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. No cowboy sex, sorry, and this is the second last chapter. We're almost done!
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"Barnes," comes a voice from behind a young brunet, "get your gear, we're responding to a car accident on the corner of 7th and West 55th." The young man turns towards his supervisor before grabbing his coat, badge and gun.
"Don't we usually leave things like that to whoever's on patrol?" Barnes asks, exiting the building with his partner and getting into their car. The man, an average man with sharp green eyes shrugs, revving the engine.
"It's a weird case, apparently," Jonathan Stone, a fairly senior cop says, "patrol doesn't know what to do with it." Andrew Barnes, aged 22 and fresh out of police academy raises an eyebrow. Nothing is too weird for New York. He doesn't say that though, and soon enough, by New York standards anyway, they're pulling over at the corner of 7th and 55th.
At first the scene looks normal for a car accident. The driver is looking shocked, there's an empty vehicle with obvious damage and an ambulance waiting to help people. However, certain key aspects of the usual car crash are missing. First, is the other car which could be the only thing to have damaged a car like this. Next, isn't a thing, but rather the paramedics composure.
As a general rule emergency personnel are rarely if ever in a panic. That is not the case with these two men. The paramedics are fussing over a blond somebody not visible enough for the two men to see what gender they are, while a much calmer blond male leans against the ambulance, arms crossed and eyes narrowed in displeasure but not anger or grief, at the driver of the car. Stone and Barnes both step out of their car and all the attention is on them. One of the patrolmen sighs in relief, throwing his hands up in exasperation. "You make sense of this," he tells Stone jabbing him in the chest. The other, a woman rolls her eyes at her partners back and gives them a wave before following the irate man.
Andrew turns toward to car driver who's looking shaken and confused. "I don't understand," the man said, "one minute he wasn't there and the next he was and then he went flying and I was spinning and that one stopped by car with his fist and then went to get his friend. I get out, all panicked and ready to apologize in ways I couldn't even fathom for killing the guy and he stands up and asks me if I got hurt!" The man's blue eyes are a little wild and he tugs at his greying hair in a clearly stressed manner. Stone raises an eyebrow before turning to the car.
"I'll get the breathalyzer," he says dryly, "you talk to the other two." Barnes nods his head, turning towards the ambulance. As he approaches he can hear snippets of conversation.
"Sir, are you sure you're not hurt?" Comes one paramedic's voice.
"I'm sure," comes a much calmer one, "I'm terribly sorry for the inconvenience this must be causing, but you've checked both of us as well as that poor man with the car, I think we can agree everyone's fine, yes?" The paramedic nods miserably and the man stands up.
Andrew goes still when he finally sees the 'victims' face. It's pale, with blue eyes and glasses and very kind. He slowly turns towards the other man, who is slightly more tan but he too has blue eyes, glasses and a kind face. Andrew knows these faces. They're what made him want to be a police officer, and they're supposed to be a solid seventeen years older now. Instead, both men look exactly the same, in fact, they look younger than Andrew now. It's simply not possible.
Still, the impossibility of it all doesn't stop him from blurting out their names. "Alfred and Matthew?" He asks incredulously and they share slightly amused looks with one another.
"I'm surprised you remembered us," 'Matthew', if that's really his name, says. "It's lovely to see you."
"Yeah!" Enthuses the man who calls himself Alfred, "and you became a cop, very cool." He's grinning broadly, all traces of annoyance gone and, much to Andrew's surprise, he pulls him into a hug. "How're your siblings? And your mom? She still with John?" Andrew blinks, surprised that anyone would remember little details like that about a five year old they met seventeen years ago.
"Susan's good, just had another kid, that makes four, she's on mat leave but she's a primary teacher, loves kids. Tom's actually a lawyer, has a firm in Florida, lucky bastard." He flashes a wary grin at them and they both smile encouragingly. "Mom and John are going strong, they're actually in Rome for their second honeymoon." He pauses awkwardly, before adding, "you guys look good."
They laugh, Alfred loud and boisterous and Matthew quieter but nonetheless emphatic. Matthew looks at his watch and murmurs something Andrew doesn't catch. "We already gave statements," he tells Andrew, fine brows drawn together in a slightly worried manner, "and we should really get home, we have to be up early to catch a plane tomorrow."
Andrew nods and pulls out his notepad. "Just run through it once more," he says, "then you can both go." Matthew nods and turns to Alfred.
"Should I?" He asks and Alfred nods.
"Yeah, you were still getting checked out when I gave my statement so this way they can cross reference it."
"Alright, it's simple really, we were crossing the street and that fine gentleman failed to see us. He did so at the last minute and swerved, hitting that telephone pole. I guess he was just so confused he thought he hit me, but he didn't." Andrew notes it all down, despite something telling him it's a totally bogus story and gestures for them to leave. Stone comes over to him, scratching his head.
"Guy's clean, you let those two leave?" Andrew nods and the two climb back in their car, heading back to the station.
"Hey Jonathan," Andrew asks slowly, "is there such thing as too weird for New York?" Jonathan pauses, obviously thinking, before he shakes his head.
"Nope." he says simply, and that is that.