2Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia, nor do I profit financially from writing this story.
See author's notes at the end.
Summer days were, in America's mind, among the best days ever. With the rising temps, he could spend as much time outside as he wanted, when he wasn't too busy with work and with world conferences, and he could relax. He could go camping somewhere in the forests of Wyoming or Michigan, hiking in the mountains in either Oregon or Colorado, or lounge on the beaches in either Florida or California. His excursions weren't always for very long – some crisis somewhere somehow found a way to spoil his peace and solitude – but America often tried to set at least some time aside for himself from the beginning of May to the end of September.
There was one day in particular that he especially loved – his birthday. It helped that it was often right in the middle of the summer, too. His government took the day off to spend time with family and to enjoy the festivities. America even got the chance to visit his brother, Canada, for the older one's birthday celebration (okay, so technically, Canada was younger than him when it came to being a nation, but America knew better; Canada was significantly older than him when it had come to colonization. Besides, what the world didn't know didn't hurt anyone). It was perfect!
America hummed a little as he strolled along the busy sidewalks in New York City, his cell phone in hand and some reusable shopping bags tucked underneath the other. Around him, his citizens prepared for the upcoming holiday with their usual fervor and flair. Red, clear, and blue lights hung from the buildings and adorned windows. Flags flew next to doors and in front of office buildings. City workers had closed off sections of the streets in order to clean them for the upcoming parades. It would be continuous until after the Fourth was over, but no one wanted to do any strenuous, last minute cleaning. America knew he didn't want to do that mere hours before his birthday. Otherwise, it was business as usual in the Big Apple.
'Almost,' he mused to himself, his spirits soaring as high as an eagle. He checked his phone for any text messages from Canada. 'Just not inviting all of the nations for a big bash this year. I've got something different in mind.'
A light smile touched his lips, and he glanced around to see if any of the stores had anything of interest. Canada's birthday was in two days, and America wanted to find his brother the perfect birthday present.
'After that, it's back here real quick for the fireworks then a trip to Colorado so I can get baked,' he mused. 'The mountains are going to be super rad right about now. But first, gotta get my bro the right birthday present. And maybe another one of those maple bacon birthday cakes for him again. He loved that. What a nut. I can't believe he likes things like that. But I love him all the same.'
He passed by a bakery, and his smile grew wider. The tantalizing aroma of cinnamon, peanut butter, and baked sugar wafted out of the door as some patrons stepped out. He resisted the urge to drool but ducked inside all the same without even a second thought. Above him, a bell rang out to announce his arrival.
'Guess I'm ordering the cake first,' he chuckled to himself. He waited in front of the cookie display, admiring the numerous flag and star-shaped sugar cookies. 'And I'm getting me a few sweet treats, too. Man, I love celebrating my birthday so much!
"Can I help you?"
America glanced up as the store employee appeared from the back. He offered the woman his thousand-watt smile.
"Actually, I was wondering if I could order a cake for tomorrow," he ventured. "Or if you at least have any bacon and maple-flavored cakes available? Oh, and I'd like about a dozen of the sugar cookies, too."
"Bacon and maple flavored cake?" the woman echoed, dubious. It was then America noticed her Americana-themed hijab. His cheeks burned a little at her slightly frightened expression.
"Ooops, I'm so sorry," he said, chuckling in embarrassment. "I didn't see your hijab right away. I'm going to presume that you don't have anything with bacon in it at all."
"That would be a wise presumption," the woman nodded. Relief washed over her face, but she also remained wary and guarded. "And ordering a cake to be ready for tomorrow right now is, well . . ."
"Difficult?" he supplied. When she nodded, he simply shrugged. "I thought as much. I should have ordered one sooner but didn't think about it until now. I've been super busy as of late."
"That I can relate to," the woman said. "This cake you wish to have . . . might I ask who it's for?"
"Oh, it's for my brother," America said, and he resumed glancing over what was available in the display. "His birthday is on the First, and I wanted to take it to him when I go see him day after tomorrow. Let's see . . ."
"Would you still like the sugar cookies?" the woman asked.
"Oh yeah," he enthused, smiling at her again. "Just give me one moment. I'll find an alternative for my brother. I'll just do my best to remember next year to order his cake in advance. This year has just been super crazy with work. That's all."
As he perused over the cakes – chocolate, vanilla, chocolate vanilla, cherry, strawberry, among others – the woman set about to packaging up his cookies. Most of the cakes were patriotic-themed, variants of his flag or just the stars. America resisted the urge to frown. Any number of the cakes would do . . . if he was buying one strictly for himself.
'But I'm not buying for just me,' he reminded himself. 'I'm buying for Canada, too, and I doubt very much he'd like a stars and stripes cake when his flag has a huge maple leaf on it. What to do, what to do . . . oh!' He leaned in as close as he could to the case as a flash of blue and green caught his attention.
It was a fourteen-inch strawberry and vanilla cake, according to the description, with blue and green whipped frosting. While it wasn't necessarily a maple bacon cake, the blue and green frosting reminded America of how passionate both he and his brother were in their green initiatives for their respective countries. The colors also stood out amongst the patriotic cakes. America loved it immediately.
"Seeing anything else you like?" the woman asked as she packaged up his cookies.
"This one right here," he said, pointing to the earth-themed cake. "I'd like to get this one for my brother. He'll love it."
"Would you like for me to add a happy birthday to it then?"
"Could you?" America gazed at her hopefully. "That would totally be awesome!"
"Of course!" She smiled brightly at him. "It'll only take just a moment. What is your brother's name?"
"Matthew," he replied automatically. 'Note to self: get some icing gel to add 'Canada' and some totally rad maple leaves to the cake when I get home.' He then added, "It's Matthew Williams."
