Fic - The Longest Road (Canada/America); 11/12
Hope everyone had a Merry Christmas and a great start to the New Year!
The Longest Road
Rating: R-18
Warning: Future AU, Original character(s), twincest
Summary: In the future, North Korea launches a war that will re-shape the world. The United States and Canada, wrecked by nuclear attacks and plague, fall into chaos. Now, almost two decades later, people have started to turn to some of the few governmental institutions to have survived - those of the native peoples of those lands. Led by the boy from a 400-year old prophecy, they will need to carve out a new future for themselves. And Matthew and Alfred, the nations of Canada and the United States of America, will need to do the same.
“Going home must be like going to render an account.” -- Joseph Conrad
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10
Chapter 11 - Homecoming
Laughing children almost bowl him over when he returns, too caught up in their game of tag to notice him until it`s too late. Canada laughs himself, helping the little boy up and sending him back to his game. Mohawk is seated outside on a porch, Kumajirou on her lap. Her face is composed, but she stands immediately upon seeing him, and Canada knows then she had been worried.
“I`m back,” he greets with a tired but proud smile. Kumajirou rambles over to him and he sinks down, wrapping his arms around the Kermode.
“Who?” the bear asks, and Canada swears he sees a glitter of humor in his eyes.
“I`m Canada,” he answers easily, standing back up. Mohawk nods in approval, then gives a squawk of surprise when Canada reaches for her and pulls her into a tight hug. “Thank you,” he whispers into her ear before releasing her. She smiles and nods, then quickly turns away, but not before he catches the hint of moisture in her eyes.
“Back, and just as much a dawdler as ever,” she chides without any heat. “Come on. We need to get some food in you before you waste away, and then the others will want to know you`ve returned as well.”
Canada follows, Kumajirou at his side. The silly smile doesn`t seem to want to leave his face; it sits there as he greets each of his aunts and uncles in turn, shaking hands and chatting excitedly with the villagers, eager to hear what`s happened in the days he`s been gone.
The representatives have been meeting he`s told, and the village is abuzz in speculation. The harvest is good, and they are holding a lacrosse game to celebrate. The excitement of it all washes over him, and so it takes a while before he realizes he has yet to spot a tall blond with bright blue eyes among the crowd. His smile fades from his face, anxiousness welling up as he scans the milling people.
“Where`s Alfred?” he asks interrupting the chatter of his aunts and uncles. As one, they fall silent. Tuscarora’s eyes fall to the ground, but it is Onondaga who answers him.
“He left shortly after you, in the night. He said nothing to any of us, but Tuscarora saw him go.”
“I called after him,” Tuscarora says, “-but he wouldn`t stop and I could see he was carrying a bag with him. It hurt him, I think, or his pride at least, to know you were off on your quest while he had been left behind.”
Oh, Alfred… Canada thinks, his heart sinking.
“We believe he left to try his own vision quest,” Onondaga concludes, his face grave. “We pray for his success but… he has yet to return.”
“The harvest is not yet over,” Seneca points out. “We will wait.”
There is nothing else to do, and so they wait. Canada waits as well, and barely dares to hope. Instead, he does his best to keep busy. There is plenty to do. With the meetings, there are more mouths to feed than ever, and there is the harvest to bring in. Jim arrives, and when he has a free moment, he comes to Canada, to keep him informed on the progress or lack thereof and often to ask his advice. Although he doubts the man truly needs it, Canada is more than happy to share his thoughts. He is more aware of his lands and his people now than he has been since he regained consciousness all those months ago. There is a certain amount of pain that comes with that, but he is happy to bear it. He is himself again, and were it not for the empty space by his side, he would be content.
But that space aches. Alfred`s absence leaves behind a void that feels tangible, and he hates it. He reaches out and there is nothing there. He remembers Mexico`s admonition to look out for their little brother, remembers Alfred`s declaration of love and his own answering silence, and a sour taste wells up in his throat.
His melancholy doesn`t go unnoticed, and almost a week after his own return Oneida and Tuscarora show up on the doorstop of his cabin. They are carrying a lacrosse stick and expressions that say they won`t be easily dissuaded.
“It`s not hockey,” Tuscarora manages to say with a smile, “-but we want you to play with us anyways.”
Canada looks back and forth between the two of them, and accepts the stick with a sigh.
Despite his initial reluctance, he quickly loses himself in the game. It helps, a lot. There is no time to pay attention to that empty space when he is running and throwing and spinning to try and catch the ball with his net. It doesn`t take long before he`s dripping with sweat and grinning, the familiar feeling of adrenaline from a good game shooting through him. It`s not hockey, but it`s a damn good game.
