Oh shiiiii….has it really been that long? My excuse: I have none; I was just too busy being a lazy ass.
And before I forget, I want to give a special thank you to those that reviewed and told me to go on with this story and those that favorited/put it on their alerts: Hinagiku Flower, Verachime, CoffeeKitty13, Mena001, The Awesome Me, ServantOfTheSerpents, CloudyDays12, bittersweet-endings-2214, 4evaFranyify, absoluteParadox, BeautifullyMisshapen, sweetyeevee, and MeinAwesomeness!
Disclaimer: I solemnly swear I do not own Hetalia or any other thing I mention in this entire story.
England's POV:
Clutching his briefcase in one hand and a folded piece of paper in the other, England squeezed his way through New York City's busy streets, the skyscrapers lit with sunshine. While waiting at an intersection for the traffic to pass, his jade colored eyes quickly skimmed down the set of directions America had given him on the folded paper. He looked around and found what he was looking for- the sign for Big Cross Avenue. According to the directions, America's apartment was located on that avenue next to a McDonald's (surprise, surprise) on the sixteenth floor.
Making his way over to his former colony's apartment, England wondered why he even agreed to come visit him, or as America likes to phrase it "hang out with the hero". Three days ago when England was still back home in, well, England, he received a call from America asking to fly over to his place so he could test out his newest combat video game with someone. The British nation was rather skeptical as to why he should even consider flying all the way over to the U.S. just for some rubbish game (it turned out that America had first asked Canada, but his twin replied that he was busy). England mentioned that Japan would be a better choice, though America said he couldn't get a hold of him, so he figured his "old man" may as well do, bringing up he knew from his boss that he was coming over to his country anyways to check up on a few things (hence the aforementioned briefcase) and if that was the case he might as well stop by for a bit. He even mentioned that they could have tea time for England's sake. England had to admit that he was somewhat surprised; ever since the whole tea tax and Boston Tea Party spectacle, America's fondness for tea dramatically went down the drain. Even so, the former pirate only accepted after his already short temper crumbled from many attempts at persuasion and whining. America's mood had noticeably immediately switched from a whiny bratty git to that of an ecstatic bratty git.
By now, England stood in front of America's door, number 1392. He knocked three times and waited a bit, his shoe tapping impatiently against the corridor's cream carpet. He tried again only to be met by the still, unmoving door. England sighed. Of course this would happen. Before calling America to let him know he was stranded outside his door, he tried the handle as a last attempt and to his surprise, it clicked open.
Entering the room, England mentally chastised the ignorant nation he called his brother for forgetting to lock his apartment, especially in a city such as this one. He hoped his supposed "host" could feel his thoughts of irritation emanating to whenever he was. If not, there was probably a spell for that, right? He'd have to look into it.
The British nation set his briefcase against the coffee table in the sitting room and took a look around. To his astonishment, the place was actually clean and orderly, the exact opposite of America. Probably the maids, he mused. Once done deciding there was no sign of dust of America, England's stomach decided to be the only noise in the room and gave out a low grumble. Padding over to the kitchen, the nation swung open the fridge door and searched through its contents. "Nothing but an overabundance of hamburgers, frozen food, sodas, moldy pizza…and the occasional rotting fruit." While putting away the frozen food in the freezer where it belonged, England was rather shocked the fridge contained any fruit at all. After dwelling on which food would be the least poisonous, England stuck with a coke, deciding to play it safe. Closing the fridge door, his eye caught a notebook paper held by a Pokémon magnet on the fridge's right door. Addressed to him, a note scrawled in messy handwriting read:
Hey England! Super sorry if you find this and I'm not here, but I should be back soon so don't leave, ok!? My boss called me in for something important. Don't know what! Oh yeah, Canada said he'd be able to come after all!
P.S.: Don't start playing the video game without me!
Reading through his note twice, England thought of two things: 1) all of America's sentences ended with at least one exclamation point and 2) America was so utterly stupid, more so than he remembered. Why in bloody hell would you leave a note meant for people to see inside your apartment!? At least pin it to the front door! That American was lucky he even considered trying the door handle!
