You Can't Catch Me, I'm the Awesome America!
Rating: T for safety~!
Warnings: slash, OOCness, profanity, bits of violence, MAJOR alcohol use, etc.
Pairings: USUK, GerIta, GiriPan, PoLiet, RoChu, and yada.
Note: I REALLY don't know how this came to be…I mean, I was reading The Gingerbread Man with my sibling…and yeah. What's the point/plot of this fic? Nothing, whatsoever, really. I just HAD the urge to write something, so on this thing? You could tell I winged it. Oh well! Enjoy the stupidity!
Happy Birthday, Alfred! It's the 4th of July! XD
Disclaimer: I do NOT own Hetalia. Wish I did, but that ain't just possible.
It was the third of July, the day before the Declaration of Independence day, the day that was known to be America's (a.k.a. Alfred F. Jones) birthday.
Said blonde nation was holding a big party and had just received the most awesome gift ever.
"Holy crap, thanks Toris!" Alfred exclaimed, "You-you are the bomb, dude!"
Lithuania laughed, patting the superpower on the back. "It's your birthday, Alfred," the Baltic State said, smiling. "So this is nothing. Though, I'm glad you like it so. Why don't you try it on?"
America grinned down at the red-white-blue flag colored roller skates, hands already unlacing the strings. "Ya don't need to tell me twice!"
Slipping the skates on and standing, the nation gave a little spin without a hitch, a complete natural already.
"This is so awesome!" America whooped, rolling about and around Lithuania. "Thanks, dude!"
Before Toris could reply, a…pink…blur zoomed and latched itself on the brown-haired country, a valley girl accent exuding from said pink blur in a slurring way, "Like, Liet, this party is totaaallly awesome!"
"Poland…" Lithuania scolded gently, trying his best to pry the cross-dressing male off his arm without success. "What did I tell you about moving too quickly on the alcohol?"
Feliks blinked hazily, obviously drunk off his ass as his fingers twiddled with his neon pink tank top and…mini skirt. Pink, also, by the way.
Alfred cringed and felt a little piece of his soul die at the eye-pain inducing outfit. Lord.
"But Lieeeetttt," Poland whined childishly, grip on his taller companion's arm tightening. "This party is like, totally rad and stuff! You have got to, like, try the punch! I dunno what the heck Prussia did to it, but it's totally amazing. Like, totally. This party is going by too fast, like, wow, so I want to have as much fun as I can before I, like, go home!"
With that last word, the short blonde proceeded to drag the Baltic State to the punch bowl, blabbering all the while about the new latest fashion on sun-dresses and the like.
America shook his head at the sight, knowing that Lithuania was definitely going to have his hands full, and then looked around.
His party was situated in his own home, in the living room in fact. Main lights were dimmed to make the other colorful spotlights take over the majority, smells of greasy party foods wafted the air, and the sound of pop/rock music made the floor vibrate with every continuous beat.
His guests, nation friends, however, was lathered all over the floor, obviously also drunk.
Prussia had done his work well. Too well… France definitely had a hand in the punch spiking. No questions asked.
'Oh, man,' Alfred thought, biting his lip. 'Poland was right! The party was going too fast! Hell, it's almost over and I haven't even opened the presents yet! Wait, the people didn't give them to me yet…'
The bespectacled nation thought about the problem, because really, everyone was just too plastered to even have a chance to give him his present in a functional matter! So how…bingo.
A light bulb seemed to ding brightly above the USA's head as he noticed that everyone had his present by their side or in their arms. He was also wearing roller skates. It was ten minutes until midnight.
He could do this.
With a giddy laugh, the young nation bolted forward on his skates towards…Canada.
"Happy birthday to me!" America whooped, snatching the polar-bear print present out of his startled, yet drunk, twin's hands.
"Maple!" Matthew yelped, jumping a bit. "A-America! What the hell, eh? Give me that back, you jerk!"
