“Iggy…Iggy” Alfred poked the sleeping British man’s face. As he always was in the mood for fun, sleeping was for later afterwards the awesome. Plus being the hero, sleeping was not on the top of the list. But for a second, he looked at Arthur’s sleeping face, the smile and the peaceful look, but this was more important “Iggy! Iggy! Iggy! Wake up!” he continued to poke his face. Finally, ‘Iggy’ woke up, blinking a few times.
“What do you want you git??” Arthur looked at him with a death glare,” I was having a good dream!”
“I got tickets to the football game! This will be so awesome! The Pats vs. The Lions! You gotta come! Please? It’s going to be awesome. Please??” he started to jump around like a little boy in their Boston home.
“A football game..? Wait a bloody American football game? NO.” England put his head back down on the table,” I’m going back to sleep.” America poked him again and started to whine.
“Please Iggy? PLEASE? You chose what we did last weekend!” he was remembering when England dragged him to that… whatever it was that was super boring.
“I hate it when you’re right.” Yawning, the older country stood up and walked to get his coat.
“Sweetness! This is going to be awesome!” They headed to Alfred’s blue Ford truck, the cold December air nipping at their noses. Arthur admired the beauty of Boston in the winter, the last time he had seen Boston before he was dating the American it was 1770 and the war was in the midst. Both boys slid into the fine black leather seats of the truck and the low rumble of the truck started and soft rock music played. After a while in the truck, the lyrics of Mein Gott rang through the air.
“Huh, Prussia must be calling.” He answered the phone yelling, ‘YO THE HERO IS PRESENT!’ Arthur could hear four languages speaking; French, German, Danish and English.
‘Oh great, what did I get into?’ The older out of the two slid down in his seat, putting his face into his hands. The truck was getting quite comfortable, so he fell asleep.