{Edited so that the flashbacks are more clear :)}
America grinned out of relief.
Wiping a hand over his face, (making sure to be careful of his glasses), he leaned back against a nearby wall. He just left a meeting with the President and it only took five minutes. Five minutes. Each meeting America had with that man prior would take at least 2 hours and it always ended in an argument. Regardless of what the rest of the world thought, America and his president did not get along.
Fun Fact: Multiple surveys have shown that a majority of Americans consider Donald Trump to be the worst president of all time.
But that was to be expected. America was never extremely close with his presidents. Most of the time they just acted like babysitters, (granted he was a very powerful child to babysit). As the human representation of his citizens, America would either love his current president or hate him, and it all really depended on his mood.
But there were presidents that America did get along with. Washington? Loved that guy. Roosevelt(s)? Both of them were great. Obama? Sure, he and America would disagree on some things, but that was only because America saw him beyond a babysitter and more of a father figure. (Probably his tenth father figure at this point). It was like America was close enough to him that they were able to disagree at times and still get along. And don't even get America started on Lincoln. However, for the most part, he and his presidents always had strained relationships.
That being said, America's relationship with Trump wasn't just strained. It was wrenched. So any chance to get away from that Cheeto was taken. Thus, there America was, standing outside of the main entrance for the Oval Office. All because the nation couldn't stand being in the same room as the annoying orange for longer than he had to.
His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of what seemed to be a bunch of young children. He faced towards the voices on the right of the hallway with an arched brow. With each passing second, the voices grew louder and louder, until the source of the chatter was seen going past.
It was a class of kids, no older than 4th grade, being led by a tour guide for some field trip. They all paced too quickly to truly admire anything, but it made sense. The White House was huge, and even if those kids were to run there was still not enough time to explore everything in three hours.
But America had an idea. If there were two things he loved, it was kids and talking about himself.
With unnatural speed, America paced through the hallway and turned left at the end towards the tour group. The tour guide had the kids stopped at a portrait of George Washington. She didn't acknowledge America as he stopped right behind her, but the children definitely did. Some raised their brows while others looked about ready to scream "STRANGER DANGER."
"Okay, class, do you know who this man is?" The tour guide motioned towards the portrait.
As soon as the question came out, the kids completely forgot about America and began to raise their hands eagerly.
"Think I might know this one," America leaned over the tour guide's shoulder and the latter froze at the sound of his voice.
Turning her neck a little she made eye contact with America and a fond smile graced her lips. It was the same smile she, Lindsey Goodman, gave him twenty years ago when he comforted her on her first day at the White House. Amazing. Two decades and her smile didn't look a bit less bright.
"Alfred!" Lindsey threw her arms around America and hugged him close. "It's been a hot minute! Where have you been?"
Pulling back from the hug, America shrugged bashfully, retaining his playful grin, "I've been traveling a bit." He winked, "Had to hold back our favorite pumpkinhead from making a complete fool of us in Europe."
She groaned as if she understood, (and in a way, every American did).
"But hey!" America bounced a little on his heels. "How's Jane?"
"Oh, funny you should ask," Lindsey's eyes lit up at the sound of her daughter's name. "She just graduated high school last summer."
America's jaw dropped, "Time really does fly." He closed his mouth and grinned, "That means the little tot is going to college, huh?"
Lindsey groaned, "I know. But, at least she's staying here on the east coast."
"East coast? Let me guess," America pressed his tongue into his inner cheek. Jane was always a smart kid, so she probably went to one of the higher up universities. "Princeton?"
Lindsey nodded her head no, yet suppressed a smile.
"Yale?"
Still no.
"...Harvard?"
A large beam broke out onto Lindsey's face as she nodded her head proudly and America reflected her expression.
"She's studying government."
"That's my girl!" He nudged her. "She had a good teacher, that's why."
"Well 'the teacher' also had a good teacher of her own," she winked, nudging him back.
America's look softened for a second before he glanced at the kids. In the midst of catching up with his old friend, he almost forgot about them, "Hey mini dudes, what's up?"
The kids looked amongst each other excitedly. They suddenly seemed to deem America somebody of value based on the fact that he got along with their tour guide.
