Chapter Text
America walked down the halls of his old home where he lived with England when he was small. Each room letting memories surface and killing him more inside. He sat down against the wall in his old, empty bedroom, light flooding in from the window as he went through all of his memories, tears falling from his cheeks.
“Iggy, Iggy! I want to grow up as strong as you one day!”
England smiled down at the young America “And I’m sure you will be.” He pats Alfred’s head and went to make dinner.
“Iggy!” America called after him
“Hm?” he turned around to the small child.
“Will you have to leave for sea soon?”
England nodded at him with a frown, sorrow in his eyes.
“Can I come with you please?” America went to him and tugged on his pants leg, looking up at him.
“No, but I promise that when you get stronger, you may come with me”
America didn’t feel quite satisfied but he agreed. “Okay…”
America wiped the tears off his face with his sleeve. “How did my mind change so much on how I saw him?” He held his forehead, trying to think. Things changed so quickly. He must have hurt England so much…
It was raining on the battlefield and everything seemed gray and dreary as the Revolutionary War took place, America had his gun pointed at England, ready to fire and had the rest of his army behind him. “Hey Britan, all I want is my freedom. I am no longer a child nor your little brother. From now on, consider me independent!” America stood firm as he looked at England. England, however, looked dumbfounded and broken but then frowned in anger and ran at America with his gun raised. America lowered his weapon and looked at him surprised. He raised his weapon to block England’s as they collided, which sent America’s gun flying. England looked at America, ready to battle and ready to keep him from leaving with his gun still raised and pointed at America’s head “I won’t allow it! Idiot, why can’t you follow anything through to the end?” America stood his ground as one of his soldiers yelled “Ready! Aim!” America stood in front of the gun, fear in his face until Britan lowered his weapon. “There is no way I can shoot you. I can’t.” He dropped his gun on the ground and fell to his knees, covering his face with his hand “Why? Dammit, why?! It’s not fair!” America looked down to him, a sense of pity in his eyes “You know why.”
“Let’s go home” Britan had said to child America, holding out his hand as America looked at him and smiled, giggling and taking his hand.
Britan sobbed on the ground and America spoke “What happened? I remember when you were great…”
America held back his sobs and cleaned himself up. “It wasn’t my fault for hurting him. He brought it on himself…” he put his head on his knees and wrapped his arms around his legs. Suddenly there was a creak in the hall and America lifted his head and looked at the doorway “Who’s there?” Britan came to the doorway “What are you doing here?” asked England “I was about to ask you the same.” America looked up at him. Britan cocked his head at him “Have you been crying?” America glared at him “Could you answer my question first?” Britan sighed, “I visit here every once in awhile. Your turn.” America looked across the room “I wanted to come back just once…” Britan looked at him and then at the sun stained floor of the dusty and empty room, sorrow in his eyes. “I understand. I have wanted to go back many times myself. Especially when you first left.” America looked at his feet “Britan…I’m sorry,” Britan looked at him with a brow raised. “But I just wanted independence and now I have it and its great!” He weakly smiled but it soon faded. “But I do miss you and love you….and not as a brother.” America looked at him, his face solemn. Britan looked stunned. “What do you mean, Alfred?” America looked up at his emerald eyes. “I love you.” He stood and walked to Britan. “What are you doing?” He stepped back in to the lowly lit hallway and raised his arms up to his sides. America grabbed England’s coat and pulled him into the room slowly. “Get your hands off of me you bloody wanker!” He shouted at him. Alfred took Arthur’s wrist and leaned in to kiss him. Arthur stared at him “Have you lost your head?!” America ignored his comments and kissed him softly. Britan tensed up and slid his wrist out of America’s hands and put them on his chest to push him off. But he relaxed in Alfred’s embrace and gripped Alfred’s coat. The warmth was soothing and his stress was fading. He accepted it, closing his eyes and kissing back. He tasted the other on his lips and craved it. Red flags signaled in his head saying “What are you doing, you twit? You raised him!” He ignored them. He licked America’s lips and pulled him closer to him by tugging his jacket and he turned his head. He let his tongue go into Alfred’s mouth, enjoying it and exploring it. America stepped back and hung his head, embarrassed. “Sorry that was uncalled for…” Britan wiped his mouth and nodded, not really knowing what to say but smiled, rubbing the back of his head. America raised his head slowly. “I should be going.” He walked for the door. “I understand.” Britan managed to say but only as a whisper. America left and England’s smile faded. He processed what just happened. “What the bloody hell did I just do?” He smacked his forehead, leaving a red print and walked for the door. “I need some advice on this. The obvious one that has more experience in romance is obviously France.” He opened the door and left to go find Francis.