Hey, dudes and dudettes! This is my first fic since killing all of my other works but one. I hope I've developed to a satisfactory point where the Mary Sue fairy isn't coming around and bopping my OCs on the head! This is a self-insertion fic for me and two friends. I hope you like it! Please review, I'm always looking for *constructive* criticism, but if you excoriate me I WILL block you. Thanks!

~WingsofNyx

P.S. I didn't put accents on the dialogue (personally, I hate reading accents), so read it with accents yourself. Or in your head. Again, enjoy!

Disclaimers:

~*Professional* I don't own Hetalia, 'cuz it would be a LOT closer to G-rated if it was in my hands… I also don't own Dulles International Airport or London Heathrow Airport (thanks, stalker skills for that little nugget of info)…

~*Unprofessional* So… sorry for OOC ness and/or OC Mary Sue disease. My writer colleague, Caeciliatheflute says that I have AES *in her words, Apocalyptic Ending Syndrome*

I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket as I stepped out of the door of my condominium. I yanked the device out of my pocket after ensuring that the door was locked.

The glowing display read, Call From: Neci 3

My best friends, Ivy (short for Iviana, but she was rarely called that) and Neci, had planned to meet me at Dulles International Airport, which was only a short 10 minute drive from my house by moped.

I tapped the screen. " 'Ello, Neci?"

"Hey, dude!" Neci's cheerful voice drenched in a northeastern accent rang through the phone. To me it sounded like she was standing not five feet away.

Neci, one of my best friends (also my sister, but we never treated each other that way), was a Hispanic girl who stood at 5'5". She had long, black hair and soft grey eyes much like the rain clouds that formed over her state of New York. "Where ARE you? Ivy and I are HERE. We're waiting..."

I sighed, having expected this rant. "Yeah, I know. I'm leaving now." I chuckled softly, swinging a leg over my purple moped. "See you soon, Neci. Bye." I needed to cut her off before she got worked up any further.