"Children," Lindsey straightened her back and presented America with his human name. "This is Alfred. Alfred F. Jones. If there's anybody who knows American history, it's him."
America waved.
"Can he answer our questions?" a girl piped up.
"Um," Lindsey looked at America with a furrowed brow. "If that's… fine with you?"
"Of course it is," America kneeled down so everybody could see him eye to eye. "Ask me anything. Heck. You guys can even ask me about the government or American culture if you want."
"What culture?" A kid said in the crowd.
"Oof," was all America could say in response. Yet, nobody else seemed to really care as a bunch of them raised their hands at once. Raising a pointer finger, the nation motioned at a kid in a red cap.
"Was the moon landing fake?" The kid crossed his arms.
Huh. America should've figured somebody was going to ask that. "Uh-"
"I'm the Hero!"
"Houston, Tranquillity Base here. The Eagle has landed."
Buzz's words echoed through everybody's headsets and America let out a large breath that he didn't even realize he was holding. His knuckles turned white from his grip on the table and he stared at the screen in the center of the room. The atmosphere within Mission Control has never been so tense.
"Roger, Twan—" Duke paused at his mistake before grinning and speaking once more into his headset. "Tranquillity, we copy you on the ground."
Fun Fact: The first words the first moon-landing team received from Houston were from Charlie Duke, who will eventually be the tenth person to walk on the moon. He mispronounced the landing base's name "Tranquility" as "Twan-" before correcting himself. It was like he was an UwU meme.
"You got a bunch of guys about to turn blue. We're breathing again. Thanks a lot."
That was it. They successfully landed on the moon and the Space Race was finally over. America and his fellow NASA operators began to hoot and pat each other on the back, the formerly quiet room filling fast with voices. However, it seemed everybody's relief of the landing was only temporary, because now the next step was to see if Buzz, Michael, or Neil, whichever one, were able to walk out on the surface safely. Yet none of them were going to step out onto the surface for a while. They still needed to prepare everything properly before even thinking of exiting the spacecraft.
But it was okay. These past hours of listening to the crew pilot the spacecraft were exhausting. Thousands of people at NASA spent months working for this exact occasion. Citizens across the nation have put money and support to ensure the landing happened. The whole world was waiting with their breath held to see if America would actually beat the Soviet Union to the moon. Everybody needed some time to relax.
As if reading America's mind all the way from the moon, Buzz's voice came on. It wasn't on Mission Control's headset this time, but the public radio.
"This is the LM pilot. I'd like to take this opportunity to ask every person listening in, whoever and wherever they may be, to pause for a moment and contemplate the events of the past few hours and to give thanks in his or her own way."
And give thanks America did.
"I'm the Hero!"
"-well," America grinned fondly at the memory. "It felt pretty real."
Everybody seemed to accept this as him saying yes and more hands immediately popped up.
Turning his head, America nodded at a kid in an Elvis T-shirt.
"Was James Dean gay?"
America's eyebrows furrowed, "James Dean is the american teenage angst symbol of the 20th century. He was able to make his mark on the world with three movies under age 22 before his death, and you're asking me about his sexuality fifty years later?"
The kid shrugged. "Well, yeah."
"My dad says being gay's a sin," another kid whispered.
"Tim, your dad's a freaking homophobe," some other kid whispered back.
America held his hands up with an easygoing smile, "Hey whoa, it's the 21st century, dudes. We're out here loving who we want to love okay?"
"Say that to Tim's dad."
"Shut up, Mike! At least my dad isn't as racist as yours!"
"Anyway," America looked back at the kid in the Elvis shirt. "About Jimmy-"
"I'm the Hero!"
"Whoa! Gotcha!" America caught and held James in front of him in a tango-like position. Once he noticed their close proximity, he felt a sweat come on. He chuckled uneasily, "Hey, lucky you've got a hero like me to save you."
"Anything else I can call you?" James cocked his head almost cutely. He was acting like he was enjoying this way too much.
"My name's Ameri-" the nation caught himself mid-sentence and coughed into his shoulder, careful to not cough on the actor in his arms. (It would've been really embarrassing if he did that). "-fred. Alfred F. Jones."
James wrapped one arm around America's neck to boost himself closer and play with the nation's cowlick.
