Old Times [America]

Arthur could be impatient at times. It could only be expected of a man who dealt with wankers on almost a daily bases. Even his so called friends spouted utter nonsense as if it were considered fact. He often thought if he did not represent a nation, he would have died from an aneurysm at an early age. His lip pouted out at the excuse, not buying it for one moment. Alfred often showed up on his doorstep with a prepared excuse, starting when he barely reached his knees.

Alfred, why are covered in mud?! Alfred, I had dinner on the table a bloody hour ago. Where have you been?! Alfred, is that…is that a dead bird! Drop that this instant!

Each led to an outrageous explanation to the point that Arthur did not know if he was telling the truth or full of shit. The boy certainly knew how to tell a tale, and never let out any details. Except as he grew, the explanation stopped.

Where have you been?! Do you know what time it is? He remembered yelling at him when he returned home. He had expected a story, a tale of adventure, and likely a random old man with beans for sale. In its place, he was greeted with a cold glare, biting remark, and the sound of him going to his room and slamming the door. Hindsight is twenty-twenty for Arthur should have seen the signs and frustrations long before he had been handed the declaration. He shook his head, chasing those old thoughts away.  A time long ago, and now, Alfred could be considered an adult…if he didn’t act like a child half the time.

“Traffic, you say?” he huffed and reached up, fixing his tie, “For someone who had been relaxing in a shuttle, you look like you have gone on 5k run.” He smoothed it down his chest, and then stepped to the side, waving his hand for him to get his arse inside. He made no other note to his tardiness. The boy knew he’d been caught. He would buy him another watch for Christmas and glue to make certain it never leaves the boy’s wrist.

Flying Mint Bunny flew around Alfred. “Ohh! Look how much he’s grown!” the bunny went to Alfred’s arm and squeezed his muscle, “He’s gotten very strong, Arthur.”

Arthur face flushed with red as the bunny kept poking at Alfred’s arm muscle. “That is completely rude!” he snapped, and whacked Flying Mint Bunny with the back of his hand, accidentally swatting Alfred’s arm in the process, “Go off! Go off and play, I have a guest.”

Flying Mint Bunny whined, “You’re no fun, Arthur.”

The bunny then flew off, and Arthur huffed, staring back at Alfred. “I apologize for that. Would you like some tea? I have a pot on the stove,” he stated and headed to the kitchen.

As he walked he responded to his previous question. “The war…the war continues,” he sighed, the last thing he wished to discuss was the war though he knew they would need to. He did not wish for Alfred to know about the small cold he felt coming on from the beginning of the recession, or the fact that they lost five feet on the front yesterday, or the fact that their allies were dropping into neutrality like flies. He did not like Alfred to worry. He knew technically he could be considered the current leader per se of the UA, but Arthur hoped to take most of the burden from him.

Yet it brought him to a tougher topic of discussion, which he still had yet to decide if he would inform him or not. The topic of China…Alfred was still sour over the whole affair with Japan, but letting personal grudges interfere with strategies could lead them to destruction. He had a much better plan to handle China…he only hoped Alfred would accept it, and not throw a fit.

Or...he could avoid it all together and not tell him at all.

The tea kettle whistled and he went over to pour himself a cup.

Arthur had not even noticed Alfred’s confusion, nor did he ever notice anyone’s confusion to his other friends. He always assumed everyone could see them, and yet had been proven otherwise. Flying Mint Bunny was as real as the wood on his floor that held him up. Far more real than any alien with a filthy mouth. He bloody hated that alien. He never could understand how Alfred could easily entertain a being from a different part of a universe, but he always forgot to feed the unicorn he had given him as a gift.

He walked to the kitchen, rolling his eyes with a huff. “I swear, you can hold a grudge worse than a bitter ex-wife,” he waved his hand in the air as if dismissing the entire question. However, he went to one of his cabinet and pulled out a bag of coffee beans, slightly dusty from lack of use. “I have coffee beans. I’m afraid I can’t be of much more help,” he answered and placed the bag in Alfred’s hand, expecting him to know what to do with it. He did not enjoy the taste of coffee. It was too bitter. He went to the stove and took the pot of water, pouring it into a cup with a tea bag.

He nodded as he listened to Alfred speak of the war, though his words gave him no comfort. He would stand by Alfred until the end, even if the end were as bleak as Alfred’s eyes seemed to be suggesting. He only wished the boy had a clearer mind. Sometimes it felt as if Alfred led them into battle on whims and emotions, and war cannot be won by such flimsy values. It lacked commitment and outline. He’d seen such failures with Vietnam and the Middle East, and each he battled with him, day in and day out even as there was no hope of success, but it could not be the same with this war.  This war held far too much importance.  Alfred had to stay cool and collected….which brought him to one of the reasons he wished to speak with him.

“Alfred, I hope you’re not planning on doing something foolish with China,” he asked flat out as he leaned against his kitchen counter.