...you love me...I know it."
"Yeah...I never had much sense," Alfred grumbled and angry tears sprang to his eyes.
Arthur took that on the chin and nodded.
"It was humiliating!" the boy hissed, movements jerking as he reached for another garment. "I was never shy! I was never subtle with my words. Not about you! It was known how much I-I and everyone warned me. And I didn't listen and then-then AFTER! I had to see it in their faces! I felt it afresh every time I had to look at them. Or they on me! Humiliating! To love something-someone-who loved me not! I had to wait decades for the lot of them to die! So it could be forgotten!"
Arthur took a deep breath through his mouth and asserted calmly, "But you weren't wrong."
He received a dark laugh. "So that's what right looked like?"
"No. It was a horrific misunderstanding. A catastrophe."
"You never looked too worse for wear for it all-"
"I didn't endanger myself with risky magic. You asked for something terrible, Alfred. And you paid. The magic made you pay. A-a high price. A-a horrible price. It made you pay in flesh and blood and shame and...God, what did you ask for?"
Alfred stared up at the sky, "I just...wanted to forget Spring."
"Alfie, what does that mean?"
He looked blankly at Arthur, "...I dunno…"
"Alfred-"
"No sadness is greater than in misery to rehearse memories of joy…" he mumbled.
"Alfred?"
"I just...I just knew...Winter was on me...and it'd be easier if I forgot Spring."
"Well, it was August when...so...it has to be a metaphorical winter. Alright then, we'll try to figure out how the seasons play into this. We'll list out possibilities-"
"No…no. You have to go…"
Arthur's heart contracted. He didn't move.
Alfred shook his head and repeated resolutely. "You have to go."
"Why?"
Steely blue eyes stared straight into his. "You were never supposed to return."
"What do you mean?"
"You're complicating things! You-you've made everything complicated. Can't you see how much simpler it is for us when it's just us?"
"...I've made mistakes. I own that. I've hurt you. I'm sorry. More than you can ever know. I want us to-"
"Why can't you just leave us be? We're happy!" a tremor entered the young voice.
And that blatant lie struck a chord in Arthur's temper. "Are you?! Are you happy? Because you're certainly not safe or healthy. You don't know how to make boundaries with your leaders and you don't recognize when you're being exploited! You don't know where to go or who to turn to in trouble. It's...just the two of you. And you're both young and foolhardy and..."
Alfred paled.
Arthur huffed. "Riding off into danger and darkness…worrying your fathers to death and distraction."
Alfred's voice was soft. "You weren't supposed to come back."
"Well, I came back! God, I'd have been here sooner if I'd known. And I'd have brought the Spaniard if I'd known Te-"
"Stop."
Arthur felt dread seep into every fiber of his being.
His palms were sweating.
There was doom hanging over them.
Alfred stared hard at the sky and then at him. He took in a hard, shivery breath. "I...I can't choose you."
"Wot?"
The child's nose began to run and Arthur fished for a handkerchief.
Alfred used his sleeve.
"No, pet, here."
Alfred chuckled wetly. "Oh yes, this is what I need." His fingers traced the K.
And Arthur remembered all those smudged letters. "Sweet-"
"No! I can't choose you. I can't. You're too late. You understand? I can't," he shut his eyes as if to block the sight of Arthur out. "You've come too late. He never let any of our government issues or leaders or anything come between us." Blue eyes snapped open and held his gaze again. "He...he's never betrayed me…so you...you can't s-st...You...you can't...sta-"
All the air in the world seemed to vanish.
"Allie," a hard drawl cut in and Arthur wondered at how he hadn't noticed the sound of spurs drawing near. "He can stay if you want him to. I would never make you choose."
And then Texas went back into the house.
Later, when father and son were less hysterical, England texted Spain, congratulating him on having a son who was a good man.
The response wasn't quite what he expected:
I know that, idiota. Catch up.
And then:
If you're over there, find a way to bring me in, already!
Canada had serious reservations about Hawaii's plans.
He felt incredibly guilty watching through the spy cam as Puerto Rico approached their brother's porch.
"If they don't answer, baby," Hawaii stated through the mic of her headset. "I can walk you through several places where an emergency key will likely be."
"The spare key's where the cacti are, huh?" Puerto Rico hazarded a guess.
"Ehhh," Hawaii grimaced, "Yeah, sweetie. But they could still answer the door."
After England had left, several hours passed as the group tried to decide what the plan of attack would be. What Puerto Rico should say led him to make the trip, how to broach the topic of opening them up to hosting visitors again, what they could do to make it less stressful? Because they weren't supposed to be "guests," they were family.
Hawaii had been optimistic as they continued swapping strategies over lunch, she was the bright cheery counterpoint to Spain's dark energy.