"Can I call you Freddy?"
"No. Please don't touch my hair."
"You can call me Jimmy if I can call you Freddy," James smiled proudly like a kid showing their mom a drawing they made. It was just a nickname but Jame's excited expression was what made it so appealing.
Before America could respond, James brought up his hand and smacked America in the face. The nation stepped back while the actor smoothly stood as if nothing happened.
"What the heck, dude?" America held his jaw.
James shrugged, "Got to keep them guessing, you know, Freddy?"
"No! I don't know! And please don't call me Freddy!"
Shrugging, James sighed and completely ignored whatever America just said, "Well my manager's probably sent a dog pack to come find me," he began to saunter past America and towards the entrance to the building.
America watched the young actor go by, pissed off by his eccentric behavior. That douche! he thought. Just because I look your age doesn't mean I am your age! Bitch! Lasagna! I'm 200 frick-fracking years older than you! Don't smack me!
Suddenly, James whirled on his heel like he wanted to mention another thing. He looked America up and down almost shyly before smiling sweetly, "I'll see you around, yeah, Freddy?"
"NO," America instantly shouted. "Why are you so bad at picking up on social cues?"
"I'm the Hero!"
Now that America recalled meeting James, he can sort of see why the kid was asking about his sexuality.
"...that man was definitely a raging bisexual," America ran a hand through his hair. Dang, all it took was that one memory to get the nation all hot and bothered over the actor. Shaking his head, he looked at more kids, "Next?"
He called on a little girl, "My mommy told me that Mr. Trump went to Europe recently."
America grimaced, "That he did."
"What do other countries even do when they meet up?"
"A lot of things, that's for sure," America scratched the back of his neck. "Like…"
"I'm the Hero!"
"H-hey, not to interrupt," Canada rose his hand cautiously. Everybody turned immediately to face him and he cowered at the attention. Nonetheless, he muttered, "But isn't there a specific number you have to roll for these role playing games?"
"Roll what number? To do what?" Prussia raised a brow.
"Don't you want to kill the cat girl in this game?" Canada cautiously asked.
Prussia's brow furrowed and he placed his chin in his palm in contemplation, "Huh. I knew I wanted to beat the thing but I didn't think of killing it."
Japan let out a relieved sigh. He really liked the cat girl, it was the only character so far in this roleplaying game that he liked.
"But now that I think about it, I do want to kill the thing."
Japan's face fell.
"Already on it, Prussia dude!" America winked. "In order for you to defeat the cat girl before Japan likely beats the living shit out of you in his next turn, you have to roll at least a…" he dramatically paused to adjust his glasses for the light to reflect off of them. "20."
Prussia's anticipating shoulders slumped, but quickly straightened out. He scoffed, placing his hands on his hips, "Pft. Okay, no big deal for someone as awesome as me."
Japan let out another sigh of relief. There were 21 sides to the dice. There was literally only a 2/21 chance that Prussia could kill his precious cat girl character.
"Whatever," Germany mumbled. It was obvious in his tone of voice he was already over this. This game was ridiculous. Nobody seemed to be having a genuinely good time except America and Prussia. Made sense. It was because those two have been fucking things up the whole time. However, Germany had to be polite, so he took the dice and handed it to his brother in hopes that his assistance would speed this torture up. "Please hurry."
"Ah ah ah," Prussia tsked, wagging his finger. "You can not rush my awesomeness, West."
"Yeah, yeah," Germany sighed.
Prussia ceremoniously grabbed the dice. He felt it in his palm. Light. Simple. How could one small item hold such meaning in this whole ten-minute campaign? This decides everything important. Will the cat girl die? Should the cat girl die? Wait. This wasn't even a question. The cat girl should die. Everybody agreed on this except Japan.
"I'm the Hero!"
America frowned. Why was this the only memory that popped up when the girl asked about other countries?
"We play roleplaying games," America's mouth slipped.
Everybody cocked their heads in confusion while the nation let out a nervous chuckle.
"Thank you…" America mumbled. "Uh, next!"
The statement had a few kids humming under their breath the Ariana Grande song while everybody's thoughts turned to the "Thank U, Next" meme. Thank god. If there was anything that could distract american kids it was pop culture references or memes.
