Alright, here's chapter one!

This is a Surf's Up AU, however, you do not need to know the movie to follow along.

And let's just go ahead and get this out of the way: as a disclaimer (for this and future chapters): This is, of course, based off of Hetalia by Hidekaz Himaruya with many plot elements from Surf's Up, directed by Chris Buck and Ash Brannon, so lots of credit goes out to them. The countries in here are not meant to depict any real-world countries or opinions of those countries, just the characters.

Additionally, you may recognize this story from my old account (still up if you want to double check), but it is being revamped and posted on this here shiny new account. Enjoy!

This won't stick to the movie's plot like glue, though, and will probably deviate a bit. :) Thanks for checking this out, and I hope you enjoy!

"You look like you're about to throw up." Matthew's voice sounds from the phone in that electronic, walkie-talkie-like grit that is almost realistic, but not quite. The video chat picture is grainy and lagging behind the audio, too - no doubt a result of the cell reception Matthew gets from that little 'middle of nowhere' northern town they both call home. The phone's just not the same as real life.

"I never thought I'd live to see the day when Alfred Jones gets seasick."

"Bro, seriously, give me a minute." Alfred holds a hand over his mouth, doing his best to breathe deeply and keep his breakfast down as his boat rises and falls with the choppy crests of the sea as it pulls up to dock. Matthew looks on from where he is confined to a blurry, yet concerned, block of pixels on the phone held up by Alfred's remaining hand.

"Are you okay?"

Alfred takes his hand away from his mouth shakily, but knowing better than to open it, just nods.

"Look. Maybe it's not the best idea to go out on the water right now. I mean, if you're getting seasick from being on that big boat, then just imagine what it will be like out on the waves with your surfboard."

Alfred almost laughs. "No way. I'm not seasick, you big oaf," he lies, winking. "I just can't believe I'm here!" He flips the camera around to show the approaching luscious tropical beach, packed chock full of camera crews, surfers, and viewers for the upcoming competition. Huge mango-colored flowers balloon out of the brush and foam-capped waves the height of apartment buildings thunder along the coast with all the force of a hurricane.

Alfred flips his phone back around to talk to his brother again. "Beautiful, ain't it?"

Matthew simply gapes like a fish out of water. "Alfred, those waves!" He hardly even notices the island.

"I know," Alfred breathes, barely containing his excitement as he lifts his eyes over the screen of his phone to catch one just before the crash.

It does nothing to quell his brother's worry, though. "Alfred, why don't you take it easy for a day. You can just look around and get adjusted. I'm sure all of the clothes you brought with you from here are too warm, anyway. You could stock up on some summery things."

"Matt," Alfred rolls his eyes before suddenly stumbling forward as the boat scrapes the edge of the dock with a jolt and a horrible metal-on-metal sound. "Matt, you know me. I'm going to spend every second on the water. I'll live out there! Just imagine it!"

"I'm trying not to." Matthew runs a hand through his long hair, deliberating. "Alfred. Now don't kill me for saying this, but are you sure you can handle these waves? The ones here at home are, what? One tenth that size?"

Alfred can't help but pout a bit, bottom lip jutting out just so. "Have some faith in me, Matt. A talent scout brought me here. He actually traveled all the way to our depressing little town to take me here. The Kirkland International Surfing Competition; it's huge! That's gotta count for something, right?"

Matthew rubbed his temples, looking exhausted. It was only then that Alfred remembered, a bit guiltily, the time zone difference. He probably woke his brother up in the middle of the night, and before some big exam at that. Behind him, Matthew's dorm room is still dark, roommate sleeping and oblivious of their video conversation. "You begged him to take you, Alfred," he finally says.

"But he did." Alfred's getting a bit defensive now. If Matthew has learned anything these past seventeen years, he'll have the sense not to push Alfred towards throw a tantrum, even he is practically an adult.

"Right, right."

The boat is all hooked up to the dock now, and other sought out competitors from his region of the world, bags in tow, are trickling off the entrance ramp into a mob of paparazzi. Heck, one person just hops right off the boat and cannon-balls into the water, never mind his bags. The cameras are all over that.

"Listen Mattie, I gotta go. I'll catch you later okay?"

"Wait!" Matthew calls as Alfred shoves the phone into his jeans pocket, not even bothering to end the call.

"Hmm?" Alfred fumbles through his pocket again for his phone. "What was that?"

"Er...just," he stutters, obviously overtired "have fun, buddy. But," he leans in and points a finger to the camera, going into mother bear mode (yet again), "stay safe, okay? In the end, it's just a sport."

Alfred rolls his eyes. "Just a sport. Right. Like I said, I'll call you back in a bit."

And this time, he remembers to end the call.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, a sort of unconscious sibling rivalry must still linger, for even as Alfred practically boils alive in his surfwear, he refuses to admit that Matthew was right about the heat. The wetsuit that has always kept him warm in those frigid brackish waters back home now constricts him in a humid bundle of eventual heat stroke, even with his usual gloves stripped off.

He sinks down into the water, just his eyes and nose above the surface, and lets a small wave wash over him. It doesn't do a whole lot to cool him off though, as he's gotten used to the water temperature by now, and it wasn't very cold to begin with.

Alfred huffs out through his nose like a bull, bubbles spilling out from under his nostrils.

He really does need to go back to shore and buy some surf gear, but then he'll be all wet and sticky, and sand will cling to his feet and seafoam to the wrists of the wetsuit and...and coming out of the water is just a generally uncomfortable experience.

It seems as though the world isn't giving much of a choice in the matter, though, for as soon as he makes up his resolve to stay out just a bit longer, he hears a loud "Watch out!" and barely has time to duck back beneath the surface before the nose of a black and white striped surfboard comes barreling overhead, still managing to clip the back of his head with the fin on the underside of the board.

