kierwynn: (America ~ cd cover)
[personal profile] kierwynn
Title: Dreams of Space
Fandom: Hetalia
Pairing/Characters: America/England
Word Count: 1510 (probably a little more now that I've edited it)
Rating: PG
Summary: Alfred Jones is a young boy with big dreams- to one day travel to Mars. Luckily, he has a big enough imagination to make it happen.
A/N: This was done for the speed fic challenge of the US/UK olympics. The prompt was Mars Rover Curiosity, and I'm not sure how I got to this from that but whatever. Got a gold medal so whatevs. B)

"This is Alfred Jones reporting, do you read me?" Alfred waited for a reply, but heard nothing. "I repeat, this is Alfred Jones. Can anyone hear me?" When he failed to get a reply again, he shook his head sadly. His only means of communication was not working. Things did not look good for the hero.

Alfred stared out at the vast expanse of red wasteland before him. It was hard to believe that he was on Mars. Yes, Mars. Alfred Foster Jones was the first man to ever take step on Mars.

When he had received the news, he was beyond excited. This was a huge step for humans, and he was proud to be a part of it. He was proud to be the one to lead his country in this monumental space achievement. He knew it would be dangerous and he knew he had a chance of never returning to Earth, but Alfred was never one to turn down a challenge. He was a hero, after all.

Unfortunately, even heroes had things go wrong.

The landing was as smooth as one could possibly be- it was shaky, but he had successfully landed on Mars and that was what mattered in the end. After that, though, things started going wrong. The worst of which was his communication system failing. He had tried several times to reach his colleagues at NASA, but so far, there was no luck. He wasn't about to let that stop him, though.

Alfred was unsure how long he would be able to survive on Mars, especially with his equipment not working, but he knew he had to make the best of it. His plan was to walk around the planet and gather as much information as he could and pray that it made its way back to NASA. It was all he could do at this point.

Slowly, he began to take steps forward. He smiled happily knowing that these were the first- and maybe last- steps to ever be taken on Mars. Even if he didn't survive, he would go down in history for his accomplishments and bravery. What else could a hero ask for?

He began making his way across the red planet, making notes and taking pictures of things of interest. It was eerily quiet (as would be expected on an uninhabited planet), so he hummed to himself to pass the time. He stopped, though, when he heard a strange shuffling.

"What was that...?" he said to himself, slowly scanning the horizon for any signs of movement. Not that he was expecting to find any. No one lived on Mars, right?

... But something must have made that sound.

He stood still for a few moments before he heard the sound again, this time much closer. He slowly reached towards his waist to where he kept his laser gun (specifically designed for this trip!) attached to his belt. He cursed when he realized it wasn't there.

"Dammit," Alfred muttered under his breath. "How could I forget something so important?"

The shuffling sound grew louder and more frequent. He took another step and his foot caught on a rock causes him to fall. The sound increased, and when he looked up, he finally saw the source. There was a large creature coming out from behind a rock... It was hard to make out its exact features, but Alfred was sure of one thing: it wasn't human.

To anyone else, the creature would probably be considered terrifying. To Alfred, it was the coolest thing he had ever seen.

"So this is what lives on Mars," Alfred said in awe. He scrambled back to his feet, smiling brightly and gave the alien a small wave. "Hello, my name is Alfred Jones. I'm not here to hurt you! Maybe we can be frie-"

Before he could finish, the alien lunged for Alfred, who just barely dodged the attack.

"So that's how it's going to be, is it?" Alfred smirked. "I won't go down easily!"

Alfred leaped for the creature, catching him off guard and throwing him to the ground. Maybe he could hold him down and force him to listen to reason...

"Alfred!" The creature called out angrily.

Alfred stared down at the alien, confused. "You can speak English?"

"Of course I can, you git! Now get off of me!"

Alfred felt a hard push, and suddenly, he wasn't surrounded by the barren red earth of Mars. Instead, he was surrounded by green grass and tall trees. The large space shuttle that had brought him to Mars was now just a common cardboard box, and beyond that was his home. He could see his mother him through the window watching with amusement.