"Hey, what do you feel about Kavanaugh, Mr. Jones?" A voice, higher than the rest, squeaked.
America's eyes searched through the crowd until they made eye contact with a girl a little too small for her age who had a hand on her hip and a book of social commentary held in the other. She was so ahead of her time it was like her amount of "wokeness" was to make up for the rest of her generation's ignorance.
"Ya know…" America began.
"I'm the Hero!"
The radio show host, Paul, paused for a bit, before continuing, "So you're saying that this guy should have a proper job interview before the trial?"
The comment encouraged laughter from the co-host, Jim.
America's face reddened and he pulled over to the side of the road. He needed to focus more on his response before he said anything new. He didn't want to embarrass himself on the radio with an uneducated sounding answer. It would make everybody that had the same political views as him sounds stupider than they were. Last thing America needed was more people calling those against Kavanaugh "libtards." (Which was already going to be difficult considering this was a conservative talk show).
"No no," America sighed. "This whole trial thing is like a job interview. It's seeing if he's fit for the duty or not-"
"But he's certainly qualified for the Supreme Court," Paul intervened.
"No dude! He is definitely not!"
"Dude?!" Jim cackled. "Did you just call him dude? Just how old are you, kid?"
Fuck. America really did just call a guy dude on a political talk show.
Before he could make more of a fool of himself, America ignored the question and went straight to it, "If you were to give a job interview for hm, let's see, a teacher. Heck, make it a bus driver. If we were to be interviewing somebody to be a bus driver, would you hire them if they were accused of sexual assault? No."
"Okay, but this man is in a high position! It's easy for just anybody in the street to come up and claim that he has sexually assaulted them," Jim groaned.
"I understand that, but you see-"
"No kid, you don't understand," Paul deadpanned. "You're way too young to think you know everything about the world. Damn. That's what I hate about you liberals."
America opened his mouth to intervene but then the line went dead. On the radio, he heard Jim cackle again and ask if there were any more callers up for debate. The nation's mouth went dry and tears threatened to spill over from his eyes. He knew he wasn't completely right, and he knew he didn't sound like a credible guy, but fuck. Nobody should be ignored like that. His opinion should be just as respected as theirs. Why hold a debate with viewers on your station if you're not willing to hear the other side out? Regardless if it was a debate wasn't it just basic human decency to pay attention to what somebody has to say?
It was weird how America was supposed to be the most powerful country in the world but not even a radio show talk host would listen to his opinion.
Leaning his head against the wheel of his car he shouted, "Frick!"
"I'm the Hero!"
The memory left a bitter taste in America's mouth and he struggled to swallow it down. For the umpteenth time that day he shook his head.
"Well, I can't speak for the whole country, and my opinion isn't necessarily right," America shrugged. "But I think the senate made a mistake, and I'm leaving it at that."
The majority of kids had no idea what he really meant by that, but it sounded advanced enough for them to shrug it off as something educated. The kid who asked the question, however, seemed satisfied with the answer. Cool beans.
America glanced at his watch and his heart stopped. It was already 2:45 and he had a flight to New York at 3:15. (He promised Canada that they were going to hang out at Niagara Falls this weekend). As much as he enjoyed answering these kids' questions and going through memory lane, America had to go.
Looking up from his watch, he gave a lopsided smile to the group. "Alright, guys, listen. This was fun, really, but I have to go."
Cue the groans. Some kids, contrastingly, piped up, saying, "thank you for your time!" How polite. That stuff made America smile.
"Wait! Wait! One more question!" A small girl jumped. "Have you made any history yet, Mr. Jones?"
She probably meant nothing offensive by it, but the way she emphasized the "you" made it seem like she expected him to be something important. She probably thought he was a young politician or something. Nonetheless, America was surprised by the question.
It must have been obvious, too, because everybody, including Lindsey, was looking at him curiously. America was taking too long to answer. He forced a smile.
"That's an oddly personal question," America winked teasingly. The small girl's face immediately turned red and the class giggled.
"I'm sorry," she immediately looked down, embarrassment clouding her eyes.
"No no no," America raised his brows. "I'm just playing around."
He gave her a sympathetic look until her shoulders visibly relaxed.
