Hello, all! :)
This is my new fanfic entitled Brothers entailing Alfred F. Jones ((America)(Hetalia)) and Steve Rogers (Captain America)
Alfred is basically like an uncle to him throughout the story, but their friendship could be comparable to a pair of close brothers, thus the title
I was originally going to make this a oneshot, but then decided against it due to the length of it. I hope that this pleases you people :D
Well, that's all about all I have to say :)
Reviews and constructive
criticism are welcome ;)


Fandom(s): Captain America and Hetalia: Axis Powers

Characters: Alfred F. Jones (Hetalia) and Steve Rogers (Captain America)

Genre: Friendship/Drama/Tragedy/Hurt/Comfort

Raiting: T

Summary: Steve Rogers has known his uncle Alfred Jones ever since he could remember. He was always there for him, even when no one else was.

"A new baby is like the beginning of all things - wonder, hope, a dream of possibilities." - Eda J Le Shan

It was 1920, the Fourth of July, and Alfred F. Jones, an American representative, was running past people while making his way through Brooklyn, New York. It was an important occasion, almost as much as his own birthday to say the least. Well…it was his birthday. Driving was pointless. Running was faster due to the lack of driving space. The crowded and congested streets continued to play their obnoxious cacophony of a symphony of shouts and cars honking, only to flare up more when Alfred ran in front of them, cutting them off or shooting right past them, making them drop a thing or two due to the sudden surprise.

"Damn it, I'm gonna be late," he grumbled, almost finished with tying his tie around his neck. His fingers fumbled about as he ran, tying the cloth into a perfect bow. His irises dilated for a split second before he dropped down to the ground in his suit, barely dodging a pair of movers carrying a sofa into the back of a truck. He felt the light brown hairs at the apex of his head brush ever so lightly against the wooden board underneath the piece of furniture. His eyes glanced upwards for a second before he leaped forward, taking off in full sprint once more in his now well worn-in leather shoes.

The high noon sun that lit up the sky above him seemed to taunt him as his eyes burned from the glare of his glasses. Alfred attempted to block out the sun somewhat with his hand, still running and now panting heavily.

He kept running along E. 34th street.

210…211…212…Wait a minute..!

He ran right past the apartment complex, 212. The leather soles skidding to a stop on the pavement. His body pivoted as he tried to turn himself around…only, he couldn't stop right away as he hoped. With his body leaning back as much as it was, it was only natural to the laws of gravity that he would go tumbling back and land flat on his butt. But hey, this is Alfred F. Jones we're talking about! He didn't land on his arse, but...it was a close call.

Flailing his arms like he was trying to fly while shouting, scared out of his mind at that moment, Alfred tried as hard as humanly possible to stay balanced on his leather clad feet…with not too much success. He was rocking back and forth, imitating a rocking horse almost. He then puffed his cheeks and furrowed his eyebrows, leaning forward and then planting one foot completely on the concrete ground.

At that moment, one could say he was imitating a figure skater, the way his arms and leg were up in the air. Sighing heavily, Alfred slowly lowered his limbs and relaxed his muscles, standing upright while buttoning up his suit jacket.

"Phew, that was a close one there!" he noted. His happy eyes then looked up and scaled the building, resting on one of the windows in the 6th row. "Hope I didn't miss it." And with that, Alfred started off again, darting up the steps and then jerking the door open to step inside the apartment complex.

A baby's wails could be heard. A dirty blonde woman with happy and tired eyes held her baby while lying in bed, smiling down at the little bundle of joy that was wrapped in a small washcloth. Alfred rushed to the doorway, almost missing it and once again skidding to a stop with his hand on the wooden doorframe for support, panting heavily and hunched over with one blue eye more open than the other and his other hand on his dark brown pant leg.

She looked up, her smile fading lightly when she saw him.

"Mr. Jones?"

Alfred straightened up, now in control of his breathing. A big smile now plastered his face and his eyes gleamed. He nodded.

"Mrs. Rogers?"