Ripping open the package, the superpower grinned at the new baseball mitt, remembering the fond times he played the sport with the Canadian. "Thanks Mattie! Even though I'm still gonna wipe the floor against you in baseball!"
Canada fumed. "Get the hell back here, eh!" He waved a fist for theatrical emphasis.
"You can't catch me!" America yelled back triumphantly, rolling towards another present-wielding victim. "Because I'm the awesome America!"
The American skated, stuffing the mitt in his bomber jacket, and then he saw Germany and Italy.
"You got me another modified car?" the glasses-wearing nation asked cheerfully, interrupting the two older nation's make out session as he pick-pocketed said present's keys out of the Italian's pocket. "Thanks, dudes!"
"Veh~!" Italy cried out in shock, waving an arm in distress. "I locked my pasta in America's car-present! Veh~!"
"Mein gott," Germany groaned, face palming himself. He needed another beer pronto. "America, you dumkoph! Get back over here and return those keys now! Or so help me, I'll chase you down!"
The nation in mention just merely grinned, yelling, "You can't catch me! Because I'm the awesome America!"
Snickering, America swooped by a…loudly karaoke-ing…Japan. Yes. The Japanese nation was definitely drunk. Not sure how it was possible…but the uncharacteristically grinning and widely awake Greece might've had a hand in that area.
"Hit me baby one more time!" Japan sang, and rather badly at that.
Alfred made a note to make his next party alcohol-free, even if it would cause a riot, but seriously! Japan was his most awesomest buddy and all, but the singing was just not cut out for his ears. Yeah. Alcohol-free, starting officially now.
"Er, Japan…?" America ventured towards the Asian nation cautiously. "You got my…present?"
Japan stiffened at the new voice that interrupted his fun, and turned around slowly, a small creepy smile on his pale face.
"Which one?" the Japanese man asked, smiling drunkenly angrily yet innocently. "Do you want shuriken in your head or a katana up your ass, America-san?"
Alfred stared in horror.
That's it. Alcohol was going to banned at every single one of these damned parties, if America could help it.
Japan hiccupped and giggled insanely at the taller nation's expression. "Hai, don't piss me off, especially when I'm singing, America-san," the bushido country warned amiably, turning back to the karaoke screen. "Heracles has your present along with mine." He turned again, venomous smile in place. "Don't you dare hit on him, hai?"
America swallowed at the threat, nodding quickly as he skated over to Greece, saying, "Yeah, yeah! I promise, I'm not going to hit on Heracles, okay? So er, just go back to your fun, and anyways, thanks for the gift!"
Japan didn't notice the American's words, already resuming his singing, the song this time playing Moves Like Jagger by Maroon 5 and Christina Aguilera. "I got the moves like jagger~! I got the mooOOooves like jagger~!"
Skating, the bright nation skidded next to Greece, hands reaching out to take three things from the elder nation. "Thanks dude!" He began to slide away, looking at his presents. "Oh, cool! A new video game, and…what?"
"Olive oil," Greece said lowly, eyeing Japan. "It works great as a lotion."
America raised an eyebrow. "Right." Then he grinned. "And you got me a kitty! Why, thank you!"
Heracles tensed at the word 'kitty', and finally noticed the weightlessness on the top of his shoulder. His eyes widened. "Captain Cat!" the Greek hollered, leaping up, "Give him back, America!"
Already on his escaped, America cackled, "You can't catch me! I'm the awesome America!"
Watching the younger country skated speedily away, Greece sat down with a huff, too tired to give chase, yet he brightened up when Japan traipsed over, and as if to prove that he was indeed drunk, sat the Greek's lap. Hell yes.
Alfred rolled happily on his skates, feet flashing his flag colors in his motion, the cat he had stolen from Greece meowing from the top of his head.
"What's my present, Russia?" America yelled, making Ivan blink up from his cuddling with a sleeping China on the couch.
