Alright guys!

This is going to be a chapter-by-chapter with all of the Hetalia stories that I've posted to my DeviantART (RemyLeBeau4ever1). Each chapter will be one short story, since that's what they all are; short stories. I hope you like them!

They will be from oldest posted to newest posted, and eventually, once I run out, I'll tell you in an Author's Note that from them on would be new stories, some that I may not have even put on DeviantART.

Enjoy number one! ^^

Here was the placing for the prelims for male swimming:

1. America (the HERO)
2. Australia (G'day!)
3. Britain (cupcake?)
4. Russia (kolkol)
5. China (-aru)
6. Belgium (Nyo!)
7. Canada (who?)
8. Austria (LOL)

You have NO idea how much I was laughing at Austria being in last. NO. IDEA. Actually, I was laughing at pretty much all of it. Because the whole time I had a Hetalia scene running through my head. It went something like this.

All of the countries lined up at the edge of the pool, checking their goggles, fixing their bathing suits, stretching; the works. America, full of himself as usual, decided to taunt Britain some.

"Yo, Britain, dude!" America called over the blaring voice of the announcer talking about the women's swimming scoring. The Brit looked over with an irritated look on his face.

"What the bloody hell could you possibly want, America?" he snapped, cracking his knuckles. "They're about to start introducing us!"

"I wanna make a bet, bro!" he yelled obnoxiously with a flashy smile. "I beat you, and you gotta kiss France!"

"NO WAY IN HELL, YOU WANKER!" he shrieked. "I'D RATHER LET RUSSIA USE HIS PIPE ON ME!" Britain instantly regretted saying this as he heard a familiar laugh.

"Kolkolkolkolkolkolkol...You would~?" Russia chuckled darkly from his place beside Canada, who was cowering in fear of the taller man. Britain paled and almost broke into a sweat.

"N-NO! No, I was only kidding!" he squeaked. Russia kol'd again and turned away, mumbling something along the lines of "Whatever, you will all become one eventually..."

"Come on, Britain!" America yelled again. "Don't be a pussy!" Britain realized that he wouldn't get out of this no matter what, so he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Oh, bugger. Fine, FINE, I'll do it," he sighed. America did a fist pump and cheered, but was silenced by Britain so he could continue. "BUT, if I beat YOU, then YOU have to kiss Russia!" America shrieked, and Russia kol'd again.

"NO WAY! NOT THE COMMIE!" America cried out. Suddenly Russia was behind him with a hand on his shoulder, and America almost cried.

"Kolkolkol, silly Amerika, why do you keep calling me communist? I'm not anymore," he protested, but he had a creepy smile on his face and he leaned closer to America. "Besides, is Hero Boy too much of a pussy to steal a kiss from Mother Russia~?"

America finally just decided to let it go.

"Fine! Fine, dude, you are SO on! I'm gonna kick your crumpet-eating ass into Tuesday!" he yelled challengingly. Britain scoffed and started cackling.

"Ahahahaha! America, you hamburger munching idiot, TODAY is Tuesday!" he laughed, and America scoffed and tossed a "whatever" his way, shoving Russia away from him and finishing up his stretching. China was chanting some sort of cheer to pump himself up, Belgium and Australia were testing each other's reflexes, and Austria...was having coffee with Hungary...

"Now remember, Austria," Hungary was saying as she fixed his goggles and hair and he drank his coffee, "don't get too tired! Go at a nice even pace until lap four, even slow if you need to, and then burst ALL your energy into the last lap! And then you'll win!" Austria nodded a little and got to his feet as the voice over the loudspeaker began to rile up the crowd and the watchers for their event.

"Ya, I got it," he said offhandedly, not at all concerned about losing as Hungary took his coffee and shooed him off to his marker. Canada set Mr. Kumajiro down on the bench and then sat beside him as he stretched out his legs, stopping every once and a while to tug down the small swimsuit the Canadian team was required to wear.

"A-Ah, Mr. Kumajiro, I don't feel comfortable in this outfit..." he mumbled nervously. "It keeps on getting tighter, it seems..."

"Who are you?" the bear asked, it's head tilted. Canada let out a little noise of frustration.

"I'm Canada, dang it!" he snapped, but it wasn't any sharper than his usual quiet tone. "I'm Canada," he repeated, getting up and walking to his mark.

"In lane four, swimming for Canada, we have Matthew Williams!" the announcer boomed. As his name was called over the loudspeaker, Canada pulled his orange-tinted goggles down over his eyes and looked at his scrawny white reflection in the water.

"I'm Canada, and I can do this!" he yelled out as loud as he could; which was still moderately quiet, and no one but himself heard it.

"On the mark, go!" a voice different from the one over the loudspeaker called, and then the horn sounded.

All of the countries leapt in at once, America immediately taking the lead, followed by the massive Russia. Canada almost immediately fell behind, but he wasn't last. Austria was. He did the total opposite of what Hungary had told him, and he was trailing by at least a full person behind everyone else. The race seemed to drag on forever, and with the crowd cheering and the announcer going at a commentary, America was finding it hard to focus.

"Damn it, why can't the Olympics be nice and quiet, huh?" he mumbled to himself. As he kicked off lap three, he shot a glance at Britain, who was barely behind him. "Yo, Britain!" he called, and the other blonde looked over for a split second to signal that he was listening. "You're country's loud!" He laughed out loud the next time his face came up.

"I know!" he cackled. "Isn't it great?"