Throwing my hair up into a messy bun, I slipped my helmet on, and, starting the engine, began my trip.

~~~~At Dulles International~~~~

After squaring away the storage of my moped at the airport with some of my brother's friend, I walked back outside. Again my phone buzzed.

What now? I thought, irritated. I had two new text messages, the first one from Neci.

Neci 3 says:

Terminal B. COME NAO!

The second one from my big brother

Broski 3 XDDD says:

Food court. Inside. See you soon!

Duh. Of course he'd be at the food court. Where else could he be?

Moving as fast as one could with a rolling bag, I hurried to Terminal B, hurriedly scanning the peoples' faces as I pushed my way through the crowded airport.

Neci spotted me first, of course. "DREW CELLA, WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?"

I ran to her and squeezed her in a tight hug.

"Glad to see you too, Neci," I grinned.

She raised an eyebrow at me. "Just because you're ten days older than I am does NOT give you an excuse to be late." Neci's birthday was July 26, while mine was (ooh, shocker) July 16.

I sighed, looking away from her (jokingly infuriated) face, fingering the strap of my skull-patterned messenger bag.

"No, I lost track of time. I'm sorry."

"It's alright, you know. She's giving you a hard time for a reason."

I looked up once more. Standing a couple of paces away was Neci's and my quieter sister, Ivy.

"How's it going?" The air seemed tons heavier and I had lost all of my energy. "I missed you, Ivy."

"Note to self," Neci began sarcastically, "D.C.'s birthday present should be a watch." Then she looked up at me, and making a face that gave me back my eneergy and made me laugh, said, "Oops! You weren't supposed to have heard that!"

"Well," I said, adjusting the strap of my messenger bag and getting up off of my rolling bag, "how 'bout we meet big bro? He's inside... indubitably eating all of the food he can find."

Neci snorted and Ivy giggled, but they followed me as I pushed inside, away from the unbearable heat into the chill of the air conditioned airport.

Because he was often away on "business", (which, as he told me, consisted mostly of arguing with the other countries, some of whom he'd told me about) Ivy and Neci had only met our big brother once when they were quite little. I doubted they remembered him. I was lucky because I saw him at meetings for the heads of the sections of the US: Northeast (:D), Southeast, Midwest, Northwest, and Northeast. I'd never been to ones with other countries before... Why would I? I wasn't even a country, just a little capital. Sorry, pity ramble.

I saw our big brother over by the McDonald's in the food court. He was throwing trash from his last meal away when he saw the three of us coming.

"Freddy!" I yelled, running to him and giving him a hug while being the biggest dork I could.

"Hi... um, who are you?" He sounded dubious.

I cocked my head at him. "Alfred Jones, why don't you know who I am?"

He blinked, scratching his head. "Still doesn't answer my question."

I struck a theatrical pose. "You could say I'm Alfred's heart because I'm the capital of America!"

His classic smile, huge and bright enough to light most of the country for a decade, appeared. "D.C.!" He gave me a once-over several times. "Man, you've grown! Where're the glasses? And the skirts?"

I grinned, glad that he'd noticed the changes yet still knew who I was. "I got contacts and banished the skirts to the back of my closet."

When my older brother Alfred had last seen me, I was a little capital, 4'3" at the most, 12 years old, wore glasses, did my hair in pigtails, and my usual outfit was a pink shirt and a flouncy skirt. Now I was 18, able to drive, 5'8", had contacts, did all sorts of things with my hair, and wore jean shorts and tank tops (unless it was the winter, I'm not a total idiot) along with my classic red high top Converse. Viva la Americana!

"It looks... good." His sparkling, sky-blue eyes left my face for a moment, and focused in on Neci and Ivy. "And your friends are...?" His face displayed interest.

I snorted, raising an eyebrow at him. "I can't believe you'd be interested in your own sisters."

His head whipped back to me. "My sisters?"

As Neci and Ivy neared, I said, "Alfred, meet Neci and Ivy Jones."

He nodded, folding his arms. "Nevada and...?"

Neci huffed, folding her arms. "New York and Illinois."

He waved at her dismissively. "Right, right. I knew that."

I picked up my bag, trying to intercede this conversation before they started a fight. "Any information on our flight...?" I started hopefully.

"I heard ten minutes," Ivy said, pointing at the ceiling. I was confused for a second, but then realized that Ivy meant the intercom.

Would the passengers of the 12:00 flight to London Heathrow please report to terminal B4? Thank you, and have a nice day.

"Let's get moving!" Neci cried, giggling. She grabbed her bag and started running. I laughed and ran after her.

We soon ended up in aforementioned terminal, all of us laughing and gasping for air, our faces bright red. The attendant was taking tickets already, and the four of us stood after regaining our breath and our sanity. We boarded the plane with no drama, and I sighed as I settled into the plushy seats. Finally, not to be rushing around trying to meet a deadline.

I looked around: It was Alfred and me in one row of seats, and Neci and Ivy two rows in front of us. Because I hadn't gotten an opportunity to sleep last night (let's just say I had a bit of a packing dilemma), I immediately laid my head on Alfred's shoulder and fell asleep.

~~~~In Britain~~~~

"D.C., wake up!" Alfred murmured, shaking my shoulder. "Drew, we're here."

I groggily opened my eyes and, yawning, stretched in the limited amount of space. The plane was stopped, so I took the time to de-rumple my tank top (the one with an American flag and "I *heart* D.C." on it) and straighten my shorts. I rubbed my toes to make sure they weren't asleep, then grabbed my bags and left the plane.

Neci, Ivy, and I sat outside the airport in the warm air as Alfred took a taxi to docks (somewhere, I forgot where he said) to get his old blue Ford pickup truck off of a shipping boat. We saw him swerve, high speed, back into the "loading zone" of the airport.

The four of us piled into the front. I put my red Converse up on the dashboard, enjoying immensely the stretch that my calves got. I slid a pair of blue wayfarers down on my face.

Just like old times, I thought.

"Put your feet down!" Alfred complained, pushing teasingly on my knees. He turned out onto a main road, and only then did I put them down.

"WHY IS EVERYBODY DRIVING ON THE WRONG SIDE OF THE ROAD?" he yelled. I screamed and covered my eyes. Ivy, ever the level-headed one, reached across me and pushed on the steering wheel so that we swerved into the left lane.

"Oh. Right." Alfred looked at Ivy. "Thanks."

Luckily, we made it to the resort where the Summit was being held relatively safely, but still intact.

"We're here," Alfred sighed.