"But as for your question… 'Have I made any history yet…'" America's brows furrowed as the children around him leaned closer in anticipation of his words.
He frantically thought of something to say. He wanted to answer with something that didn't sound like: 'Yes I have made history. In fact, I'm the personification of the very nation which you stand in right now. I've been alive for 200 years. I've survived diseases, depressions, and bombings! I will outlive you all combined!'
So he opted to say, "I may have made a bit of history."
An excited clamor rant about the crowd. Everybody began to raise their hands to ask what he meant. America held up his hands, laughing, and motioning for the children to quiet down.
"It's not that much though," he put his hands in his pockets. "A lot of people might agree, others might not. Yet I definitely want to make more, that's a fact."
Looking among the faces of the children, from the boy with the red cap, the kid with the Elvis shirt, the girl with the book, everybody… No kid looked alike, and he had faith that none of them acted alike either. They were all so, so different with different stories and different families and different thoughts, but they were all his people. These children were the reflection of his future. History depended on them. He didn't say it outright to the tour group, of course, but America knew that he's made plenty of history, and with kids like these he was bound to make more.
((A/N: {PLEASE READ, IT'S REALLY IMPORTANT TO ME IF YOU READ THIS ONE}
Anyway, so basically, thank you for reading the prologue of my fanfiction for The American Plight! I know I'm really late to the fandom, but recently this year I've been exploring more into history, present day news, and overall this country in general. Upon studying into my country, (if you can't tell what my "country" is at this point, it's the good ol' States), I realized that I love, love, LOVE foreign relations and just the concept of "nations" interacting in general. That, somehow, lead me to Hetalia. And boy, oh boy, things went at a slightly lower angle from there (meaning this was both downhill and uphill for me, but more downhill because I have devoted too many hours of my life to this show).
Of course, being the trash that I am, America immediately became my favorite character. Like I could not help it with this gem, there was so much to admire about this boy. Yeah, he's an asshole the majority of the time but he means well. However, in between my deep studying into American history and current political issues today I realized that Himaruya doesn't really touch into the darker stuff, (of course, this show is meant to be crack). And while I do love Hetalia's light-hearted comedy I thought, "Hey, a look into some angsty past might not hurt from time to time." And even if he were to look into this stuff, it probably wouldn't look into much American stuff, (not that I EXPECT him too, of course, it's a Japanese show, not an American one). So while it was a given that Himaruya would never look into things like slavery or gun control, I still believe that the concept of delving into these matters is really important! And I, an intellectual, have decided that there is no better way for me to reach out to the audience of the Internet on American political and historical issues than with the power of God and anime on my side.
Okay, jk.
WHAT THIS FANFICTION IS:
Contrary to the second to last paragraph I just wrote, this fanfiction won't be primarily ANGST and CONTROVERSIAL ISSUESSSS. I'm going to try my best to retell historical events, discuss current politics, and experience large cultural aspects of America with the humor that Hetalia would if they were to dive more into America than just revolutionary war and hamburgers. THIS MEANS the way that I write about some tragic events may come off as really, really, REALLY offensive, and I do apologize in advance. The more serious an issue is, however, the less lightly I'll take it, but with each chapter I do I'm going to try my best to make it at least reminiscent of the show's dynamics, if that makes sense. (So no chapter will be COMPLETE angst. The angstiest it'll ever get is like the one Davie episode, and that'll only be once in a blue moon). There are also going to be random chapters of America experiencing his own culture/introducing it to other countries, because idk I feel he would be a cutie who would do touristy/local stuff in his free time. (Character interactions will be specified more under CANON/FANON DYNAMICS). To get a better sense of what I'm trying to say, you can re-read the mini "flashbacks" America had when talking to the tour group in this intro, because all of these are excerpts of chapters to come!
CHAPTERS:
On the topic of chapters, each chapter is going to be a one-shot, (unless I say it's a two-part or three-part or so on), but they all happen in the same universe aka same variation I have of the canonverse. I would like to SAY that it's basically like normal fanfic chapters, but I can't really because NOTHING HAPPENS IN CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER. One chapter will be talking about the Space Race and the next will probably be about Susan B. Anthony. It'll be kind of like the show and how they jump back and forth from storyline to storyline every episode, but it all happened in the same universe.
