A/N: Title is crap. =_=; Two things that gave birth to this (if you care): 1) It was inspired by a conversation I had with a friend from California, after she read the News story that I have America reading in the beginning of this fic.

2) Another friend IRL complained that there aren't enough Hetalia fics that play with current events (unless they're tragic, and therefore should be off limits). So I decided to try writing my own.

Warnings: Excessive use of headcanon facts, warped current events, pointless crack, and snarky/semi-violent Canada. Do not read if you are easily offended (why are you even in this fandom?), because I tend to bash everyone in the name of humour. Rated T for a couple bad words.

Btw, please don't chew me out for some of the more offensive/controversial views Canada and America might have of each other. I got the ideas from reading various News discussion forums (And Canada/USA national polls), and I thought they would make good drama.

Summary: In which America does some reading, and Canada desperately wishes he would just mind his own business. Implied/Pre-Slash.

Or

In which America puts his foot in his mouth, and a confused/irritated Canada finds himself playing housewife.


Of Current Events and Stupid Sibling-Things


Alfred drums his fingers impatiently against the desk, and squints at the computer screen in disbelief. Nah, there's no way this was true—must be some Tabloid Thing… America glances back at the headline,

Military Plans A Show Of Force In The Arctic

America scoffs again. Contrary to popular belief, he did occasionally take a peek at events outside his own borders—but seriously? The first Canadian news website he comes across, and it's full of articles about Mattie's military? Since when did he even have a military? Pacific blue eyes scan the text, despite his skepticism

'The month-long exercise, scheduled for August and dubbed Operation Nanook… blah, blah… will involve more than 1000 troops…' Alfred taps the mouse scroll with a huff, skimming past the boring parts, '… which will come just weeks after Russia's Defence Minister, Anatoly Serdyukov, said his country will send two army brigades to help protect its interests…'

Wait, what?

Alfred stares at the text in disbelief. Were Mattie and The Commie about to duke it out over a couple of icebergs? And he wasn't invited? Alfred minimizes the Internet window and quickly double clicks on the AIM icon.

It briefly occurs to him that Canada might not be online at… 2:00am … would he even be in the same time zone?


Canada blinks as his laptop chirps with the announcement that someone was massaging him. He let out an involuntary yawn, before glancing at the time, and then frowning. Ontario passed out on the desk hours ago, precarious stacks of paperwork seeming to consume the snoring Province. Who on earth would be messaging him at… well, ever? Matthew clicks on the chat window with what little curiosity his lethargic brain could muster.

USofAwesome: MATTIIEEEE!1!

USofAwesome: u there ?

Canada rolls his eyes and closes the window with a grimace. He should have known, and he didn't need the distractions and rampant idiocy that were sure to follow. Just as he closes it, three more pop up, all with variously worded inquiries as to whether he was in the vicinity. Matthew types up a brief reply,

MapleMonster: No

USofAwesome: UR LYING D

MapleMonster: XP

MapleMonster: Whst was your first hint?

MapleMonster: Wjay*

MapleMonster: What**

MapleMonster: I think my keyboard's been possessed by typo demons…

USofAwesome: whtvr

USofAwesome: need 2 ask u sumthing!

MapleMonster: Im busy.

USofAwesome: ur the one always preaching the amazingness of multitasking

MapleMonster: I lied.

USofAwesome: i NU IT _

Matthew can't resist a grin as the image of Alfred imitating an angry, blond blowfish springs to mind. He can only be thankful that this is over the web, and not real life shouting in his ear.

But he really does need to get to bed at some point.

MapleMonster: ttyl, need sleep

UsofAwesome: Nuuuuu—

Canada snaps the laptop shut with a huff, deciding that it couldn't be very important since the super power bothered to contact him in the first place. Usually Alfred would go directly to his government.

The young nation rescues his wayward Province from the leaning towers of paper work. He makes a halfhearted attempt to clear up the mess, but is uncertain if he has simply made it worse by the time he gives up and heads for his bedroom (right across the hall from his "home office").

Canada flops face first onto the bed with a groan—still in his faded green bunnyhug and worn jeans. He squeaks indignantly as his cell phone buzzes against his leg, "American Idiot" screaming at full volume.

God… or Allah, or Buddha, or whomever he's supposed to be worshipping at this point; why can't his life just end? And Europe thought they had problems. Hah!

"America," Canada's voice is brusque, "No, the chess set is not possessed. Your bears and eagles have been going extinct for decades. China doesn't listen to me. And your welfare check is in the mail; not my fault that Canada Post™ is on strike."

There's a brief silence as America processes the uncharacteristically aggressive rant. But more importantly…

"Fuck you, Bro. It's not welfare."

"Oh really,"

"Yeah!"

"Mister, 'oh it's not fair that you can afford lower corporate taxes, so now you get all the business, give me billions to make up for my lost revenue!'" Canada snarks in a high falsetto voice.

"Piss off, you know it's not fair!"

"You're not fair," Canada grouses.

"Your face isn't fair," Came America's equally mature comeback, prompting another grin from his northern neighbour.

"Your mom's not fair."

"Dude, I'm telling Iggy."

