Disclaimer:
Based on Alejandro Roces' true story, "We Filipinos are Mild Drinkers"; references to the corrido "Ibong Adarna"; I don't own Hetalia Axis Powers; Juan dela Cruz is a product of all the Philippines-tans people on LJ and dA have been making so we barely own him…^_^;

Warnings:
OC!Nation-tan (Philippines), alcohol usage, stereotyping, a bit of cursing, drunk!America, OOC!America, historical inaccuracy, TOTALLY UNORIGINAL PLOT

Summary:
"We Filipinos are mild drinkers. We drink for only three good reasons. We drink when we are very happy. We drink when we are very sad. And we drink for any other reason." – "We Filipinos are Mild Drinkers" by Alejandro R. Roces

Author's Notes:
1. Alright…XD This kinda came off the top of my head when were discussing "We Filipinos are Mild Drinkers" for English class and by that time, I was already obsessed with Hetalia so…yeah.
2. I am so going to Hell for this. . *hides in the cave Bernardo Carpio stays in*
3. PARA SA MGA KABABAYAN KO!!! XD [lolz, I got this edited 4 times just to get the Filipino parts right.]
4. Alejandro Roces is officially my favorite local writer. XD
5. It kinda gets slightly America x Philippines at some point (_) but please don't kill me!
6. 'Kuya' is 'big brother' in Filipino; used in the same way as 'aniki'.

Aren't We?
By: IceFlake 77 & Clover Phantom (with help from Empurple)

The sun was quickly setting into the horizon as a boy who looked no older than fifteen tried to drag his carabao out of the mudhole he had taken it to an hour before.

"Sige na, Pedro, uwi na tayo! Dumidilim na…" [Come on, Pedro, let's go home! It's getting dark…] He told the animal, which just looked at him quizzically and made a move to lie back down again. "Pedro! Tayo na!" [Stand up already!] He ordered, stomping his bare foot on the ground, which was still warm from being bathed in the hot tropical sun the whole day long.

"Well, I guess handling that thing isn't as easy as I first thought it was…" A voice behind him commented, the accent in the tone suggesting that he wasn't a local.

True enough, when Juan looked back, he found that the source was a tall, pale-skinned, blue-eyed, bespectacled blond, who was leaning casually against a tree, his hands in his pants' pockets due to the absence of his beloved brown jacket, as he watched the boy interact with the mammal.

"Hello, kuya," Juan addressed Alfred with the same title he used on the other countries that were older than him. "What brings you to our barrio today?" He looked up and corrected himself, "Eh…this evening."

"Your English is a bit off," Alfred said as he straightened up and approached the darker of the two of them. "You should've said 'my' instead of 'our'."

"Huh?" He gestured toward the carabao that still stubbornly refused to get out of the mud. "How about Pedro? He also belongs to this barrio…"

At that, the American cocked an eyebrow up and stared at him as if he were crazy. "Uh…right." He lifted his right hand to his forehead wiped the beads of sweat that were accumulating there with the back of his palm. He then muttered something about it being too hot for people to actually be comfortable.

"Kuya, you seem sad today," Juan spoke up, abandoning his efforts at trying to get Pedro to cooperate in order to go up and pat the taller man's shoulder. "Did anything happen?"

Alfred contemplated if he should tell him what happened or not then quickly decided to give a half-truth to spare the boy from any unnecessary guilt & worry. "Let's just say that Kiku and I got into a fight earlier…"

"Oh...?" The boy's brown eyes shone with utmost curiosity but he suppressed the urge to ask what caused the squabble.

A few moments of awkward silence went by, except for the tell-tale sounds of Pedro rolling over in the mud, and when it was obvious that the older of the two wasn't going to speak up any time soon, Juan smiled and piped up, "Well, I know just the thing that'll cheer you up! But first…" He trailed off as he turned and told his pet, "Pedro! Kung hindi ka tatayo, iiwanan kita dito!" [Pedro! If you won't stand up, I'll leave you here!]

The creature, in turn, just opened its mouth in a wide yawn, revealing the disgusting recesses of its mouth as a moth flew out of it, and lay its head down, staring at its owner dumbly.