Alfred bursts up for air, gasping for breath, and slowly climbs up onto his board for solid ground.

"Are you okay?"

Alfred looks up to where the silver-haired owner of the offending board is paddling back his way, surfboard leash fanning out behind behind him.

"Yeah," Alfred laughs. "Just a bit startled. Besides," Alfred winks jokingly, "you weren't going that fast."

"Hey!" he smirks back deviously, "In that case, why are you bleeding?"

"Huh?" Alfred reaches up to touch the back of his head, a thin red watery sheet slipping over his fingers when he brings them back. "Oh shoot!"

The other surfer laughs back loudly, turning his board in the direction of shore. "Come on! I was heading in anyway. I'm starving!"

"Alright, alright, I'm coming." Alfred lays down on his stomach and scoops his hands down into the water. "Name's Alfred, by the way.

"Gilbert." He stops paddling to extend a hand for a handshake, which Alfred graciously takes. "You're not from around here, are you?"

Alfred runs a hand through his wet hair, plastered to his face. "That obvious, is it?"

"In that wetsuit? Just a bit. Jeez, how are you not burning up?"

"Oh, I am," Alfred laughs, letting his arms dangle in the water and momentum carry the board forward for a moment. "I'll need to buy something else in a bit."

"I thought you people wore bathing suits or something under those."

"Oh, we do!" Alfred clarifies quickly. He can't have anyone confused about that. "But with the size of these waves, well...I'll need to get something a little more likely to stay on in a wipeout.

Gilbert chuckles.

"What?"

"Oh nothing, I'm just picturing the cameras' reactions to something like that."

Alfred grimaces. "Anyway...where are you from? I can't really pinpoint that accent." He sees a few red spots on his board when he goes to paddle again. Huh; he must have hit his head harder than the thought.

"Yeah, I move around a lot. My family is German, though."

"Really?" Alfred pipes up excitedly, bleeding forgotten. "Say something in German!"

Gilbert chuckles. "You americans and your obsession with other languages. I don't know a whole lot - that's mainly my parents. Just a few phrases. Awesome accent though, am I right?"

"I suppose," Alfred teases. Somehow, he senses that this guy doesn't need an ego boost. They're now in shallow enough water that they can stand up and walk, but it's at that awkward water level halfway up the calves that makes you want to pick up your feet and march to shore like an idiot.

"Hey Francis!" Gilbert shouts suddenly to a young man with blond, wavy, shoulder-length hair atop a life-guard stand. "I hit this one in the head! Care to help?"

"Oh gosh, Gilbert, really?" He looks at Alfred, the corners of his eyes drawing back in sympathy. Is it really that bad?

"You two know each other?" Alfred asks as they finally make their way onto the muddy part of the shoreline.

"Yeah," Gilbert lowers his eyes and rubs the back of his neck nervously. "We've had several run ins this week."

"Ah." His voice turns into a wince a moment later when the lifeguard blows a whistle and begins to clamber down the tall ladder.

"Holy crow, Gilbert, what did you do? He's probably going to need stitches or something!"

"Stitches? I'm fine!" Alfred insists as he begins to panic.

The two of them completely disregard Alfred, and even Gilbert is starting to look concerned.

"Why don't you sit down?" he asks.

"I'm fine!" he insists again, but decides to resign himself to the seclusion of the ground anyway, behind dozens of tourists' legs as the cameras begin to take notice.

"Here." Francis unties a blue headband from around his head and presses it to the sore spot on Alfred's head as he calls the lifeguard at the next station for a first aid kit.

All around, cameras are inching closer and people are coming back into shore as a result of the whistle.

Alfred hides his face. This is utterly humiliating.

Soon, another lifeguard jogs up, this one a girl with longer, light brown hair, who also seems to know Gilbert and demands that he go get Alfred something to eat.

"You're overreacting," Alfred whines uselessly. "I didn't lose that much blood."

Nevertheless, Gilbert seems eager enough to comply and trots off, coming back several minutes later with...something.

"Gilbert, what is that?" Alfred eyes the slimy "food" on the stick with apprehension.

"Squid." he answers in an 'isn't it obvious' tone as he takes a bite out of a second one for himself.

"On a stick?"

Gilbert nods.

Are you sure that it's….you know, edible?" The lifeguards continue to clean up the gash on Alfred's forehead, much to his annoyance. He can take care of himself, thank you very much.

"Hey, I'm eating it, aren't I?"

"Yeah, that doesn't exactly mean anything." Alfred frowns.
Gilbert rolls his eyes, shoving the putrid thing in his face. "Just try it, will you?"

Alfred takes it from his hand tentatively, eyes flicking from the squid to his new supposed friend suspiciously, and finally bites a big piece off with the back corners of his teeth. And, as he thinks he must be tasting the finest delicacy on the island, he realizes that yes, perhaps he did lose that much blood.

Slightly lengthy author's note (sorry): This is just the setup, we'll go more into depth later. :)

In case you didn't know (some of them weren't that obvious or talked about): Alfred Jones = America as Cody Maverick, Gilbert Beilschmidt = Prussia as Chicken Joe, Francis = France as Lani, Matthew = Canada as Alfred's brother (though I can't really see him being Glen),and the other lifeguard (not in the movie) was Hungary.

Sorry if that's an awkward mix of characters. It's just sorta what flowed. I'll still have the characters retain their personalities as best I can. I can't imagine Prussia with Chicken Joe's personality. XD He'll just be Alfred's friend there, like Joe was Cody's.

And feedback and reviews would mean the world! Thanks a million for reading!