The man's previous sorrow had stopped up and been replaced with something hard and harsh. It made Canada more than a little nervous and he swore he was starting to see shades of what had made him England's rival and enemy empire.
Puerto Rico had become more gungho when Spain (who was understandably reeling from shock and disappointment and anger) darkly announced he needed a drink and left.
The spy mission commenced and Puerto Rico was suited up with Tex's old gear and sent out.
What no one had expected was for Spain to come back within the hour with several cases of soda and bags of chips.
Earlier, he had shrugged at their wide eyed looks. "I needed a drink, the vending machine prices here are loco. I thought the rest of you would appreciate, yes?"
"I don't know how I feel about the spying," Spain frowned as he pulled the tab of a Pepsi. He'd offered to the rest of them before helping himself...though he couldn't pronounce the second 'p' of the word very well.
Puerto Rico rang the doorbell.
"Hello, sir," Mr. Gray greeted as he opened the door.
"Wow, when did-how did?" Reilley gaped.
"Uh, hola, Señor. Is Tejas home?"
"Oh no, Gray. Tha's nobody," Tex asserted. "You just go on and close that there door."
"Hey!" Puerto Rico snapped and gave his brother a rude gesture.
"Rico!" Spain scolded, despite being miles away and unable to do anything.
"Al, hide your wallet!" Tex called.
"That's not nice, Tejas," Spain frowned then sighed as he noticed Canada looking at him. "When you are Papi someday, you will know this pain. All you want is your niños to get along with each other...and you."
"¡Oye! Tejas!" Puerto Rico growled.
"I seen you pick my pocket."
"That was one time!"
"Ricardo!?" Spain was horrified.
"Oh hey, Puerto Rico. This is...unexpected. Have you eaten?" Al asked.
He looked so tired, Mathieu felt concern. He wasn't relapsing, was he?
"Don't feed the strays!" Tex spat.
"Tejas, I swear I am going to-"
"Have you eaten?" Alfred repeated more shrilly to drown out Texas.
"Uh, no."
"Well, that's too bad for you," Tex shrugged, "We already had lunch."
Puerto Rico sighed.
Alfred didn't quite frown but his smile wasn't right. "Texxxxx."
Tex relented, "There's soup in the fridge."
Ricardo shuddered. "I don't want your reaper peppers, you spice-crazed sicko."
"Wimp...Papi made it."
"P-papi made you soup!?"
"Uh-huh."
"...what else has Papi done for you?"
Texas shrugged, "Moved furniture in and around. Plus, chores and cooking and stuff. Why?"
Ricardo's shock was evident in his voice and the way his arms flailed. "You gave Papi chores?! ¿Reino de España?"
Tex clucked his tongue. "Yup."
"Unbelievable."
"Why? He ain't royalty here. He's gonna stay, his ass is gonna work. Your job's gonna be dusting, hermano."
"What?"
"Cuz Al don't like doin' it."
"Oh yeah? And what are you doing?"
"I gotta carry firewood in for tonight. Temp's s'posed to drop."
Puerto Rico faltered. "Are you well enough for that? You look kinda...ew."
Mathieu had to agree. It was obvious from the pale skin, red cheeks, and sweat that Texas was fevering pretty bad.
"Why, thank you. My ego needed that. Look, I can't ask England, he's got a bum ankle. It looks like it's acting up. Gray's old. Al won't be able to see over a stack and you'll be a sissy about it and demand something outrageous in return for helping me out with something that makes you sweat."
Mathieu straightened. So England hadn't "left," he'd gone back over. He was surprised by how relieved that made him feel, even though he knew all the stress had to be doing a number on his old caregiver.
Puerto Rico crossed his arms. "I cannot believe you kicked Papi out!?"
"Whellp, believe it. Cuz it happened and-How do you even know? OMG. He's already put it on Facebook. Papi? Why?!" He checked his phone. "WHY!?"
"I am allowed to post whatever I want," Spain growled and crossed his arms.
"Yeah, he has. I cannot believe you, hermano."
"Stupid public setting. He's the reason old people shouldn't wade into technol-huh? Why? What's there not to believe?"
"Papi would not have put up with this from anyone else. Except maybe Romano. Maybe."
"What in tarnation are you on about?"
"Dios, it means you are a spoiled brat! Ugh, I thought you were bad before! Papi would've slapped me upside the head if I pulled half of that. Colombia will have a cow when he hears you had Spain working like a servant in your house-"
"Heeeeey, my house isn't that bad-"
"It's a sty!" He motioned to the junk around them. "I've seen the aftermath of one of your tornados look cleaner."
"That's his fault, he made us unload the whole unit!"
