Hello everyone! It's been quite some time! I am here again to make another Independence Day story. I know it's not much, but I wanted to get it posted before America's big day is over! Strangely, this is my first Hetalia story. I've planned on posting a different story, but so much has happened to me! I will post my Hetalia OC story soon! And I might think of the OC in this story more. But anyway, I don't own Hetalia. I also used their human names in this story, since I felt like it. Normally, I would have just said, "America" and "England," but I just felt this story would flow better with real names. Anyway, I will allow you to get to reading now. Have a fun time!

Red, white and blue painted the black of the night sky. Man-made stars outshined the stars nature had already provided. The smell of hot dogs and hamburgers on the grill has wafted through the air for hours, all day. Each burst of fireworks mimicked that of cannon fire. In many neighborhoods, firecrackers went up in smoke and sharp snaps.

"Mr. Jones? Mr. Jones," a muddy-blonde boy called, running around the large home that belonged to Mr. Alfred F. Jones.

"DeCe! I'm in the backyard," a mature, yet childish voice shouted in return. The young man with a navy blue, star-spangled shirt and bright red shorts with silver running down along side his arms. His bright teal eyes glinted with patriotic spirit. DeCe's wavy hair was silken, matching the golden-brown wheat fields of his homeland.

"Mr. Jones!" The boy jumped onto the man's back, almost causing him to go face-first into the bonfire. "That air-show early was amazing! I can't believe you organized and lead the flight! That was so cool!" Matching grins covered both of their fair faces, glittering white teeth matched those of stars.

"I'm glad you liked it, DeCe." Alfred, however, was busy trying to get his mind off of something. Or more specifically, someone.

"Mr. Jones… I don't think Mr. Kirkland-"

"DeCe, its not that." He was quick to the point. The blonde hair, blue eyed man didn't want to dwell on the past. He didn't want to think of his brother. His past caretaker. Arthur Kirkland. "Would you like to roast hot dogs over the fire, or make S'mores?"

"S'mores!" DeCe jumped off the man's strong back, then ran inside for the needed ingredients. Marshmallows, graham crackers, and chocolate. Although, the key food was missing, marshmallows. The door bell rang, which was extremely strange to DeCe. Alfred was supposed to spend the end of the day with him, since the man spent his time with his friends earlier that day. No one was expected to come.

Not the constantly drunk Russian.

Not the copycat Chinese man.

Not the perverted Frenchman.

Not the timid Japanese man.

Not the crazy, opposing Italians.

And certainly not the scary German.

"One moment!" DeCe ran over to the door, his flip-flops clacking with each step. He reached for the knob, but something stopped him. It was just a feeling. It was as if something bad was going to happen if he did open the door. But how could he be a bad host? Not allowing the guest to even walk into the house? He let out a near silent sigh, then opened the worn opening.

There stood a man with thick eyebrows and messy blonde hair. His eyes glowed green, as if some supernatural entity wanted to express its presence. He wore a rather casual dress shirt, something that just didn't seem to make the man comfortable. His slacks seemed to stand out, due to the heat of this month. At least his sleeves were short, so not to make DeCe think the man was crazy to wear such clothes in July.

"Where's Alfred?" the man said quickly, trying to avoid eye contact with the boy.

"Mr. Kirkland, nice to see you again. It's been quite a long time." Both blondes stood awkwardly in the doorway for some time. Eventually, Arthur showed something that he had hidden in his shoulder bag. A pack of marshmallows.

"If I offer these, may I be allowed in to see Alfred?" This made DeCe smile. It must have been hard for Arthur to be polite to a child. It was hard enough to deal with his (disowned!) little brother, Peter, a person that DeCe is glad that he doesn't have t put up with.

"All right, Mr. Kirkland. But isn't today…?" The pain was quite obvious on the man's face. "Let me see the shoulder bag. Please?" Arthur handed it over, with a sigh. DeCe went through it, finding flasks of all sorts of liquor. Bourbon. Wine. Whiskey. Vodka. Beer. Gin. There were labels on the flashes too!