A quick, airy laugh jumps from Matthew's lips, "Oh, so we're all on speaking terms this year?"

"Ohh, go to hell." Canada can hear the grumble in his voice.

"At the rate you're going? Thanks, but I think I'll be meeting you there."

There's a brief silence, neither country certain if they are going to continue, or just laugh it off and move on.

"God damnit, do you always have to have the last word?" America demands. Canada giggles into his pillow.

"I don't know," Canada's voice turns wistful as he stares at his bedside clock, "you ever going to get better at this argument thing?"

"Bitch."

"Slut."

"You're the slut." America insists.

"Manwhore." Canada corrects himself, not even attempting to deny the previous accusation. "The hell's the difference anyway?" Canada asks boredly.

"You… don't get paid?" America himself sounds confused as to how that makes him any better.

"… Right."

Canada rolls onto his back with a displeased noise—something between a moan, and a sigh. "Seriously, Al, what do you want? I have shit to do tomor—later today." He spares a glance at the clock again. "In four hours, actually, and I know your schedule isn't exactly sunshine and butterflies at the moment."

"Oh what, are you stalking me now?" America shoots back, not sure if he should be concerned that Canada already knows his itinerary, or just accept it for the fact of life that it is.

It vaguely occurs to him that he had a reason for calling…

"Yes, Alfred," Canada deadpans, "I'm in your closet right now, taking pictures of the Grand Canyon." He ignores the triumphant, 'hah! I'm not at home!' exclamation. "I'll probably pull out my stash of Florida pictures later and jerk off t—"

"Ew!" Alfred lets out a sudden screech, "EWWW!" Matthew blanches, then turns beet red, because Alfred was not supposed to take that statement seriously.

Canada tries, with little success, to calm his panic-stricken neighbour. However, all of his attempts at clarification, or denial are deftly overpowered by the ranting superpower.

"Your boss sends me memos, okay!" But all he gets is a dial tone. Matthew slowly pulls the phone away from his ear, and just stares at it. The fucker hung up on me… He muses, not sure if he should be feeling dread, anger, or relief. On the one hand, it's likely that America will forget about it within the hour. On the other, border security might tighten, and how is he supposed to explain to his boss that there's been yet another set back in continental security negotiations?

Canada grabs the nearest pillow and slaps it over his face with a frustrated growl. Maybe if he smothers himself, everything will go back to normal by the time he wakes up. But as things stood, if Alfred still remembers tomorrow, Canada figures he's looking at either a restraining order, or an offer of pity sex. Neither of which seem particularly appealing right now. His phone buzzes again.

"What d'you want?" Canada grumbles, not caring whom he offends at this point. A familiar obnoxious laugh responds to his demand. Wow, that has to be a new record for Alfred's selective amnesia.


"Broski, when were you going to tell me that you and the Ruskie were fighting?" America demands, having finally remembered why he was phoning in the first place. Yes, these new revelations about Matthew's Florida collection were kind of disturbing, but hey, he could deal. It's not like Matt had anyone else around when he got lonely, right? So… creepy or not, Canada was still his sort-of-brother, and he still needs to make sure nothing horrible happens to him.

"… W-what?" Canada sounds confused. "I… I'm not…"

"And people say that I'm the forgetful one." America scoffs. "It's all over these news thingies…"

"Alfie, I have n-no idea what you're talking about," Canada admits, and America can't help but flush at the rarely used nickname. "I've been on good terms with Ivan for decades." America's blush quickly turns into a scowl; since when is Mattie on a first name basis with that psycho?

"Matt, military mission?" America prompts, "In the Arctic? With a bunch of guys that got back from Afghanistan? Any of this a ringin' a bell?" All he receives are a few confused sounding noises, 'it's too fucking early for this,' might have been in there as well, but America had tuned most of it out.

"Th… you mean the training mission?" Canada asks; his voice taking on a plaintive warble as it occurs to him just how comfortable his bed feels right now. A rush of static comes across the phone line (probably a sigh).

"Russia has nothing to do with it." Canada mumbles, "The military does this every summer – if anything, I should probably invite Ivan to participate, considering how negotiations are going so far…"

"I'm calling bullshit, why else would—"

"Because that's what the media is paid to do," Canada huffs, obvious irritation beginning to taint his tone, "Oh fuck this, this is an old story. If you're really that concerned, talk to me tomorrow—but don't do anything stupid. Hell, check in with foreign affairs, Lord knows they've given up trying to ignore you."

"Don't you dare h—" Click. "—ang up!" Alfred glares at his phone in disbelief. Since when does Canada own a spine too? … Maybe around the time he got a military? America sends a quick text, threatening invasion if Canada doesn't reply. Two minutes tick by, while America waits impatiently for a response.

Right.

Invasion it is, then.

America grabs his coat from the back of his chair and struts out the door, car keys rattling in his pocket as he shrugs into his leather jacket.


A/N: This is basically my attempt to try and get back into writing. I've had horrible Writer's Block for the past 4 years, so I'm trying to make myself work past it.

That being said, I'd love any reviews, or critiques (no flames please, I don't handle confrontations well, XD), or encouragement. Let me know how I did with their characterizations so far?