"Hay nako…" Juan sighed and scratched the back of his head as he took off the salakot that had adorned it previously. After placing it back on, he faced the blond and said, "Well, let's go."

Alfred blinked and furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "You're going to leave your…uh…"

"Carabao."

"…carabao here?"

"No need to worry about him; he knows how to take care of himself and he knows who owns him…Besides, it's not that easy to steal a 2,000-pound animal, and an extremely lazy one at that…" Juan shrugged. "I'll just come back for him later." He went forward and grabbed the other's wrist then proceeded to drag him down the dirt path they were standing on that would inevitably lead to a small wooden hut which served as the brunet's home. "Right now, you need a good drink to clear your mind."

"What do you plan on giving me anyway?" Alfred used his free hand to push his glasses, which were sliding down the bridge of his nose, up. "I don't see any bars or anything around…"

"It's true that my country doesn't have that many bars but that's because Filipinos are characteristically known to be mild drinkers; we don't need alcohol that much. But when we do, we don't drink what you Westerners drink."

"What do you drink then?"

"We drink lambanog."

"La…lambanog?" He repeated with a little difficulty, "What does that taste like?"

"You will know." They stopped in front of a house that resembled all the others nearby where Juan's stood but they didn't go in just yet. Going up to the well next to the structure that was surely not going to hold up against a fire if ever it were confronted with one, the short, tan boy rolled up his scarlet capri pants, despite knowing that it wouldn't make a difference even if he didn't, and washed the dirt and mud from his feet and shins. After washing his hands and dropping the bucket back down rather unceremoniously, he went to the other side of the road, to where a calamansi tree stood and picked a few pieces.

Upon his return, the 19-year-old pointed to the round fruits in his hand and asked, "What're those?"

"These?" He held one up. "These are calamansi. They're citrusy and sour…" He tried to recall the word Americans used for it.

"You mean like lemons?"

"Yes," he remembered now, "Yes, you could say that these are Philippine lemons. They'll be our…our…" He trailed off then inquired directly, "What do you call those things that you eat after taking a hard drink to make the flavor less intense…?"

"…Chasers?" He replied, not sure if that was what he meant.

"Well, whatever you call them, that's what they are." Smiling, the boy ascended up the bamboo ladder that led up to his house. Alfred followed close behind.

When they got inside, the blond stopped abruptly at the entrance, temporarily blinded by the darkness that encircled him, since evening had just set, while Juan calmly walked over to the corner of the room, shuffled around with something then returned with a crudely made, but neatly improvised candle.

"Please sit down," he said, setting the coconut shell, from which the soft light was coming from, onto the floor.

Blue eyes scanned the empty room for a chair he might've missed. When none came into their line of vision, the owner queried slowly, "…Where?"

"On the floor, of course!" Juan replied as if it were obvious and started to laugh, before disappearing into a separate room, which appeared to be the kitchen.

Alfred sat down on the floor as he was told to and looked around at the four wooden walls that surrounded him. 'Such a simple lifestyle…' He observed, 'Everything here is made simply for convenience…and comfort, if this is how they like it.'

"I'm back," the voice snapped the American back to reality as the person talking came forward with a foot-high tray that held four polished coconut shells and a long bamboo tube of…something in his hands. He sat across him and set the tray down, continuing, "You know…lambanog actually serves as more than just a drink for us Filipinos. Other than being that, it is used to counter the poison from snake bites, an insecticide, and to tan carabao hide."

At the last statement, the Westerner stuttered, "E-Excuse me…?"

"It can be used to tan carabao hide; why?" Juan said as if it weren't strange for an alcoholic beverage to be used that way.

And it probably wasn't for him.

Alfred sighed and thought, 'Geez, this should tell me how it supposedly tastes like now…' as he just watched the boy do what he was doing.

"Here," he handed one of the coconut shells filled with a white liquid to him, which he had to accept in return, then started to talk about how it was made. "Lambanog is actually made by extracting the sap of the coconut tree then mixing it with pulverized mangrove bark in order to prevent it from spoiling. In other parts of the Philippines, they call this drink 'tuba'. Worldwide, it's known as palm wine or coconut wine."