She nodded, staring at Alfred for a moment before looking down at her newborn child, rocking the bundle back and forth lightly. After a few seconds, the baby stopped crying. Alfred stared from the doorway for a moment, completely awed. He watched as she shushed the baby lightly, a bright smile still on her face. The doctor, who was by the window with his leather bag on a wooden table stood as he packed the last of his equipment away into the baggage. The semi-bald man took the stethoscope from around his neck and slowly and gently placed it in his bag. He then snapped the bag shut before grabbing the leather handle and picking up his round had from the wooden surface.

He turned, his dark brown eyes that glistened of old age and a bit of joy shifted to look at the new mother. "Ma'am." He lightly bowed his head, still holding his hat in his hand by the top of it by his shoulder. The mother lightly bowed her head to him.

"Thank you doctor," she spoke, a hint of tiredness crept in the words.

"No trouble at all." Those were the last words he uttered to the woman before he placed his hat atop his head and made his way out the door, bag at hand. The doctor stopped at the doorway. He turned to Alfred and spoke to him in a low voice, "The father of that child is very lucky." His smile widened slightly before he turned to leave.

Alfred blinked at him, the smile fading from his face as he registered the words. "Yeah," he sighed. The doctor turned out into the hallway and left. Alfred was now staring at his worn shoes, the words weighing on his conscious like lead. The child's father, Joseph Rogers, he had pneumonia. Never got over it. Sarah, his wife, was about six months pregnant. He and Joe were good friends, no doubt about it. The two met in a coffee shop, back a few years ago in 1916.

Alfred sipped his morning coffee while reading the newspaper.


He sighed and threw the paper down onto the counter top, not bothering to read the rest. The meetings weren't going too well. Germany refused to lighten up or stop this nonsense. The war was basically pointless. Men, women, and children were all dying because of Germany's nonsense. It baffled him. Sure, he was the type that would rather tell a joke, but really, in this situation, who wouldn't? Germany made it quite clear that he was.

Once again, he sighed, taking another sip of his straight black coffee.

"Sir, I'm asking you nicely. Pay up now!"

Alfred stopped reading, still holding the coffee cup to his face but not drinking its contents. His blue eyes behind the spectacles that he wore shifted to the right. He saw a distressed man with light brown hair and a waitress standing by the doorway of the café. The man was nervously sweating by his temple, he wore a pair of suspenders and a colored white shirt that was slightly stained around his sleeves that were rolled up to the elbow and he wore some slightly stained trousers and old and worn leather shoes.

"Look, I-"

"No excuses! This is the second time this week that you aren't paying!" the waitress cut in, waving a finger while chiding him. "You have a job, don't you?"

"Yes, but-"

Alfred continued to watch the scene, sitting at the counter a few stools away from the two. He slowly put his coffee cup back down on its saucer.

"Then, no buts!" the waitress and man were now catching the eyes of most, if not all of the customers, which were mostly men around the man's age. "Now. Pay. Up."

The man gulped. Alfred got up and walked over, unknown by the quarrelling two by the door. He placed his hand on the man's shoulder. "May I ask what this is about?" he interjected, wearing a small smile on his face as he looked the waitress in the eye. The waitress blinked at him for a second or two before regaining her composure.

"This man refuses to pay his bill." She pointed to the man, who was looking at Alfred, worried somewhat. Alfred lightly cocked an eyebrow.

"Really?" he asked. The man looked at the waitress

"Yes!" the maid shouted. "Can you please throw him out for me?" she pointed to the door over her shoulder with her thumb. Alfred sighed lightly as he removed his hand from the man's shoulder. The man in turn looked at Alfred once more, now somewhat scared, especially since Alfred stood a good few inches taller than him and had a wider build.

"I see. And how much was the bill?" he asked, reaching into his pocket.

"About a dollar," she answered, not noticing what he was doing.

"Well then," Alfred pulled out two coins from his wallet, both of them half-dollar ones. "I believe this should cover it." He lightly took the waitress' hand and opened it, giving her the coins. The brown haired woman's eyes shifted rapidly between her hand and Alfred's face.


