I want to start out by thanking everyone who gifted me with reviews, favourites and included me on their follow list. I'm thrilled! All of you are wonderful.

I do not own Hetalia or the characters.

NOTE: This chapter has been edited and content has been...adjusted, but you'd miss it if you blink. My beta reading and I both agreed that I forgot to include enough about America's existing relationship with England.

Chapter 2

What was all questioning of his name anyway? Sometimes, he got a lot of grief from the countries in the combined American continents, and he wondered why the Founding Fathers had used "America" in the first place. He lost count the number of times he questioned that decision. If having to suffer through a bad economy and polarized politics weren't bad enough, he was questioning his very name! How pathetic was that? Although, he couldn't remember having any other name.

Why couldn't people just leave him alone and not make him worry about all the complicated stuff? Just give him the sciences to play with and leave the logic for people with too much time on their hands—not that he couldn't think through stuff on his own.

America's boss had opened his mouth to say something else when a tentative knock came at the door.

"Do you mind?" he asked.

How big of him since he had just repeatedly insulted him. He nodded his consent and sat back again, letting loose a sigh of relief at the welcomed break. "Go ahead, but this discussion isn't over."

His boss merely nodded. "Come in."

The door burst open and in ran the man's four children, all of them dashing straight to Alfred. "Yay! Hello Alfred!" They cried out, three sets of arms twirling around his legs, and another settling loosely around his shoulders.

"Hey!" He grinned, and picked up the smallest child, who was around two years old, and started ticking her. "What's up? Did ya come to see the hero?"

"Yep!" A chorus of young voices rang out through the room. He laughed.

"You didn't come to see your ol' dad?" His boss struggled with a feigned frown that turned into laughter.

"Did you ask him, Daddy?" One of the children called out from the floor between America's knees, this one newly six years old. She had the cutest curly blond hair Alfred ever saw.

"Yeah, Alfred's such a funny name," said a little boy, of seven years, clutching him around his left knee.

America's eyebrows rose to a comedic height, and failed in his attempt to conceal his—manly—squeak.

"You can't tell someone their name sounds funny." The girl behind him berated her brother; she was twelve. "I think you have a very nice name Alfred." Always so serious that one. She petted his hair; okay, maybe she wasn't all that serious. He suspected she had a crush on him, and wondered if her father had told her that he was her country. Literally.

"What's with all this hating on the hero's name, huh?" He laughed, attempting to make light of their conversation. He did not want his boss's children to know it bothered him. It was nice to know the true intentions of the inquiry, though.

"I'm not hating on your name, Alfie. I like it." The oldest girl stated with cool, self-assurance.

"Yay for Alexa!" He brought an arm up and around to give her a quick hug. "Your papa and I were just talkin' about it."

"Oh, so he asked you?" the six-year-old, Gabriela, spoke up again.

"He asked me about why I had such an unusual name."

"That's not what he was supposed to ask!?" the little boy exclaimed.

"Well, Cisco, what is it, then? Or I'll have to pass little Mía off to you to hold? But that would be punishment for me too, because she's so cute!" He tickled the little girl's stomach to emphasize his point.

"No!" he yelled and retreated, plopping himself on the floor, making Alfred chuckle. The girls all loved him, and held him tighter, joining in with laughter.

Little Mía giggled. "Afwed da gweat!"

"What?" He started at the little girl on his arms, and then over to his boss to get some clarification. "The hero is great?" He wasn't sure he believed that himself.

"Of course, Alfred is great! He plays with us!" Gabriela chimed in.

Alexa sighed behind him. "That's not what I meant."

"Awe, the hero, isn't great after all?" He made a show of pouting. The land of the free and the home of the brave really did wonder about that, sometimes. He didn't feel so very great anymore. He had been down on himself, and disappointed in his people, for a couple decades—one of the reasons he wasn't looking forward to another World Meeting or the prospect of sharing a suite with another nation. How 'united' were his states these days? With his chronic headaches, he really couldn't say one way or another. Was he worthy of being called great right now?

Alexa sighed again. "You were, like, named after a hero. Or, at least, that's what I think. The history book said he was a hero." She blushed. "I wanted Papa to ask you what it felt like to share a name with 'Alfred the Great'. I am studying about him in school right now. I asked him at breakfast this morning, if he could. He didn't really answer me, though."

The president avoided his gaze.

"Oh, he didn't?"

America swallowed hard, giving him a tense stare, keeping his own apprehension to himself. "Well, Alex, I think he was going to do that just before you came in."

"Oh good!" she exclaimed eagerly. "How do feel about it?" The words came as a rush.

"Well, I don't know. I'll have to think about it and get back with ya?" How long could he stall for time? He had heard the name and some history behind it sometime or other, but couldn't recall the source or the story. And, it bothered him. What to do? What to do? Distraction! "Hey, how we go out and watch some fireworks!?"

All the children exclaimed, Francisco leapt off the floor and pumped his fist in the air. "Yay!"

"How about it, Boss?"

"Sure Alfred, I suppose we're done here. Go have fun."

"Yes!" He gave a cheer of his own.

"Incidentally, Alfred, you'll also be rooming with, ahem, representative from the UK."

"Thanks Boss." He grinned. That was quite a relief—with England he could relax., forget about everything for a while. He had dearly missed England the passed few weeks, month, months? Suddenly he couldn't even remember the last time he got away from the White House. "Arthur's not so bad. At least it's not Francis, right?" he chuckled and gave a humorless smile. He rose from the chair and moved toward the door in awkward, stunted steps. The girls still clung to various parts of his body: Alex at his left arm, Gabby clutching his right leg, and Mía in his arms hanging onto his neck, nice and cozy. Cisco had run ahead of them out through a pair of French doors that lead into the gardens. "Hero and his sidekicks away!"

Fireworks, brass bands, and hotdogs made him feel just as much like a child as the company running along with him out into the White House lawn. It was just what he needed. These little ones were the future. And, they would get to spend their childhood with their country. They were awesome little people. Maybe there was hope, yet. Maybe he could go all round the country to all the schools in all the states and give them hope too.

They ran and skipped and danced and flew—the children in Alfred's strong arms—across the grass, underneath the bright flashes of colors above them. Soon he was lost in their amusement—his childlike mannerisms ever-present, despite his usual attempts to quell his them to do his job. He was so at ease around children. They were all so easy to impress that he didn't even need to impress them. With the prospect of fireworks and hotdogs, Alfred let all thoughts of the uncomfortable meeting and questioning slip to an empty spot in the back of his mind.

Notes

In that last scene the fireworks display was a reference to the fireworks that the Washington Nationals Friday firework displays. At one point in the writing, this scene originally took place on the 4th of July.

I don't think I'm going to use so many human OC's in a fic of this size ever again. Maybe a longer one...

I would love more reviews! Thank you for reading.