Title: Love is a Thing to Become and Eternally Be
Rating: M. And it's not just for swearing.
Pairings: America/Canada/America
Warnings: Uh, sex between male nations (though honestly, if you're reading Hetalia fanfic you cannot be surprised), violence and slight historical liberties in places.
Disclaimer: Standard and not actually useful disclaimer goes here.
Author's Notes: De-anon from the kink meme, no doubt a few people recognize this. I'll slowly post edited chapters here, once a week or so. I won't give a schedule, I'll never follow it. Two chapters after this.
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Rideau Canal, Ottawa, 1992
"See ya' twerp!" A blond boy calls over his shoulder as he skates down the canal. The boy he calls to, one much younger, tries to follow only to wobble dangerously. Alfred watches the exchange disapprovingly, watching to see if the boy will manage to regain his balance. He doesn't.
Quick as a flash Alfred is behind the young child, carefully keeping him standing. The little boy makes a noise, his own brown eyes staring up at Alfred in shock. "You okay champ?" Alfred asks, smiling a little. The boy just looks up at him and Alfred's smile pulls into a frown. "Are you hurt?" He asks and the boy sends him a strange look.
"I'm not supposed to talk to strangers," he says, though he doesn't shake off Alfred's steadying hand.
Alfred almost smacks himself in the forehead, forgetting that while he knows all his people, they don't all know him. "Right, I knew that," he assures the boy. Carefully he retracts his hand, then sticks it out in the common handshake gesture. "I'm Alfred Jones," he says, "see, not strangers anymore." The little brunet scowls at him in the way only small children can and crosses his chubby arms. He loses his balance a bit at that but Alfred steadies him.
"Nuh uh," he replies, "just 'cause I know your name doesn't mean you're not a stranger." Alfred sighs a bit at that and drops to one knee, looking the boy in the eyes.
"Alright," he concedes, "I'm Alfred Jones, I'm from Vermont, I'm 19 years old, my favourite food is hamburgers from McDonald's, I like dogs, the colours red, white and blue and my birthday is July 4th." He looks expectantly at the boy before adding, "am I still a stranger?"
The boy's brows furrow a little more as he considers the information he's just been presented with. Finally he makes a decision and thrusts out his small hand toward Alfred. "I'm Andrew Barnes," he replies firmly, allowing Alfred to shake his hand. "My favourite food is ice cream, I like dogs too, I'm from Detroit, my favourite colour is blue, my birthday is March 15th and I'm five almost six." Alfred grins at the boy, standing up. "If you're from Vermont why are you here?" The boy asks, placing a green mittened hand in taller man's own gloved one in a show of implicit trust.
"I'm visiting my very best friend in the whole world," Alfred replies seriously. Andrew looks around, as if trying to see Alfred's 'friend'.
"Where is he?" The five year old asks, looking around, and is unable to magically divine who this person might be. Alfred too looks around until he spots a familiar red covered head.
"Hey Mattie!" He calls, and Matthew quickly turns, fluid as water on his skates, and spotting Alfred weaves through the slightly crowded canal. He reaches Alfred and Andrew and raises a fine eyebrow at the sight of the two. "Matthew Williams, meet Andrew Barnes," Alfred says with a flourish. Andrew giggles at the display and Matthew just smiles at him.
"It's nice to meet you Andrew," he says, bowing a little and then holding out his hand to shake with Andrew. Andrew shakes the offered hand, also in a mitten, but doesn't let go, instead clinging to it. "What brings you out to the Rideau?" He asks and the boy pouts a little.
"John had work so we all came up so we could visit and mommy's looking for a dress so Susan went with her and Tom was supposed to teach me how to skate but he left. And he called me a twerp." Matthew nods sympathetically and Alfred makes a tutting noise.
"Is Tom your big brother?" Alfred asks and Andrew nods, slowly moving his feet, kept up by the two nations as they move slowly down the canal. "Well, big brothers are supposed to teach little brothers how to skate," he says sternly, "it's their job." Andrew nods in agreement.
"Did your big brother teach you how to skate?" He asks the two blonds. They share a look, Matthew remembering the way Francis refused to even try, and both remembering giggling as a swearing Arthur tried to keep up with his two tiny colonies.
"No," Matthew says, "we had to teach them." Andrew's eyes widen at this, small mouth falling open in awe.
"You had to teach hem,?" he asks, and giggles happily as they nod. "Awesome," he says, and Matthew laughs brightly.
