I started this back in November 2016 during NaNoWriMo and it's FINALLY DONE! This is crazy, dudes. I'm super pumped to finally be posting it! I hope you enjoy!

Story is COMPLETED, new chapters will be posted on a regular basis.


July 24, 2015

Washington, D.C.

Weary blue eyes watched intently as the assembled Nations began to pack up their things to leave. Papers vanished into briefcases, phones were taken off silent, and ties were quickly being loosened.

The usual groups soon assembled.

Spain wandered over to a naggingly familiar looking South Italy, hands flying through the air as he began to chatter at the perpetually irate Nation.

The three NATO members of Scandinavia were clustered together near a window, Norway hovering and fussing over an embarrassed Iceland as Denmark cheerfully teased them both.

Near the far end of the table, France was perched, leaning over a glowering England. The Gallic nation made a small, abbreviated gesture towards the front of the table, head tilting. For a brief moment, earthy green eyes flicked forward, only to harden and turn away.

Alfred let out the small breath he'd been holding as England pointedly finished assembling his belongs and strode out, refusing to look at the conference host.

"He'll come around," a soft voice commented.

A small smile crossed his face. Turning, Alfred gave his brother a bright smile. "Oh, I'll win him over eventually," he vowed, "whether he likes it or not!"

Shaking his head, Canada returned the smile, and then looked out at the now nearly empty conference room.

"It went well," he stated, voice quickly cheerful. "I'm not sure what the others would have said if your first time as host had ended the way so many of our meetings do – with complete chaos. It's wonderful that you managed to avert that." Canada dragged back the chair closest to America and dropped into with a relieved sigh.

"Hah." Alfred snorted. "As much as it's burning some of them up inside, they're happy I'm here now."

Canada blinked, a hint of America's feelings of amusement-irritation-exasperation flitting at the edge of his consciousness. "Problems?" he asked after a moment, a flicker of worry in his eyes.

Alfred paused, startled at the sudden worry in his brother's gaze. He focused inward for a moment, reaching for that strange spot between them, a place where North and South blurred together and me and him became us. A link, a connection they were only just starting to explore.

Worry-concern-I won't let them hurt him!

"It's okay," he finally said as the intensity of his brother's care and concern washed over him. His Hollywood smile softened into something warmer. It was – nice – knowing that someone was watching out for him, that someone cared enough to worry about his problems, both big and small. "It's, like, 99 percent jealousy. I've gotten to have more of a personal life than a lot of those guys and it stings. Plus, they're mad at me for not "doing my job" and they're mad that no one ever came around to tell me about my job and they're mad that the first time I properly met another Nation I was kicking ass and taking names. Mostly, though," his voice dropped slightly and a hint of smugness entered his voice, "they're mad and scared that even though I haven't been around to help, my people still managed to kick all their butts."

"That sounds about right," Canada agreed. Then sighed as his mind drifted back. Three months ago, as far as anyone knew, America didn't exist. It was a nation without a soul, a global superpower with no unifying presence or identity. No singular personification to meet and negotiate with.

And then terrorists attacked, swearing to end their kind forever. They thought they'd figured out how to exterminate them and the small group of Nations that had gathered in the capital of the state of Texas became their hostages – and their first test subjects.

The terrorists missed Canada and Prussia, leaving the pair trapped behind the police line and frantic with worry about their families and friends. And that the secrecy of their existence may have been breached.

And then – a phone call. A strange voice swearing he could help end it and save everyone they cared about.

In the end? America did exist. He had swept in out of nowhere and started exterminating the terrorists one by one with ruthless efficiency. He rallied and won the hearts of the Micronations then personally freed the captured and tortured Nations. He donated his own blood to save Japan from the toxins that had been pumped into him and refused to stand to the side when a disoriented Russia lashed out to protect himself.

A Nation where they thought there was none. A man of wit and power, mercy and death instead of the weak willed slob most assumed he would have been. A single soul bearing the weight of the most contrary and chaotic people on the planet. A person with the strength and will to survive being pulled in every direction during his every waking moment with no support, no sympathetic ear, and no true understanding of his own nature.

Alfred F. Jones. The United States of America. His sudden explosive appearance on the world stage had sent a tidal wave of shock to every corner of the earth. His capital had been swarming with Nations within a week after the Incident, the personifications of the world each wanting to meet him, take his measure – and see just how much they could bend him to their will.

