Howdy! I'm fairly new to this fandom, so don't be surprised to see OOC stuff from me, because my writing skills are a literal joke. Also, first fic about Hetalia! So excited and thirsty for gayness!

just kidding

This fic is dedicated to my best friend of many super awesome years as an early birthday present. (I mean, her birthday isn't until more than half a year from now but let's just ignore that okay?) Sooo, she be an ace so I'm gonna respect that and just have an illegal amount of fluff for her throughout this thing until it's finished. Or not, I might abandon it because I'm a jackass with a heart of solid ice and leaving stories unfinished is a really bad habit of mine. Who knows?

Anyway, enjoy this teaser! If you're lucky, I'll remember this exists and update. ;)

Alfred collapsed onto the plush setté huddled against the wall of President Chase's private office, his face pale and jaw slackened in shock. His boss looked almost abnormally stern, the man's soft features hardened with seriousness. His hands were meshed together, brown eyes sharp yet downcast.

"A permanent...union?" The country breathed, his voice wobbling faintly at that last word. Alfred could only gape at his leader, a cold, sick feeling twisting deep inside his stomach. The other man sighed, closing his eyes as his brows knit together. He looked hesitant to speak, fidgeting nervously.

"Yes, Mr. Jones," he replied in a strained tone, before he cleared his throat, his muscles tense and brow damp with sweat. "A union." The personified country was visibly shaking, out of anger or disbelief, Chase was not sure, but he knew that it was only a matter of time before all hell broke loose. He watched as Alfred gulped quietly, the blond's twitching, shaky fingers curling into fists as his gaze darkened and settled on the polished wooden floor.

"A union…" The blond repeated flatly. He bowed his head further, his teeth gnashing together as a sickly fire began to roil in his stomach. "I assume you and Fedunov have already taken care of all the paperwork?" His boss gnawed at his lower lip, a nervous tic he had yet to correct, as he considered how to answer the question. Alfred lifted his head only slightly, his eyes nearly cobalt in the shadows of his golden hair. Slowly, the president nodded.

"All that's needed is a public ceremony really…" the man said awkwardly, almost reassuringly, "a-and the signatures of the personifications involved of course…" He trailed off, tugging lightly at his collar to loosen his suddenly constricting tie. The tension in the room seemed to weigh on him like a heavy cloud, stifling and thick. He could barely breathe.

"My signature-" the country mused monotonously. The president examined the young man before him. Alfred's expression had smoothed over into what Chase could only describe as an emotionless void. "-and His signature. Ours. Together. As one country."

"Yes," the president confirmed quietly. Sighing, Alfred popped his knuckles absentmindedly, his boss visibly wincing with every crack in the otherwise deathly silent room.

"What does the media have to say about this?"

"Most of the major groups of influence don't seem to have anything against the tidbit of information we've leaked to the NNN, but some persuasive groups of both republicans and democrats, surprisingly enough, rejected the idea very harshly, which could pose some problems should they start rallying for supporters." President Chase hadn't lifted his gaze from the nation's face, watching the subtle shifts in the man's expression as he spoke. "As usual, a large amount of the population don't care so long as they aren't really affected personally-"

"Mr. President." The president snapped his mouth shut, staring with wide eyes as Alfred stood slowly, the chilling poker face straining over his youthful features. The clenched fists, the stiff, straight-backed posture, and oh-so-slight pinch of his brow was all Chase needed to realize that the nation was only a few minutes from blowing a gasket. The president held back a sigh. Well, the man thought glumly, too late to do damage control.

"Yes, Alfred?"

"Do I have any choice in deciding whether or not this 'union' takes place?" Chase grimaced at the question. Heaving a sigh, the president hung his head, pinching the bridge of his nose and bile climbed up his throat.

Swallowing uncomfortably, Chase murmured, "I'm sorry, Alfred."

Silence.

"Forgive my boldness sir, but that doesn't quite answer my question." The nation's voice was soft and calm, a drastic contrast to the hellish blue stare the blond had fixed onto the opposite wall.

"No." Alfred let out a sharp breath, his hands starting to ache from being clenched so tightly. Stubborn tears prickled at the corners of his eyes that he refused to scrub away. It took all of his available willpower not to snap and start screaming. Seeing the man's struggle, Chase stood as well. "Take the rest of the week off, Al. Cher and I can hold down the fort until you feel...more, uh, comfortable..." At that, the blonde nation cracked a humorless smile.

"Sir," Alfred chuckled dryly, a liar's grin stretched across his cheeks, "I don't think anyone could ever feel even slightly comfortable about being forced to marry the representative of the Russian Federation."

Feel free to R&R! Reviews give me life and make me giggle like a ninny. See you in the next chapter! (Maybe...) Toodles!