DISCLAIMER: I do not own Axis Powers Hetalia, its characters, its plot, etc. This story was made to have fun with characters of this fandom, not support any particular political standing. We're talking about anime here, people.

PAIRINGS: Ones to be aware of are , FrancexEngland, AmericaxJapan, and CanadaxKorea.

NOTE: This is the first Hetalia fic I've ever written. I'm still relatively new to the fandom and this story was a spur of the moment idea, so please feel welcome to point out any OOC-ness, etc. Thank you.

My Brother's Keeper

"And if that I could clothe me once, sweet sir, as thou art clad- just once-"

"Oho, wouldst thou like it? Then so shall it be. Doff thy rags and don these splendors, lad! It is a brief happiness, but will be not less keen for that. We will have it while we may..."

-The Prince and the Pauper, Mark Twain


Chapter One: A Brilliant Beyond Brilliant Idea

"Staring contest! Go!" America slapped down his hand upon the table with great force, his other hand clenched in a tight fist as he and his brother stared each other down, sparks flying from their intense gazes. It was more clear than ever to the other countries- who were all watching the very impromptu staring contest with varying degrees of bewilderment- the great resemblance of the mouth, stubborn dip of the chin, creases of concentration: the two really were identical.

Two sets of blue eyes twitched.

Two accusing index fingers rose up to point at the other.

"You blinked!" both cried at the same time and then scowled. "I did not! You did! Stop copying me!"

THWACK! THWACK!

"Ow..." both brothers whimpered, once more in unison. The pair of blonde heads now lay on the long conference room table, two pairs of arms up to protect their now sore skulls from the further wrath of a scowling Britain.

"Knock it off!" Britain cried angrily, disregarding the fact that the game had already ended due to his intervention. He crossed his arms, still keeping hold of the files he had used to whack the two younger countries over the head with. "That twin thing you guys do is so creepy," he grumbled to himself before noticing all of the other countries were watching them awkwardly. (Except Poland, who was laughing uproariously.) His cheeks flushed. Apparently no matter how old and "independent" your children proclaim to be, they would never fail to embarrass you. Wonderful. Clearing his throat, Britain narrowed his eyes back at the twins. "America," he started, his voice firm and freely-patronizing, "even if this meeting does not interest you, you could still be respectful. And you, Canada," he gave a snort of exasperation, "you really ought to know better." For a moment, he caught eyes with France, who had the audacity to just grin and twirl a rose at him. Was it any wonder these two had turned out the way they did when they had also been brought up with that influence? Disgusted, Britain turned on his heel, clasping hands behind his back. "Well, seems like we've covered enough for today. How about we rejoin tomorrow?" It was a rather rhetorical question, serving as a dismissal the others had been waiting for.

America sighed, neither he nor Canada bother to raise their heads even as the other countries casually got to their feet and left the room in their usual cliques. One pair of blue eyes met another, this time exchanging looks of mutual sympathy.

"He's such a party-pooper," America muttered, sighing again.

Canada gave a small smile, "At least this time he remembered my name."

"Bah!" America harrumphed. "He doesn't get it though!" He whined just a little. "It's not that I'm bored-," then he quickly amended upon getting a certain look from Canada, "Alright, not just because I'm bored. I'm tired."

Normally Canada would try to point out, "Things aren't as bad as they seem," or "Don't worry! It will get better soon!" but what were brother for if not to commiserate with? "At least you got to participate," he sighed, sitting up and stretching. "Most of the time, people act like I'm not here. It makes me feel like I'm invisible or something!"

America declined to comment.

"Oh," Canada blinked, something catching his attention. Intrigued, America too sat up. "Aren't those the Ita-Brothers?"

Lazily, his twin turned to look over his shoulder. True enough, the two he had come to know as North and South Italy (what were their codenames again?) came walking back into the room together, one pulling the other- more nervous- one along by the arm. "There's something different about them right now though," America mused aloud. Rubbing his chin, he continued, "Can't quite put my finger on it..."

A bead of sweat slid down the back of Canada's head. "Um," he put forth tentatively, "might it be because they're dressed so similarly?" Indeed, the two brothers had thrown on the same jacket and fixed their hair so that neither displayed their distinctive curl.

America pursed his lips in thought. "That might be it," he admitted carelessly. Canada just chuckled awkwardly.

The two Ita-Brothers strode up to Germany, who was still painstakingly putting sheet after sheet of paper back into the briefcase. Germany took one look at his visitors and stiffened his shoulders. The two North American brothers felt for him; it was hard enough to watch what on Italy was capable of doing to him, but together with a second, more spiteful one? Chances weren't good that his would end up being something fun. (Secretly, America could sympathize with Romano. Canada already had a brother, thank you very much Cuba!)

"Oi!" Romano yelled despite only being four steps away from the tall blonde. "Weiner-Moron! We have a challenge for you!" He took a proud stance before the bemused Germany, giving a sharp tug to pull Veneziano up alongside him. His younger brother was quivering, giving nervous- yet curious- glances to both Romano and Germany.

"Hm," was Germany's only verbal response, but his furrowed brow revealed his hesitant intrigue.

Romano smirked and gestured to himself and his brother. "All you have to do," he explained slyly, "is discern which of us is Veneziano."

A pause.

'What?' America and Canada thought- unknowingly- together, incredulous. 'But it's obvious! It's so obvious!' As a pair of twins themselves that had constantly been mixed up in their younger days- and sometimes even to this day- without even trying, they were less than impressed with the Ita-Brothers' attempt to look identical.

