Chapter 9

Alfred's favorite thing about the flag, though he didn't know if Arthur had noticed, was that its colors were specific shades of cream, dark red, and dark blue. It wasn't just an American flag he had had made; it was a federal flag. He had even let his boss know he was having it made, though he hadn't said why or what it was for. In his mind, it was as legally binding as his signature on a document.

Alfred crashed at Arthur's house for the next few days, because he frankly didn't care what his boss wanted right then. Though Arthur chided him for it, he didn't really care either. He did remember to ask his PM to call Alfred's boss and let him know that his country was going to be absent for a few days, though.

(Unbeknownst to him and Alfred, their bosses had quite a little chat on the phone. Arthur's boss expressed his strong suspicions about what had happened, and though Alfred's boss told him he had to be wrong, he secretly agreed with him. They mused about what they were going to do if their countries were actually in a romantic relationship while somehow managing not to mention the subject directly at all.

For some reason, neither of them thought to talk to the Queen.)

Alfred finally left for the US only after he had extracted a promise that Arthur would visit him in three days.

Arthur showed up in under two.

Alfred bounded down the stairs to the central foyer of the White House before Arthur was even all the way through the door. "Artie!" he said, grinning from ear to ear. His President was already there and prepared to greet the country with a smile. The door closed behind Arthur, and Alfred noticed that Arthur wasn't looking at him or his President. He was looking at the box his aide was holding out to him. He took off the lid, and Arthur carefully pulled something out of it. Alfred stopped after taking only a few steps towards him. Something sat carefully in Arthur's hands that was red and blue with a thin sliver of white. Arthur strode evenly towards Alfred and, without a word, held out the Union Jack.

Alfred's smile was gone. He stared at the folded flag. "You didn't have to–" he started slowly.

"I did," Arthur said crisply. Then, more quietly: "I would have given it to you earlier, but I had to have it made."

Alfred swallowed. He took the flag carefully and stared at it for a moment. He looked up at Arthur, entirely serious. "Does this mean . . . ?"

Arthur blushed and looked away, but he looked more nervous than embarrassed. "It can't be legally binding without documentation," he said gruffly. "Just . . . if you ever don't want it, give it back. I'll understand."

Alfred's throat worked because he wanted to say that he would never, ever even think of such a thing, but he wasn't sure he could speak right then. Alfred looked down at the flag in his hands. For a moment, he looked as though he might cry.

His President cleared his throat. "Can I ask what's going on?"

Alfred's gaze came back up to Arthur's eyes and his smile returned. He looked at his President and grinned. "Arthur and I just – well –" He looked back at Arthur and Arthur could see that there were tears in his eyes. Arthur's face softened and before he knew it, Alfred had taken a step forward and wrapped him in his arms. Alfred laughed into his hair. Arthur couldn't help a smile as he settled his arms around Alfred's waist. After a moment, Alfred pulled away and took one of Arthur's hands, the other still grasping the flag. "Hey, you're really smiling!" Alfred said, his own smile wider than any Arthur had ever seen. "I finally made you get rid of that grouchy old man face, huh?"

Arthur's smile turned wry. "If you insist on taking credit for it in such a flattering manner."

Alfred grinned and looked at the flag in his hands. "Where should I put it? Where did you put yours?"

"I haven't decided yet," Arthur said. He had nearly brought it with him, despite its size, but at the last minute had decided that he didn't need to be a sentimental fool anymore. He didn't need to carry around reminders of Alfred, because he had the real thing.

Alfred looked around them. "There's probably space here in the foyer."

"Don't scare off the other dignitaries."

Alfred laughed. "Like they don't know." His smile quickly turned uncertain. "I mean, not about this. I didn't tell them. Just that we're, you know . . ."

They were both awkwardly silent for a moment and blushed slightly. "The Special Relationship?" the President hazarded.

"Yes," they said in unison.

"Look, I don't know what's going on," the President said with a grin, because okay, the Prime Minister had definitely been right (not that he was about to tell him that), "but Arthur, how would you like to stay for dinner?"

"That would be lovely," Arthur said gratefully, and he and Alfred shared a long, lingering smile.