On the ground beside him was no longer and evil alien creature out to kill him- no, what was beside him was something much worse. A very angry British boy.

"Bloody hell, Alfred!" The boy yelled, his face red with anger. "As soon as I arrive, you tackle me to the ground!"

"Sorry, Arthur," Alfred replied, smiling sheepishly. "I thought you were an alien."

Arthur sighed, the anger that was clearly on his face slowly fading away. "You were caught up in another one of your space fantasies, weren't you?"

"Guilty as charged," Alfred laughed, throwing his hands up.

Arthur scowled, causing Alfred to laugh more. Arthur Kirkland, his neighbor and best friend, knew all too well how lost Alfred could get in his fantasies. Arthur often had to remind him that he was just a little boy- not some intergalactic space hero.

... Not yet, at least.

"What was it this time?" Arthur asked, standing up and dusting himself off.

"I was on Mars," Alfred began excitedly, "the first person ever to be on Mars! But, my equipment stopped working and I was stuck, but I'm a hero so I kept going, but then I ran into an evil alien who I tried to befriend that attacked me, but it turned out to be you, but-"

"Alfred, you need to breathe sometime..."

Alfred stopped talking, took a deep breath, and laughed. "Sorry! It was just super cool and really exciting! It's going to happen, Arthur! One day, when I'm older, I'll go to Mars!"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "I'm not sure we'll have that sort of technology by then."

"I'll help make it!" Alfred said excitedly. "I'll help make rovers and stuff that go to Mars and then, maybe one day, I'll go to Mars!"

Arthur huffed, rolling his eyes again. "Of course you will. I suppose you're not the type to think realistically, are you?"

"It's totally realistic!"

Arthur sighed. "If you insist." After a few moments, his mouth curved into a small smile. "If anyone is going to make it happen, it'll be you."


"We have touchdown."

Everyone in the room jumped up, cheering loudly.

Alfred couldn't believe it. They did it, they really did it! The person sitting beside him reached over to hug him, and he gladly returned the favor.

The Mars rover they had created, Curiosity, had landed safely. They succeeded. He succeeded. Of course, it had taken the hard work of every single person in that room, but he had helped. He had contributed to this effort, and it has all paid off.

He may not have been on Mars himself, but he sure felt as if he were.

As excited as he was to share this moment with his colleagues, there was one person he wanted to share it with even more.

It was late when he finally managed to get home. He ran straight into his room, jumping onto the bed, causing the already sleeping occupant to bounce.

"Arthur! Arthur, are you awake?"

Arthur grumbled before sitting up slowly, his sleepy green eyes glaring at Alfred. "I am now," he muttered. "Thanks to you."

Alfred knew Arthur was annoyed, but he wanted nothing more than to hug him. He reached his arms out and pulled Arthur into his arms. "We did it! It landed safely! Arthur, we did it!"

"What do you-" he paused, "You mean the rover?"

"Yes, it landed on Mars! It was really close to where we had intended for it to land, too! Isn't that so cool?"

Arthur smiled, snaking his arms around Alfred and hugging him in return. "That's brilliant, Alfred, Truly, it is."

Alfred pulled back slightly. "I'm sorry I woke you up this late. I just really wanted to share the news with you, you know? I guess it's not cool of me as a boyfriend to wake you up like that..."

"Nonsense, Alfred." Arthur pushed some of Alfred's hair off his forehead. "I'm glad you woke me. I am so proud of you." He leaned forward and kissed Alfred lightly. "I told you before, did I not? If anyone would make something like this possible, it would be you."

Alfred blushed. "It's not like this is the first rover to ever be on Mars... and it's not like I did it alone."

"Yes, but it is still a great accomplishment. And you may not have done it alone, but you still helped."

Alfred's smile grew brighter and he began to pepper kisses over Arthur's face.

"This is so exciting!" He said between kisses. "It's a dream come true!" He placed one last kiss on Arthur's lips before pulling him once more into a hug. "You know what's next, right? Next time, we put an actual human on Mars."

Arthur placed his head on Alfred's shoulder and sighed happily. "If anyone is going to make it happen, it'll be you."