"Ugh, I don't even know why I am surprised. He always babied you." Resentment filled his voice. "It's what drove Mejico crazy."
"No, he didn't...Meji-er-Mexico was always crazy. Don't trust me? Ask the tribes-"
"Everybody has to play nice with Tejas. Nonono, you cannot play harsh with him like that. He is delicate. He has spectacles. Nonono, if you cannot play nice—Here Tejas, another hobby horse just for you so you can play by yourself all safe and sound on Papi's side of the room-"
"...You guys would've broken them! The hobby horses and the glasses. Do you know how many lectures I got about my glasses being fragile and expensive? I took good care of my stuff. I'd pretend I was a stable master-"
"We used to think it was just because you were the baby but then Chile and Bolivia came. And you still got to climb up and sit in Papi's lap whenever you wanted. He'd hand the littler ones off so you could do it and-"
"-I was trying to get away from you crazies. You tried to hit me in the face with the bat for the pinata you south-of-my-border barbarians-"
"Cuchi-cuchi, pretty Tejas," Ricardo grumbled.
"Hey!"
"Mejico was smart. Colombia was athletic. Venezuela was adventurous-"
Mathieu winced as it felt terribly familiar. How often had Britain's territories sized themselves up against one another?
Puerto Rico looked down at a smattering of photos and...old magazine covers and ads.
Mathieu had known Alfred did some advertisements but it was something to learn that Texas—
"-nd Tejas was the pretty one." Puerto Rico flicked a vintage ad where Texas was modeling a hat—tipping it. Under it was a far more recent one where Tex was modeling transition prescription sunglasses. "You got away with everything because of that. You could pass for a Spaniard when you were pale. Don't think we didn't notice. Papi certainly did. Junior."
"Puh-lease, I was a buffer state and he treated me like I was the clumsiest oaf this side of the globe."
"He treated you like glass because of one stupid tumble-"
Tex stilled, "H-how do you…?"
Ricardo shrugged, "Papi talks when he's drunk."
Mathieu shivered as Spain leaned forward, clearly looking like this was not something he wanted flung about.
Tex was visibly uncomfortable and his voice got small and uncertain, "That's...that's none of your business-"
Canada frowned in concern. His Southwestern brother had lost his jaunty arrogance and his brown eyes were wide.
Mathieu had gotten so used to seeing his expression permeated with an easy, everpresent confidence (regardless of whether he was happy, angry, or annoyed) that seeing him without it was weirder than seeing him without his hat.
"You don't actually hold that against him?"
"..."
"You do?! Really?! Grow up, Tejas! It was an accident!"
"You don't get to yell in our house," Alfred growled from the doorway a bowl of soup in his hands.
"When he's being stupid I do."
The interruption allowed Tex to bounce back, "...Al! Tell him he won't ever be a state and make him leave."
"Why are you so against me-"
"We ain't redesigning the flag again just for you! It's done!"
"I am a citizen. We serve in the militar-"
"DONE! Because NO."
Alfred rolled his eyes. "Tex...Rico...please, think of Mr. Gray."
"Sorry."
"I ain't sorry."
"Tex."
The Texan shook his head. "Nope. He knew he was headed to Jerry Springer Land."
The butler covered his laugh with a cough.
Arthur entered from the peripheral of the camera's view and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Boys, your father would not appreciate you being at one another's throats-"
The rest of the U.K. leaned in.
"Blimey, he managed to get back in."
Mathieu grimaced. Arthur looked so worn out.
"I'm not at his throat," Puerto Rico argued.
"Yeah, and I got a conceal and carry permit. You know if this goes real bad-"
"That is sick. How could you immediately go there...with me?" Puerto Rico snapped. "I'm familia!"
Alfred intervened with a cold. "Well, considering Mexico didn't have a problem lining him up before the firing squad at the Alamo. Yeah, kinda means anyone could be a potential enemy."
Alfred gave Arthur a rather hard look and the man sighed.
Mathieu's eyebrows drew together. So then, something big had happened between them yesterday.
Rhys rested his head in his hand.
Meanwhile, Spain nodded like something had finally clicked into place for him.
Puerto Rico turned fully towards Texas.
Tex crossed his arms, "No."
Puerto Rico opened his arms.
"I said, 'Nooo.'"
Ricardo's hands beckoned.
"No!"
Ricardo motioned once more.
"..."
"..."
"...Fine!"
The cam view was blocked as Tex came in for comforting.
Spain's eyes softened a little, but he still wasn't smiling.
"You see, Alfred?" Rico went on as he patted his brother's back. "These are the risks of adoption."
Spain sighed and looked annoyed again.
