Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. Or Slenderman. Or The Homesman. Or Ironclad. Or First Knight. Or Chick-fil-A. Or Bambi. Hushaby (American Lullaby of disputed origin-Is its roots in England? Scotland? Africa? Lots of folks dispute it-feel free to ponder.) Or SparkNotes. Or Lingo or Scrabble or Clue. etc.

Warning: Profanity. Some stereotypes. Some OCs for sake of plot. Some inevitable inaccuracies (historically, culturally, and grammatically). Rough est: from 1750s to 1820s jigsaw puzzles were primarily used to teach geography, it was from the 1820s on that they started incorporating other images. VW scandal is currently a pain in the butt in the U.S. I have named Al's pet unicorn since I couldn't find an official one. Fanon seems fairly confident that Americat is a Maine Coon cat. Paraphrased Midsummer Night's Dream endearment. I believe Al & Tex are partial to American-Made products-like cars. Stairs. There are protesters in Hawaii who are against the construction of a telescope on Mauna Kea (a sacred mountain). Elizabeth Barrett Browning was a well-known English poet of the Victorian Era who crusaded for social reform (especially in regards to children). Alfred believes in NY sewer alligators. Scrowl: American slang-combo for scowling and growling to express deep displeasure (usually involves intense scrunching of facial features-may also employ flashing teeth in a snarl).

Note: This is a Sequel. I'm not saying you've got to read Wendigo first (You're a being with free will) just be ready to hit the ground running, we're approaching The Drop Off. : D

Chapter 1: Sewer Baby Alligator Love

Alfred shifted restlessly in his seat and tried to pay attention as Congress gave him the SparkNotes version of what was going on.

Blah blah blah Volkswagen emissions scandal blah blah blah the company was still working on rectifying the situation.

Which still didn't help America. Those diesel beasts were emitting 40 times what was allowed in his borders. Fix it. Dammit! And Germany needed to pay some fines. America's Clean Air Act demanded it!

I already have to jump through friggin' hoops because just about everyone in my country wants a car and the rest of the world wants to hassle me about that.

Alfred sighed and looked around. Everybody had totally overreacted upon seeing his new...vertically challenged self, and the first hour of the Joint Session was a total waste with people pinching his cheeks and wanting to take photos of his new form.

They then began brainstorming for how he should explain his situation to other nations-what words to use, what ones to avoid. If he sounded as bitter as he felt, they'd view it as a weakness and capitalize on it. That had to be avoided at all costs.

Two hours later after all concerns were presented and argued, the official government approved story (apparently they had first begun drafting ideas since they were made aware of his condition a few days ago) was that his...downsizing...was a delayed effect resulting from the speed of growth he'd undertaken in his youth being adjusted with his recession. The government was calling it an Age Adjustment and explaining it away as a perfectly understandable physical reaction to the difficulties his country was currently facing. Ya know...regardless of how that made no sense and how his fellow nations had all seen him go through various economic depressions over the years. But the world was probably used to getting bureaucratic bullshit tailored answers from him anyway and his legislature's insistence that he read their paragraph off an index card kinda confirmed that this wasn't the truth. Cuz if it was the truth, it'd be a hell of a lot shorter. As it was: magic. Magic was the reason. According to England, he'd had a spell...break and...this was the result.

Geez, all the other countries were probably gonna think his government had been experimenting on him again and that he must be recovering from some heinous nuclear testing gone wrong.

All of which was still better than trying to explain the truth which defied logic.

The Joint Session was surprisingly full, only twenty members or so were off on vacation, or sick, or having surgery, or being detained by state crises. Why four, who couldn't physically attend, were doing so by online streaming! They'd phone in when they had something to say or ask.

It should've been gratifying knowing that he could get most of his legislature to show up on his account! Except all the piteous looks he kept getting regardless of what they knew, or thought they knew, was really winding him up.

Heroes don't do pity.

Which was probably why he was getting so riled up being around his old man lately.

England was seated riiiiight beside him, wearing his default grumpy expression as he studiously took down notes. Due to his involvement in America's rescue, Alfred's government was willing to make all sorts of exceptions for him. Like letting him be here right now. Meetings with his legislature should've been private.

But Arthur, the seasoned nation he was, knew how to press his advantage. According to Sandra Johnson, an assistant he'd talked to earlier during a coffee break (or what should've been a coffee break but Alfred was forced to get water), Arthur had spearheaded the effort of recovering Alfred-largely without much support from Alfred's government or his own...which touched, and irritated, and embarrassed Alfred. Especially, when Sandra made the unnecessarily Hallmark Movie-esque comment about how 'Parents will do whatever it takes to get their children back safe and sound.'

She'd smiled a bit dreamily after that, and said she'd overheard a bit of the report and how his dad sounded so brave and that Alfred was such a lucky boy.

If he didn't know better, he'd think she harbored a bit of a crush on Arthur…nah, he shouldn't insult her by even postulating that. Arthur was...Arthur...and he was old and crusty and cantankerous...and those eyebrows...