Germany, however, didn't seem to share their sentiment. Indeed, he looked quite confused, looking at one brother and then the other. Romano continued to smirk and Veneziano just fidgeted, but even these distinctive habits didn't seem to tip Germany off. After a moment, though, he grimaced as an idea came to light. With a sigh, he held out his hands and murmured, "Hug?"

Like an eager puppy unchained, Veneziano launched towards the blonde, embracing him hard enough to almost knock the other man down. "Oh Germany!" he cried, nearly squealing with joy. "I knew you could do it!" One could almost see the many hearts of love springing up from the ecstatic country.

"No fair!" stewed Romano, thoroughly peeved. "No fair! No fair! No fair!"

Canada chuckled fondly, "They're so energetic." They watched as Germany practically dragged himself (and Veneziano, who was still hanging off his neck) out of the room with a yelling Romano trying to follow. Trying because he got interrupted- unleashing a squawk that was pretty comical in itself- by a worried looking Spain.

"Yeah," America answered absently, turning back. His interest had waned and now he was greatly bored. "Silly, really, thinking they could-"

And that's when it hit him.

A stupendous, glorious, delicious idea.

He grinned widely, enjoying the epiphany and his own amazingness.

Canada raised an eyebrow at him- having become far too used to that expression, but America was unfazed. "Canada!" he cried, slapping his hands down on the table yet again. "Canada, that's it!"

"What's it?" his brother tried to ask, but he was yanked up by the arm and hurried out of the room. "Wait! What about Kumo-!"

Kumajiro, the fluffy white polar bear that had been laying at Canada's feet the whole time, continued to snore and simply rolled over to continue his nap.

"Alfred!" Canada hissed. Even if they were in a locked room, outside the conference room, it was safer to call each other by code names- just in case. Still, other than the rustling of clothes it was hard to hear or see anything through the folding screen- which was sort of the point, he supposed. "Alfred!" Only more rustling. The blonde sighed and looked uncertainly at the bomber jacket in his hands. After finding an empty room with a couple of folding screens and body-length mirror- just how accommodating was the World Conference Center?- America had shoved them in, locked the door, and promptly ordered for them to switch clothes. Canada had immediately wanted to know why, but was pushed behind a screen before he could do so. America, brimming with childish exuberance, insisted he would explain all later.

"Matthew!" his twin called, now the one impatient. "Hurry up and get out here!"

Grumbling under his breath in French, Canada finished the exchange by pulling the bomber jacket on. It was a little weird to know that his brother's clothes still fit him so well. (They were a bit loose in some areas like the waist, but all in all a very comfortable fit.) With a sigh of, "Just get it over with," he stepped out from behind the screen.

Had someone entered the room- country or human- they would have been immensely confused, taking more than just one double-take. However, to Canada, it was just his brother with his clothes on. America grinned and beckoned him to come stand beside him before the mirror.

"You know how you've always wanted a chance to participate in these conferences?" Alfred asked rhetorically. "Get to be taken seriously with all the power and authority to back you up?" Canada nodded slightly, still suspicious. "And how I want some off time, a chance to chill out without all that pressure?" Just as it clicked in Canada's head, he stepped in front of the mirror, looking at what it held.

They were identical.

Well, of course, they had always been identical, but it made a different impact this time. America's hands went through his hair, smoothing down the golden locks, twisting the ends, and tucking down his upper cowlick. A tight pinch of some lower strands brought out a familiar, distinctive curl. Canada fingered the same curl in his own hair and following the train of thought, swept back up with its fellow locks and then pricked some bangs up to give it a cowlick look. Their work complete, the lowered their hands and took another look. Yes, now it was perfect.

"Don't you see, Canada?" America breathed softly, placing one hand on the mirror. "We switch places- just for the day- and-"

Canada swiftly interrupted, "It won't work." He bit his lower lip, thinking through all the hundreds of ways this could go wrong. "They'll know. Or they'll find out. I mean, the Ita-brothers failed and-"

"We can do this," America insisted. "And if we get caught," he shrugged, "we'll just say it was a joke. No one will care."

There was something wrong with that logic.

Also, after all these years of insisting he was not- nor ever will be- America, there was something about this that didn't sit well with his political senses. "I don't know," he sighed, still staring at their reflections. "So many things can go wrong, Alfred. You could say the wrong thing or I could and drag our countries into something awful!"

This time his twin turned from the mirror to look at the real him. "I wouldn't do that," America refuted, serious. There was little more precious to Alfred than his country. "And I know you Matthew; you're too smart to jeopardize things like that. I'll be mostly ignored, but I won't say or do anything. I promise."

It was tempting. Very tempting. Conference time was supposedly short tomorrow, lessening the amount of time things could go wrong. The image of him being able to share ideas was also strong. Who knew, but using this chance to practice, he could use new skills to also do so when he went back to being himself.

No more invisible Canada..

"Should I?" he asked, teetering on the edge.

America grinned, "Why not?"

Canada laughed, pressure falling off his shoulders like magic. When he stopped, he looked back at their reflection and saw two grinning blondes looking back at him. Then he faced his brother and said, "I'll see you tomorrow...Canada."

The other chuckled, "Yep! See you tomorrow, America."

And like the mischevious imps they were, they left the room, laughing together.

- End

[Extras]

1) The part where the Ita-brothers test Germany is heavily based off the comic strip "APH: Braindamaging Test" by Hei-Chan on DeviantArt. It was in my head while writing this and so sort of slipped out. So I take no credit for that part at all. The brilliance is all Hei-Chan's.