America wasn't as oblivious as everyone thought he was, he just was always focused on more important things like heroes or being 'The Hero'. When he wasn't talking or dreaming about heroes, which, he himself would admit, was very rare, he would notice quite a few details. So, when America invited Canada over to hang out, he inevitably noticed the black eye that his brother was sporting… and immediately jumped to the wrong conclusions, "Mattie! What the hell happened to your face?! Prussia hit you didn't he?"

"Alfred," Matt, also known as Canada, tried to stop his brother's rant.

"I'm so going to screw that Prussian up next time I see him."

"Alfred," Matt interjected once again, slightly louder this time.

"How could he do so-"

"ALFRED!" Canada screamed, - or, you know, talked in a normal voice as opposed to his usual whisper - interrupting America. He then continued, "I'm fine, and no, Gilbert didn't do anything to me."

"Then who did?" Alfred's question caught Matthew off guard. He didn't want to tell his brother that Cuba had mistaken Canada for America… again. While the Cuban didn't always remember who Canada was, he remembered the Canadian more often than most nations did, so in Matt's mind, Cuba was a friend. If he told his brother what had happened, his brother would go all over protective on Cuba, and Matt didn't want the two to continue to not get along.

Because of all this, Canada on the spot came up with the best lie he could think of on the spot and hoped America wouldn't keep pressing him for answers, "Oh, this thing? I was playing hockey."

Matt really hoped that Alfred wouldn't think about that, if he did, he would realise the mask would've protected his face from anything that would have given him a black eye. Alfred stared at him worriedly for another moment before brightening up and letting Matt into his house.

After the next world meeting, America was pulled from his dreams about burgers and heroes at the sound of his name.

"AMERICA! Get away from me!"

The responding voice sent him flying out of his chair and into the hallway where he had heard the voice coming from, "I'm not America, I'm Canada, remember?"

Alfred took one look at the scene, an angry Cuba poised to attack a cowering Canada, and remembered the events of the other day, when his brother had shown up to his house with a black eye. Before Cuba's fist could find it's mark on the Canadian, America grabbed Cuba and pulled him back, away from his brother.

"Hey! What's going on?!" Cuba seemed extremely shocked when America, the real one, not Canada, turned him around and sent a fist flying at his face, knocking him out in one blow. Alfred then grabbed his trembling brother calming him down.

"Why didn't you tell me it was Cuba who had hit you earlier?" Alfred had figured out that the story his brother had given him was a lie when he had seen Cuba looking ready to kill the poor nation.

"He doesn't mean it, he just gets the two of us mixed up. Really, he's a nice guy." Canada's response only seemed to enrage America.

"Just 'cause he's nice when he's not beating you up doesn't justify him beating you up!"

"America, he's my friend, whether you like it or not. He's better than most nations, at least he notices me!" Canada was willing to fight for his friend, even though said friend had been ready to pound the daylights out of him just a moment ago.

America was quiet at that because he knew that he wouldn't be able to convince his brother not to be friends with Cuba. He also knew he didn't have a comeback for that response. He forgot his brother more than he cared to admit, but that didn't mean he didn't care. At this thought Alfred came to a decision: if he had managed to not notice that his own brother was getting beat up, he wasn't paying enough attention, and he wasn't about to let that happen again.