Still, her words had kinda summed up everyone's feelings for the Brit. Everyone felt indebted to him for the "great service" he'd performed for them, even Alaska, Hawaii, and Texas. All the deference they kept paying the old man...Dude, it was eating at him.

The sad fact was...Arthur was...the Hero.

It burned.

And he couldn't escape it because he couldn't go anywhere without England hovering around. Yeah, he'd flown home to the U.K. a couple times to manage stuff there but he kept...coming back. Using the internet, phone conferences, and online chatting to complete his work from the States.

When America frowned at him, he immediately returned the eye contact and paused mid-scrawl. Instead of ignoring him or huffing about the discourtesy he was showing the Speaker, he asked seriously, "Are you alright?"

Alfred nodded vigorously and scootched back in his seat. England had strongly advocated for America to sit out the meeting as it was "much too soon" for him to be worrying about such things and that Congress should just send him a concise report.

Usually, England was the one harping on him to uphold his responsibilities and now he was the one trying to write him a free pass.

Yeah, life was weird since his...downsize and England's behavior was probably the weirdest part.

Alfred expected him to be gooshy at first because they'd ya know...been through a lot of draaaaama. But once the coast was clear, he was s'posed to clam back up and stalk off and Alfred was s'posed to take that as his cue to shake it off and piece together whatever he had left and keep going. Ya know like Bambi and his dad in the original movie.

It'd been over two weeks already. It was high time for everybody to back up, turn away, and let him lick his wounds.

'Cuz there was A LOT his ego needed to recover from.

Getting kidnapped and rescued repeatedly was…lame.

Even lamer was the fact that he didn't kick ANY ass...at all. NONE. End of story. Roll the credits his name was NOT under Hero or Dual Protagonist/Hero it was firmly lodged under Dude in Distress.

Frickin' Canada saw more action than him…

Was still seeing more action; he'd texted him that morning to tell him he was doing a patrol around the Great Lakes Region. Alfred's gut told him his brother wasn't just checking over the Canadian side.

Alfred chewed his bottom lip woefully.

And his government wasn't giving him a chance to redeem himself. There were still some wendigo creeping around and his boss had given the green light for a slew of Special Task Units devoted to eliminating them. Units that...America wasn't allowed to join...he'd already asked. Which sucked because they probably got all the cool gadgets and outfits and everything.

His mission was "Adjustment" which was code for Wow-We-Have-No-Clue-What-To-With-You-Now.

Meanwhile, even at home nobody was letting him forget how much his circumstances had changed. They all kept trying to get him to "talk about it." "It" being the vast accumulation of unpleasant things that spanned his lifetime from Roanoke to U.S. to now.

He didn't need to talk about it, he just needed to accept it and move on. That was America's way. He didn't do self-reflection, his To-Do List was too long to waste time on that.

Meanwhile, Arthur flipped a biscuit when he learned that Tex had let him download all the seances they'd done to track him down and viewed them in one go by himself. Kept insisting that Alfred should've had "emotional support available" while watching those.

Alfred didn't get what the big deal was. So just about nobody liked him as a baby. So what? So he was an angry little cuss in the 1700s. So his super strength had really been magic from the land that he'd...kinda squandered doing stupid stuff like swinging bison and carrying his whale. Oh and some crazy ol' bat chucked him off a cliff. So what? He'd died in worse ways.

Arthur had been really touchy about it. Had told off Texas so harshly, he was amazed his brother's ears hadn't ignited in flames.

And then Arthur had knelt down and set his hands on Alfred's shoulders and looked him in the eye and demanded to know how Alfred felt.

He hadn't liked the way Arthur's green eyes had zeroed in on him when he gave his honest answer: He didn't feel much of anything.

While he was remembering bits and pieces of being Roanoke, he didn't remember his less than graceful coerced cliff dive. Didn't remember most of what he'd seen. He remembered breaking the mirror, but growing up suddenly? No...no he didn't remember that.

He was just watching a stranger who was him. A prologue that he already knew the end result of; he'd survived it all. That was all that mattered.

But Arthur kept stressing feelings. That he must feel something. And he could share it, whatever it was. Was he angry? Disappointed? Afraid? Repulsed? Upset?

Philosophers had that luxury. Philosophers could stop and feel. Soldiers needed to accept and plan accordingly. Alfred had been a soldier since 1776.

When he'd had no further comment to make other than that it was...informative, England surprised him by giving him a hug and telling him they could talk when he was "ready."

Arthur really seemed to think what that woman did was a travesty, but Arthur had always had a pretty soft spot for kids. He'd been pretty adamant about getting his own nation as well as Alfred's to stop relying on child labor through the Victorian Age. He'd often quoted Elizabeth Barrett Browning's poetry when making his arguments.

From then on, Alfred shrugged off every attempt Arthur made to broach the topic of "that tragic night" aka Roanoke's last Halloween.