"I see…" He barely listened as he glanced at his glistening reflection in the drink, oblivious to what the other male was doing until he bothered to look up and immediately saw Juan pour a little of the drink onto the floor, watching it seep through the cracks. "…What are you doing?" He furrowed his eyebrows at the strange action. "That was kind of a waste of good liquor, don't you think?" He wasn't sure if it was good yet but…

"When drinking lambanog, it is customary that the host pours a little onto the ground. It shows that we appreciate what the earth has given to us so we must return at least a little of what we have taken from it." He explained with ease.

Alfred simply stared at him.

He raised the coconut shell slightly. "To the end of the war,"

"To the end of the war," he repeated and they clacked their drinks together.

Juan, without the slightest bit of hesitation, placed the container to his lips and gulped all of it down. Automatically, he grabbed a slice of calamansi from the short table, dipped it in coarse salt that sat in another bowl and squirted the juice into his mouth. Shivering, he shook his head quickly. "Ah…" he rasped after swallowing.

Alfred cringed slightly at that but quickly forced himself to appear uncaring about it as expectant eyes landed on him. He looked down at the coconut shell in his hands, at the liquid it held, more specifically, and thought, 'Well, how bad can it be?' before drinking the whole thing in one fell swoop, just like what the boy did.

It tasted horrible.

The blond resisted the urge to just spit the drink out and forced himself to swallow it. It must've showed on his face how much he disliked the taste because Juan soon reassured him, "Don't worry, it takes a little getting used to but after a while, it goes down smoothly…" He looked straight up and saw the mirth dancing in the Filipino's eyes.

"Chaser," was all Alfred could manage saying, his voice scratchy and hoarse.

The brunet gave him a slice of the citrus fruit, which he had taken the liberty of dipping in salt already, and he squeezed the juice of it into his mouth, cringing at the sourness. After his taste buds had settled down, Alfred quietly cursed under his breath, and let the shell drop onto the floor.

Hot. The world around him started feeling extremely, ridiculously hot. His body was on fire; he started sweating profusely (compared to earlier); and he suddenly found it very hard to breathe. Growing jealous at how Juan was shirtless and didn't seem so bothered by the warmth, the thought of taking off his own crossed his mind but he promptly decided against it.

"Kuya, are you okay?" Juan asked him sincerely, leaning forward to pat the other man's back a little.

"I'm fine."

"I know!" He exclaimed like a little child, holding the bamboo tube up, "You just need another drink!" With that, he tipped the tube downwards and filled his and Alfred's cups once again.

"To America," the host enthusiastically raised his shell.

"To America," the blond had to smile at that. The kid knew how to be a good host, except for the fact that he wasn't noticing that his guest wasn't particularly enjoying what they were doing.

They drank this one simultaneously.

Once again, liquid heat travelled down his esophagus and to his stomach, where he could practically feel it pool at. Alfred coughed a little but overall, it wasn't as bad as the first shot. 'He's right; it just takes a little getting used to…'

He spoke too soon. The temperature in the hut rose again for him; it felt like a furnace already. Without thinking, the American peeled off his sweat-drenched white shirt and threw it to the side, not caring that much on where it landed. He wanted to badly to place his glasses somewhere where he knew he couldn't break them but alas, he'd be half-blind if he did, so they stayed on his face.

Juan, who seemed as level-headed as he had been even before they had started, offered, "How about another drink? You still seem pretty tense."

"Nah, 'm pretty sure 'm okay…" He tried to refuse, his words slurring into each other, as his vision swam; the boy in front of him looked as if he were split into two. It took him a lot of willpower not to just tell the kid, straight out, that his coconut wine sucked. Shuddering, he ran a hand through his slightly wet hair which had gotten damp with his sweat.

"Aw, but you came all the way here just to get two shots?" Juan pouted; his hands were already on the bamboo tube once again.

Brown met blue and the bespectacled man sighed after a few moments and grumbled, "Well, 'kay…I guess one more…" He placed a hand on the floor to prevent himself from falling over since he seemed to be having an inexplicably hard time balancing, even if he was just sitting.

"Okay!" He smiled and refilled both containers. "To the Philippines!" He brought his up.

"To the…Philippines…" He answered weakly as he brought the cup to his lips with shaking hands and drank.

