Chapter Text
On a large hill that overlooked the city below, a young America looked up at the stars above and smiled. “When I get bigger, I’m gonna go into space and land on the moon and meet aliens!” He hopped excitedly, glancing over to England who sat upright, quietly listening to the young dreamer rambling nonsense. “What d’ya think England? You think aliens exist, big brother?”
England thought, to be honest, he didn’t, there was barely any evidence and the ones there were pretty bloody flimsy. But at the same time, it would be diabolical to say something like that to a kid. He sighed, “I don’t know, chap. Tell you what, if you find one you can show me right away.”
America’s eyes lit up like the stars he was so focused on. His smile illuminated the space around him as he thought about aliens and planets.
“I’m tellin’ you, dude!” America sped up, attempting to catch up to the British who attempted to walk away from the American as quick as possible. He attempted to keep all his books in between his arms and body, hoping it wouldn’t topple down. “The evidence is incredible, it just has to be true!” The American claimed desperately.
“Are you kidding me?!” England snapped, turning around and causing America to halt messily. Luckily, none of his books fell from his confusing grip. “Alien cats? Space nazis? It’s all rubbish! Completely bonkers, I say!”
He bared a joking grin. “Says you and your imaginary friends!”
“They are not imaginary!” England shrieked defensively before clearing his throat. “At least I don’t grab all my information from fictional media like some adult baby!” He panted, the American was taken aback. The Englishman, realising what he had said, sighed, laying a hand on his brother's shoulder. “Learn to grow up sometime, won’t you?” He awkwardly turned back around and continued his walk to the meeting room.
The American’s face was unreadable, shifting from sadness to anger to confusion right back to sadness, it eventually sat on a mix of sad and angry. The American shouted from across the hallway. “And I am grown up! So grown-up that… I won’t even go to the meeting! I’m going home and I’m going to prove that aliens and all that stuff exist!” He continued screaming into the air, knowing England had walked off but he needed to prove himself, even if it was to absolutely nothing. He threw his books onto the ground emitting a loud ‘THUD’. “I’m the one who knows what's right!” And with that he stormed off in the opposite direction, face red with anger.
England stood behind the wall, listening to every single word the American had cried. When the American was out of sight, he sighed, walking over to the fallen books to carry them while thinking about how he’d have to explain the situation to the G8. He tried shrugging it off as if nothing had happened but guilt crawled all over him like spiders, it felt uncomfortable and eerily similar. He opened the towering doors of the meeting room, ready to discuss the multitude of problems plaguing Earth.
Meanwhile, America jumped into his car and drove off, speeding through red lights and stop signs. He was so mad. But he knew that he would be the one to show England the truth, he had too, he was the only one who could understand him. Once England understood then everyone else would. Then cue space endeavours!
His mental speech gave America a grin as he sped back to his hotel in his red Ferrari, eventually skidding to a stop and messily parking. He angrily shrugged on his leather satchel and stormed to his hotel room, thus began his research.
He was there for a week at least, he had enough time to prepare and study some alien knowledge.
Thirty-five minutes into the meeting, England caught himself thinking about his annoying, naive, boisterous, cocky, younger brother (He mentally made that list after realising his subconscious thoughts). He made absent grunts of approval at the other countries when they referred to him. America has always been such a child, whether or not it was something on England’s behalf, England honestly would expect his brother to at least grow a bit.
He felt like his name was called, maybe. He still leaned over with his head leaning on his hand. There’s his name again. Annoying much. “England!” England snapped out of his thoughts to meet Germany’s face, he looked stern but with a mix of concern. The other countries idly stared at him as well. England felt himself flush out of embarrassment. “You seem distracted today. Is everything okay?”
England sputtered, sitting up straight and flattening his suit. “Of course! Couldn’t feel better!” He faked a cheeky grin which seemed to fool the German enough to keep him blabbering about whatever he was talking about.
He quietly huffed, leaning into his hand. Looking over his left was an empty seat reserved for a God-complex maniac who believed in aliens. England breathed, frustrated.