"Graceful." He swiped the comb through his hair, leaving it somewhat orderly but keeping the lady killing bedhead look.
"Handsome." He ran his hands over his chin, checking for missed stubble. Today was not a day to look at all like France. He also made sure to unbutton the first couple of buttons on his shirt. "Don't wanna be stingy, right?" He gave his reflection a wink.
"And you can't become a superpower without…" He felt blindly for his glasses, "Brains!" He laughed a little, reminded of a zombie movie he saw a little while ago. Checking himself over once again, he said to himself, "Sexy, babe. Sexy."
Strictly speaking, it wouldn't be totally lying to say Alfred was gay, or at least bisexual. He was in love with himself. Not the healthy kind of love, with both partners equally devoted to one another, the kind of love where hormonal teenage girls carve their favorite star's names into their flesh, and cover every inch of their bedroom walls with candid photos that had circulated in that week's gossip magazines. Except not the skin-cutting thing, because ruining this perfect body was borderline blasphemy, and not the photo thing because injuring the social standing is a no-no when dating (or pretending to date) someone as hunky as this, he thought.
"Lookin' good." He winked at his reflection before ducking out of the bathroom to snag a banana and drive to the meeting. Because even if it was in Europe, driving is the American pastime.
Since he arrived a little early, Alfred decided to actually make a list of priorities (ranked in order of 'necessity', because there is no such thing as 'want' in America), highlight some key points, and try and anticipate the other's moves and how they would try and block his interests. After a few minutes of brainstorming, his thinky-cells ran out and he wandered around to find a vending machine.
"Geez. The war is totally over." He mumbled as he fished out change for a Coke. "Why can't everyone just agree to make me their ruler instead of fighting over land? I'm pretty sure we've already established I'm the hero, and Democracy is a damsel in distress." He winked at his reflection in the glass between him and one-thousand cans of varied drinks.
As he was about to walk away, he sensed something a little…off about his mirror image. After a few moments of pondering, he realized his precious Nantucket was askew! Such a misalignment could wreck his entire image of controlled-but-lazy-and-a-sexy-wildcard-ladies-don't-you-want-this. So, at first he simply tried tweaking the errant hair a tad, lovingly convince it to complete his image. When the hair began to rebel, he had to resort to greater measures, that eventually ended up with Alfred smacking his own forehead so hard it left a mark. "Damn." He complained, sitting in front of the reflected glass where his image was transposed on top of a multitude of weird beverages. "I knew I should've bought the V8!"
"Is there a problem?" The unfamiliar voices shocked Alfred, who was totally immersed in the glory of his reflection and the soda. Turning around, he saw…someone.
"Who're you?" Alfred asked the man, who was wearing a white scarf and long jacket even thought it was relatively mild outside (and inside it was even a little stuffy).
The stranger smiled, and if Alfred had any atmospheric sensors he might've felt a slight chill of forewarning, but as it was, he just figured it was smiling and laughing time, or this guy was pleased to meet him. "I'm Russia." The man said, quietly but in such a way it would be impossible to not hear.
"Oh, cool, man!" Alfred jumped up, and grabbed his new acquaintance's hand, pumping it vigorously. "The name's America! I've heard a lot of jokes about your place!"
Russia kept smiling, and let Alfred shake his hand and talk about jokes that seemed to involve switching whatever direct object would normally be in the standard sentence as in, "He plays Tetris." Tetris being the direct object, and switching it with the noun ('He' in this sentence) and filling the direct object with 'you' while placing 'In Soviet Russia' at the beginning of the sentence. (In Soviet Russia, Tetris plays you)
After a while, Alfred remembered about the meeting, and ran off in the wrong direction to get there. Russia followed behind after picking up the unopened Coke can America had left. "Interesting guy." He grinned, already plotting as he opened the can and guzzled its contents.
