Written simply because I was listening to Made in America by Toby Keith and because I love fics where leaders meet their countries for the first time. If you know of any, PLEASE tell me.

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Barack Obama sat in the Oval Office, only two hours after he had been inaugurated as President of the United States of America. The former president had shaken his hand jovially, but had said something that bothered him now, something he couldn't figure out. You've gotta have patience to deal with him, but he's a lot of fun, a good kid. Have fun with America Mr. President. What was that supposed to mean? The former occupant of this room had spoken as if there was someone important he had yet to meet. And who was he?

From down the hall came blasting music, getting closer. It was a song his girls had come across a few weeks ago called Canadian Idiot, and was so loud he could barely think, a loud voice singing along. "Don't wanna be a Canadian idiot, Don't wanna be some beer swillin' hockey nut, And do I look like some frostbitten hose-head? I never learned my alphabet from A to Zed…." The door swung open and in walked a tall muscular boy, no more than 20, with blond hair, blue eyes, and a big open smile. The boy stopped when he walked in and blinked at Obama for a moment before grinning widely, shutting off the music. "Hey!"

"Hello." Obama answered politely. Perhaps he was the son of one of the workers here? He seemed like a good, honest kid. "Who are you my boy?"

The young man flashed him a gleaming smile and put out a hand to shake. "I'm Alfred Freedom Jones sir; it's nice to meet you! Who're you?"

Obama raised an eyebrow at this. Did this young man not follow politics at all? He certainly looked old enough to vote, and it was his responsibility as a citizen to know about these kinds of things. "I'm Barack Obama young man, the President of the United States."

Alfred just stood there, blinking before exclaiming loudly, "Dude! You're black!"

Barack blinked at this. Was Alfred rude on purpose, or did his mind not filter his thoughts? "Yes, I am."

"And you're my boss?"

"If you work here yes."

The blond haired boy grinned. "Oh I do, sorta." He walked in a circle, obviously trying to figure out how to say something, Obama just watching him in faint amusement. Five circles later Alfred turned to him, grinning widely still. "Ya see Mr. Obama sir, I own this place. I would live here, but there's way too much politics goin' on constantly, and I deal with that enough as it is. I like the country better."

Surprised, Obama looked at the kid, and then spoke very slowly, trying to get this information into Alfred's head. "You can't own the White House young man; it belongs to America."

"Yup!" Alfred agreed readily, then frowned. "Didn't Georgie Junior tell ya about me? I asked him to…." He pouted at the floor and kicked it a bit, looking like a kicked puppy.

Suddenly it clicked. Was the he that the former president mentioned this boy? But what could his job be, he seemed far too immature to handle anything to do with politics, and his response to the White House thing had been strange. "He mentioned someone, not by name though. He said I would need to have patience but that he was fun, that he was a good kid. And then he said to have fun with America."

The pout transformed into another wide grin as Alfred looked up. "Yup, that's me! Damn I love George, he was kinda stupid but Iggy said we were two peas in a pod! He was really cool, we got along real well, we messed around always had a ton o' fun. Neither of us really took anything seriously unless Iggy came over and smacked us a few times."

"…You just insinuated that you were America my boy."

"Yup! Alfred's just my human name sir!" Clasping Barack's hand in his slightly calloused one Alfred gave it another firm shake, grinning. "I'm the United States of America sir, at your service!" Letting go he grabbed a chair, swinging it around to sit on it backwards, arms crossed on the back as the boy looked at Barack with eager eyes. "I'm the personification of the US, the best thing to ever happen to this planet! Every country has a personification, we deal with a lot o' the diplomacy an' other shit, we do pretty much everything and help out our bosses. You wouldn't believe how much work there is being a nation. I was supposed to be at the inauguration today but I wanted McDonalds. But I knew you were my boss, I could feel it, but I just didn't know your name. Election time near the end always gives the hero a huge headache."

Obama just sat there, staring as the boy-no, the nation-sat before him, looking at him hopefully. Bush's comment made sense now but….the personification of the entire nation? That was impossible. But as he looked at the boy's bright blue eyes full of hope and ringed with the slightest bit of worry, an almost unperceivable amount, he saw things. War, pain, people dying, the roaring Twenties, Prohibition, gore and blood soaked battlefields, the boy being held back by another who looked like him and a green suited man with large eyebrows, both trying to keep him from attacking a large man with a metal pipe and scarf who smiled eerily. America as a young boy in cowboy clothes, him bursting into a locked room that a small Asian male with short hair sat in, the boy in a Revolutionary soldier outfit, the boy collapsing to the ground holding his arm and crying out in pain, all of America's history was in this young man's eyes.

"…..I believe you." Obama finally uttered, and America's grin was blinding.

"Yes! Awesome, that's great; it took me forever, like ten minutes to convince Nixon! Roosevelt believed me right away-" His grin became distant, fondness, love, and admiration in his eyes. "He was great, he was amazing, he was fuckin' hero. But everyone always believes me when they look in my eyes. My twin bro Canada says the same thing happens with him, but I dunno what you guys see. No one ever tells me."

He shrugged, and Barack felt the urge to tell him, to ease the boy's curiosity, but something held him back, keeping the words inside his mouth. "So where do we go from here America?"

America grinned easily at him, obviously trying to put him at his ease. "That's easy! You do what you see fit, you give to me what I need to do-don't worry, you'll know it when ya see it, Teddy said it was like this overriding urge, like someone just pushed a button that made the thought GIVE TO AMERICA fill your head or somethin'. He was the only one I really listened to besides the Founding Fathers and George." He chuckled. "I used to steal George's teeth all the time, it was funny; he used to get mega pissed at me. So Barack, think ya can handle runnin' the United States of America?"

Obama thought for a moment, and then answered truthfully. "Honestly America, I'm not sure. But I promise you, I will try."

The nation in front of him grinned happily and got up, swinging the chair around to face Barack again. "Good. Because honestly, if ya did think you could run me, I wouldn't trust you within five feet of any of my people or me. See ya Barack."

And with that he left, striding through the door and down the hall, whistling Star Spangled Banner cheerfully. Obama sank down in his chair, tapping the well-worn desk idly. A nation that was personified as an overenthusiastic teenage boy with no filter between his mind and mouth, who was a bit of an idiot and loved McDonalds. The next four years were going to be interesting.