"I suppose it is," he agrees and Alfred gives him his megawatt grin over the little boy's head. "Who want's hot chocolate?" Matthew asks and Andrew cries out happily, almost crowing in excitement while Alfred flashes Matthew a thumbs up with his free hand. With that Matthew gently lets go, easily gliding over to the stand selling the hot beverages.
"Hey Alfred," Andrew says watching Matthew skate away. "You're all grown up right? What do you do?" Alfred pauses, because he doesn't do anything right now, at least not anything which would interest a child, before recalling the job he'd last held.
"I'm a policeman in New York," he says and Andrew yells cool, losing his balance as he flails his one arm in excitement. Alfred gently guides the boy over to Matthew, who's returning with the cocoa, and the boy gladly accepts the drink, blowing it resolutely when Matthew warns him that it's hot.
"What do you do Matthew?" He asks and Matthew blinks for a moment before he says the first thing which comes to mind.
"I'm a journalist." He says, and Andrew looks questioningly at Alfred.
"Is that cool?" He asks and Alfred smothers a laugh.
"Oh yes," he agrees and Andrew flashes Matthew a relieved smile.
"Good," he says, taking a sip of his drink, "do you work in New York too?"
Matthew shakes his head, taking a sip of his hot chocolate. "No, I work in Montréal."
The boy looks at him blankly, "where's Moerayal?" He asks, stumbling over Matthew's instinctive pronunciation of the French word. Alfred laughs at the, snorting into his drink.
"Montreal," Matthew replies, switching to the English version, "it's in Québec." The boy thinks about it for a moment.
"I think I've heard of that," he says finally before he's distracted by the sound of a very annoyed woman.
"What do you mean you left him 'around here', he's five Tomas, you can't leave him alone in the middle of a foreign city." The trio watches as a woman who is obviously Andrew's mother berates a sulking blond teen.
"He's fine mom, he's almost six after all." A girl next to him, older than him, rolls her brown eyes and a black haired man gives him a disapproving look.
"You're such and idiot Tom," the girl says in disgust. Their mother looks as if she's about to agree, but Andrew happily calls out to them. Alfred lets go of his hand and the boy doesn't even notice, making his way over to his mother without either nation.
"Mom! Mom!" He calls, and his mother swoops to meet him, pulling him into a hug, somehow not spilling the hot chocolate. "I met these really awesome guys and they taught me to skate and they bought me hot chocolate and one, Alfred, works in New York as a policeman and Matthew is a journalist in Moerayal in Kaybek," he cries, even though his mother is right there.
The woman blinks blue eyes before trying to guess who 'Alfred' and 'Matthew' are. Her eyes land on the two blond not far away and they give matching sheepish waves. Immediately her gaze softens and she stands, taking her son's hand as she approaches them.
"Thank you for taking care of him," she says, "I know he can be a bit...rambunctious," she says, and Matthew laughs, waving the thank you away.
"No problem Ms.," he assures her "I followed Al around all through my childhood and he had, well has, the energy of a million five year olds on a sugar high." Alfred squawks at the description and Matthew hits him lightly upside the head. "Andrew was a dream in comparison."
Alfred puffs his cheeks out in defiance at his lover, "hey, I'm not the one who fed Arthur's slippers to my bea-bear sized dog, and I didn't refuse to eat and I'm not the one who brought wild animals home." Matthew sniffs in response, turning back to Andrew and his family.
"Honestly," the Canadian says, "he wasn't a problem." He turns to Tomas, who's still looking put out and gives him a soft but clearly disappointed look. "But you can not leave your little brother alone in a big city, foreign or otherwise," the boy flushes a bit at that, and Alfred holds back a laugh. Matthew being disappointed is the worst thing basically ever and Alfred can sympathize with the boy. Matthew is very good at seeming disappointed, and very good at guilt tripping. Alfred has seen it many times, and the boy is obviously no exception.
"Just don't do it again kiddo," Alfred says and the blond nods. "Well then, all better," he declares. Kneeling, he looks at Andrew, "have fun, okay champ," he says and the little boy nods before throwing his arms around him in a hug.
"Okay," he chirps, going to wrap Matthew's knees in a hug as well. Matthew chuckles and pats his head, waving as the family leaves. Alfred waves too and once they're out of range he turns to Matthew, a lusty grin on his face.
"How 'bout we go warm up?" He offers and Matthew grins back, placing a quick peck on Alfred's cheek.
"Sure thing, cowboy," he breaths and Alfred pumps his fist, whooping in joy. Cowboys always mean kinky Matthew, and a kinky Matthew is a happy Alfred.
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Aaand, please leave a review, no matter how short, I'm a complete review slut. No joke.