Rating/Warnings: U, no warnings.
Summary: Five 100 word drabbles detailing five first times that America experiences with England.
1. 1781 – The first time America watches England cry.
The young nation stares down the rifle levelled at his forehead. He sees that the hands holding the weapon are shaking, but the aim is steady, even as the heavy, stinging rain batters down from the heavens. His own gun lies cracked and forgotten feet away.
Blue eyes close, waiting for the shot, but it never comes, and instead he hears the soft sound of knees hitting the ground, a quiet, fierce voice whispering ‘idiot, idiot, idiot’ and he doesn’t know if it’s meant for him or not.
He watches as England cries, ignoring the tight burning in his throat.
2. 1901 – The first time America is spoken to as an equal.
“We lowered our flags to half mast.”
England looks tired, though he nods slightly to acknowledge America’s voice. Victoria had been one of his favourites, for England always did have a fondness for strong female rulers, and America has to stop himself from giving the man any kind of comfort. He wants to, his heart aches for it but he knows that it could all too easily lash back against him.
“You will be fine, won’t you, England?” He doesn’t like how small his voice sounds. England looks at him, and his eyes are cold.
“Did you want something, America?”
3. 1916 – The first time America truly fears for England’s life.
America sent his third letter weeks ago, no longer caring about whether or not England could read it, just that he responds. Almost sixty thousand casualties on the first day of battle, and it had been two months since. Still no word from England, and America tries not to worry. Alfred tries not to worry.
When the letter finally comes he almost tears it in his haste, drinking the words in. It’s clipped, formal, with some mention of America neatening his abominable handwriting but it’s from Arthur- from England, and he’s fine and a bit battered, but very much alive.
4. 1945 – The first time America kisses England.
He doesn’t know what makes him do it. All he knows is that one minute he’s jumping for joy and Arthur’s hands are in his and England is jumping with him. Their faces are flushed with the giddiness of victory and then Alfred’s lips touch against Arthur’s and then they’re kissing, and Arthur’s fingers are in his hair and people are staring but it doesn’t matter, because England is clutching at his jacket and gasping against his mouth, his small body pressed to America’s chest.
“E-England...” He stops as fingers are pressed lightly to his lips.
“My name is Arthur.”
5. 1997 – The first time America admits that he loves England.
Arthur is being brave, but Alfred can see the unshed tears shining in his eyes as the coffin is carried past them. He had liked her, the Princess. Alfred had liked her too, though he had only met her once, and she had twinkled that smile at him and called him ‘Mister Jones’.
The people begin to move away, but Arthur doesn’t, he stands there staring at the ground that the coffin passed over. Beside him, Alfred gently slips his hand into Arthur’s cold slack fingers. He squeezes, feels an answering pressure, and smiles.
‘I love you.’
Arthur finally cries.
Something of a cop-out for today, since I don't know if I'll get the next chapter of At The End done... if I don't I'll make sure to do it tomorrow, guest or no guest -.-; But for now, you can have this randomness that I wrote last night.
(I swear I keep expecting a message from haro asking me not to post so much...)