"I'm sorry, DeCe…"

"Against the wall, Mr. Kirkland." Police mood settled in, as Arthur had no choice but to place his hands against the wall near the door. DeCe kicked his legs gently. "Spread 'em." And so Mr. Kirkland followed the orders. The young teenager patted down his pockets, finding only one spare flask. "Honestly, I would have believed you would have more. But you are not going to be drinking tonight. Mr. Jones was smart enough to not drink on his birthday, so would you be kind enough to not drink?"

"Why am I listening to a kid?" Arthur asked himself, shaking his head as he did.

"Mr. Kirkland. I understand the pain. But you cannot keep drowning yourself like this. America and England. Alfred and Arthur. Its all one in the same. You're all one in the same." It doesn't seem like the words are getting through the Englishman's head. He simply walked across the house, avoiding the old storage closet. Something sparked into his memory. Thoughts of times before rebellion. Before gunshots. Cannon fire. Flashes of handcrafted soldiers went across his vision. Once a neighbor lit a firecracker, however, the nightmare began. A musket, one that he had gifted to Alfred was pointed blankly at him. The rain was pouring, he and his battalion were surrounded. There was no choice but to surrender. It was a day that crushed his heart…

"Ar…Arthur?" Alfred's voice was quiet, not showing the usual confidence and cheerfulness. Arthur had been pushed into the backyard, thanks to DeCe. It was time for things to be talked out. At least spoken of.

"Alfred, its not polite to stutter," Arthur said quickly, averting his eyes.

"You're here?" Alfred just couldn't believe it. He would have thought that the man would be in a English Hub, drowning himself in alcohol. It was such a shock. "You're drunk, right?"

"What do you mean, you're drunk, right?! I'm perfectly sober!" In the corner of their eyes, they both could see DeCe having fun adding fuel into the fire. The fuel being all of the Englishman's liquor. "What the hell, you twit? How dare you waste me alcohol like that!"

"Suffer, you idiotic English drunkard! Mr. Jones hasn't had a lick of alcohol, and I'm making sure you don't either!" All of it was dumped…it almost brought tears to Arthur's eyes.

"You brought marshmallows!" Alfred smiled, as he snatched away the plastic bag. "Thank you! I figured that I didn't have anymore, so I thought that I might have need to go out shopping really fast. I don't like leaving DeCe home alone." The smile that the tallest blonde showed made Arthur's temper be put out like a fire.

They all stayed close to the fire, as more lights filled the sky. The night seems to be filled with endless fireworks. DeCe, Alfred, and Arthur were all holding marshmallows to the fire, roasting the white puffs to perfection. Graham crackers and chocolate was already prepared for the marshmallows, so s'mores were on the way. They mostly had light-hearted conversations as the hours past. Chats of world relations, economy, national economy and government filled most of the words, but there were other talks of something less official. Just about this day.

"Oh, I need to go get something." DeCe stood, then scurried into the house. He has hidden something for his dear friend. It was a birthday cake. It was simple, not too big. It was just big enough to split between three people. "Alfred…first, I'm going to let you and Arthur talk…"

"Why did you come here, Arthur?" Alfred asked cautiously, hoping he picked the right words.

"Why wouldn't I? It's your bloody birthday," he scuffed, as he shoved a s'more into his mouth. He didn't want to talk about this. It was too early, wasn't it? It's only been a few centuries. Couldn't there be a few more decades before this could be talked about? No.

"But you never called this my birthday. You always got drunk and never cared for this day. You tried to get yourself to believe that what happened was just a bad dream." It was somewhat scary to have a serious Alfred sit next to him. There was always some nonsense about being a hero. Or having an alien friend named Tony.

"Alfred, why do you have to be such a smartarse?" Even though that should have been an insult, the tone he used sounds more endearing in a sense.