Title: Criticism
Fandom: Hetalia
Pairing/Characters: America/England
Word Count: 861
Rating: PG
Summary: As they wait for the Women's Gymanastics team finals, America offers England his opinion of the venue.
A/N: Written for the US/UK Olympics fic sprint qualifying round. It's just a silly little thing inspired by a conversation I had with haro during the women's all around competition.

"I can't believe this is so..."

"So, what?" England asked, scowling.

America leaned back in his seat, motioning towards the area in front of them. They were seated in the North Greenwich Arena, waiting for the start of the women's gymnastics team finals competition. America's team was the favorite to win, and England had no doubt that would be the case if they all performed as they were capable of. His own team would be competing, too, and of course he was excited to be able to cheer them on as well.

He looked at America, who was still motioning towards the arena.


"Pink," America answered. "It's so, completely, pink."

England huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "There is absolutely nothing wrong with the color pink."

America nodded. "You're right, there is nothing wrong with pink. But, there is everything wrong with this hot pink mess you have here."

His scowl deepened and he narrowed his eyes at America. "I would appreciate it if you wouldn't refer to my arena as a 'mess.' My citizens put a lot of hard work into preparing for this event."

"I'm sure they did," America said, shrugging. "But that doesn't excuse the terrible color choice."

England turned away from America to let his eyes roam around the arena below them. It was extremely pink- maybe even more pink than he had first believed. Did it get even more pink since he and America had taken their seats or had he merely just refused to see exactly how pink it was?

He sighed, not wanting to admit defeat, but the American was correct. "It is rather dreadful, isn't it..."

"Very." America motioned to the seats in front of them. "And what is that?"

England stared at the area America was motioning towards, unsure of what he was supposed to be looking for. "I'm afraid I'm not following."

"That!" America pointed across from them. "That 'London 2012' thing!"

"You mean the letters and numbers that very clearly spell out the location and year that these games are being held?" England scowled again. The color of the room was one thing, but what could America possibly find wrong with that?

"You're missing the point," America said, sighing. He paused briefly before adding, "England, do you know what Comic Sans is?"

England glanced at America. "Not particularly, no."

"It's the laughing stock of the font world."

"Is that so..." He had a feeling he knew where this was going. He quickly glanced at the "London 2012" written in large, white letters around the arena. "I suppose that is Comic Sans, then?"

America shook is head. "No. Thankfully, someone knew better than to use Comic Sans at the Olympics." England frowned in confusion. Maybe he didn't know where this conversation was going. Before he could demand America get to the point already, the American added, "It may not Comics Sans, but it is Comics Sans's long lost cousin."

England sank into his chair, grumbling to himself. He was sure America considered himself quite clever for thinking of a comment such as that. (And if he judged by the smile on the American's face, he was correct.) He knew he shouldn't take America's teasing too seriously. He had been seeing the man romantically for decades now, and had known him even longer than that. America's teasing was nothing new, and he knew he meant no harm. Still, he couldn't keep from taking it to heart. He and his people had put years of work and lots of money into these games. He knew there was no pleasing everyone, and in hindsight, he could see that some of the decisions that had been made may not have been the best choice, but the criticism still stung.

He didn't reply to America. Instead, he sat slumped in his chair, staring down at the arena below. If only the event would just begin, then he could forget about stupid America and his stupid comments about his people's choice of color and font.

"You know," America began after awhile, breaking the silence, "It's not too bad once you get used to it." England looked at him, confused, and he laughed. "The color, I mean. Not the font. Nothing will ever make that font okay."

England looked back at the sea of pink before them. Before he could reply, he felt America slowly reach his hand towards him. He felt America's hand grasp his own, and they twisted their fingers together.

"You did a good job," America said, smiling warmly at England. "I mean, I would have done way better and it would have been really awesome and stuff, but you didn't do a bad job. I give you a B."

England felt a smile tug at his lips. "I suppose I'll have to accept what I can get," he said, trying his best to sound as if he didn't care. It was no use, though.

"I'll show you what an A+ looks like next time I get a chance to host the games," America said, grinning.

England smiled slightly and settled into his seat once again, leaning against his boyfriend. "I'll be the judge of that."
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