Disclaimer: If Axis Powers Hetalia were mine, I wouldn't need to write fanfics. If any of these songs were mine, I wouldn't be writing fanfics.

Background music: any Beatles medley

Minimal fluff 09!

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With a Little Help from my Friends

It was a nation's duty to research into the happenings that went on in their borders. Since his/her survival depended on the people, a nation had to know who was who and what was what. This group from Liverpool had earned a slowly developing acclaim and England found a spot in his busy schedule to meet them.

"Eh heh, and here we thought the epitome of the country was the Queen…" The lead chuckled nervously as he glanced at the rest of his band, who was sitting respectfully in front of England. "Who would have known that the countries were people…?"

"Well, this is a well guarded secret so the public isn't supposed to know," England began, clearing his throat. He thought he heard one of the members mutter to another about eyebrows but decided to pretend he hadn't heard it. "Nevertheless, I wanted to meet with the four of you in person, since you are becoming quite popular nowadays."

The band, which introduced themselves as John, Paul, George, and Ringo, nodded among themselves, exchanging proud yet modest looks. "We never thought it would turn out like this," Paul said animatedly. "So it's a surprise to us as well."

"Do you listen to us?" John asked.

It was England's turn to falter. Although he prided himself in being rather up-to-date with his surroundings, he wasn't much of a music listener personally. He had enough on his hands with other relations and alliances and Russia was tying up most of the world's time. "I admit I'm not so familiar with your music. What do you mostly sing?"

"Songs."

England almost rolled his eyes. It was almost as bad as talking to France. "I mean, what kind of songs."

The band exchanged looks again. "Well…love songs, I guess," Paul said slowly, clawing for an agreement with the rest of his band. "We're edging on a bit of rock too, I think."

"Is that so?" England glanced at the clock. He had work to do and these airheads seemed too novice for their own good. "Where are you headed next?"

At this, all four of them smiled. "We're planning on spreading our music to America, sir." England, who had been reaching for a file on his desk for the next business, paused for a split second. John cocked his head.

"America?"

"That's the place. Or say, the person. Are we going to meet him when we get there?" At once, the four started speaking among themselves. "After all, America's a big country and if we're going there, America the person should be there too."

"Maybe he's something like England?"

"America is not like me in the slightest." England had stood up and was now behind his desk, rustling through the piles of work he still had yet to finish. "He's nothing but an arrogant little snob who thinks he is the entire world and that he can just challenge Russia and save Vietnam from communists and expect everyone else to back him up. Well, I think someone just needs to beat it into his thick head that he's nothing special at all." England looked up to see the four staring back at him blankly. "Oh, don't worry about it. It's just some inner country disagreements, is all."

"Maybe," John said, smiling a bit. "But would you like us to send America a message?"

"What are you talking about?" England didn't mean to snap at the youngsters but America just rather pissed him off well as of late. His rudeness didn't seem to damper the four; on the contrary, they were all grinning like idiots at him.

"Well, after all, England is America's ally…"

"And by allies, could you possibly like him just a little bit…?"

"Bloody hell, no! How could you say something like that? I don't like America in the slightest!" Feeling his face flush, England covered it up with a flurry of frenzied motion, which seemed to amuse the band even further. "Thank you for coming. You may go."

Leaving the room at their own pace, John paused at the door and turned around. "It wouldn't hurt to be a little honest with yourself," he mused, closing the door behind him. England almost growled.

A few weeks later, the Beatles reached America and the arrival was broadcast on the static television. England, who had been getting ready to tuck in for the night, decided to stay up a bit (and embroider a little) and watch the kids perform. He had spotted America in the crowd almost instantly, although he would never go as far as saying he had been keeping an eye out for that idiot. The kids were rather good; England wasn't surprised – after all, he wouldn't be him if he didn't crank out greatness.

"Thank you, everyone! Thank you all for coming! Now, for our last song, directly from England to America, we present to you…'I Want to Hold Your Hand'!"

The cloth and needle had promptly fallen out of his hands and England wasn't sure if he wanted to reach through the screen and pull out that man's vocal cords. In public, in front of the world, that punk had dedicated a song to America from him? As they started to sing, England pulled the covers over his face, as if it could be a physical shield to block all meaning and all intention of those god-awful lyrics.

Oh yeah I'll tell you something/I think you'll understand/When I say that something/I wanna hold your hand!

France had teased him something awful and he had to put up with that fanciful, drama queen for months until the UN meeting. America was still on relatively bad terms with Russia, who seemed to be letting it out on poor Latvia. While Canada had come up to him (startling him in the process) to tell him that he liked the band who had been topping the charts lately, England had to admit he was only half-listening. Canada seemed to understand and wandered away, only to be found (and caught) by France, who was smelling like strong roses again.

"England."

England had no idea just a voice could make him jump and want to crush the nearest thing reachable. Turning slowly with a well executed glare on his face, he turned just in time to see America striding up to him with a grin. "England, that band you sent over was great. I met with them afterwards. Charming people."

"Did you."

"Yeah. They're really cool. I'm surprised they come from you." Laughing at his own put-down, America cocked his head. "Although they were really smiley when I asked about you. Do you have something to do with that last song they sang?"

"No." He was a great actor, thank you very much. He had tricked Spain before into thinking he had nothing to do with the pirate problems. He was not see-through in the slightest. Nope, not at all.

"It was really cute, anyway," America continued, with a strange smile on his face. "Cute, coming from you, anyway."

"I said, it's not from me!"

"Okay." Out of the blue, America reached over and took England's hand. "We're going to be late to the meeting if you don't get your head out of the clouds, you idiot."

Feeling the red seem to rise from his toes to his face, England grabbed his hand back from America's grasp. "What was that for, you git? Sexual harassment is not okay." Storming toward the meeting room, he heard America laugh before follow him, humming a familiar tune from the same band that had caused that awkward exchange. Ironic, considering the massive economic collapse that America had just been able to jump back from.

Say you don't need no diamond rings/And I'll be satisfied/Tell me that you want the kind of things that money just can't buy.

Owari

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Note: There was a fic that actually was supposed to come from this. I had originally planned an angst/drama with Vietnam anti-war sediments between USUK, since most of the songs came out during that war. However, I couldn't seem to get my thoughts out since I was trying to write in the songs in the order they were produced. So I could only crank this out before I found myself in a rut. So I decided just to put this one for your enjoyment. Beatles memorabilia. Whoo. Oh, and people might accuse me of cheating out 'Across the Universe' or something even though I've never watched that before. Jeez. Review or you won't be a true Beatles fan. I can make that happen.

Why do I threaten readers? Because if I don't, people rarely review. There, I explained it.