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London, 1965 and Here

By LadyLazarus33


Chapter 1


The sound of sheets rustling moved through the dark room, accompanied by the occasional curse when her hand bumped against the nightside table. The lamp flickered on, making Madeline wince and groan as the buzzing of her phone seemed to increase as she rubbed her eyes.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm coming," she muttered. The polar bear looks up from its spot on the bed, regarding his owner with a one dark eye before settling down again. The nation heaves a sigh, grabbing her phone and pressing the green accept button.

"Alfred, you better have a good reason for calling me at 1:00 in the morning."

She can practically feel his amusement from the other line. Do I need a reason for wanting to talk to my baby sister?

"I'm older than you, dipshit." Madeline snarled.

There's the Maddie I know. Look, I'm feeling a little bit of a…itch.

"What the hell do you mean? Alfred, you better be sick, kidnapped, or bleeding to death, otherwise I'm not-"



Stop lying in bed and look out the damn window.

The nation bit back a curse, muttering under her breath as she threw the covers off and got out of bed, wincing at the cold carpet. She moves aside the curtains, looking out at the somewhat noisy streets of London and below the few stories to see the figure of her brother leaning against a tree.

"You've got to be kidding me."

America grinned up at his twin, running a hand through his blond hair. You coming or what?

She should go back to bed. She should tell him to bug off and bother someone else as they did have a meeting not eight hours from now, which their father happened to be hosting and would wring their necks if they weren't present. She should tell him to leave.

Canada sighs, rubbing her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose. "Give me five minutes."

Five minutes finds her coming out of the hotel, moving down the sidewalk to where her brother was, long legs somewhat in front of him from where he leaned against the tree, scrolling through his phone. Madeline pulls on the black jacket, flipping her long blond hair out and down her back before speaking to her brother. "Would you like to clarify on what exactly was so important that it couldn't wait until tomorrow?"

Alfred pockets his phone. "You're here, aren't you? And besides," he extends his arms in a grand gesture, "freedom waits for no man! Or woman, in your case." Canada blinks, once, twice, before he sighs, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a set of keys.

Her eyes widen. "You didn't."

His hand shoots out and grabs her wrist, pulling her around the tree to the sight of the dark blue 1965 convertible.

England's dark blue 1965 convertible.

America smiles. "But I did."

"Dad is going to murder you. No, correction. He's going to kill you, bring you back to life, and then kill you again just for the satisfaction of doing it a second time." Her words seem to fall on deaf ears, even as she slips into the passenger seat, arms crossed and face stoic.

She didn't know how he dragged her into these things sometimes.

Yes, yes. It was a cheap shot to leave you there without any resolution, but this will continue! Don't worry! And, Goesto11, please don't kill me because this isn't the thing you thought it was. Friendship! Remember our friendship! Heals all wounds.

Hahahahaha guys she's going to kill me.


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