America just chuckled at his older brother/father figure and focused his attention back on kicking his legs. By the end of the lap, it was clear that America would win; he was ahead of everyone by at least the length of two people. Near the halfway point of the last lap, though, Australia was getting sort of close to America. Too close, if you asked him. He kept up his pace, not letting him intimidate him in the slightest. But England was slipping. He was getting tired, and Australia passed him up. Despite wanting to beat him, America did feel a bit bad for him. He didn't even realize that his hand touched the wall when it did.

But the horn blew. He snapped out of his thoughts and then the announcer was back, saying that he won. And that Australia had placed before Britain.

"Hey, yo, Britain!" America called, jogging over to the blonde sitting on the bench. He was still panting from the ordeal, but he looked up at him with a grin anyway.

"Hey, America! Looks, looks like you win, huh?" he chuckled, still on an adrenaline rush from the event. America chuckled and sat beside him, ruffling his hair a bit and making him laugh even more.

"I told you I was gonna, bro!" he laughed, playing the "I'm the hero!" card again.

"Ahh, that you did," he admitted good-naturedly, "but, I did make third place; and I WOULD have made second if that blasted Aussie hadn't cut in front!" America laughed and gave him a light punch to the arm.

"True that, dude!" he chuckled. "So, you wanna check out the other scores, bro? I think I saw little Canada, and he wasn't in last!"

"Is that right?" Britain asked, still slightly confused as to which one Canada was. America nodded and pulled him up off the bench.

"Yeah, totally! C'mon, man!" he said excitedly, pulling him toward the giant screen displaying the scores.

Canada watched them walk past as he sat and tried to catch his breath.

"I...I wasn't last, Mr. Kumajiro..." he panted, shaking out his wet hair. Somehow the one long curl stayed totally dry. Or at least it had dried quickly. His bear didn't say anything this time, but he didn't mind. He probably hadn't noticed that he was talking to him. "But, but who was?" He looked up at the screen.

1. America: Alfred Jones
2. Australia:
3. Great Britain: Arthur Kirkland
4. Russia: Ivan Braginski
5. China: Wang Yao
6. Belgium:
7. Canada: Matthew Williams
8. Austria: Roderich Edelstein

He grinned a little.

"Austria?" he said to himself. "He's a nice guy. But doesn't he ALWAYS lose?" He thought on it for a moment more before turning to Mr. Kumajiro. "Hey, I'm going to, um, go put on some clothes really quick, don't move, okay?" Again, he did nothing. Canada sighed and got up, a towel around him as though he was six, and he shuffled to the locker rooms.

Meanwhile, Hungary was going insane.

"Austria!" she groaned in frustration. "How could you!"

"How could I vhat, Hungary?" he said flatly, drying his hair with a towel.

"How could you lose!" she went on, sounding truly disappointed. But Austria just shrugged.

"Zis sporting sing just isn't my forte, darling," he replied calmly, moving onto his shoulders. Hungary didn't answer for a moment because she was watching him in sort of a trance. "Hungary. Please pay attention ven I am talking to you," he sighed irritably. She snapped out of it and blushed a bit, nodding.

"Y-Yes, I'm sorry Austria," she apologized. "I know you don't do much physical activity. I shouldn't have made you come to participate just because I am..."

"Damn straight."

A totally caught off guard Hungary watched him stride into the locker room like he was headed to a piano recital. She sighed and looked over at the giant screen.

"Why does he look and move so formally, but talk like he is a sexist douche nozzle?" she mumbled to herself as she moved her eyes to England, France, and America, two of which were kissing.

"Haha! Dude, rock on, you actually did it!" America cackled, practically on the ground in laughter. But Britain didn't answer him, which was a little confusing. So he straightened back out and looks to the two blondes. Who were still kissing. Just as he was about to question them, they broke it off.

"Ohonhon~ Britain, I 'ad no idea that you actually liked moi~!" France purred, flashing a devilishly handsome smile at the shorter man. Britain scoffed and looked to the side, averting his gaze from France's.

"Tch, don't flatter yourself, frog, I don't," he scoffed quietly, a noticeable blush on his cheeks. America laughed again and decided it was best to just walk away after France wouldn't quit taunting him. He knew what came next.

"Man, it was just a dare, who would have thought?" he chuckled to himself. He heard a dark quiet kol-ing and chills went up his spine as a large hand touched his shoulder from behind.

"So, no kiss from Amerika today, da?" he chuckled, looking over at France and England as they battled it out in words. America chuckled nervously.

"No, dude. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever," he assured him, looking to the Russian who already donned his coat and scarf again. He nodded once.

"We shall see," he said quietly, not looking at him. "You will all become one someday..." America didn't even dare say anything to that, and he stood there in fear of the much larger man for a moment more. Then he looked down at him and smiled sweetly.

"I go for vodka later today. Bring friends, da?" he offered with a cheery little glint in his eyes. America eyed him warily for a moment, but nodded. The guy just wanted company, after all.

"Yeah, bro, sure thing," he said with a little smile and a nod. 'Thank god,' he thought, 'I didn't say something wrong.' Russia grinned and nodded before saying goodbye and walking in China's direction to talk with him.

China didn't really have much to say, though.

"Hallo, Russia," he said politely as he pulled his hair back into a ponytail. "Congrats on beating me."

"Thank you, China," he said cheerily with his cute little smile. "And congrats to you for not being last, da?"

"Yes," China said with a nod. "I small guy, no way I could beat those top guys," he chuckled. "But I beat Austria and Belgium and Canada, whoever dat is." Russia nodded and looked over at the scoreboards again.

"This Australia," he said slowly. "I don't know him. Is he pipe-worthy?" he said darkly. China shrugged a little, not fazed.

"I have no idea," he replied, and it was obvious that the conversation was over.