Sorry that it's been so long since my last post, but I've been very preoccupied with work. I'm also sorry that the last chapter got a little political. It's hard to separate from politics when you have a dad who watches Fox News obsessively and a mom who loves NPR.

Anyway, I'll try to keep the politics-talk to a minimum. Now, back to our regularly-scheduled programming.

Checkered Flags

Indiana wiped her oil-stained hands on a rag as she looked over the work she'd just finished on one of her cars.

It was a gorgeous original Jaguar D-type racecar in sleek dark blue with white racing stripes. It was one of the prides of her collection of vintage racecars. Michigan often teased her for choosing flair over function – and threw in a few passive-aggressive jabs about buying anything other than domestic brand vehicles – but Indiana ignored him. After all, that little snowflake actually believed that his big trio of car manufacturers were still good at making cars.

Well, Indiana wasn't going to burst his bubble. She hated to make her brothers cry…unless it was Illinois or Kentucky; they had it coming.

"Oh, Henrietta!" a voice sing-songed as a familiar blonde jock flung open the door to her garage.

You're on my list, too, Wisconsin, Indiana thought. You, Kentucky, and Illinois.

"What is it, Willie?" she said with a tired sigh. Just because he was an idiot didn't mean she should be rude.

"Well, yuh know, I was just havin' a thought."

"Makes for a nice change, doesn't it?" she said, forcing her smile not to turn into a nasty smirk. Wisconsin didn't even notice the insult. He never did. Must have been because of all the footballs to the head he'd taken over the years.

"And I was thinkin'," Wisconsin continued, "I want us to host a charity race."

"A charity race?"

"Yah, yuh know, wit' cars and what not."

"I didn't think yuh cared for racing." Indiana leaned against a worktable.

"Of course I care for racin'. I do have the second-oldest motor speedway in the country, don't'cha know. Heck, only Iowa's one in Knoxville is older than mine. Even yuhr speedway came after mine."

Indiana's smile became pained as her nails dug furrows into her worktable. Her metal worktable. And, there it was. The reason why Wisconsin was on her list. That lousy Milwaukee Mile. Honestly, she could put up with Iowa being first in racing, considering she never really brought it up around Indiana, but Wisconsin…there were days she wanted to go full cartoon villain and leave him tied up on his racetrack with a full fleet of cars speeding towards him (not quite like tying someone to the railroad tracks, but more poetic in that circumstance).

"…So, I'm thinkin' a fancy, formal race," Wisconsin continued. "Wit' old-fashioned clothes and formula cars. And all the money we raise will go to a good cause."

"What cause?" Indiana asked.

"I dunno. Development in third-world countries? Cultural heritage protection in war zones? Sendin' weapons to Hong Kong freedom fighters? Who cares, yuh know?! The point is raisin' the money for a charity by havin' fun. And isn't that the important thing?"

There were moments when Indiana wanted to throttle her cheese-loving little brother. However, she might have let go of some of her inner animus in that moment…just a bit. If there was one thing Indiana couldn't resist it was racing.

Well, that, and sugar cream pie.


Kentucky complained that it should've been real racing (i.e. horse-racing). Pennsylvania agreed with him and Virginia honestly couldn't decide if she agreed or not – it was jarring for her, as a well-bred young Virginia gentlewoman who happened to be a massive NASCAR fan, to both declare horse-racing more refined and enthuse about the thrill of watching cars drive really fast.

Some of the states grumbled about having to dress up for the event. Virginia and Georgia had to physically restrain Missouri while Tennessee forced shoes onto his feet – all the while, Missouri protested that shoes were only for church and the state fair. Arkansas kept unbuttoning his shirt and wearing his hair loose, no matter how many times his sisters fussed at him for it. Arizona kept getting hot sauce stains on her frilly dress. Washington refused to wash out his hair dye. New York and Massachusetts got into a fistfight over what was the best gentleman's fashion of the early twentieth century. Louisiana, New Jersey, and California came dressed as flappers – thematically relevant, though situationally inappropriate. And Maryland had shown up in a suit of Medieval armor.

