(There is America-Australia, America-England, America-France, America-Russia, and America-Canada found in this fic. There is very little plot to speak of, it's very shallow, and I am not ashamed :'D Hetalia is not mine~)

ooOOoo

America liked the beach. Sure, the ocean wasn't nearly as enticing as the sky, but it had its perks.

Smiling, he climbed out of the water, dragging a surfboard behind him.

"Hey America, y'done already?" Australia asked, still sitting on his board out in the water. He leaned forward a bit to get a better look at America, who turned. Australia sat there, his tan, muscular chest glistening in the sun. America's eyes trailed upward, entranced by every shining water droplet, finally coming to a rest on Australia's beaming smile. A smile that was threatening to rival the sun's intensity.

Yes, the beach definitely had its perks.

"For now," America called back with a jaunty wave before heading to his carefully staked out spot, making no mind of the empty towels in his way and the wet sand and water he dropped on them as he passed. He plopped down on his towel and leaned backwards on his hands, taking in the warmth of the sun.

Today's beach day marked the end of summer and the beginning of a whole new series of meetings and other boring things he wasn't looking forward to. In an attempt to send off the summer with a bang, he decided to hold a super awesome beach party, and while it wasn't as large as he'd originally planned, there was still good food and good times to be had. And, as a shadow fell over him, the views were pretty amazing, too.

The shadow moved on and America blinked, his eyes focusing on a perfect view of England. He was smaller than some of the other Nations, yes, but his body was nothing to scoff at. He was lithe, fit, and he had muscles, even if they weren't readily apparent while clothed. Without his shirt, however, America could see every single one perfectly, and it both amazed and aroused him at how handsome England could be when he didn't try to hide.

England spun on his heel, using that wonderfully hidden strength and speed to send a not very subtle punch aimed right at France's face. "Bloody frog!"

And then there was France, currently face first in the sand. France jumped up quickly, however, looking for all the world like he hadn't just been punched square in the face as he brushed the sand off his body.

America tilted his head a bit.

Where England had a tendency to hide his body, France had nothing of the sort. He was proud of his body, always willing to show it off. He always appeared to be a bit bigger than England, but America could see that it was a lie, that it was merely how he held himself. But he had a wonderfully cared for body, one that sculptors could only dream of. And that rose…

England cleared his throat and America jumped, flushing when France winked at him.

"Is something wrong, America?" England asked, his eyebrow raised.

"N-not at all," America said with a laugh and waved the question off. England looked unconvinced but stalked away, anyway, probably trying to get away from France's still wandering hand.

"You know, if you like what you see, you but merely have to ask to see more," France commented with yet another wink.

America choked and France walked away, laughing.

America turned at the sound of his screen door opening, shielding his eyes from the sun with his hand. There in the doorway stood Russia, a nervous Canada flitting around behind him.

Russia turned from Canada to America and back again in confusion, then stepped through the door. America jumped to his feet and ran over, meeting him about halfway.

"What are you doing here?" America blurted.

"I was invited, yes?" Russia asked, holding up a note. America looked at the note and his vision kept going, trailing up Russia's arm. He came to a rest at his neck, where that scarf was still wrapped, despite the hot temperatures. What was under the scarf, America wasn't sure, and he was dying to find out, but it was the one article of clothing that America had never seen him without. The fringe of the scarf came to a rest at the top of his swimming trunks, and America just couldn't help but notice that Russia was a bit chubbier than he expected, but he didn't mind. It fit Russia, really. "Yes?" Russia asked again, and America brought his attention back to Russia's face, focusing on those pale eyes that were always cold, no matter how bright and sunny Russia's smile was.

"Of-of course!" America exclaimed and clapped Russia on the shoulder. "I invited everyone, and everyone is welcome. Come on in, buddy."

Russia gave him one of those sunshine smiles and moved past him, going straight to an umbrella and hiding under the shade.

"You invited him?" Canada hissed, coming up behind America.

America looked at Canada. Canada, who everyone claimed looked exactly like him, that they were twins. America could see a few similarities, but Canada was beautiful in a way that America knew he wasn't. Canada was paler than him, gorgeous, really. Like England, he had a normally hidden muscular side, but unlike England, he was willing to show his strength off more often. And when America got to witness that passionate side, there was nothing more amazing to see. And his eyes… America loved them. Purple, unusual, but not unheard of; icy, but not cold. America could see himself in Canada's eyes, could see that they reflected each other, but weren't mirror images.

"Hey," Canada said, and his tone made it sound like he'd already tried a few times, "America." Canada snapped his fingers in front of America's face. "Come back down to Earth."

America blinked a couple of times and shook his head once before smiling at Canada.
"Yeah?"

Canada rolled his eyes and pushed past him. "Pay attention. Also, nice tent."

America looked at him in confusion momentarily before yelping as comprehension dawned and hurrying inside. Beach days were awesome for him to be able to scope others out, but not so awesome when it backfired.