About twenty minutes later, most of the main powers were assembled in a circular conference room. Aside from Germany, Austria, Japan, and Italy, who were in a time-out corner with dunce hats on, moping. "Like I was saying," Britain continued his long-winded-but-undoubtedly-brilliant speech, "I think what we should do is re-educate Germany. We cannot allow these delusions to continue."
Most everyone agreed that the heinous crimes Germany committed were a direct cause of his youth, and he had obviously not learned his lesson last time he lost. There was a muffled cry of protest from the time-out corner when the plan was pushed forward.
"The question is now, of course, who re-educates him." Britain said. Then, chuckling to himself, "Since I obviously am the best at raising kids, it should be me."
There was a cry of protest all around. "You're just a pedophile!" Someone shouted, but miraculously no one knew exactly who.
"What a parent really needs is love!" France said, "Painful, unforgettable love that he will never forget!"
Another cry of protest. "You just want to beat him up!" The mystery person shouted.
Not about to be shown up by Britain, Alfred also decided to make his case to re-teach Germany. "It makes a good story if the hero saves the villain from a lifetime of destruction!" He shouted in his best 'I'm a trustworthy caretaker' voice.
Murmurs of protest, not many people actually could stand up to America. But, still, one person stood up. "I think that if you want him thoroughly re-educated," Russia smiled, "You should really let me do it."
Alfred was taken aback; no one had opposed him in years. Was Russia really that powerful? He wondered. The tension in the room increased exponentially. Even Poland had turned around from making rude faces and gestures at Germany to watch the unfolding drama.
After some sweating, America, Britain, and France responded, almost as one, but with dissonance, "NO WAY!"
"Huh?" Russia pouted, and acted a little self conscious, "Why not? None of the children I educate run away and do bad things…" He went on, "And you guys didn't let me decide anything about Italy and Japan. It's not fair."
Even now, Alfred was wondering if this new country he recently met was really a threat, an equal. What if America actually wasn't the top superpower in the world? What if he was…defeated? Would he have to go crawling back to Britain, and pledge allegiance to some monarch? Or worse…what if it was France? The times Alfred had spent with France were not happy memories.
America turned towards Britain and France, and signaled they should discuss this. The three nations (quite covertly, with everyone staring at them) stood, walked a little ways from the table, and huddled together, American football style (which makes it kinda like a three-way distance hug).
"What should we do?" France whispered, panicking.
"How the hell am I supposed to know, you git!" Britain hissed back.
"Guys…"
"We wouldn't be in this mess if Monsieur I-subjugated-half-the-globe hadn't proposed this stupid plan!"
"At least I didn't take half the world's virginity! Wanker!"
"Guys!" Alfred said it a little louder, partly to get to the point, partly to suppress horrifying childhood memories.
But, anyways, both of the bickering nations shut up, Britain sending France an icy glare and France avoiding eye contact.
"Good," Alfred sighed. "Like I was saying, I have a plan."
Neither of the others seemed to believe him. Blank stares questioned the sanity of the kind of ditzy America. Planning wasn't an American quality. Brute skill and refined strength, yeah, but not…planning.
"We split up Germany. Three parts to us and one part to Soviet Russia. That way, we'll have most of it and we can launch a surprise attack once we're recovered from this war." Blank stares again. But the gears were clicking.
"That's brilliant, America!" They said as they patted him on the back.
Luckily, Russia agreed and mostly everyone walked out of the meeting quite pleased with themselves.
Well, Alfred was, anyway. And he reasoned that he was probably awesome enough to count for mostly everyone. He was humming and spinning his car keys when the awful reality hit him.
That ENTIRE time…
Nantucket was askew.
A/N Dun dun duuuun! Cliff hanger.
R&R if you don't mind.
To make sure you know, I don't find America especially attractive (it would be weird to like your country THAT much) but since he's conceited, you get a sexified description of him at the beginning.
If it continues, I promise the Russia/America *coughsexualcough* tension will increase.