Even during dinner, it was clear that reality was beginning to set in. Though the President did his best to direct the conversation in a personal direction for Arthur's sake, it inevitably came back to politics. After dinner, Arthur and Alfred sat on a couch in one of the less formal sitting rooms while Alfred's President spent some rare time with his family. The two of them were quiet for a moment, and they could hear laughter from the part of the house where the President was telling his wife about his day. It had been a long day, and Arthur rested his head gently on Alfred's shoulder. Though Arthur could have blamed his fatigue on a long day of travel, they were both still in recession. Their personal happiness did little to ease the stress on their economies. After a moment, Alfred put an arm around his shoulders and ran his fingers through Arthur's hair.

Arthur sighed and closed his eyes. "Do you worry it will matter, that this isn't official?" he finally asked. He knew he shouldn't care, but after centuries of experience with the kinds of unofficial alliances countries made, he couldn't quite crush the fear that their relationship wouldn't be taken seriously. He didn't want to have to contemplate a scenario where he and Alfred would be forced to damage their relationship because of what their bosses wanted – or worse, that the stress of trying to separate politics from their personal lives would drive them apart altogether.

"What do you mean?" Alfred asked curiously.

Arthur sighed again, less happily this time. "It's not just about the politics. I know my people haven't had a say in this, and yours certainly haven't. I wish there was a way to take a poll of all our people, and just ask them if they approved of us."

"I don't know, I don't think it's that difficult to tell," Alfred said. Arthur looked at him, clearly inviting him to elaborate, so he did. "I don't know about your guys, but the Queen seems pretty happy about it, so that's something, right? Plus, I saw someone walk by with an American flag shirt on the other day when I was at your place, and they didn't feel like one of my citizens, so that has to mean something." He shrugged. "As for my people, they don't really know it, but they're head over heels for you." He grinned.

Arthur pulled his head off Alfred's shoulder and raised an eyebrow. "And how's that?"

"See, most of my people have this idea that you Brits are basically just Americans who talk funny. They think your accent is cute and stuff, but they don't really know why." Arthur blushed and muttered something under his breath. "Deep down, though, they know that you guys are completely different from us. You have this culture that is totally different from ours and this history that goes back forever." Alfred grinned. "And that's how I know that I'm not making this up." Alfred took Arthur's hands and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. "They love you to bits, just like I do."

"That's not enough of a reason," Arthur said, his face a flaming red. "I hardly think that all of them–"

Alfred laughed, the kind that jumpstarted Arthur's heart (which may or may not have been a good thing). "My people are all over the place on a lot of stuff, Artie, but there's not a single one of them who completely hates you. And trust me, that's saying a lot."

Arthur had to smile at that. He understood very well how divisive politics were. "How very kind of you to say so," he said dryly as he looked away, but he knew from the way Alfred laughed that he had noticed Arthur's tone.

Maybe they would be alright.

A few months later, Arthur leaned back in his chair while he listened to the phone ring and waited for Alfred to pick up. His gaze drifted to the American flag hung up on his wall. Flags were meant to be flown, of course, but here it was out of the sun and rain, and still on display as it should be. It took up a good part of the wall, and it certainly gave his officials quite a shock when they paid him personal visits in his study. Arthur smiled slightly at the memory of the first one who had suggested he take it down, or at least put up a Union Jack to balance it out.

He wasn't that self-centered.

"Hello?"

Arthur's smile turned warm. "Hello, Alfred."

"Artie! What's up?"

"I wanted to check about plans for when the Prime Minister and I visit this week."

"Sure! We've got space in the White House for the PM, and I was thinking that you and I–"

"I was going to book rooms at a hotel."

Arthur didn't need to be able to see Alfred's face to know that the silence on the other end of the line was accompanied by an expression of deep disappointment. "What? But – Arthur. There's tons of space at my place!"

"This is supposed to be a formal visit," Arthur reminded him.

"Yeah, for our bosses! I hardly get to see you."

Arthur smiled slightly. "I miss you too, love," he said softly, and continued before Alfred could get flustered. "I'm not being cruel. I just think it's best if we keep up appearances."

There was a short silence. "Oh. Oh," said Alfred, and Arthur could practically hear his grin over the phone. "Gottchya. I'll see you in a few days?"

"Tuesday," Arthur confirmed. From there, as these supposed business calls often did lately, the conversation turned more personal and Alfred began to chatter happily about his day. If their bosses had noticed that Arthur and Alfred's conversations and personal visits had gotten a lot longer and more frequent lately, they hadn't said anything to either of them about it. Even the officials not quite so high up in their governments had doubtless noticed that the two countries were in better moods than they had been in years. No one was complaining.