He jumps high into the air, catching the ball and whirling about to find someone to pass it to. But he is surprised to see that all the players have stopped, standing still with their eyes fixed in the distance. Canada falters, lowering his stick as he follows their gazes. What he sees freezes him in place.
It`s Alfred. Tired and dirty and beaming Alfred, walking towards them in torn clothes, clutching something close to his chest. As he comes closer, Canada sees a flash of brown fur and an ear, and at a few more steps he can see the whole of the rabbit as it rests peacefully in his brother`s arms.
He snaps out of it all at once, his brother`s name falling from his lips at the same time he drops the lacrosse stick. Then he is dashing across the field, everyone else forgotten in an instant.
“Al!” he gasps, catching him up in a strong embrace. He feels the vibration of his brother`s laughter and the faint trembling of the rabbit between them.
“Just a sec Mattie,” his brother says, and Canada doesn`t know whether he wants to kiss him or punch him. “Let me put this little guy down. You`re scaring him.”
Canada can barely bring himself to release his brother long enough to allow him to do that, and the moment the rabbit touches the ground he seizes Alfred up in another embrace.
“You idiot!” he hears himself say. There`s something wet running down his cheeks. “You goddamn… I love you, you stupid, gorgeous hoser!”
“Mattie?” Alfred says softly, returning the hug.
Canada pulls back for just a moment. He wipes away the tears staining his cheeks with one hand, keeping the other around Alfred. “I do,” he answers honestly at last. “Don`t you ever make me worry like that again!”
Alfred chuckles. “No, I won`t,” he promises, and his eyes shine as he pulls Canada in for a kiss. Canada wants nothing more than that, but their lips barely touch before he jerks back.
“Al, just a minute!” He rushes to his discarded things, left on the sidelines for the game, digging through them anxiously. He heaves a sigh of relief when he finds his prize unbent. He`d snuck off on the pretense of a fishing trip and almost sprained his ankle in the process, but the eagle feather is a long, smooth arch. The brown in it seems to shimmer in the sunlight, and the white is as bright as snow. The leather string he`d attached to it dangles down with its three beads - red, white, and blue. He`d searched for it and tied the beads and tucked it into his clothes to keep it close, all the time battling the fear he wouldn`t have anyone to hand it to.
Alfred`s eyes widen, but he doesn`t say anything, just stands still and lets his brother tie the feather into his hair. Canada`s hand shakes a little but he tucks it into place and then steps back, an anxious expression on his face.
“Well?” he asks nervously.
America smiles back at him, bright as a cluster of stars.
The Longest Road
Rating: R-18
Warning: Future AU, Original character(s), twincest
Summary: In the future, North Korea launches a war that will re-shape the world. The United States and Canada, wrecked by nuclear attacks and plague, fall into chaos. Now, almost two decades later, people have started to turn to some of the few governmental institutions to have survived - those of the native peoples of those lands. Led by the boy from a 400-year old prophecy, they will need to carve out a new future for themselves. And Matthew and Alfred, the nations of Canada and the United States of America, will need to do the same.
“Going home must be like going to render an account.” -- Joseph Conrad
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10
Chapter 11 - Homecoming
Laughing children almost bowl him over when he returns, too caught up in their game of tag to notice him until it`s too late. Canada laughs himself, helping the little boy up and sending him back to his game. Mohawk is seated outside on a porch, Kumajirou on her lap. Her face is composed, but she stands immediately upon seeing him, and Canada knows then she had been worried.
“I`m back,” he greets with a tired but proud smile. Kumajirou rambles over to him and he sinks down, wrapping his arms around the Kermode.
“Who?” the bear asks, and Canada swears he sees a glitter of humor in his eyes.
“I`m Canada,” he answers easily, standing back up. Mohawk nods in approval, then gives a squawk of surprise when Canada reaches for her and pulls her into a tight hug. “Thank you,” he whispers into her ear before releasing her. She smiles and nods, then quickly turns away, but not before he catches the hint of moisture in her eyes.
“Back, and just as much a dawdler as ever,” she chides without any heat. “Come on. We need to get some food in you before you waste away, and then the others will want to know you`ve returned as well.”
Canada follows, Kumajirou at his side. The silly smile doesn`t seem to want to leave his face; it sits there as he greets each of his aunts and uncles in turn, shaking hands and chatting excitedly with the villagers, eager to hear what`s happened in the days he`s been gone.
The representatives have been meeting he`s told, and the village is abuzz in speculation. The harvest is good, and they are holding a lacrosse game to celebrate. The excitement of it all washes over him, and so it takes a while before he realizes he has yet to spot a tall blond with bright blue eyes among the crowd. His smile fades from his face, anxiousness welling up as he scans the milling people.
“Where`s Alfred?” he asks interrupting the chatter of his aunts and uncles. As one, they fall silent. Tuscarora’s eyes fall to the ground, but it is Onondaga who answers him.
