A/N: So, I wanted to write a fic celebrating my five years on when i overcame a severe bout of writer's block and the stomach flu. But, it was okay, 'cause whenever I'm sick I have Disney movie marathons. This time I watched Mulan, Pocahontas 1 and 2, the Aristocats, and Oliver & Company. My cat and I even sat down to "Hocus Pocus" and drooled over how pretty Sean Murray was! But enough about me...

Over the summer, I became obsessed with 'Axis: Powers Hetalia' because my friend came over one time before marching band practice and showed me this vid of Arthur doing that 'po-pi-po' dance because... I don't even know. And, trust me, I hate everything Japanese/Anime. I still kinda do, except Hetalia. And that's how it happened.

I've been wanting to write a fic about it for awhile, I've just been (see first paragraph). But now I've been inspired! My dad got a Gettysburg calendar in the mail because he donates money to the battlefield society, and he gave it to me! Thus, this story-ish kinda? Yay.

Sorry about the long a/n. I'm done.

DISCLAIMER: Don't own Hetalia. I'm a sad panda!

The Axis and the Allies were sitting down to play a game of Risk when there was an unexpected knock on the door.

"Aw, maaaan!" Alfred groaned.

"NOSE-IES!" Feliciano cried, placing his finger on his nose.

Everyone else, except Kiku, immediately followed suit.

"Haha! You have to get the dooooor!" Yao giggled.

"Huh? What? I don't understand these Western ways!" Kiku frowned.

"Well, everyone who's anyone knows about 'nose-ies!' You do it when you don't want to do something and your with more than one person. Someone shouts 'nose-ies!' and everyone puts their finger on their nose and whoever is the last one has to do whatever. It's the most fair game in the world." Arthur said matter-of-factly.

"That is the stupidest thing I ever heard, Igisiru. I will not--"

"Mon Dieu! Just get the door already, Kiku!" Francis sighed.

"Fine. But it's only because I'm a civilized person I do not wish to get in a fight." Kiku stood up and strolled to the door.

"Whatever..." everyone else said in unison.

Kiku rolled his eyes and opened the door:

"Howdy. Do y'all know if Alfred's there?" grinned a tall man with a definite southern twang. He tipped his gray hat to the shorter Oriental man.

"Uh, yeah... Who's this?" Kiku asked.

"Just tell him it's his brother. Whom he hasn't seen in a very long time," the man was still grinning.

"Alfr-"

Alfred pushed aside his Asian adversary and stood at the doorway, staring at the man in front of him.

"...Johnny? ...Johnny Reb, I think, is what I used to call you..." Alfred said softly.

"Nice to see you, too, Alfie!" Johnny clapped a hand on his brother's back and entered the room, "So what have you been up to these days, hm?"

Alfred looked at the tall blonde man, "Johnny, this really isn't a good time... I--"

"Nonsense! Can I join your game?" he smiled.

"Sure, Mister! Come and join us!" Feliciano beamed, offering him a plate of sun-dried tomatoes that he had stolen from his brother, Lovino.

"Uh, Feliciano... I, um, need to talk to Johnny alone. Would you mind taking my turns for me?" Alfred asked.

"Sure, hero-san!"

Alfred led Johnny out of the room.

"Johnny, I'm so confused... why are you here?"

"I miss you, bro!" Johnny flashed his brilliant blue eyes at Alfred.

"No, seriously... I haven't talked to you in years. Is it about Arthur and how he failed to help you during our... tiff?"

"No, Alfred, no. I just think we haven't seen each other in a while. And I always read up on the other countries' siblings and I never see anything about me. Are you trying to forget I ever existed? Alfred?"

"I-I-I have Matthew," was all Alfred could manage.

"That flapping-head Canadian? Puhleez. You guys aren't really brothers! He's frikkin' French, Alf! Come. On!"

"Let's not talk about this now. Why don't you go sit in the other room with--"

"Everyone else's non-important siblings?"

"No, no, it's just well. Yeah. Please. We'll talk later. I promise."

"All right, Alfred. But you won't win this time," Johnny looked over his shoulder as he opened the door with a crayon-made sign on it that said "BROTHERS ONLY." And the 's' in 'brothers' was backwards just for extra kindergarten flavor.

Johnny sat down in a corner and waited. All of a sudden, he felt a tap on his shoulder.

"Johnny Jones?" asked a man with stark white hair and red-violet eyes and an accent that was a mix of Russian and German.

"Yes?"

"Hello. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt. I'm Germany--er--Ludwig's older brother, Prussia. I know how you feel. And so do they," Gilbert cast an arm to the other people in the room.

During the next few minutes, Johnny became acquainted with the countries who had been living in their brothers' shadow: Lovino Vargas, Raivis Galante, Peter Kirkland, and even Matthew Williams. He would later learn that they were all, respectively, South Italy, Latvia, the somewhat-nation of Sealand, and Canada.

"Don't worry, mio amico, we will let our brothers that we mean business. And we shall rise up!" grinned Lovino.

Johnny looked at each one of them. He had been in this position before, and he knew what had happened that one time. Sure, some people in his half of the United States claimed that "The South will rise again," but he didn't know if he was ready for it yet. However, it would be great to show the other, more "important," countries that he and the other countries meant business.

Johnny smiled his trademark toothy grin and put on the air of gentlemanly Confederate general, "All right, men, where do we start?"