Nah, the real tragedy Alfred was struggling against was how nobody was letting him have coffee and they were all trying to restrict his soda intake.

With his caffeine levels entering the critically low RED ALERT stage and the Speaker of the House going on and on and on...Alfred rubbed his eye irritably and swung his legs.

He missed touching the ground. He missed the way the chair would squeak whenever his once-muscular form had twisted or leaned. He missed his adult voice, and his adult hands, and the adult way people would nod their acknowledgment of him whenever he moved through crowds or entered buildings.

He leaned back against the chair, eyelids growing heavier and heavier and heavier.

He dreamed he was living with John Hancock again. The man had taken him in after the Revolution was over since it was clear that Alfred wasn't too good at living on his own or politics or business or really any skill besides farming and fighting.

John was trying to walk him through tying a cravat for the umpteenth time-his voice so full of mirth that he couldn't help snickering while giving the instructions, when a British voice murmured in his ear, "We're breaking for lunch now."

He jolted. Dude! Super embarrassing; here he was, trying to convince everyone that the hero was NOT out of commission, and his body sabotages his plans by indulging in nap time.

He glanced around to see House Representatives and State Senators filing out of the room.

"Come on now, let's you get you home. It's too soon." Arthur reached for Alfred's suitcase.

America balked as he stood up and almost tripped as he wrestled his briefcase back, "Wha-no! I-I'm just hungry! I just need a soda!"

England's nose wrinkled, "You do not need a can of sugar."

Alfred grit his teeth. Old man kept trying to decide everything for him. It was bad enough that his Driver's License had been confiscated and cancelled on the President's orders-making him dependent on England and Hawaii to drive him places. Which sucked because Arthur made him ride in the backseat in a sissy car booster and he drove super slow! But deciding what he got to eat? It was the final straw!

England took him by the hand and led them over to the door.

America snatched his hand back, "No! I've missed enough important meetings, I-"

"And you're already missing this one as well. Your body just happens to be present."

Alfred glowered.

England pinched the bridge of his nose and gave a long suffering sigh "This is too much. You need more time to rest. Just look at how easily you're losing your temper. That's unlike you."

America flushed. Darn him for being right. But he couldn't help it. It was all just so frustrating! All of sudden everybody was doubting his capabilities. Yes, his outsides had changed, but that was it! Inside he was the same! Wasn't that what they kept pushing? Kept trying to indoctrinate in little kids and adults alike? That what's inside was what counted?

He was the same, and dammit England, he didn't wanna hold hands! He dodged several more attempts by England as they walked down the hall to the staircase.

England had a bad case of what America deemed 'Sewer Baby Alligator Love.' When alligators were small, they were cute. And when things were cute, people think 'Oh I gotta get me one of these.' And they take one home…and then the baby alligator starts gettin' bigger and less cute and then it's time to flush that snapper down the toilet.

Yeah, nobody had definitively proved that there were alligators in New York...but there could be...maybe...and the reason they hadn't proved it was because...they were smart and avoided detection...the cunning fiends…

There had to be a reason why those stories persisted!

Anyways, in England's case they had a bizarre situation where the clock had been reversed and America was now back in his "cute" form.

Which now led to this awkwardness...because in essence, Arthur was trying to…"unflush" him.

The Briton sighed again but continued more gently, "Everyone will understand. I'll return after dropping you off and see if they can compile a report for you instead. Tonight I'll go over my notes with you on the parts you likely missed. I understand how frustrating this must be, but...forcing yourself to return to work before you're ready...won't do anyone any good. Alfred...after your harrowing ordeal, no one is expecting you to-"

Alfred had stopped paying attention after the dreaded word "notes."

Notes equaled fate worse than death. Let a wendigo chew on him, it'd be kinder. Arthur didn't DO shorthand which meant he'd be regurgitating everything Congress had to say, though with more barks of "pay attention now" and "do you understand? Explain it back to me to demonstrate." And when he failed or didn't understand some obscure reference to a previous historical event-he'd condemn Alfred's lazy disinterest in world history.

"No" he stomped a foot against a step. "I'm not going, I'll stay awake for the rest of it. Stop pestering m-"

"Alfred, Alfred use the handrail."

"I just need a Coke or a Pepsi since you won't lemme have a latte or-"

"Watch your footing!"

He knew how to use stairs dammit!

"Alf-"

He turned to throw a contemptuous scrowl and his foot slipped.

His legs were much shorter now, and he couldn't correct himself in time. He tripped and tumbled down to the ground floor.

He stared up and saw the entryway chandelier. It...wasn't the first time he'd fallen down those stairs, but usually it was late at night and he didn't have so many witnesses.

There'd been a collective "OH" of concern.

His Texas and Virginia Senators were rushing over with anxious faces.

He groaned and started to prop himself up with his elbows as he desperately racked his brain for something disarming to say when there was a nearly hysterical shout of "NO! Nonono. Don't move!"