POLITICS:
On an another important note, my view on politics can be described as liberal. I'm a second generation american born, bisexual brown girl. It is only natural that I am going to have very strong opinions about the rights of minorities, and this is likely going to be reflected in my writing when I bring up political topics. If you're not into that, (I respect your opinion), then you will still be able to read this fanfiction, as you can just skip the chapters that do contain anything political because it'll say something about the controversial issue of the chapter within the first sentence. (This is presuming the chapter contains any politics in the first place).
CANON/FANON DYNAMICS:
Moving on, if it wasn't already obvious, this is an American-centric fanfiction that's going to revolve around his experiences as a young, scrappy, and hungry country (uehuehue). There's also going to be random bits of me writing out scenarios that I feel could actually happen in the show, (these will also have America in all of them). And because it IS fanfiction, I am going to develop my own headcanons, however I'm going to try to make it as accurate to the show's characterization and world events as possible, alrightea? I also want to establish my interpretation of his relationship with each country he WOULD have a relationship with, so there will be chapters solely dedicated to his relationships with characters he doesn't interact with often or at all in the show, (i.e. the Italian brothers, Belarus, Korea, etc. etc.). I also want to make my own fanon characters like the Philippines, Mexico, and probably even North Korea because I feel like if Hetalia were an America-centric show, (at least, more than it already is, because let's be real: Himaruya loves his boi Alfred), the first two would play at LEAST a major supporting role if not a main role. On the other hand, characters like Britain, Canada, and Japan are going to show up a lot, (because they're the closest with America), and therefore don't need their own separate chapters in order for me to establish what kind of relationship they have in this fanfiction's universe. ALSO, the majority of how the plot of this fanfic is made and written out is LARGELY based on the dubbed version of the anime, therefore, England will be referred to as Britain in order for me to hear their voices properly in my head when I write, (that sounded a lot less creepy before I wrote it out).
AS FOR SHIPS, I'll probably mention some? Like Gerita, Prucan (maybe), Spamano, Aushun, Dennor, THE LIST GOES ON, but it's not really going to be like "AND THEN ITALY GRABBED GERMANY'S COLLAR AND MADE OUT BEFORE THEY FUCKED ENDLESSLY." No, it'll be small things like America noticing that Person A makes Person B blush, because this is an APH America fanfic, so if something happens it has to be through America's eyes. As for our golden boy, he's going to have multiple love interests because this is his history, but as of current day he'll be interested in only one person because his past love interests/crushes will all be human and probably dead (lol). His main love interest in the present storyline will be Britain, but like mentioned before, because there are so many flashbacks there's gonna be other people he was romantically linked with. This brings me to an important point. USUK IS NOT THE MAIN POINT OF THIS FANFICTION. I WANT EVERYBODY TO BE ABLE TO READ THIS, WHETHER YOU SHIP AMERIPAN OR FRUK OR WHATEVER. That being said, and please hear me out, there will be usuk. (I know that negates what I just said but seriously, hear me out). I will mark every chapter as [USUK] that is going to contain anything slightly romantic between the two, so if usuk isn't your jazz you can just skip to the next chapter. You won't miss anything important, the chapters that ARE going to be marked as usuk will not have any historical or political value and it's mostly just filler material of those blonde homosexuals being, well, homosexual. Interactions between America and Britain outside of the chapters not marked usuk will be STRICTLY platonic, (if it ever gets iffy for some of ya non-shippers, just read their interactions as brotherly instead of romantic, I guess).
CONCLUSION:
Anyway, WHOO this was a long Author's Note and if you stayed until this long I'm super dooper impressed and can already tell that you're a really patient and kind person. :) It really does mean a lot to me that you took the time to come all the way down here and listen to what I have to say and honestly you're amazing. This is my first fanfiction I'm going to publish to the Internet and the fact that you're even viewing it matters a boat load. I do accept constructive criticism, but I will warn you I'm quite a crybaby so please be nice. ,) I think that's about it, for now, agh. I feel like I have to shower you in more gratefulness but then you'd have to read more and I already made you read enough. Once again, thank you for giving this fanfiction a chance and please enjoy the adventures of my boi: Alfred F. Jones!))