The man stared at Alfred, wide eyed. He didn't expect this in the least. The waitress kept silent, opening her hand slightly to gaze down at the half dollars before running off to the cash register.

The man turned to Alfred. "I-I don't know how to thank you," he spoke, smiling lightly and nervously. Alfred in turn smiled back brightly and widely.

"Don't worry about it, Dude!" he laughed out loud while hitting his back lightly, reassuring him, or at least trying to. "By the way," he stopped laughing, looking down at the man slightly while still smiling. "The name's Alfred. Alfred Jones." He held his hand out.

The man looked down before smirking lightly. "Joseph Rogers, nice to meet you." He grabbed Alfred's hand. They shook hands firmly, looking each other in the eye. And that's how their friendship began…

The mother's light laughter snapped him back to reality. His head snapped up, his eyes that were sad, they now contained some sort of joy from looking at the mother and her child being together. His hand slowly slid down from the wooden doorframe. He slowly walked inside with a small smile spread across his lips. Sarah looked up at him, smiling tiredly. "Would you like to hold him?"

The question took the country representative back. He stared with his bright blue eyes at the baby before staring at its mother who continued to smile and held the bundle a little closer to him, encouraging him to take it. Alfred smiled lightly and carefully took the bundle from the woman, smiling down at it. The baby opened its blue eyes and stared up tiredly at Alfred. Sarah sat up in bed with her hands on her laps, looking up at the two as Alfred held her child.

Joseph lied in bed, every second that he had left ticking right by him, and he knew it. Sarah and Alfred sat by his bedside, her trying ever so hard to blink back tears and him staring at him sadly. Death was inevitable, and all three of them knew it. The Irish man turned his head, seeing his close friend and wife sit by him with tired dull eyes.

"Sarah," he weakly spoke. His wife, who was looking down at her stomach, shot her head up, her brown eyes filled with surprise, then narrowing slightly when she saw her husband slowly and weakly raise a skinny hand to her face, touching it ever so lightly. "Why don't you go make something for Alfred?" Sarah grabbed his hand and brought it to her face, nodding her head before she turned it and kissed his knuckles lightly. Slowly she got up and walked out of the room, quietly closing the door behind her.

Joseph's dull brown eyes turned to Alfred, studying his friend for a moment. Alfred did likewise, wondering what Joe wanted to say to him. "Hey, Alfred..." the man's quiet and weak voice spoke, fading out.

"Yeah?" the light brown haired man sitting beside Joe asked, looking at him with uneasy eyes.

"I want you...to promise me something..." Joe was starting to grow tired, he could tell. He wanted nothing more than to shut his eyes that stared at the white ceiling above him, but he fought to keep them open. His breathing was becoming slower.

"Anything," Alfred replied in a quiet voice, knowing what this meant.

"Be there for my kid, will ya?" He looked at his friend that sat in the chair with the back of it facing him, legs straddling either side. Alfred's eyes widened slightly for a moment, letting the words sink in. He swallowed lightly before grimly nodding.

Joseph smiled tiredly at him before closing his eyes. His breathing stopped. Alfred didn't realize this at first, though. He was staring down at the floor. He then looked back up.

"Hey, Joe," he spoke, wanting to ask him something. No reply. His light blue eyes widened greatly, his pupils small dots in his irises. And it just so happened that the door opened and Sarah walked in with a cup of coffee in her hands. She stood, smiling softly for a moment before she read Alfred's still somewhat shocked expression and her husband's sleeping face...Sleeping face...

The coffee cup and saucer dropped to the ground, shattering and brown liquid spilling onto the bedroom floor.

"What's its name?" he asked in a low, quiet voice. He stared at the newborn's face, slightly saddened. He really did look like his father...

She sighed lightly. "Steve," she answered him, still smiling.

"Steve, huh…" A small smile crept onto his face unconsciously. He liked the name. He liked it a lot. There was something about this kid that drew him in, something special. The baby smiled widely back at him. Something told him that he liked him too.