The idea was sound – who wouldn't want the USA at their beck and call? But America didn't play along. He smiled and laughed, teased and argued. And every time someone tried to pin him down he danced out of their grasp like a leaf on the wind, refusing to be bound to anyone else's will.

Ultimately, America had taken to the duties of a Nation with relative ease, eagerly aided by the government department that had been created decades earlier to try and accomplish the work of a representative with none of the abilities and insights that were a natural part of their being.

He'd begun attending meetings within short order of being officially "hired" by the United States of America as its National Representative. Canada had done the best he could to assist his brother, giving him tips on how to handle the different Nations and about working with the humans that made up his government.

Canada and Jennifer Williams, America's human predecessor, had felt more than a little apprehension about how much policy and politics the newly discovered Nation would need to learn in order to keep up. They quickly realized, however, that he already had a strong understanding of the complex topics.

Canada had pressed him on it after the first month. America had sheepishly admitted that one of the ways he'd been "passing the time" over the past few centuries had been to occasionally enroll in a college or university somewhere within his borders and learn a new subject. His personal interests, he explained, lay in the hard sciences, but he made a point to get a deeper understanding of other fields such as economics, literature, and art. Of course, the transition hadn't been perfectly smooth sailing. America's understanding of many topics was solely academic and did not always translate well into real world applications.

But in the end, a mere three months after the terrible incident in Texas, America was already hosting his own world meeting. It had been on the books for over a year and much of the logistics and planning were already in place. His government, however, had been very happy to dump the more social elements into America's lap, leaving him to manage the parties, the bar crawls, and making sure everyone's tab got paid, all on top of the regular daytime duties of hosting, diplomacy, and negotiation.

If he looked closely, Canada could see the lines of strain on his brother's face, the result of three nights of chasing and wrangling Nations as well as day-long meetings about policy that always descended into endless circular arguments. None of the attending Nations had gotten much rest but America had definitely gotten the least.

"A-hem."

Canada jumped, startled. Beside him, America twitched, quickly controlling whatever impulse was running through him. A wary look flickered in Canada's eyes and he couldn't help but lean in closer, ready to defend his newfound brother from whatever followed.

Alfred took a deep, calming breath as he brushed soothing fingers against Canada's arm. He straightened in his seat and allowed his "Official Host!" smile to cross his face as he looked up at Germany looming next to him. The smile faltered slightly, as Germany's studious face gazed intently back at him.

"I apologize for bothering you both," the straight-laced Nation began, his voice echoing the apologetic sentiment. "I, ah, wanted to see if you wished for any feedback on how the meeting went. I do not mean to imply that you did poorly," he added quickly, a slight frown crossing his face.

The fake Host smile faded from Alfred lips, replaced with a look of genuine fondness. He hadn't had a great deal of time to interact with Germany since the Austin Incident but their encounters thus far had been . . . nice. And notably lacking in the strange mixture of detached curiosity, morbid fascination, and nervous suspicion that typically filled the gaze of the different Nations he'd been meeting.

Germany was meticulous, obsessed with procedure and rules, prone to shouting when he lost his temper, and was honestly more down-to-earth than most of the other Nations. Once you moved past official business and entered the social realm, the overly muscled Germany was delightfully awkward. No pretense, no layers of suggestion and innuendo. Just someone who wanted to have a good time and drink beer.

Plus, Italy considered Germany his best friend. That definitely meant something.

Alfred grinned up at Germany and waved him towards the chair on his other side before leaning back again in his own. "No problem, dude." He watched, waiting as the man sat down, setting his briefcase on the table in front of him. "I'd appreciate the feedback. I mean, I've heard that you actually get stuff accomplished at these meetings, so you clearly have a Doctorate or something in Nation-wrangling."

Germany blinked, surprised and pleased at the unexpected compliment. He had observed that America had proven to be one of the more attentive attendees since he'd begun attending Nation meetings. Despite being thrown into the veritable shark tank, he'd taken to his position as a leading Nation with apparent ease, handling the criticisms leveled at him for his prolonged absence with wit and enviable charm. America wasn't exactly liked by many but given the jealousy and irritation many held for his people and his power in general, the rapport he was developing with so many Nations was stunning.

Feeling unexpectedly self-conscious about America's friendliness and open admiration, Germany hurriedly cleared his throat and opened his briefcase, pulling out the notes he'd assembled during the meeting. As he shut the case once again, he could see how America's eyebrows had shot up at the thick stack of notes.

"Damn, Germany," Alfred commented after a moment, eyes still on the notes. "Maybe I should hire you to do my taxes. Detailed, much?"

