Title: Say You'll Haunt Me

Disclaimer: Don't own Hetalia nor the song
Pairing: AmeCan
Genre: Hurt/Comfort/ Family
Rating: T (language)

AN: Not necessarily a song fic, but inspiration came from the song 'Say You'll Haunt Me' by Stone Sour. Go look it up, both the acoustic and normal version will make you shiver.
Can be taken as either platonic brothers or romantic couples.

.:V:.

On some deserted dirt road away from the stress called other people sped a sputtering, lucky-to-be-moving red pickup truck. Both whirlwinds of dust from the unpacked trail and bits of rust from the weathered truck flung backwards due to the rocketing speeds. Singing to the steering wheel and front air bag, Alfred and Matthew, completely off pitch and not giving a single fuck to the earless crop stalks lining the road, fist pumped and nodded their blonde heads to the chords and beat of one of their shared favorite genres of music: rock.

"Say you'll haunt me! Together! Together! We'll be together, together! FOREVER!" The two North Americans cried as wildly as their disheveled hair that was waving in the wind -as if the strands were dancing- from the open windows. Once the song ended, the radio was set back to its normal volume. Only rock songs deserved the crank.

Alfred, who suddenly became uncharacteristically quiet, focused on the nothingness past the car hood, letting his lead foot accelerate the truck so much that full control of the vehicle became difficult. The minute swerving to remain strait coupled with his brother's lack of words worried the Canadian.

In a calming voice, "Al, is something troubling you?" Matthew asked, anchoring himself to the oh-shit bar above the side door.

Torn from his mental prison, Alfred noticed they were, somehow, well in triple digit speeds and, being his impulsive self, floored the breaks. Inertia propelled the two nations forward, wishing for the blondes to continue their strait path; however, the seat belts crossing their torsos made the crashing through the windshield a heavy jerk.

Blinking a few times to regain his surroundings, Alfred commented, "Hahaha! Thank god for seat belts, right Mattie?" Alfred looked to his side at his Northern brother.

Alfred didn't care about car safety at this moment. He didn't care that they almost broke a leg in a rolling inferno and he didn't care that they were a stopped target in the middle of the road. At least, Matthew believed these statements were true because it was the Canadian's nagging that made the American buckle up for once and Alfred did stupid stuff that could stop his heart daily.

But most importantly, Alfred was nipping at his bottom lip. He was apprehensive about something and Alfred never worries unless it is important.

And important things have to be bluntly and forcefully pried at or else the American will twist the words and situation around in his favor.

"Alfred F. Jones," Matthew started, using his brother's full name and direct eye-contact to express the seriousness, "What are you thinking about?" Matthew's face softened as he but forth the guilt-trip. "You can tell me anything. Al, I promise I won't judge."

For a brief moment, the nervous lip-biting halted as Alfred adjusted his glasses; another nervous tick but not as serious as the first. He glanced away from Matthew's piercing stare to the free, blue sky past the window, examining the carefree clouds lazily moseying across the expansive sky.

It was a several minute silent stalemate before Alfred responded. He looked towards his neighbor and quickly asked: "Hey Mattie, we'll always be together, right?"

The older Canadian could see the fighting innocence and insecurity within Alfred's expressive eyes. They both knew that forever is an impossibly long time, but America is a land of idealists.

America burned his capital from war. America indirectly subjects him to being overlooked from politics. America makes him pull his follicles clear out of his scalp from obliviousness.

Despite these negatives, Matthew grasped Alfred's hand and intertwined their fingers. The ease of them fitting together peacefully matched their shared boarder.

"Al. We have been through a lot together, and some of that past would make others hate each other. But here we are, on a road trip with nothing but the other person to depend on. We are best friends that are brothers and I intend to keep that true for as long as possible. Do you?"

Just as Matthew expected, Alfred took the challenge. He immediately brightened like the everlasting lights of Time Square, squeezed the Canadian's hand in understanding, and sent a thankful grin towards the Northerner.

Even though they've been at war, they share the longest undefended boarder. Even though they differ politically, they like similar things.

"Just don't haunt me, Mattie. I hate ghosts."

And even though his obliviousness causes hair loss, more often than not, it causes Matthew to smile.

.:^:.

By the speed reaching triple digits, I am referring to miles per hour. 100 mph = ~161 kph.