This is my first Hetalia Fanfiction. Usually I'm writing for Kuroshitsuji but, I ran across this anime and some art. After some debate I decided to write a short story for it. If you guys like it I will continue. If not, I won't. It was inspired by the song "1,000 years." I felt it fit them so I decided to write this snippet.

Please Review!

~Kuro

Chapter 1: Too Fast

The rain tapped on the glass as the meeting crawled forward. Once again North Korea was waging war against the South and the Chinese were attempting to bat them back. They couldn't afford to loose one of their largest trading partner. The UN was making less progress than usual, it was taxing to listen to the nations scream at one another and bicker relentlessly. A hand slipped into sandy blond hair as a middle aged man sighed, he was one of the oldest nations and a member of the Security Council, yet he felt so alone. His fingers slipped through his soft sandy hair as he looked over his notes. "We have the capacity to produce these weapons! No one said we couldn't launch them!" claimed the North, his accent was harsh and he stood firm. Emerald greens closed as he remembered what it had been like when there was peace after World War Two, so much death and destruction. Korea clearly didn't remember, and then again it had ripped itself in two. Once again they were attempting to show their military might, he snorted after a moment, it sounded so familiar yet distant. That desire to branch out beyond borders and conquer the world, to jump on a ship and sail as far as the wind would take him.

"Simply because you have the means to produce them, doesn't mean you should," barked Ivan. It was clear Russia felt threatened by their neighbor, North Korea was playing with fire and it frightened him. "We are as powerful as any Western Nation, why not show our might! We want the South so we can have a united Korea," stated the nation. Arthur closed his eyes and sighed. This was going nowhere, and they weren't going to stop until they were appeased. It felt like World War Two all over again, only this time Germany wasn't in economic pain and swept away with euphoria. "Launching nuclear weapons into international airspace violates all regulations on warheads. We all desire a united Korea, but launching weapons over it which could do infinitely more damage than Hiroshima and Nagasaki together," rang a young voice. There was a murmur which swept through the room, emeralds looked up to see the voice's owner. He smiled when he noticed it was none other than Alfred F. Jones, the representative of the United States of America, and seemingly the only voice of reason in the room which wasn't trembling. He stood firm and strong, "The United States is using drones, and yet you have the nerve to say you desire peace," spat the North Korean representative. Alfred looked at the man and stated plainly, "We are attempting to prevent another terrorist attack from occurring, not only on our own soil but others as well."

A smile crept across his face, "Oh and what is the likely hood that there will be another?" asked the North Korean snidely. He had thought that too after 9/11 which had carved into the US and left a scar which would never heal. He finally stood and stated, "We thought the same thing and then the Under Ground was bombed, you can not underestimate these groups. We are no longer in the time in which we have to worry about nations attacking," he stated, he could feel eyes settle on him. "Individuals and groups are causing the most issues, we must stand vigilant and prevent these incidents if any of us, is to have a country left to protect," he said firmly. The room was silent; this was the right move, even if the North Korean's didn't want to hear it. He could hear the squeak of a chair beside him, and he glanced over his shoulder to see Francis standing. "I agree with Mr. Kirkland, you are comparing apples to oranges, Monsieur," he commented, his French accent was as thick as ever. No matter how often England and France fought, somehow Francis and Arthur managed to maintain a healthy friendship. With the exception of the occasional argument and jeer, just to keep the rivalry alive. The room broke into shouting which was a common occurrence as a number of nations began shouting about America's use of drones and the North Korean's blatant disregard for the law. "Enough!" cracked the voice of Ivan, the room fell silent. His presence was certainly more than enough to cause the other nations to fall silent. Germany was grinning from ear to ear, Gilbert clearly didn't want to hear much more of the chit chat. "Lunch, let's take lunch and reconvening in an hour," he stated with a smile, as always.

There was chatter which erupted after this statement as nations slipped away to their privet rooms and offices. Arthur sighed as he closed his eyes and rested his head in his hands. This meeting was far more taxing than he had anticipated. "No I haven't had a chance to read it Japan! I heard it was wonderful though," he heard Alfred remark. He smiled warmly as he listened to his former colony. He was still a child sometimes, which made his heart go soft, it was a pleasant feeling to know that some things wouldn't change. He looked up and watched as the pair left for lunch, he felt as though he were being left behind. It hurt, the truth was the most he could do now was watch over him from afar. He sighed and fought back tears; he had been holding America's hand when he was a child. Arthur looked at his hand and smiled listlessly, he could still feel it in the palm of his hand, soft and innocent. "Anglettere?" asked a familiar voice behind him. Arthur looked up and noticed Francis with Mathew, the Canadian diplomat, he seemed to be concerned. "Oh, right lunch," he stammered before snapping out of his memory and stood. He collected his pages and looked at them, "So lunch, where are we going?" he asked after a moment as he tapped the pages on the desk to make them fall into place. Mathew grinned and responded, "Francis had two ducks cooked and delivered, it sounds wonderful." Arthur nodded and replied, "Sounds good." Francis looked even more concerned, Arthur didn't fight back, he always bit back.

"Arthur?" Francis asked slowly, his blue eyes fell on him, and Arthur inwardly squirmed under his gaze. Nothing seemed to get past France, which was probably what irritated him the most. "Have you ever looked at a colony and asked yourself if they still cared about you?" he asked after a moment. He looked at Francis' messy long blond hair and noticed how the Frenchmen looked slightly taken back. "Mathew, could you check on our lunch?" he asked sweetly. The Canadian's lavender eyes looked up at him in confusion, and he seemed to detect Francis' sincerity and nodded. Arthur watched the young man walk away and felt that familiar ache again. Francis sighed and looked at Arthur, "Come, I need some air," he said as he slowly turned. Arthur followed his mind was occupied with the thoughts of Alfred. The boy who always wore a bomber jacket and ran after him, to see his standing in a suit and tie sitting beside him, no father would be prouder. "What's brought this on?" asked Francis softly as he looked at Arthur.