"I wanted to be thorough," Germany responded, voice going tight.

"No, no, it's totally fine." America sat up straight and reached out to drag his neglected legal pad closer so he could take notes. "Lay it on me."

Over the next half-hour, Germany went through his observations about the NATO meeting, moving from point to point in rapidfire. America took diligent notes, occasionally breaking in with a question or comment while Canada listened with fascination. He hadn't realized how much Germany did to try and minimize the near-anarchy that was so characteristic of Nation meetings.

There were general notes (providing a personally curated list of current art exhibits, attractions, and restaurant recommendations), notes regarding important cultural differences (remember that Nations like France and Italy expect to do just as much business in social settings as official meetings), and suggestions for ways to correct some of the minor hitches that had arisen (Spain will never be ready to present first thing in the morning).

When Germany turned over the last sheet of paper, he was almost disappointed to see the table surface appear. This kind of interaction with America, one outside of business but not purely social, was more . . . comfortable . . . for him then trying to make small talk at an official function or in a bar. He was still getting a feel for this intriguing man, still trying to gauge his likes and dislikes, what topics or settings got him excited or agitated. For his part, America had given every outward indication that he enjoyed Germany's company but he could be misreading that thanks to the man's generally friendly attitude.

"Well, I suppose that's everything," Germany concluded, still staring at the table.

"Apparently." Alfred stretched his arms up over his head and then his legs under the table. After holding this pose for few moments, he let his limbs go slack. One arm went behind his head while the other reached for his tie, pulling the Windsor knot lose. "Germany," he began, getting the other Nation's attention. "Thank you for this." He grinned and folded his other arm behind his head. "You didn't have to and I really appreciate the help."

"Yes, well," Germany picked up the notes and began to shuffle them into a tidy pile. "It helps everyone when the meetings are run efficiently." Out of the corner of his eye, he could see America and Canada bite back a chuckle, a nearly identical look of amusement passing over their faces.

"That is very true," Canada agreed, eyes glowing with delight and admiration.

There was a sudden soft knock on the door. Alfred picked up his phone from where it sat face down on the table. 6 PM already?

"Come on in," he called, setting the device back down. He threaded his fingers back together behind his head, curious to see who had knocked.

"Ah, America, I was looking for- Germany!" Italy beamed as he peeked into the room and spotted his friend. Bounding into the room, door swinging shut behind him, he skidded to a stop next to his friend. Italy scowled, glaring at them with narrowed eyes as he shook an accusing finger at the small group of blondes. "Shame," he scolded. "Shame on all of you! Work is over! We should be eating dinner, not sitting in a stuffy room."

"We were completing some final business," Germany retorted. He glanced down at the stack of notes he still held in his hands and then wordlessly extended them to America. Once he had taken the papers, Germany popped open his briefcase and retrieved his mobile phone. Awakening and unlocking it with a click of a button and a few gestures, he grimaced inwardly at the number of text messages and missed calls.

Exasperated, Italy leaned forward and closed his hands over the hand holding the mobile phone, pushing it downwards. "No. More. Business!" he exclaimed. He swung his head over to look at the twins, who were watching them with undisguised interest. "Please, you have to help me!" he pleaded. "Germany will keep working and working and working if you don't! And I want to go try that Italian restaurant down the street. The menu outside says they serve real pasta al pomodoro!"

Alfred dropped Germany's stack of notes into his own briefcase and snapped it shut with a decisive click. "Well, it certainly wouldn't do for anyone to starve, not on my watch!" He and Italy exchanged matching grins. "If you're talking about the place I think you are, you're in for a treat! Real bruschetta, imported langoustine, and even biscotti dunked in Tuscan wine, zeppola, and pignoli for dessert."

Releasing Germany's mobile phone, Italy clapped his hands together in excitement, his eyes turning bright and full of cheer.

"You must come eat with us!" he insisted. "Then you can tell us all about how they prepare the food. It is different than back home in Italy, but still so tasty. I can't wait! Come with us. You will have a good time - I promise."

Alfred was surprised and touched by the invitation. "Sounds good to me," he replied, voice light. He glanced over at Canada, inquiringly cocking his head.

Canada blushed slightly, then gave a small nod.

"Awesome." Alfred grinned at the other Nations and seized his briefcase. "Lemme go drop this off in my room upstairs. Meet you in the lobby in, what, 5, 10 minutes?"

"Very well," Germany agreed. He rose and gently took Italy's arm. "We will see you there."