Exhausted from screaming at America through his mind and from the effects of being jetlagged, England sank into an armchair, popped open his coke, and took a long, refreshing sip. One of the few good things America invented (though Korean would say otherwise) was Coca-Cola as much as England liked to deny it. Despite its excess of sugar and caffeine, drinking one was England's secret guilty pleasure just as much as eating that French bastard's food was. Not that France had to know that last part or else he'd never hear the end of it. There were simply some things in life that tea and English food could not fulfill.
Following a few minutes of silence, the very British nation let out a sigh and decided to watch some telly while waiting for the North American twins. This was going to be a difficult day.
~~~~~oOo~~~~~
America's POV:
America sat in the back of a white SUV, fidgeting with the hem of his bomber's jacket. A silence so thick that even the oblivious nation could sense it reigned in the car. It was possible the Japan's "reading the atmosphere" lessons were finally paying off. It was starting to become unbearable for the typically loud, boisterous personality that he was.
America cleared his throat, "Are we there yet?..."
The driver, a woman clad in a pristine white top and skirt, kept her undivided attention on the road that lay ahead and did not answer. The man in the passenger's seat, who wore the same uniform except the skirt was altered to pants, shot a glare through the rear view mirror.
"No sir,"
"Okay…how about now?"
"Just please be patient sir."
America slumped in his seat, letting out a loud breath through his flared nostrils. This guy's even more impatient and snappy than England! His mind wandered back to his place in New York. Had England already arrived? Knowing him, probably. Hopefully he had seen the note for him on the fridge. America knew he'd written he'd be back soon, but he had been in the car for twenty minutes in utter quietness, off to an unknown destination. And that was excluding the time it took to fly to his capitol. Whatever he was called in for was apparently really urgent if his boss couldn't tell him over the phone.
America sprinted down the halls of the White House, security guards and officials throwing him weird looks. There was no way he could be late for his boss's meeting again! Okay, scratch that, he was already half an hour late. America burst into the Oval Office, startling the room's occupants.
"Ah, president, sir!" America gave a salute. "I'm really sorry for being late, but my flight was delayed by this old lady in overalls and-" The President held up a hand to stop the blabbering nation and gestured to two people, a man and a woman, dressed in pristine white uniforms sitting in the armchairs across his boss's desk.
"These two assistants," America straightened himself upon hearing his President's voice sound unusually…grave "work for a hidden government approved facility called the Secret Studies and Observations of the World's Nations."
"That sure is a mouthful."
"Or you could also call it the S.S.O.W.N. for short, which is agreeably easier to say."
"And easier to remember," America gave out a short, stiff laugh. Why am I getting so unnerved? "So, um, what is the Secret Observation of the World doohickey about? And why's it secret? Never heard of it before."
"Well, the fact that it's secret would most likely be why you've never heard of it." The man answered, a touch of irritation staining his tone.
"But," the woman quickly interjected, sensing her colleague's immediate dislike of the nation. She could not let a dispute erupt, especially in front of the President of the United States. "to answer your previous question, the S.S.O.W.N. is dedicated to researching more about nations, or more specifically, beings that represent nations. I think that on its own should be enough as to why it's secret. Could you imagine the mess we'd be in if the whole world knew of your kind of species?"
America leaned against the car's window and stared outside. Species, huh? What the heck does she mean? The gray skies cast unwanted shadows over the land below. He had no idea where he was, no indication at all. Suddenly though, on the horizon, he spotted two people dressed in the same white uniforms as his "captors", just standing in the middle of nowhere. As of now, America only knew of one thing for certain: his video game would have to wait.
So here is the official chapter one! Wow, this chapter seemed a lot longer when written down. I promise though that future chapters will be over 2000 words!
And this is a reminder that this will NOT be an America/Iggy centered fanfic; like I mentioned in the Premise chapter, the POVs will be shifting around quite a lot throughout the story (if I decide not to abandon it). Kidding, kidding, I wouldn't do that with all these ideas and plots swirling inside my head that I have for this story! But thank you again for those of you that are reading this fanfic!
If you have any suggestions please share, and of course review! Heck you can even insult me for being a lazy ass. Oh yeah, I completely made up a Big Cross Avenue in NY.