"I'll get that taken care of for you." She handed him cookies before retrieving the cake and taking it into the back.
As he waited, America wandered over to the register. Already, he saw himself driving to Canada and his brother's face upon his arrival with the cake. He struggled to keep from bouncing in place.
'Just gotta get his present next.' At that, he blew out a breath, a little exasperated. 'Not even sure I'll be able to find something he'll like or that he'll even need. Kinda hard to get something for someone who's gotten everything he's ever wanted over the last couple hundred years. I wonder if he wouldn't mind me cooking him dinner or something, too. At least I won't have to worry about exchanging any money right away when I do go shopping there. Better make sure I have my enhanced license, though. Don't want to be caught without that!' He reached into his pocket for his wallet and his cell phone.
Behind him, the door opened, the bell signaling a new patron. America paid no attention to the other customer. Rather, he focused on his phone, still trying to balance the bags under his arm while trying to send a message to his brother.
At least, he tried to. A tap to his shoulder interrupted him. Irritated, America lowered his phone and turned to face the other person . . . people. Two men in black suits and wearing sunglasses stood behind him, earpieces in place. Both men wore serious expressions on their faces, typical for Secret Service. He raised an eyebrow at them.
"I thought you guys were gonna be taking some time off from me," he remarked casually. "Or didn't you get the memo from before I left D.C.?"
"We have orders, sir," one of the men stated. "We've received word about a threat to your person. We found you as quickly as we could."
"A threat? To my person?" America echoed. "I haven't received any calls from my boss about that."
"You will soon enough, sir. In the meantime, we need to get you to safety."
"I'm not leaving without my cake and cookies first," America pointed out, turning away from them. His irritation "I have things to do before I go visit my brother. You'll just have to tail behind me like always."
"Sir, this is a most serious matter," the first man continued, stepping closer to him. A gun pressed into the small of his back. America stiffened, and his eyes narrowed. "We need you to come with us, quietly. For your sake and the sake of the people in this building."
"Do you really think that gun scares me?" he asked, cocking his head to one side. "Or that you're even the first to pull one on me?"
"The first to pull one on you?" the man echoed. He then chuckled softly. "No. Given what I've learned about you, I already know that I'm not the first one to threaten you, and I'm certain that a gun by itself wouldn't scare you. However," and he leaned in close to whisper in America's ear, "because I have done my research into people like you, I have taken the liberty to ensure that the bullets can do more harm to you than what a normal bullet would. Because you, sir, aren't normal. I also won't hesitate to blow that fucking Muslim woman's head off before shooting you, either, so you can take your pick. Come quietly and she and everyone else on this block lives, or you can resist, and we blow everything up. It's your choice. Either one will make me extremely happy."
As the man spoke, a few scenarios ran through America's mind. He could take a bullet wound, even from some not so normal bullets. England had used him as a test subject a couple of times during the war. He'd survived those.
'I can survive whatever he hands out. He clearly underestimates me. But what about the people here? Can I really risk their lives?' He bit his lower lip then he made up his mind. 'No. I can't do that. They are my people, and I owe it to them to keep them safe. However, that doesn't mean I can't try and disarm them once we're out of the building and far away.' America surreptitiously eyed his phone. 'But I need to buy some time.'
"Okay, I'll go with you," he said in a quiet voice. "Just let me pay for my cake and cookies."
"You don't have a cake," the second man snorted.
"It's being customized," America said casually. "In fact, the baker should almost be done with it and out here any moment. I'd really rather not be reported for cookie theft. We wouldn't want to draw attention to ourselves, now would we?"
"That's a fair point," the first man conceded. "You're a lot smarter than what we were told you were. Unfortunately for you, we're also on a tight schedule. Just set the cookies down and come with us."
"But I really want my cookies," America whined.
"Just hurry up and shoot him," the second man growled. "We don't have time for this. Hell, we're almost out of time."
America frowned once again, this time turning to face his would-be kidnappers. He opened his mouth to say something, his eyes narrowed, cold, and calculating.
That was as far as he got before pain ripped through his gut and head. The air left his lungs at an alarming rate. An explosion as loud as a sonic boom penetrated his hearing, and America flew back into the register. The two would-be Secret Service men disintegrated right in front of him but not before the first one fired two shots into him. His vision swam and blurred while smoke filled the air. And all the while, a melody played in his head.
"Happy birthday to me . . . happy birthday to me . . . happy birthday, dear Alfred . . . happy birthday to me . . ."
Author's notes: I might have a sequel for this somewhere. I haven't decided yet. It's going to depend on what I get done at this point in time.
So what's new, my lovelies? I've been slaving away at trying to get unfinished projects finished. This little one-shot happened to be one of those unfinished projects. I present it to you now. Until then, if I plan a sequel, it's going to wait until I knock out quite a bit of my unfinished projects. (I kind of want to play with two sequels, one strictly Hetalia and dealing with the aftermath of this and one crossed over with Marvel.)
Re: Dark Intentions. Updates are coming soon! Expect the story to resume in August but please note I will be taking another, intentional pause once I get caught up to where I want to be caught up. It's all going to depend on how long it takes me to crank out all of the chapters, and there's one chapter I want to post in July for reasons. As this July is out (this author's note is being written at 1:20 am on April 12th, and, as of the writing and finishing of this, all of my Dark Intentions notes are in Tulsa, OK, well out of my reach, AGAIN. I'm truly frustrated to not be updating any sooner, but it is what it is at this point), I'm aiming for next July. Worry not, though! Dark Intentions is slated for major work!
Please enjoy! Have a safe and happy Fourth of July!