Alfred should've taken that as a signal to sprint as far away as he could because now it was too late and Arthur was kneeling beside him-hands flitting over his neck, head, torso and then limbs with such scrutiny that a pat down by his airport security would've been less invasive.

Utter humiliation made all the small bruises sting worse and he couldn't quite hold back his sniffle…

Worse, Arthur heard it and the fussing increased exponentially.

Alfred sighed from his spot on the couch.

Even Wheel of Fortune wasn't enough to make him feel better.

Arthur had driven him straight home after he concluded that Alfred hadn't broken any bones. He couldn't even wheedle him into going through the drive-thru for Chick-fil-A. A shame because he wanted waffle fries really bad.

Hawaii had stared as they came in arguing. The middle aged woman tried to smooth her tangled hair with her hands and had little success.

Arthur had given her an unimpressed look, which she begrudgingly accepted; it was 1:10 pm and she was still in her pajamas with mismatching slippers. She'd disappeared for a shower pretty quick after that.

In a whirlwind of paternal authority, Arthur opened his briefcase and emptied a brown paper sack, he'd apparently packed for Alfred, onto a plate.

Alfred frowned at the ham cheese sandwich. He'd had a ton of sandwiches. It was Arthur's "Go To" meal prep since he was banned from using Alfred's oven and stove.

England poured a glass of milk and set it down with a hard clack beside the plate.

"Eat your sandwich" Arthur growled before making his departure back to D.C.

That'd been three hours ago, Alfred directed a frown at the plate, where it still sat untouched on the counter. Hawaii had scolded him as she left for the grocery store.

"Honey, don't waste food. Doctor said you're underweight. You need to eat regularly. You don't want that, pick something else, okay?"

Everybody was just so bossy lately.

He dug his hand into the bowl of popcorn ate a big bite and then offered the remaining scoop to Miss GlimmerGlam, the unicorn Arthur had gifted him with a few years back.

She snuffled his hand and shyly ate the popped kernels. Seeing her, was the one good aspect of recovering his magic.

He'd always left food and water out for her on the off chance that Arthur wasn't completely cracked, but...he kinda assumed Americat was the one nibbling at it.

When he commented on her, Texas admitted he'd been able to see her the whole time and just didn't say anything.

"I thought it'd creep you out that she sometimes sleeps in your closet."

Which yeah, that was a little creepy, but it at least explained some of the weird sounds he'd heard in the past. He'd totally thought it was Slenderman with a cold coming to get him.

She wasn't the only pet happy to have him back. Melville, his whale, had been especially playful and then there was Americat-speaking of whom was currently butting his face for a kiss.

"Meowwww."

"Yes, pretty kitty, I see you."

Americat was superly duper affectionate lately. Geez, had no one been loving on him? He wasn't usually this clingy. Ever since America had returned, Americat had been rather demanding. Every time he sat down he was pounced on.

Currently his Maine Coon cat was curled up on top of him, which meant he had at least 25 pounds of cat on his chest. Probably more, since Americat tended to eat his feelings.

The front door opened and shut.

"I'm back" a tired British voice announced.

Alfred frowned and hunkered down in his seat.

"I'm back!" was repeated a bit louder. There was the click clack of Arthur's dress shoes pacing about.

Alfred pursed his lips.

"Alfred? Poppet?"

The shoes were hurrying into the family room.

Quick! Feign sleep!

He heard Arthur's shoes come to a halt in front of him

There was a sigh and the bowl of popcorn was lifted from his lap. There was a pause and a huff as Arthur passed the sandwich in the kitchen. There were several clangs of the metal trashcan lid being opened and closed, the sound of hands being washed, and the general commotion that accompanied tea being made.

Alfred swore there was more tea in his house now, then there'd ever been while he was a colony. All of his uncles kept stopping by and they were all finicky about what tea they wanted.

Alfred made it darn clear that he wasn't purchasing a drop of their inky leaf water blends, which prompted them all to bring tea when they visited or mail order it while they were here.

It was ridiculous; there were three basketfuls of tea and more kept coming in.

It. Just. Wasn't. Right.

The only exemption he made was for Sweet Tea. And that was just for Texas, cuz he'd bellyache about it if Alfred denied him.

Still, tea must've had some magical effect on others because England had started humming. It also sounded like he was setting the table.

Alfred nodded off to the soothing white noise of domestic chores taking place.

He blearily registered someone removing his shoes and tucking a blanket around him. He opened his eyes when someone sat down beside him.

"Hello there?" Arthur murmured softly.

"Hi."

"Feeling better?" Arthur inquired.

Alfred nodded, "...a little."

"Good" Arthur fixed his attention on the television.

Alfred followed his gaze and ugh! News. The geezer had changed the channel and worse...he'd set the remote on his side of the couch. Alfred would have to reach over him to get it, if he wanted to change it to game shows or cartoons.