"You should have your license revoked," Neci hissed, unclenching her hands off of the dash slowly. I laughed, shoving Ivy lightly, and slid off of the old white leather upholstery.

"Does he always drive like that?" Neci said, scowling in Alfred's general direction.

I laughed wholeheartedly again, the knot of fear in my chest loosening. "Normally, yes. But I've never seen him drive in another country before. That was hilarious!"

I held the door for Alfred, Ivy, and Neci while struggling with my own bags. Once we got inside, Alfred claimed the rooms that had been set aside for us by the committee of the Summit. He handed us each a room key.

Still lugging our bags along, the four of us hopped into an elevator and rode up to the third floor.

"So... it's you, me Neci, and D.C. staying on this floor?" Ivy queried, grunting as she toted along a huge duffel bag. Alfred picked up one of the handles and sighed.

"The four of us, Mexico, my little bro Canada, and Cuba," Alfred replied, setting down her bag. She opened her room with the provided key and Alfred helped her lug her bag into her room.

Opening my own door, I walked in, swung my bag onto the first bed (which nearly swallowed them whole), then pulled the sheets back on the second one and, after kicking my shoes off, crawled in, tired after traveling and the energy spent on my brother.

~~~~The next morning~~~~

I woke up and immediately trudged into the bathroom. I saw myself and gasped. That was what I looked like in the morning? I needed to get ready!

After taking a shower, I brushed my hair several times, trying to get as much water out of it as possible. Then, combing through it with my fingers, I put it back into a towel. Best not to get my uniform wet.

As Alfred had warned me that many of the countries wore something that reflected their country or was a military uniform (I knew he'd be wearing his Air Force uniform and bomber jacket per usual), I gently pulled out my WAAC uniform. It was an officer's winter service uniform. Though olive green and khaki weren't really my colors, I wore the old uniform with pride.

I pulled the brown leather field shoes on, then pulled my dog tags out on top of the uniform. Finally, I took my hair down from its rockin' towel turban and curled it.

I added a bag and my hat and I was set. Stepping back into the bathroom, I looked at myself in the uniform. Good. I looked polished and ready to go.

The first fear that hit me was that I'd be the only girl there. Another was that I'd be the only one in uniform and everyone else was in civilian uniform. What if-

There was a knock on the door.

"Hey, dude, are you ready? You've been up for, like, ever. How's it going?"

I sighed, the number of butterflies in my stomach only growing. "I'm done… I think."

"Well, come on out. You can't look that bad."

That's what I was worried about, Alfred. You're not helping. I opened the door, making sure I had my key, and looked at Alfred. He looked shocked.

"D-D.C.!" he gasped. "You…. wow…"

"I was a WAAC," I murmured. "How do I look?"

"Stunning," Alfred said. "Dude, I think you're ready." He offered me an arm, which I took, exhaling loudly. Alfred looked at me. "Are you nervous?"

I nodded quickly, fearing that if I said anything I would either throw up or burst into tears. I knew none of these people, and what if I made a bad impression on them? I'd be letting down not only my brothers and sisters, but my capitol and my country.

Alfred smiled kindly, being the brother I needed at that moment. "Don't be. They're a bunch of children, myself included. All we ever do is bicker, so you just have to wait until someone makes someone else mad enough to leave. Then we all pretty much just up and leave."

Well, wasn't that comforting. Wait until someone messed up and just go.

I didn't notice that we were walking until Alfred pressed the button for the elevator.

"No, Alfred, don't make me go! I-I can't!" I gasped, feeling the bile rise in the back of my throat. "Please, don't make me!"

"Relax," Alfred said, somewhat soothing my frazzled nerves. "Chances are, they won't even notice you."

The elevator dinged, boldly announcing its presence on our floor. Alfred looked at me. "It's now or never."

I took a deep breath, making my lungs hurt just slightly. I towed him into the elevator quickly.

"Whoa there, dude!" He chuckled, making a little panic arise in the pit of my stomach. "I know I said now or never, but the elevator can wait!"

I tried to ignore him, stabbing the elevator button with one of my gloved fingers. I breathed a little more, and the panic slowly went away.