"Iggy, that has to be the nicest thing you've ever said to me!" Al smiled, as he lightly punched Arthur in the shoulder. The short man winced a little, but tried to smile through the pain. He didn't truly hate Alfred. He was that incompetent boy, even with a man's body, but that was just something to like about Al.

"Shut your trap, Al." He still couldn't get his insults to sound mean, which only made the American more happy. It's been too long since he was called Al, by anyone. Especially by the Englishman.

DeCe finally came outside, holding the small cake in his hands. There were a few candles on the cake, each lit with a warm orange glow. It must have been far past midnight, but none of them were obviously tired.

"Happy birthday, Mr. Jones." DeCe sat close enough to the fire so the cake could be seen. On it, in patriotic colors said, Happy Birthday America. "Mr. Kirkland had this cake made for you. It's your favorite kind of cake, too." It was clearly shown on Arthur's face that he had no part in this cake, but the look that was given to him made all the different. A silent message was passed between them. You couldn't truly say it, so I'm helping you out. Arthur shook his head a little, in disbelief. Was he going to take advantage of this opportunity? Was he really going to allow a child to help him out? Sadly, since Alfred was already too happy about this, Arthur couldn't say anything about it.

"Thanks, Iggy! It really means a lot." That genuine smile was just something that was impossible to resist. He was about to blow out the candles, but he was stopped.

"Before you blow them out, you git," Arthur started, as he made his friend back off. "You should make a wish." The American thought about it for a long time. Something finally came to mind and the small flames were blown out. The stars just seemed so much brighter now, as if reacting to the wish that was going to be granted.

"What'd you wish for, Mr. Jones?" DeCe asked, curiosity bubbling in his voice.

"You're not supposed to say your wish aloud, you idiot," the Englishman scolded, finally having that insulting tone in his voice back.

"Well, if I don't say my wish aloud, will it ever come true?" If the heart's voice is smothered, then will it's desires ever be fulfilled? "I wished for this to happen again. To spend time with people that I call my family, on a day that might have a bittersweet past, but that could have a brighter future." The words were filled with such hope. It was just so strange to hear something so moving from a man that wasn't so serious in the past. It nearly brought tears to the Englishman's emerald eyes.

"All you have to do is ask politely, you twat!" Arthur did his best to keep his insulting tone in place, but it didn't last. The smile on his face was just impossible to hide. DeCe grinned, as did Alfred.

"Dude, you're the best!" Alfred pulled the two shorter blondes into a bone crushing hug. Even if it did hurt, the love was there.

"I'll call this a family, but if that stupid Sealand kid comes here, I'm going to mark him as an illegal alien and have him deported!" DeCe was clearly serious, but there was a laugh in his voice. Arthur was glad to hear this and Alfred would agree to this.

That night, it was quiet hard for them all to sleep. Alfred and Arthur decided to have a drinking contest, which DeCe was strongly against. Arthur became an emotional wreck, while Alfred became a horny bastard. To avoid being attacked physically and emotionally, DeCe locked the two drunks into Alfred's room. Surprisingly, nothing really happened. No unusual sounds were heard. The teenager walked into the room cautiously, only to find the two on the floor. They were both crying in their sleep, but held onto each other for comfort. DeCe decided to take a picture, use it for blackmail if ever needed. He walked out of the room, with a happy smile.

"July 5," he said aloud, as he wrote the words on the back of the already printout photograph. "After 235 years, they finally hug." A couple seconds past, then another word came to mind. "As drunk idiots." The muddy blonde wrote at the bottom, with a smiley face.

Up north, a sigh was muffled by the sound of silence. A blonde man walked around in his log house home, with a polar bear cub in his arms.

"No one every remembers my birthday," the Canadian sighed.

"Who are you?" the polar bear asked.

"I'm Matthew… Alfred's brother," he said, but the bear remained clueless.

I feel bad for Matthew, but I just had to do that. Anyway, was that terrible? Was DeCe to weird or out of place? I know this was a rushed story and it must be terrible. But thank you for reading. Reviews are welcomed, I don't get them often.