He sighed and reached for his soda; because even hours old warm Mountain Dew was still okay (unlike Dr. Pepper which lost its carbonation super fast and became nasty).

Arthur frowned at the soda can as he brought it up for a sip.

"How many have you had?" was the imperious question.

"Two" he lied. Three and a half. It'd be four once he polished this one off.

"You've only been home since one!" Arthur snagged it away. "Goodness Alfred, you've a much smaller body now and that much caffeine in your system could have disastrous effects on you. I wager it has a good deal to do with your sleep-"

"Okay, okay, yes. I understand."

Arthur stood up and left.

He returned a few moments later with a juicebox.

Alfred blinked at the drink. Arthur had already poked the straw through the hole and everything.

"There you go. It's cherry. You like cherry."

He did like cherry, but it was still kinda...patronizing.

"I bought quite a few last Saturday, so if you finish that one you can choose from grape and apple too."

"Thanks."

"Now, you can look over my notes toni..tomorrow or if you'd prefer I have a recording of the session as well. They're compiling a report which they'll fax to us by Friday. I stipulated that we don't want it over 200 pages, so they'll need to prioritize."

Alfred stared hard and gave a flat, "...thanks."

Us.

We.

WE.

Frickin' WE. There hadn't been a "we" or an "our" since the late 1770s. He was a sovereign nation!

Satisfied, Arthur settled back down and turned the volume up on the news station. Boredom dulled the edges of Al's indignation and turned the world hazy; Alfred floated in and out of consciousness.

Eventually he awoke to find himself nestled under Arthur's arm. Americat had moved off him and was on Arthur's other side enjoying an ear rub.

Arthur gave him a half-smile and a light squeeze.

It was hard to stay annoyed with him, when he was being nice…

And he was so warm too.

How he could stay warm in cold November, Alfred didn't know, but boy was he jealous.

He pressed in a bit further. Because he was cold. Not that he was lonely or upset or affection-starved or-

Arthur chuckled and tucked the blanket around him again.

Hawaii came home not long after with an armful of groceries, grumbling about traffic.

To his delight, Alfred noticed Hawaii had already starting collecting necessities for Thanksgiving dinner. That was a turkey under her arm! They might even need a second one-since it seemed that his uncles and Canada were coming by-they'd already texted him to ask what to bring. Tex had a strong feeling Spain would appear.

"Did you invite him?" Alfred asked.

"No. But I gotta feeling. I'll leave an upstairs window open on the day. Nobody answer the door if he knocks-that's too easy. Gotta make him work for it."

Yeah, they had a strange relationship. He hoped Tex would sweep the rain gutters at least. He didn't wanna have to call an ambulance on one of his favorite holidays.

Unfortunately, Alfred's efforts to help unload the car were commandeered by Texas himself, who'd returned from his own trade meeting in D.C., shivering, disgruntled, and snappy.

His tall, lean form was wet and his hat was drooping-must've started raining pretty hard between the bus stop and here.

"I do not like Public Transit, Al."

Alfred returned the huffy tone, "You wrecked your truck and you didn't want to leave early with England and me in his renta-"

"Wendigo wrecked my truck."

"Insurance doesn't cover wendigo."

"You're bein' impossible!"

"Paper covers rock!"

"AL!"

"Our rates went up!"

"Why can't I use your truck!?"

"Cuz it's mine!"

"YOU CAN'T DRIVE IT! YOU CAN'T SEE OVER THE DASH! YOU CAN'T REACH THE PEDALS! YOU CAN'T-CAN'T EVEN…."

It got so quiet, they could hear the oven beep as it reached its designated temperature.

"T-texas, can you-you help me in here please?" Hawaii called.

Alfred frowned, "I can hel-"

"No baby, it's alright. England, can you finish unloading th-"

"Of course."

"Well-well I can help you-" Alfred scurried after the Briton.

"No Sweet, it's raining and you don't have shoes on."

Alfred glanced around, but England had hidden his shoes somewhere good.

"I…"

He looked up, but his father had already left.

Banished to the couch...cuz he was useless.

He curled up with Americat and turned the channel to the Lingo game show and pretended that his vision wasn't so blurry with liquid woe that he could make adequate guesses. He also pretended not to notice how all three of his family members had congregated in the kitchen and were having a very quiet conversation.

Dammit, he'd fought for Freedom of Assembly. He just didn't expect it to be used against him.

Arthur cropped back up soon after.

"Alf-ohh..."

Yeah…

He was in the fetal position.

Arthur sat down near him, with his chin resting on his hand he commented, "This was just a hard day, wasn't it Sweet?"

Alfred bit his lip, and nodded miserably.

Arthur pulled him onto his lap.

"Are you still hurting from your tumble?"

"...'barrassed."

"Really? Why is that?"

Alfred sent him a dark look.

"Of all the embarrassing scandals involving your politicians, I think you're flattering yourself if you believe one little trip down the stairs is going to usurp the limelight. I'm certain by this time tomorrow, someone will have done something infinitely more humiliating. Why, with cellphones and alcohol at their disposal, I can guarantee it."