The elevator made its leisurely descent toward the lobby. To my surprise, however, it slowed for a passenger at the second floor. The door opened, and I buried my face in Alfred's arm. He shook my off a little, as if to say, "Come on. You can do this. Where's the D.C. we all know and love, dude?"

A guy wearing purple clothing stepped in, and I saw (and felt) Alfred tense slightly.

"Hello, France," he said through slightly clenched teeth.

"Oh? 'Ello, America!" The other country wore a mocking smile (that I still somehow found cute) that irritated the stuffing out of Alfred. His accent made it clear that he was from the western European nation, and I shuddered internally, thinking of a certain cooking show host* that made me laugh in a scary way. "There's a party at the pool after the meeting! See you there, yes?"

Alfred made a strangled noise that I assumed was a "sure". I reached for his arm, which was still in his pocket, and gently rubbed the crook of his elbow, keeping my eyes on the stranger. He turned, and I would have sworn that I saw him show off his plumage (that is, if he was a peacock)

"And who, may I ask, are you?" He smiled flirtatiously.

I extended my right had for him to shake. He must have mistaken my gesture and thought that I wanted him to kiss my hand (blush blush), as he took my hand and prepared to touch his lips to my knuckles. I twisted my hand in his grip and, playing the dumb American, shook his twice.

"I'm Drew Cella, Alfred's younger sister." I gave him a warm, happy smile with a tough of what I liked to call "American-ness".

"Ah, Miss Drew-" the guy started.

"D.C." I growled. I disliked anyone but my multitude of siblings using either of my given names. The acronym had a purpose: it was my nickname and it referred to my capital. I heard Alfred chuckle and shot him my death glare famous with my siblings and heard him guffaw.

"-Miss D.C., I will see you, too, at the party, yes?"

I snorted. "Only if Alfred's going." In other words, I wouldn't last a second if Alfred wasn't there.

"I'm sure he will, ma cheri."

I looked at my brother, who nodded. I love you, I shot at him mentally. "Alright then, consider me there."

"Excellent!" the man cheered. The elevator suddenly pinged, announcing our arrival at the lobby. I looked at Alfred with fearful eyes as the doors opened. The other man, the one in purple, walked out without a backward glance.

"Dude, you look fine. Let's go," Alfred said, tugging me out of the metal box. I hate to say it, bro, but that didn't help much. The butterflies continued to ravage my poor nerves with no mercy.

I could hear lively conversation from fifteen feet away. A sudden, horrifying thought threw the butterflies into a chaotic, disorganized frenzy.

"Alfred, whatever you do, don't-"

Alfred pulled me next to him in the doorway. "Hey, dudes! I'd like you all to meet my sister, D.C.!"

They all paused a moment, looking over my WAAC uniform. I could feel the weight of their stares. then dove back into their previous conversations.

Scanning the room, I tried to hold back the lightheadedness the preceded fainting. There weren't many other girls there. In fact, the only one I saw was holding a frying pan. Weird.

"Alright! Can we sit down like the civilized nations we are and begin the meeting?" It was a tall, blonde man. An Allied Power, perhaps? I hadn't gotten a very good description of the nations from Alfred. It was things like "That Brit was SO twitchy today" or "I don't know how Italy is ever kept in line…."

I felt a pang of… what was that? Guilt? Jealousy? I was, after all, only a little capital. Sadness accompanied the mysterious feeling welling up inside me. Swallowing my complicated feelings, I glanced to my left. Alfred sat there, laughing loudly at someone across the table. I couldn't tell at whom, but I looked to my right anyway.

His nametag read "Deutschland". Further down, in English, it read, "Germany". He was the one that had called us to the table moments earlier.

"Settle down! If and when you are prepared to speak, you will be allowed eight minutes to speak. Raise your hand without insulting my country and I will allow you to speak. If I do not believe that you are ready to speak, I will turn the ability to speak over to someone that is prepared." He looked around, his eyes scanning the rest of us for someone to begin this "meeting". I myself wasn't ready to speak so soon after being shocked like that. Normally I'd do fine in public speaking; I was a debater, a speaker, and I was even told that they planned to have me speak at my high school graduation. I honestly don't understand why I was so flustered. Some of my friends were guys; I loved horsing around with them and was closer with some of them than my girl friends.