Thick eyebrows lifted as he looked at the Frenchmen, "What do you mean?" he asked hesitantly. Francis spun and stood before him, his hands gripped the Englishman's shoulders. "You haven't looked like this since the Revolution," he stated as his blue eyes narrowed. The Revolution was painful, not as painful as watching the Civil War, he tried to pull Alfred back into his arms only for him to splinter into two pieces. "I just," Arthur paused and sighed, "I want him to look at me with the same wide eyes he had when we met in that meadow by the stream when he was a boy. I miss that look," he stated as he hung his head. He knew he was being selfish, he couldn't help it, he was his colony. His son, he had the greatest influence over the boy. Francis hummed and slowly released his shoulders, he smiled listlessly, and drew a deep breath. "He's grown a great deal," he stated as he slowly turned and walked toward a door labeled staircase. He pushed the door open and Arthur followed, "It isn't selfishness, you love him," he stated. Arthur nodded as the pair walked up the stairs in silence, which made Francis slightly uneasy. He hadn't seen this gentleness since Alfred took his first steps toward growing an economy. That moment, in which a parent realizes that their child was growing up, whether he wanted them to or not, which had caused Arthur to call the man and get drunk.

"Arthur, you know as well as I do, that he loves you. He must! Why else would he seek you out when he needed advice?" asked Francis as he stopped before the door. Arthur sighed, it was true, he had served as Alfred's soundboard for a number of issues. The part Francis didn't know was that those events in which they would get together and discuss both policy and culture were diminishing. Francis pushed open the door, a rush a cool air hit his face and subtle warmth washed over him. At first Arthur had been blinded, not he could see a beautiful blue sky, there were still clouds and he began to wonder when it had stopped raining. "Ah, a good sign, non?" said Francis with a smile as he slipped his hands into the pockets of his pinstriped suit pants. Alfred slowly stepped into the light and looked at the sight of the Hudson and the city which had erupted in his former colony. So much history in this one spot, so much time captured in buildings and blocks that it made Arthur smile. He watched as Francis walked toward the railing and leaned on it, his elbows rested on the banister, and he faced Arthur. He felt as though he were landing in the New World all over again, that fear and excitement which he though he had lost. Part of it was due to the fact they weren't supposed to be on the roof yet, just as he was about to say something a gust of wind rushed through and he closed his eyes for a moment. He drew a deep breath and felt some of the sadness fall away from him. "I just wish I could tell him," he whispered as he slowly walked over to the blond Frenchman and leaned on the banister. He looked over the city affectionately, "Quoi?" Francis asked after a moment. Arthur smiled gently, three little words which had caused him the most difficulty to say, "I love you, that's what I can't seem to say," he whispered.

He could hear the traffic bellow and flags fly in the wind, "I think he'll realize it eventually, if he hasn't already," Francis replied as he tipped his head back and took in the sun. Arthur hummed, that wasn't the kind of love he felt, it wasn't paternal. It was more, as he watched the young man grow and the flags fly he fell in love along the way with Alfred. Not America but Alfred himself. That pride, genuine curiosity and sense of duty to the world, made him feel proud. However, it was the child like grins, kindness and innovative ideas which made him Alfred. "They grow up so quickly," Arthur commented as he looked at his hands, in a breath he had watched the boy grow up and battle for human rights. "That they do," whispered Francis, "They really do." Francis pushed himself off the banister and looked at him, "We better get back to Mathew, he'll wonder where we are," he stated. Arthur nodded and glared at the Frenchmen, "You are to never breathe a word of this, or I will cut out your tongue, Francis," he hissed. There he was, that difficult and practical Englishman had finally returned. "I get it okay, mortal enemies publically, and close friends privately," he stated as he shrugged it off and continued to walk across the roof toward the staircase. After a few moments they vanished, however what they didn't expect was a certain pair of nations sitting on the other side of the door.

Sweet words rang in Alfred's ears, he turned crimson red, and stared at Kiku Honda, the Japanese delegate. His nearly black eyes were locked on Alfred, a hand covered Alfred's mouth as he closed his eyes. Arthur loved him, even if it was paternal he could handle it. He drew a deep breath and moaned, "Just when I was about to give up." He felt as though he were going to break, he looked at Kiku and smiled, "I'm not a disappointment," he stammered. A gentle hand rubbed Alfred's back as the nation choked back tears, "I," he began only to crumble. He felt as though his footing had been knocked loose after hearing what Arthur was thinking. "I love him, Kiku," he whispered as he looked at the Japanese delegate. He watched ink black hair bob as he nodded, "You know, he's always loved you. He must to have put up with you for so long," he pointed out. Alfred ignored the stab of the Japanese man and whispered, "I thought he loathed me." He could remember the constant nagging from the older nation about his weight, his standard diet which consisted of hamburgers and milkshakes. Constantly told his ideas were childish until 9/11, when his world was turned upside down. "Clearly he doesn't," commented Kiku after a moment, "Come on we have to get back." Alfred nodded as he took the last swig of his Coke before getting up to leave. Kiku was on his heels again, they were going back into battle to see if they could diffuse the situation between the North and South.

Edit: Thanks for all of the reviews, favorites and follows! I will continue if I keep receiving such phenomenal feed back. Also, there were a few errors such as Arthur and Francis not being on the Security Council of the UN, so this was fixed. I also fixed the duck and made it plural. Sorry guys, I wasn't thinking about the size of the little animal. I was more focused on trying to get Arthur's feelings across.