It was one of those days where the nations were required to live as a working-class citizen. For one week every month the nations had to leave their main home and get a break from their real job to live in an apartment and work like a normal person. America decided that he would work in a bar this month.

He loved working at the bar. It was his favorite place to work next to the pizza place (he likes to be the one making the pizza because he thinks if you appreciate making it, you'll appreciate sitting in it that much more).

The nation liked working in the bar because he got the chance to meet a lot of people and it gave him a bit of practice at entertaining a crowd and talking to the other people of his working class.

"Getting bored, Alfred?" he boss, Aaron asked him for the tenth time that night. "Sorry it's a little slow on your first day."

"It's not a problem," America smiled, though he was a little discouraged that only five people had walked through the doors. "I've worked through slower nights than this before, trust me."

Aaron laughed, "Whatever you say." He looked at his watched. "If it doesn't pick up in an hour you can go home. I'm spending more money than I'm making with two bartenders here."

As Aaron walked away, America suddenly wish he had money to sneak into the cash register, but the nations were only allowed to live off of the money they had made on previous work weeks like this which was kept in a separate bank account to stay apart from the money they made from their real jobs. He really couldn't afford to donate any money to this bar after his bills and food expenses. He'd probably have 100 dollars left over before he got paid at the end of the week.

"Hello," a woman with short red hair sat down across the bar from America.

"I'm sorry, ma'am," America said, studying her closely. "I'm going to have to ID you." There were two things that America noticed about this woman. The first was that she looked too young to be sitting in a bar. The other was that this girl was incredibly beautiful.

The woman blushed, the redness of her cheeks stood out against her fair skin, and fumbled through her purse almost awkwardly. "I'm sorry," the woman apologized, clearly embarrassed by the amount of time it was taking her to find her ID.

"You have to hurry, miss," America teased. "I happen to be very busy."

The woman looked up at the nearly empty bar and laughed softly. America's joking allowed her to loosen up a bit and let her blush fade away. "Right," she smiled at him. "I just can't remember the last time I've been asked for my ID. I guess I got a little flustered."

"It's okay," America flashed her a smile, then in a sudden surge of bravery he added, "it was really cute."

She glanced up at him through her eyelashes and smiled softly, her blush reappearing slightly. "Thank you... Oh! Here it is!" she said, passing over her license, making a mental note to make it more accessible next time. It wasn't something she should be losing in her purse.

"Hally," America read. "Well, Hally, it says here that you are twenty-five and well over the legal limit." He handed the card back to her.

"You on the other hand," she flirted, "kind of young, aren't you?"

"I'm not young!" America laughed. "Guess my age."

"Twenty," she said after a moment of thought.

"Too young."

She looked surprised for a moment, but studied him closely. "Twenty-two?"

"Too young." America tried to hide his smile, but could only succeed in holding back his laughter. She'd never be able to guess his real age. He shook his head as Hally tried twenty-five.

Hally sighed. "I guess neither of us are good at assessing age," she joked. "And you never told me your name."

"Al," America told her, holding out a hand. "And I never asked you what you wanted to drink either. I hope that doesn't affect my tip. What can I get you?"

"You know," Hally said, standing up and straightening her skirt. "I suddenly would rather not be drinking alone. I think I can wait for a date."

America's smiled broadened. "Well, I work until close all this week, but I'd be glad to take you out Monday."

Hally dug around in her purse for a second and pulled out a pen. Writing her number on a napkin, she teased, "Well, I never said I intended that date to be you, but," she handed him the napkin, "feel free to give me a call."

The nation took the number and put it in his pocket. "Feeling free is what I do," he told her.

Hally waved and left the bar, glancing over her shoulder once to wink at America.

"My first date in over one hundred years," America whispered to himself.

A/N

I don't know why, but I think politicians should be forced to do this for a few months before they run for a new office, especially president. I feel like they'd be more in tune with the people of the country if they did that. However, I don't run the country and what do I know?

I hope all of you enjoyed this story and will take the time to review.

Have a good night and DFTBA.