"I recognize…. Italy," Germany spoke in his deep voice.

"Oh-? Ve~" Italy began. Smiling, he turned to all of us. "PAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASTA!"

It wasn't even a complete statement. It made no sense. To me, anyway. But Germany seemed to understand, as did a few of the other nations. Most of them just shook their heads, having expected this sort of response.

Germany pointed behind him. "There's some pasta at the buffet if you want."

While Italy Ve~ed and scrambled to load a pile of pasta onto a plate, Germany lost hold of the meeting for only a moment. That was how long it took for chaos to erupt, plunging the possibility of having a meeting into the negative numbers.

Everyone was out of their seats. Switzerland was firing a gun at the ceiling for whatever reason, frightening some countries and filling the room with noise. Britain and France were quibbling about something; it looked as though Britain had France in… was that a headlock? Italy was cowering by the buffet nibbling on his pasta, waving a white flag. Alfred was dashing around the room yelling "Dude!" and "I'm the hero!".

"EVERYBODY SHUT UP!" Germany yelled, trying to keep a firm hand on the meeting. When he saw that no one responded to his dominant command, he turned to leave the room. I was the only one (aside from Italy) that noticed this. Italy grabbed onto his sleeve, crying, "Doitsu!". Germany sighed and shook the smaller nation off of his sleeve. I stood, trying to get him to rejoin the meeting. If there was anyone who could keep some sort of control over the meeting, it was him. "No-Deutschland-wait!" I cried desperately. I couldn't let him leave.

I'm not quite sure what I was trying to do-maybe poke him, maybe latch onto his sleeve like Italy had and stubbornly refuse to let go until he came back-but he turned around, and I ended up bumping into him.

"Yes?" he sighed, smoothing a hand over his blonde hair. Hopefully my face wasn't too red… yet. My first thought was Wow, he's tall.

"U-um," I began. Nice. Eloquent. My inner critic snarked. "A-aren't you going to stay?"

He gestured to the scene behind me. "I have to meet with these men?" He snorted. "Dummkopfs."

I felt myself slump and lose all of my posture. Warm tears weren't far behind my eyelids. This was an awful first meeting. Then again, this is what Alfred had warned me about.

He sighed, seeing my dismay. "Alright. You bring them back to the table and I'll keep them in order." The weight on my heart lifted. I smiled thankfully at him.

"Thanks…"

"Ludwig. Ludwig Beilschmidt."

"And I'm Drew," I replied, smiling gratefully. I pulled out a small, but potentially deadly, hammer out of my purse and strode toward the brawl.

To my seat.

Placing the block on the table, I rapped the gavel sharply. "Excuse me?" I called. "I believe we have a meeting to continue?"

They all stopped-as did my heart, which promptly proceeded to dive into my feet. There were so many pairs of eyes on me… I began to feel lightheaded. All of the people standing turned and left their petty fighting for their seats, and I giggled internally as I saw Italy sit with his pasta.

"Now," I said, eyeing them reproachfully as I scanned the room for someone to speak. There was someone, a guy who looked like Alfred, who was waving his hand at me.

"I'd like to recognize…" I looked at the nametag, my brain stalling for time, "Canada!"

There was a mixed reaction. "Who?" said many of the room's occupants. A good number of said people shot me confused looks as if to question my sanity. I waved on the shy nation who stood, holding a polar bear the size of a teddy bear.

"The finals for ice hockey are going to be h-held in a month," stuttered the nervous nation, "and I-I'm pleased to say you're all invited…"

This statement elicited another quiet murmur from the crowd.

"Cool story, bro!" Alfred said. "I'd love to come!"

I smiled at my energetic brother's enthusiasm. "Same here."

Several other countries, some still perplexed about the mysterious nation, vowed their attendance to the game as well.

I raised my hand, hoping for quiet. "There is one thing, though." I called.

Everyone turned their attention to me once more, and the adrenaline I felt from pulling the countries back together surged. Canada looked pale and shaky, however.

"You'll have to teach me the rules," I said. "I've got no idea how to play hockey."

Everyone laughed.

"Alright, alright, settle down," a blonde that I identified as Britain spoke, "next speaker is… Switzerland?"

The man with the white beret stood. I noticed that several countries cowered when his gaze passed over them all.