"You want a bash on the head with my pipe, or a one-way ticket to my sister, da?" the cold nation said pleasantly, burrowing his face into the kink of the Chinese man's neck, despite sleepy protests from the latter.
"Neither!" Alfred exclaimed. "Those are sucky presents, dude!"
Ivan shrugged. "You're getting both anyway."
America made a disgusted noise. "What the hell does China see in you anyway?"
"Love is unconditional, America," Russia said, eyes closing as he hugged Yao close. "You're too much of an idiot to know anything of it. And besides, I'm amazing, da?"
"In your dreams, dude," America replied, before taking the sleeping Russian's pipe. "I don't want either of your presents, so I guess I'll take this stick instead. It'll be a replacement in the plumbing."
Bending over, he scooped up China's panda backpack, grinning as he unzipped it.
"Here ya go, puss," the bespectacled country told the cat on his head, slipping the animal into the backpack before putting it on. "A better ride!"
"Meow," the cat said.
So that's how the next six minutes of America's ten minutes went, him going around and stealing his presents, from a bottle of beer (Prussia), a mini-axe (Spain), a tomato box (South Italy), an antique Colt (Switzerland), an American eagle embroidered scarf (Lichtenstein), and various other items from various nations.
He didn't go near France though. The American didn't really want to know what the 'Country of Love' had for him this year. He shivered, remembering the perverted gifts from the frog previous birthdays long ago…
"America, mon ami, over here~!"
Speak of the devil, and the devil shall appear.
Alfred looked on his left, seeing France lounge lazily in the corner, nursing a glass of wine.
"Mon cheri, come to big brother Francis, dear Alfred~!" the French man cooed sickeningly, beckoning with a long fingered hand. "Come, come! I have a wonderful gift to share with you~!"
America resisted the urge to vomit. "I don't accept gifts from unshaven bums," the bespectacled told the elder loudly, skating speedily away. "And you're definitely an unshaven bum!"
"Oh, come now," Francis pouted, "Get back here, l'amour! Do you want me to chase you down?"
"You can't catch me! I'm the awesome America!" The American flipped the French man the bird to further prove the point.
France sighed, taking a sip from his glass. "Maybe I'll get you later…"
As America circled the room for the fifth time, he checked his watch. Three minutes until his birthday.
He breathed deeply, taking in account of all the guests, mind and energy finally slowing. Everyone was here, of course…except for one member. Of course.
America slowed down, his skates rolling him softly, and he slumped, mood darker.
It's been over several centuries already since the American Revolution…why can't he let go?
Centuries, from the Revolution, WWI to WWII, they had fought against each other, and with each other. Shouldn't those wars have bridge the broken bond they once had?
But it hadn't.
He still hated him, always berating him for every single word spoken, glaring and hissing at him, never smiling.
Not like he use to before the Revolution.
And really, America never regretted the decision to rebel, but…he missed the man, his former guardian. He missed him so much.
He wanted to hug the elder nation, laugh with him, see his smiles, and make him smile. He wanted to help the smaller man, protect him, just like the latter had to him back when he was younger, wanted to hold him tight. America was stronger and bigger now, so why won't he let himself be protected?
Why won't England accept him?
As if summoned by thoughts alone, the English nation appeared.
America's breath caught as he saw Arthur walk into the living room door, looking nonchalant.
The Briton had never attended his parties, (besides that one time, but that one didn't count! He got punched in the face by the island nation's present!), even when invited (which America made sure to do, every single year), so why now?
...England probably came to his party to yell at him or whatsoever. Of course. That's a more plausible reason than him thinking the Brit had come just to wish him a happy birthday.
So America slapped on a fake smile, skating past the elder country as he called back, "Yo, Iggy! You're late!" He looked at the nation from top to bottom. "And looks like you don't got any presents for me, either! Psh, guess I won't have to steal them like I had to the others, so you're safe! You don't gotta chase me down." He barked out a laugh. "Like you could catch me! I'm the awesome America, I'm uncatchable!"
