"Come fly with me on my plane-for-two."

Arthur opened his eyes slowly. The wind was powerful, tousling his nibbled fringe in his eyelashes. The sunset blinded him for a moment. Then—“Oh!” he cried. He finally saw what Alfred had been dying to show him all along.

There was the port, now too far away beneath where they were. He could see the bright wind-sock flapping elegantly, and the earth was dotted with buildings and dashed with trees and forestry. There was the sea, crimson beneath the reddening sky, which Arthur thought seemed even more eternal as the duo hovered high above. And the sky—what a creation! He was closer to it now, and he was sure he could jump (if, he could jump from his seat, that is) up and graze his fingers through the pink clouds. It was as if he was seeing one corner of the world to the other. He felt like a God.

He tilted his head backwards, letting out a whoop of joy. He closed his eyes as he laughed. He listened to Alfred’s mirthful hoot; a warm and wise laughter, which resonated through Arthur’s heart even above the beating wind and the rumble of the engine.

“Wow,” Arthur breathed. His gaze settled at the heavens. Placing one hand on Alfred’s shoulder, he raised the other one up to the sky, as if reaching for it. “Wow,” he repeated. He was truly lost for words.

---

So. This was MEANT to be a part of a hetalia fanfic i'm working on with uk and usa.

I was barely on the fifth chapter when I gave up. And this is what. On the twentieth? But who cares about that.

USA -or alfred- is a mechanic who dreams of flying on an open cockpit (set in the early 1900's so planes were not like those today). UK -or arthur- is an author, who's been followed by USA in his quest to search for his wrongly-convicted 14-year-old brother Sealand -or peter. wait, none of this matters. sorry to blabber. -_-