A/N: Politics and Hetlia shouldn't mix. Fill in whatever you want/a faceless person for the bosses. Also, feel free to switch gender pronouns if you want.
POCKETALIA
A conceptual oneshot
The newly elected President of The United States of America was rushing to get out of his office and on the plane to Ottowa when hew as stopped in a miraculously desert hall by the previous president, his security personnel several paces behind stopping when they saw who it was.
"Look, I realize that this is a bad time, and I wish I could introduce you two properly, but you're already late so here-" a box was shoved into his hands, made out of something sturdier than cardboard but with an oddly similar texture, with several holes around the top and a very secure looking top. "-Alfred can explain on the plane. Wait until you're alone, okay?"
Without waiting for an answer, the ex-president ran off, leaving his successor to stare blankly at his retreating form for a moment before returning to his previous task of rushing.
On the plane, he managed to find the latch to the lid and open it, vaguely wondering which of the aids might be named 'Alfred' and what exactly they needed to explain.
When the lid came off and he found himself staring into the blue eyes of a tiny blond man, his priorities immediately rearranged themselves.
The man in the box waved.
The president blinked.
The man in the box said "Hi!" in the most impossibly cheery, optimistic tone of voice imaginable.
The president said "Uh. Hello" in a tone of voice that screamed 'my brain has shut down and what is this'
"I'm Alfred F. Jones! It's nice to meet you, Mr. President!"
"How... what... "
"It's okay, most humans have that reaction." Alfred's smile was absurdly large for such a small face. "I've met you before, you know. I've met all Americans."
He clambered out of the box and onto the tray-table in front of the president.
Alfred stood at about a foot tall, blond with a single cowlick sticking up stubbornly out of short and otherwise reasonably tame hair, dressed casually in tiny faded jeans and an old bomber jacket. He wore square rimmed glasses and a slightly manic, apparently permanent grin.
"So since we didn't get the formal introduction, hi, I"m the living personification of these amazing United States of America. You can call me America, Alfred, or Al. Pretty cool, huh?"
After the president managed to recover from the abrupt explanation, he immediately asked the first question that came to mind, more than a little nervous about the possible answers.
"Are there... more of you?"
"Yeah! We're going to visit Canada, right? So you get to meet my brother Matthew, actually. He's shy, but he makes the best pancakes! And Arthur - that's England - said he'd be there, but he'll probably forget. Gilbert - Prussia, or East Germany, or I don't even know what he is now... anyway, he's usually somewhere around Mattie, which means that Ludwig - Germany - might be around, and if so Feliciano - Italy - will be there for sure... "
There was a long pause as he trailed off pondering the improbably chain of people who may or may not show up as the president attempted to come to terms with the flood of new information.
Catching the overwhelmed look, Alfred took pity.
"I guess I should give you the basics, huh? You'll figure the rest out as we go along, and I can always answer questions... Man, I'm always sort of jealous of the guys who still have a monarchy and don't have to go through this every few years. Even Artie manages to get someone from his Royal Family to explain it to the new Prime Minister before they meet him, but for some reason I'm always passed over in rush.
"I'll spend most of my time with you, but I do go to World Summits - where we all get together and try and solve problems but mostly just argue until Germany yells at us - and sometimes I leave to visit with people. Actually, scratch that, I spend a fair amount of time visiting people. They spend a lot of time visiting, too, so you'll probably meet most of 'em during your term.
"What happens to the economy, the land, and the people affects me a lot, but I do have a mind of my own. Uh... oh yeah! And we're top secret so you can't tell your family or anyone about us, and we'll have to hide when other people are around. Exceptions for ex-bosses, though, they're cool."
The president sat and listened in horrified fascination to his nation's continued ramblings and stories of other nations and wondered if the whole 'personified nation' thing was going to be as much of a hassle as actually running the country.
He had the distinct impression it might just be worse.