" I just wanna say this now," the fair haired country called, "I will not hesitate to shoot those who trespass at my house. Understood?"

There were murmurs of of consent and wary looks directed toward the volatile country: they'd seen him erupt before the meeting was calmed and knew his gun lurked somewhere.

"Alright, dudes," Alfred said, standing. "I, as the hero, am going to speak about waterfighting!"

"Oh, dear god, what is he going to do now?" I murmured, facepalming and praying that no one was looking at me.

"As the awesomest country, I wanted to let you know that I will totally own you at the watertight during the party after the meeting!"

Yup. They're totally staring now.

"No way! The awesome me will last much longer than some childlike nation!" I squinted to read the namecard where it was printed in English. Prussia… one Gilbert Beilschmidt? Beilschmidt. Hadn't I heard that name before now? Where had I heard that name…

"Germany!" I hissed. "Germany!" The tall nation provided no response, so, taking a sheet of paper from the provided notepads, I balled it and threw it at his green uniform.

He looked my way. "What?" His voice sounded annoyed.

I pointed at Gilbert subtly. "Is that your brother?"

Looking at me, he pointed at Alfred. "Is that yours?"

Grinning, I returned, "Touche."

He leaned back in his seat, a light blush creeping up his neck. I'm right there with ya, bro… If only he could make the meeting end sooner?

I glanced hopefully at the clock. Wait, it was already 2:00? The meeting was done?

I pounded my gavel, easily quieting the quarreling nations.

"Gentlemen, if you'd please take your seats?" I smiled charmingly, hiding my irritation, and fluttered my eyelashes ever so quickly.

Looking elsewhere, I continued. "Thank you all so much for joining us and making the most of this meeting. I hope I'll see you all at the next meeting and that… perhaps… we can get a little more done next time? Also, thank you so much to Mr. Arthur Kirkland for hosting this meeting. See you all at the party. Meeting… Adjourned!" I smartly rapped the gavel twice.

As some of the other nations began to stand and file out of the room, I shoved my gavel back into my purse. My leather gloves, part of the uniform, went into the purse as well as they were restricting the mobility of my fingers. As I slid the gloves into my bag, I ended up knocking my copy of Witch and Wizard: The Fire by James Patterson out of it.

"Oh! Let me help you!" a voice thick with an accent cried.

"Thanks…" I murmured, busy zipping up my bag. I looked up at my helper as they stood up, and it was a blonde guy with the most amazing emerald eyes.

"I'm Arthur Kirkland. You mentioned me in your great closing speech." I felt my heart beat faster just listening to his accent.

"Let me think. You're… England, yes?" I asked.

"Yes. How'd you know?" he asked.

"In a word… Alfred," I replied. "And again, thank you for helping me with my book."

He indicated the cover. "Do you like it?"

I smiled. Finally I'd found someone who shared my interest in reading. "Yeah, and I'm almost done. You can read it when I'm done, which won't be long, I'm sure."

Arthur laughed. "Alright, just let me know."

"I'm Drew, by the way. Drew Cella."

"Alfred's your older brother, yes? He did make quite a racket coming in the room."

My cheeks must have been a nice shade of red, as Arthur laughed. "Love, that's a good thing. Your uniform is impressive, I must say."

"T-thanks." I'd never been this tongue tied before in front of guys. So why was I freezing up now?

"Come on, D.C., the pool waits for no man! Or woman…" It was Alfred, being his normal noisy self.

I laughed. "Well, I guess that means he wants to go. I'll see you at the party, yes?"

"Of course you will. See you there, Miss Drew."

Linking arms with Alfred again, we walked back to the elevators. " Well, that was…fun."

Alfred laughed loudly. "You have no idea."

*Said cooking show host is the host of a show called Sweet Genius. He frightens me ever so slightly (and makes me die laughing each time I see him), but the guy's got a mean French accent.

A/N: Well, here's the fic! If you wouldn't mind hitting that little button down there, then I'd be as glad as anything to hear your thoughts. Perhaps I might write a cameo for people who respond with nice, long, somewhat critical reviews…. Hm? Oh, yeah, I'll get to the next chapter.

Also, I was thinking: what would your thoughts be on a Hetalia and Dark!Hetalia songfic to the Rihanna song "Disturbia"? Please let me know as I would like to write it without the Dark!Hetalia bit spoiling my reputation, but I think "Disturbia" is the perfect song.

Later, dudes! and… !