“He left shortly after you, in the night. He said nothing to any of us, but Tuscarora saw him go.”
“I called after him,” Tuscarora says, “-but he wouldn`t stop and I could see he was carrying a bag with him. It hurt him, I think, or his pride at least, to know you were off on your quest while he had been left behind.”
Oh, Alfred… Canada thinks, his heart sinking.
“We believe he left to try his own vision quest,” Onondaga concludes, his face grave. “We pray for his success but… he has yet to return.”
“The harvest is not yet over,” Seneca points out. “We will wait.”
There is nothing else to do, and so they wait. Canada waits as well, and barely dares to hope. Instead, he does his best to keep busy. There is plenty to do. With the meetings, there are more mouths to feed than ever, and there is the harvest to bring in. Jim arrives, and when he has a free moment, he comes to Canada, to keep him informed on the progress or lack thereof and often to ask his advice. Although he doubts the man truly needs it, Canada is more than happy to share his thoughts. He is more aware of his lands and his people now than he has been since he regained consciousness all those months ago. There is a certain amount of pain that comes with that, but he is happy to bear it. He is himself again, and were it not for the empty space by his side, he would be content.
But that space aches. Alfred`s absence leaves behind a void that feels tangible, and he hates it. He reaches out and there is nothing there. He remembers Mexico`s admonition to look out for their little brother, remembers Alfred`s declaration of love and his own answering silence, and a sour taste wells up in his throat.
His melancholy doesn`t go unnoticed, and almost a week after his own return Oneida and Tuscarora show up on the doorstop of his cabin. They are carrying a lacrosse stick and expressions that say they won`t be easily dissuaded.
“It`s not hockey,” Tuscarora manages to say with a smile, “-but we want you to play with us anyways.”
Canada looks back and forth between the two of them, and accepts the stick with a sigh.
Despite his initial reluctance, he quickly loses himself in the game. It helps, a lot. There is no time to pay attention to that empty space when he is running and throwing and spinning to try and catch the ball with his net. It doesn`t take long before he`s dripping with sweat and grinning, the familiar feeling of adrenaline from a good game shooting through him. It`s not hockey, but it`s a damn good game.
He jumps high into the air, catching the ball and whirling about to find someone to pass it to. But he is surprised to see that all the players have stopped, standing still with their eyes fixed in the distance. Canada falters, lowering his stick as he follows their gazes. What he sees freezes him in place.
It`s Alfred. Tired and dirty and beaming Alfred, walking towards them in torn clothes, clutching something close to his chest. As he comes closer, Canada sees a flash of brown fur and an ear, and at a few more steps he can see the whole of the rabbit as it rests peacefully in his brother`s arms.
He snaps out of it all at once, his brother`s name falling from his lips at the same time he drops the lacrosse stick. Then he is dashing across the field, everyone else forgotten in an instant.
“Al!” he gasps, catching him up in a strong embrace. He feels the vibration of his brother`s laughter and the faint trembling of the rabbit between them.
“Just a sec Mattie,” his brother says, and Canada doesn`t know whether he wants to kiss him or punch him. “Let me put this little guy down. You`re scaring him.”
Canada can barely bring himself to release his brother long enough to allow him to do that, and the moment the rabbit touches the ground he seizes Alfred up in another embrace.
“You idiot!” he hears himself say. There`s something wet running down his cheeks. “You goddamn… I love you, you stupid, gorgeous hoser!”
“Mattie?” Alfred says softly, returning the hug.
Canada pulls back for just a moment. He wipes away the tears staining his cheeks with one hand, keeping the other around Alfred. “I do,” he answers honestly at last. “Don`t you ever make me worry like that again!”
Alfred chuckles. “No, I won`t,” he promises, and his eyes shine as he pulls Canada in for a kiss. Canada wants nothing more than that, but their lips barely touch before he jerks back.
“Al, just a minute!” He rushes to his discarded things, left on the sidelines for the game, digging through them anxiously. He heaves a sigh of relief when he finds his prize unbent. He`d snuck off on the pretense of a fishing trip and almost sprained his ankle in the process, but the eagle feather is a long, smooth arch. The brown in it seems to shimmer in the sunlight, and the white is as bright as snow. The leather string he`d attached to it dangles down with its three beads - red, white, and blue. He`d searched for it and tied the beads and tucked it into his clothes to keep it close, all the time battling the fear he wouldn`t have anyone to hand it to.
Alfred`s eyes widen, but he doesn`t say anything, just stands still and lets his brother tie the feather into his hair. Canada`s hand shakes a little but he tucks it into place and then steps back, an anxious expression on his face.
“Well?” he asks nervously.
America smiles back at him, bright as a cluster of stars.