After Arthur finally hung up the phone, he only wasted a few minutes to gaze into the distance with a smile before he left his desk. He had packing to do.

As promised, Arthur and his boss arrived safely on Tuesday. It had been a while since the Prime Minister had seen Alfred, and they talked casually for a moment when he and Arthur stopped by at the White House. As the PM and Arthur were leaving for the hotel with the assurance that they would see Alfred again tomorrow for the meeting, he privately thought that it had gone quite well. Alfred really was a nice chap.

Wednesday morning, the Prime Minister knocked on the door to Arthur's room with the expectation that Arthur would be awake, dressed, and prepared to discuss the specifics of the topics of that day's meeting. He was, in fact, correct on all accounts, but utterly unprepared for what greeted him.

"Howdy," Alfred said with a grin. "Looking for Artie?"

The Prime Minister stared. Alfred was currently wearing nothing but a pair of briefs with the Union Jack printed on them.

The Union Jack.

Arthur's flag.

The Prime Minister opened his mouth and then closed it. "Perhaps it would be better if I came back later?" he tried.

"Nah, he's up. Hey Artie, it's your boss." Alfred left the door open and walked back into the hotel room. The Prime Minister followed hesitantly and was relieved to find Arthur fully dressed and sitting by the window, reading the newspaper.

"Oh, hello," Arthur said mildly to his boss. "Alfred, put some clothes on, would you?"

"Yeah, I'm gonna go take a shower, actually." Alfred gathered up some clothes that were scattered on the floor and sauntered over to the attached bathroom.

"Good idea," Arthur said without, the Prime Minister noted, the slightest hint of sarcasm.

Dear God. His country had, so to speak, gotten laid.

"Sorry about that," Arthur said as he folded up the newspaper. "Have a seat. I take it you want to discuss the meeting?"

"Er, yes," the Prime Minister said, and took the offered chair. Well, he decided, if Arthur wasn't going to mention the mostly-naked man in his room, he wouldn't either.

Speaking of, though, Alfred's President owed him quite a few quid.

Living for a very long time did not mean that time lost its meaning for countries. After a while, it took on a whole new significance. Time meant the fall of empires and the birth of new ones, battles and bloodshed for things worth fighting for. The little things, too, were important. Every piece of their history was engraved on their hearts, and though they might not remember everything clearly, they never truly forgot. So a single kiss placed on Arthur's lips just before he fell asleep, or a brush of hands as two aging countries walked down a street looking no different than their citizens, were just as valuable as the things that changed the fates of countries forever.

Arthur had fallen asleep some time ago, and he had leaned far enough to the side that he was resting on Alfred's shoulder. Alfred had put an arm around his shoulder and was just sitting, enjoying the moment.

"Would you like something to drink, sir?"

Alfred looked up at the airline stewardess and smiled. "Some sprite for me, and just water for my friend for when he wakes up."

She nodded and poured out the drinks. Alfred flipped the tray down in front of him and took them one after the other. She moved on to the next row, and Arthur moved a little closer to Alfred but didn't wake up.

Three thousand miles. Alfred knew that somewhere beneath them right now was the Atlantic, rolling in endless waves – no man's land, something that belonged to no country. It was a long flight, and Alfred had grown used to dreading it, but with Arthur by his side, it didn't matter any more. It didn't matter where he was coming from or going to, as long as they were together.

Someone spoke too loudly a few seats over and Arthur woke up. Alfred watched him rouse with a smile. Arthur saw the way he was looking at him and frowned, blinking. "What is it?"

"I love you so much," Alfred said, and Arthur's frown disappeared.

Arthur smiled slightly and pressed a kiss to Alfred's forehead. "I love you too," he said softly.

And I always will.

Author's note: Thank you all very much for sticking with this story. I have enjoyed writing it and am very fond of it, so I'm very happy if you have enjoyed it too. :) I am sorry to see it end.

If you aren't already aware, I have a second account here called SouvenirsFamiliers. I post Thor/Loki and Charles/Erik fics there, so if those interest you, check it out. It is currently more active than this account, though this will certainly not be the last USUK fic I post. :) You can also find me on Tumblr, where I am unnecessaryligatures. (Links to both are in my profile.)

Thank you all very much for your kind comments and for reading! I really appreciate it. You guys make me really love being a part of this fandom.