England gave him a deadpanned look. "What?"
America stopped in his roller skating tracks. "Huh?"
"I can't hear you, you bloody git," England snapped, crossing his arms. "What the hell did you say?"
America blinked, skating a bit closer. "I said that you couldn't catch me since I'm so awesomely uncatchable!"
Arthur raised an impressive eyebrow. "I wish you could be like this all the time, Alfred, I still can't hear you."
The hamburger-lover frowned. The hell? He skated even closer, right up to his former caretaker's face.
"I said," America growled, irritated, "That you can't catch me because I'm uncatchable!"
England smirked. "Oh, really…?"
Alfred's eyes widen in shock as he realized he was tricked, but it was already too late.
Arthur's fist swung out and slammed against America's stomach, and the latter doubled over, skates pushing him back from impact.
"What- the-hell?" America wheezed out, clutching his middle.
"Well, you did told me last time to not give you anymore booby-rigged gifts," England said, shrugging. "I decided to give you the real thing instead."
"You're such a jerk!" Alfred yelled standing up, glaring. "A jerk! And this is such a crappy present, it ain't even funn-"
A bag flew out of no where and hit his face, interrupting his words.
"What the he-" the younger nation started to say, before the familiar whiff of hamburgers came from the bag.
America held out the bag, taking a good look at the McDonald's logo on the outside.
He glanced up, staring at England. The English man bit his lip, turning away.
"I-I passed that shit-place on the way to here," England said angrily, but the red flush going up towards his ears betrayed his hidden embarrassment. "So, don't think it was for your birthday or anything, because it bloody wasn't!" With that said, he began to stalk towards the door, intent on making his escape.
America stared at the slowly receding back, before a smile steadily graced his face.
Did this mean…
"Hey, Artie!" Alfred called out, letting the hamburger filled- McDonalds bag fall to his side. "Do you hate me?"
"Don't call me 'Artie'!" England snapped, bristling as he turned around. "And I don't bloody hate you, you idiot!"
Then a mortified expression crossed the island nation's face and he flailed, sputtering, "No! I lied! I do hate you! I hate you!"
America grinned, knowing the real truth. "I love you, too, Iggy~!"
"Shut the bloody fuck up!" England yelled, spinning on his heel to walk out, but a hand reached out and grabbed his shoulder, turning him back. "What the hell do you want, you wanker?"
America gazed into the Briton's angry green eyes, and felt such affection rise up in him like a tidal wave, and he realized, right then and there, that he truly did lov-
"As much as I like the present you got for me," Alfred said, nodding at the McDonalds bag. "I would like something else."
England narrowed his eyes, hissing, "You greedy git! What else could I possibly give you-?"
America cut the elder off as he leaned in, molding chapped lips against the others, angling his head just right, kissing passionately sweet.
Arthur felt his eyes practically bug out, body unresponsive as the American opened his mouth with a sly tongue, getting a taste.
A moment later, Alfred pulled back, rubbing his cheek against the other's red-tinged one, purring out a, "Now that's the present I like the most. Mind giving me more for next year, too?"
The island personification just stood and gaped in shock at him.
America chuckled, slapping a hand against the Briton's rear as he speedily skated away, words echoing back, "This is probably the only instance I like tea, Iggy!" Laughter ensued.
England jumped from the spank against his ass, face resembling Romano's tomatoes as he screamed, "You git! You bloody, good for nothing, son of a-"
As England's loud curses followed him, America grinned, checking his watch.
The fourth of July was here.
The glasses-wearing nation licked his lips, tasting tea.
Oh, yes. That kiss was the best gift ever.
The roller skates were second.
UnluckyWriter: …I don't know what the hell this is. Seriously. No point, no plot. Jeez…and this was crappily written. I apologize. But oh well! At least I got wrote this for Alfred on time!
Review if you dare. =)