From somewhere offscreen, Alfred squawked, "Dude, that's not PC! Mexico is an exception, not a rule. I mean, I get along fine with Seychelles and Hong Kong's like a vase. As long as I don't knock him over, we're good. It's Mattie and me that are having a tiff and even then we're not at Cain and Abel levels."
Mathieu winced.
"Shhhh, hermanito. Big Brother Rico is here."
Tex gently pulled away and crossed his arms. "It was really upsetting because she didn't just have them shot. They were piled up after and burned. Except me. That's as far as her mercy went. But she took me there...so I woke up right next...and the smell...and the first thing I saw..."
"Ohhh," Puerto Rico clucked his sympathies and reached out to pat Tex's shoulder. "When you are better I will take you to the bar, we will gripe about the wrongs done to us."
"Mmkay."
"But we sacked her capital later. I learnt that trick from my family," America said harshly.
"You burnt York," Arthur replied flatly.
"No, ragtag men from my militias defied orders and burnt York. And you deliberately dispatched your professional army to burn my capital and humiliate us. You even faced criticism from your own home for it." America's eyes were narrow and sharp. "I read that."
"..."
"And you. Personally. Set it alight...I witnessed that."
Arthur nodded and looked down.
Alfred peered down into the bowl he was carrying as if studying his reflection. "I learned a lot from your example so…" He looked up. "Thank you, Daddy."
Arthur flinched.
Alfred went on, "And when we battled Mexico and she refused to let Tex go...I never banked on her blinking just because he was her faaamily."
Puerto Rico looked a little uneasy. "Didn't you….kinda provoke-"
"Funny how it's called a provocation. You know how I remember it? Colonel Truman Cross. Lanced. Stripped naked. Robbed. Left baking in the sun!" He stared hard at Arthur again. "I mean, yeah, she had a professional standing army and we didn't and all of Europe counted on us to have our asses handed to us. But their ranks were based on aristocracy and ours-"
"Meritocracy for the win!" Tex interjected and grinned sharply.
"And they gave their troops cheap, crappy gunpowder…so the elites could pocket the rest of the money," Alfred got a hard look in his eyes. "And they kept sniping at our troops and using guerilla war tactics before and during the war. And then when she was in sight...she always aimed at Tex... and that just...did it for me. It just… did it."
Mathieu shifted uncomfortably at the expression on Alfred's face.
Puerto Rico nervously accept the bowl from the American nation and didn't comment on the spoon that had been bent.
"Ohhh, if you think this is bad, ya shoulda seen him when he got crazy eyes." Tex smiled fondly. "That Irish troop gave him crazy eyes like you wouldn't believe."
"Deserters. Turncoats. Yeah, you can always count on the Irish to do something that'll piss you off." Alfred bared his teeth.
"Tha's fair," Alistair stated.
Reilley frowned and punched the Scotsman in the arm.
"Ack. Tha's fair. And yeh know it. Yeh sat on your arse and yeh twiddled yer thumbs while Rome invaded our lands. And sometimes yeh even raided Roman Britain and he never forgot it."
"Hey Allie, you remember how General Quitman only had one shoe left on when we were negotiating their surrender?"
Alfred's countenance finally lightened and he snickered, "Yeah. That's how we roll."
"Yeah, valiant vagabond style."
"You know she'll never forgive either of you. Ever," Ricardo murmured as he stirred the broth.
Tex waved a dismissive hand."Tch. She let Americans into my area cuz she wanted 'em to fight off the Comanches, it wasn't charity. It wasn't tolerance. She didn't want to incur the cost of sending troops my way. I was on the outskirts. 'Sides, I didn't wanna be under Spain's rule, why's it a surprise I didn't wanna be under Mexico's rule?"
"Dude, he didn't wanna be under my jurisdiction. And he likes me. He just a chronic political backstabber-"
"Yeah, I resemble that remark. But I think I'm almost better."
Here, Alfred gave him a curiously sharp look that caught Mathieu off-guard.
"I said almost."
Alfred looked away.
Between slurps of soup that made Spain irritated because that soup was for Texas because "Tejas is the sick one, Rico! When you are sick I make the soup for you!" Puerto Rico asked what the rest of their day, which was swiftly being overtaken by night, looked like.
Tex looked thrilled to be asked.
"We're goin' dancin'!" Tex exclaimed while high-fiving Al.
Arthur was noticeably ruffled by this declaration and his mouth moved several times before uttering a soft disbelieving, "Wot?"
"Allie and I are goin' line dancin'!" He cheered.
"With that fever? Ha. Delusional. Over my dead body," Antonio growled.
When Spain left the hotel room for the second time, no one dared to try and stop him.
Or complain when he opened the door without removing the lock chain and it snapped like a thread.
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