Alfred felt his lips twitch with a small smile.

Arthur turned out to be really good at Lingo...and Alfred took that as a sign that Arthur should be his Scrabble partner from now on because somebody had to help him defeat Alaska (who had a fifty year winning streak).

As delicious smells began wafting through the air, he found himself growing fidgety. He practically flew off the couch when Hawaii called them in.

He was delighted to see BBQ ribs and grilled shrimp salad! And pineapple spears! Cool! He wasn't sure what the occasion was, but it must've been good news or something.

At first he and Texas had a bit of a stand off as they both met up, plates in hand, in front of the tray of ribs.

And then Tex sighed, "It is your truck. I-"

"I..." Alfred scuffed a toe "I think we've got some trading cards we could sell. And there's some surplus furniture I can consign. I really need to go through some of my junk, I'm sure there's some stuff I-"

"I got stuff too. At the Ranch, there's plenty I could get rid of and not miss, I-"

"Just...buy American kay?"

"Tch. O' course."

Things settled down between them then and Alfred didn't mind having to sit on a Webster's Dictionary to see over the top of the table so much.

When Alfred noticed Texas was smirking more than usual, he looked for the source of his amusement: Arthur.

The Englishman was finding the meal a bit challenging, since he was trying to be prim and proper and eat it with his knife and fork. Except he was clearly unprepared for how much sauce they liked to serve their food with.

"Come on Arthur, get in there" Texas laughed "I thought you were medieval! Didn't cha eat with your fingers while watchin' jousting an' all that?"

"Yeah Arthur!" Alfred chirped, his mood improving tremendously with food. He really shouldn't have skipped lunch. As he licked sauce off his fingers, he added "Like A Knight's Tale or oooh Ironclad or, or, or maybe First Kn-"

Arthur frowned, eyebrows twitching, "Alfred...napkin."

"Hmm? Oh." Alfred had never been conservative when it came to ribs.

When Arthur continued to tut at the sight of him, Alfred began mopping at his mouth. Unfortunately, that wasn't enough in Arthur's book and after dinner he insisted on running him a bath.

Afterwards, as he tromped back to his room in his (now too large) robe he found a pair of footed pajamas waiting for him on his bed. Arthur kept buying him those because he didn't approve of Alfred going to bed in an oversized shirt.

"You'll catch your death of a cold," he tutted.

Even though temperature wasn't how colds worked, but...whatever. He'd long ago accepted that he wasn't gonna break his ol' man of some of his superstitions. He still freaked when Alfred left serving utensils in food and put it in the fridge. Even though his silverware hadn't had nickel or aluminum or copper in it for a long time.

Besides, the footies were toasty, if a bit embarrassing. He was currently sporting a pattern of racecars as he went back downstairs. He hoped Francis wasn't creeping around somewhere waiting to blackmail him with another embarrassing sleepwear photo.

Alfred withheld a sigh because it was Tex's turn to pick a movie, which meant it was a Western or a Frontier Film. As always. And usually Al LOVED that stuff, but The Homesman was depressing as hell.

They were already thirty minutes in, and he wasn't sure he could make it.

He rolled over on the cushy quilt he'd laid on the floor and hugged a pillow. When Alfred complained (as heckling was an agreed upon right of those who didn't get to choose the movie of the night) Texas just argued that life wasn't always full o' daisies, they would know.

Yeah, that time era was tough...but it wasn't always bleak. Al hadn't thought it was that bleak. When he said so, Tex gave him a look of disbelief.

"Are ya rememberin' the same era I am? The madness of isolation gettin' ta people, the blood feuds over claim jumpin', the lawlessness, the harsh short uncertain lives people led, faulty wagon wheels!?"

"...I guess. I remember the open trail and the stars and drinking coffee from tin cups and you telling scary stories by the fire and you playing your guitar and me fiddlin' and oxen and learning when to chance it and drive through a river."

Texas called him a hopeless Romantic and unpaused his movie.

Alfred sighed and kicked his feet. He was seriously considering building a fort with cushions and blankets to entertain himself since Tex seemed emotionally invested in his movie choice, when Arthur entered the room with something behind his back.

A 5000 piece puzzle! Heck yeah!

Damn.

It sure was hard to stay irritated with that guy when he kept getting him presents.

"Love puzzles!" Alfred exclaimed as he admired a dark green piece "Ya know, I remember when all of 'em were just world maps, do you remember that?"

"I remember" Arthur murmured softly.

"I got one for Christmas from Madison. He was all 'there are more countries in Europe besides Britain and France and Spain. Familiarize yourself-Ignorance will do you no favors.' It was so cool when they started making different pictures."

England sat down on the quilt, "...you still like puzzles, then?"

"Yeah, I usually don't have the time to do them though," Alfred sifted through the pieces. "Ya wanna build the border of it first?"