And it was finished; he let himself be dragged more and more into the dark world of intoxication.

The response of his body was rather frightening. Without any prior warning, Alfred suddenly flung his empty coconut shell to one of the walls of the small house then started laughing like a madman.

Juan, on the other hand, expected this to come; after all, he had seen the scenario numerous times before when he had been drinking with friends for it to have become rather routine already. Just let the drunk person talk to their heart's content, he had been told many times, or at least until they pass out.

"Y'know, Juaaaaan," Alfred dragged out, his way of talking now resembling Berwald's; his head lolled around on his shoulders as he leaned backward on his elbows, "I'm so glad I bought ya from Antonio before…It was real worth th' money, y'know!"

"Mhm…" A tendril of anger spiked up in Juan's chest at the reminder that he was just bought from his former colonizer just to become the subject of another. 'He's drunk, he doesn't know what he's talking about…He's drunk, he doesn't know what he's talking about…' he repeated in his head as a mantra as he subconsciously fisted his hands on his lap.

"An' after that, Kiku tried takin' ya away but 'course, me, bein' America an' all that, I couldn't jus' let that happen, riiiiiight?" He accompanied his rather twisted and horribly-narrated epic with unnecessarily tedious hand movements. "Yeah, it's true tha' he might've beaten me first an' made ya suffer an' all tha' but I showed him, didn't I? Yeah, I showed him th' true American spirit! Never mess around with th' hero, right, Juaaaaaaan?"

"Of course…" he just agreed. It was sort of true. America had saved the Philippines from the tyranny and cruelty of the Japanese troops that had invaded the country at the start of World War II.

"Hey, Juaaaaaaan, I've been thinkin'…" Juan made it a point to listen to every single word Alfred was saying, even if they were just drunken ramblings.

"Yes, what is it?" He went closer to hear the older man's words better.

"You're old enough t' take care of yerself, riiiiiiight? I mean, Antonio kinda raised ya an' I basically just became yer babysitter…An' Kiku…" The blond drew his eyebrows together as he frowned. "Well, Kiku doesn't count. Anywho, I was thinkin'…what d' ya think 'bout becomin' an independent country?"

He blinked multiple times, cleaned his ears using his pinkies and slapped himself softly just to make sure he wasn't mishearing things. "E…Excuse me?"

"Ya heard me…I said, what d' ya think 'bout becomin' an independent country?" His tone of voice betrayed that he was quickly becoming annoyed.

'This has to be a lie…' Juan thought frantically as his mind was racing to keep up with all the possibilities that he had envisioned for his country ever since he thought he had been liberated from Spain. 'This has to be a lie, it's got to be…He's drunk and he doesn't know half of what he's saying. It's got to be a lie; it's just got to be!' He was about to answer when Alfred interrupted him.

"I just kinda figured tha'…hey! I used t' be a colony an' I didn't really like it tha' much…Sure, I could just keep ya an' everything but yer days of bein' a misbehaved little kid are over, aren't 'ey?"

"But I…" 'A lie; it's got to be a lie…A big preposterous lie that he probably won't remember tomorrow…'

"Juan." He sat up once again and leaned nearer to Juan, their noses almost touching, and he stared straight into apprehensive coffee-colored eyes.

Juan's voice died in his throat and all his doubts were blown away. Beneath all the drunkenness, he could see that Alfred was being serious about this matter. Lost in those cerulean orbs, he couldn't bring himself to look away, despite the awkward distance between them. He could smell the scent of the coconut wine they had just drunk, along with a tinge of calamansi, fresh on the other man's heavy breaths as he continued to speak.

"I know ya'd make a great country, no matter what the others say. I believe in you."

"Kuya…" Was all he was able to get out before the American suddenly fell forward, pressing his face against the smaller boy's shoulder. "Kuya?!"

The only response he got in return was the soft snores of his colonizer.

Juan blinked once, twice, before his gaze softened on the blond head that was leaning against him. Without considering anything, he enveloped the other's body in a hug.

"Salamat po, kuya…" He whispered, smiling.

Author's Notes:
;) IceFlake 77 here. This was originally a one-shot but Clover said that it was too long so...yeah. xD Two chappies for you. :D

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