"Very well." England turned the cover of the box over to increase the difficulty. Which was good, because America liked challenges. All he knew was that the picture had a tree.

It was nice. Texas didn't have the patience for this sort of task and Momilani was more of an arts-n-crafts person than a gameboard and puzzle piecer. She couldn't figure out the rules of Clue to save her life.

He and Arthur had gotten the perimeter and a good amount of a corner done when Momilani's french tip painted toes came to a halt just a few inches away.

She clasped both hands together "Alfie, sweetheart. I need to ask you a special favor."

Alfred perked up. Finally! He looked over to see if Texas was interested (usually they teamed up on challenging tasks) but Texas seemed a little too focused on the rolling credits.

What kinda favor did she need? Did she wanna go see a movie this weekend or something? She never liked going to those alone and the hero always got dragged into going with her. Yeah, she bought him lots of snacks to munch on (he loved nachos) but that was still valuable time he'd never get back! He needed to find a way of getting Canada to be her chick flick movie buddy. They both liked those mushy, melodramatic things.

"Yeah?"

Momilani took in a deep breath, "Baby, I need a good night's sleep tonight. I've got an early flight tomorrow morning. There's something about a telescope on a sacred mountain and protesters. I don't know. I need to get there and see what's happening."

"Kay."

"So, so, so. I...I was wondering...Can you...can Arthur just rest with you tonight? That way if you start having a bad dream, he'll just be right there. And he...won't need to run to your room..."

"..."

"...told ya I shoulda been the one to ask" Tex mumbled, eyes set unblinkingly on the television screen.

"I'm sorry pumpkin," Hawaii murmured "it's just that...you seem to sleep better when he's nearby and-and-"

Alfred scowled, "What are you saying?"

Texas tossed the remote on the coffee table, "You're loud Al. I came in late last Thursday and I heard ya. I didn't know before, cuz ya know me: I can sleep through a tornado. But I came in late. Ya sounded like a goddamn banshee. Like someone was takin' your head off or something. Seriously, wow-I didn't even know you could reach those sort of decibels-"

"Ahem."

Alfred miserably faced his father.

"You've been having a combination of nightmares and night terrors." he gave Texas a harsh look "which is perfectly understandable given recent events."

"I thought...I was doing better. I haven't been waking up."

"You are Sweet. "

"Yeah," Texas added "Hawaii and Arthur said you've gone from twice every night to once every other night. And Arthur can just sweet talk ya down now and ya usually don't even wake up."

Arthur sent the Texan another hard look and his brother took that as his cue to shut up.

Alfred flushed, "Huh?"

"Please honey," Hawaii beseeched "Please?"

Aware of all the eyes on him, he bit his lip and reluctantly nodded.

Sometimes being the hero meant compromising your dignity, which meant an hour later, he was following more "Arthur Orders."

Though he'd admit, sipping at a cup of warm milk and listening to Vivaldi playing from Arthur's laptop wasn't too bad by any stretch of the imagination.

He set the empty cup down and laid back-snuggling into his pillow which Hop was already occupying.

Hop was an old toy (a cloth bunny Arthur had sewn for him waaaay back in the 1600s). He'd lost it on a vacation in England during the 1700s and always assumed it'd been taken home by or been thrown out by a servant.

It'd been a shock to find it on his bed waiting for him. Especially, since it meant England had kept it all these years.

He reached for one of Hop's ears and twisted it lightly.

Arthur had totally redone his room while he was captured. One of the only remaining things was his gun case. He was glad that the old man had left it alone, sometimes he used it as a nightlight after a particularly creepy movie and he always felt safer knowing it was just a few steps away. If he did have a violent burglar, Al would be ready.

That bit of familiarity was really important because apart from the gun case and the old crucifix hanging over his bed, the rest of his room had drastically changed.

His old reliable oak bed (which had lasted ages) was gone and he now had a fancy four poster with a mattress that was too soft (it was really hard leaving it in the morning and starting his day).

There were new blinds and long drapes covering his window.

There were plaques with well wishes on his wall from his Dad and his uncles. Arthur's and Reilley's were nice. The other two he didn't know cuz they weren't in English, so he had to hope that they weren't sneaky ways of telling him off.

He'd ask Arthur but...blatantly revealing your ignorance to the snobby scholar never tended to go well. He could probably Google it on his phone at some point, if he desperately needed to know.

His books had been moved from the floor onto a bookcase. There was also a desk now which Arthur had yet to relinquish.

Which meant there were tons of photos of all England's current as well as former colonies and territories. Not a single one of him either. Arthur hadn't kept that stupid one Alfred took of them a few years ago. Oh well, he hadn't really expected him to. It was still weird Hop had evaded the garbage can.

Arthur's laptop was open (he'd been checking his emails before he'd left the room). The email screen had been minimized giving him a rather embarrassing view of an infant serving as Arthur's background. There'd been a frame of it too a while back, but Arthur had taken the picture home to the U.K. There was something familiar about the kid. Had he met him at a World Conference or something? He wondered idly which territory that was. He'd somehow been spared the U.K. eyebrows. Still, it was rough that he was in his birthday suit.

Poor soul.

Ya know, Alfred had met plenty of parents and guardians that adored embarrassing photos but he didn't have Arthur pegged as that type. He was usually so stuffy, you'd think a naked baby would scandalize him.

Kinda odd.

Arthur came in at that moment, dressed in his robe and pajamas. He peered into Alfred's empty cup and nodded approvingly. He then opened a jar air freshener and set it on the night stand.

Feeling Alfred's eyes on him, he explained "Lavender vanilla. Lavender helps promote sleep and vanilla elevates mood."

Oh. Aromatherapy or something...yeah, guess it couldn't hurt at this point.

Arthur moved away and took off his robe-setting it on the chair by the desk. He smiled at his computer's background and lowered the volume of the music. He then set his slippers beside Alfred's.

After turning the bedside lamp on and the overhead light off, he sidled into bed with Alfred.

Just as Arthur started to lay on the pillow, he rose back up, "What the dev-Oh!"

Ack! Alfred had forgotten about Hop!

He immediately snatched the toy out of Arthur's hands and held it tightly to his chest.

Arthur blinked and then his face relaxed into a smile, "Sorry Hop."

Alfred flushed with embarrassment, but couldn't bring himself to throw the toy aside as the Code of Macho-Manliness demanded.

Arthur rested a hand on his head-fingers stroking thoughtfully through the strands.

"Arthur can just sweet talk ya down now and ya don't even wake up."

"Am I super loud? Like he said?"

"Hmm?" Arthur toyed with his fringe "Oh don't trouble yourself over-"

"Do you think I should soundproof the room?"

"Wot?"

"So I can stop bothering you guys and-"

"I do hope that's a joke. An absurd, unfunny, badly timed jo-"

"It's why Alaska left early, isn't it? Cuz I can't shut up at ni-"

"Alfred," his name was stressed emphatically as an arm slid under him and pulled him close. "It's normal. Considering these past six months, I am certain your sleep cycle has been very...chaotic to say the least. We just need to establish a routine for you to relax into. It'll help, I promise."

"And you're so certain because?"

"Air raids."

Alfred stared; It wasn't often Arthur volunteered weaknesses...ya know except as reasons for why he hated the Fourth of July.

"...Oh...and this stuff" he gestured to the air freshener and and the computer "works for you?"

"Yes."

"...I'm not the only nation who's had to deal with this sort of stuff…?"

"Of course not" Arthur replied a bit sharply.

"...okay" Alfred breathed a bit easier knowing that.

"Of course not" Arthur repeated more gently "I've had similar night terrors and nightmares, Reilley too. It happens Sweet. Of course, you're not the only-of-of course not."

"...I'm not the only sleep thief in the family. It's genetic..."

England's lips turned up in a begrudging smile, "Indeed and I think we can all forgive you...if you agree to stop drinking so much soda and aggravating your condition."

"Or...it could be something else. Could be a reaction to all the tea leaves in my house right now. Maybe there's like spores in the air and my patriotism makes me allergic-"

"I know you had more than two. I was there when Texas stocked the fridge this morning."

Alfred sighed.

"Naughty thing. Don't lie to me."

"Fine. We'll try your way. I'll cut back. But just so we can see if your experiment has grounds. It might not-it might be something totally unrelated: like too much BBC, or tweed sweaters, or someth-"

"Goodnight Alfred" He turned the lamp off.

"G'night."

Alfred immediately fell asleep. When he woke up at 2 am, it was with a petrifying fear. He'd had the most awful dream of running through a village. He'd barely escaped a cabin falling on him and all the people were running through the dirt roads screaming.

He thought he saw Good Neighbor John (a man who sometimes offered him fish when he noticed him in the woods and drew him a drink of water from the well if he came late at night when no one was watching). He thought John was hiding beneath an overturned cart...but there was only half of him left! From the waist down he was gone-and the blood! O the blood!

He couldn't swallow the sob and just like that Arthur's fatherly mode was activated; he turned over to face Alfred, his voice thick with lethargy, "Shhh. Shh. Now, Sweetling."

Another sob wracked through him as an aftershock of terror flooded his system.

He was held tightly to the man's chest and crooned to: "Daddy's here, Daddy's got you. You're safe my darlingheart."

Dammit, he couldn't help clinging to him like his life depended on it.

" Hush-a-by, don't you cry,

go to sleep, my little baby.

And when you wake,

you shall have a cake,

and all the pretty little ponies.

Paint and Bay,

Sorrel and Gray,

all the pretty little ponies.

So hush-a-by, don't you cry,

go to sleep, my little baby."

Yup, his life was officially over.

The reason Arthur kept treating him like a baby, was because he kept acting like one.

Read & Review Please : D