"For fuck's sake, Mary!" New York had yelled in frustration, still pressing an icepack to where Massachusetts had given him a black eye. "This isn't one of your fuckin' Renn-fairs! The theme is early twentieth century, not fuckin' twelfth century!"

Maryland stuck out her tongue at him and crossed her arms over her polished breastplate, which was engraved with the image of a crab.

Indiana clenched her fists at the lack of respect for her planning efforts while Wisconsin brayed with laughter. The only ones who seemed willing to give her any sympathy were Alabama, Florida, Iowa, North Carolina, Georgia, and Virginia.

"It's okay, Indy," Iowa said, smiling kindly as she patted Indiana on the shoulder. "We all know you've done a great job with this event. Just look at all the nations who've shown up."

"I guess," Indiana said quietly, taking note of the large crowd of foreign visitors. Honestly, she hadn't expected so many of them to accept the invitations.

"Come on, how's about we meet some of them? I know you didn't get much of a chance to speak to them during Thanksgiving."

"Fine," Indiana said with a tired sigh.

Iowa grinned, grabbed Indiana's hand, and dragged her older sister off.


Monaco followed dutifully behind France as he chatted with Germany about EU matters as they headed for their seats in the stands.

Like everyone else, she was dressed up in early twentieth-century clothing as the invitation requested – although, she was a bit happier about doing so than some of the other nations. Actually, the entire event was something Monaco was enjoying very much. Racing was one of her passions and she had long wished to visit the Indianapolis Motor Speedway, as the Indianapolis 500 was a sister race to Monaco's own Grand Prix as part of the Triple Crown of Motorsport (along with France's 24 Hours of Le Mans). Despite the connection, Monaco had never found an opportunity to visit the American racetrack; however, she now was not only visiting but had the possibility of making the acquaintance of someone who cared as much about motorsport as she did (while France could admire motorsport, it was not really on of his true passions).

"Ah, here we are," France declared as they reached their seats.

"It was kind of America to give us such good spots for the race," Germany said.

"T'weren't nothin'," said a soft twang behind them. The three Europeans turned around to see Alabama standing there with a wide grin. "I say, my pa wasn't put to any trouble to give his friends good seats. Actually, he was hoping everyone would have a right decent viewin'. After all, there ain't as many people here as Indy usually gets for race days." He tipped his hat to them. "Beggin' your pardon, I say. Nice to see you again, Mr. France. And, Mr. Germany, I say, wonderful to see you here."

After shaking hands with Germany, Alabama took notice of Monaco. Monaco felt a slight warmth in her cheeks as her eyes met those of the rather handsome young state in his pristine white suit. Alabama took her hand and smiled one of those mega-watt American smiles.

"I say, I don't believe I've had the pleasure, Miss…?"

"Monaco," the principality introduced himself.

"Well, enchanté, as ya'll do say." He placed a soft kiss to her knuckles and Monaco found herself oddly charmed by the American state's attention to traditional etiquette.

Monaco quickly looked over at France and couldn't help but notice the familiar, calculating glint in his eyes. She knew that look. It was the one France got whenever he was about to start playing matchmaker. Straightening herself up, Monaco was determined to keep her older brother figure from getting any further ideas.

"It is nice to meet you as well, Monsieur Alabama," Monaco said politely, if a little formally. "I don't suppose you could introduce me to our host for this event?"

"Oh, you were hopin' to meet Indy?" Alabama said brightly. "Sure enough, here she comes, now."

The Europeans turned to see two other states approaching. One was the familiar figure of Iowa, dressed up elegantly in an Edwardian day dress, complete with a frilled hat and lacy gloves. The second state was decidedly rougher around the edges. While Iowa was a fairly hearty and muscular figure, she tended to dress in ways that accentuated her femininity. Indiana, in contrast, was slight and dainty in build, but dressed in oil-stained overalls and muddy boots. She had brown hair which she'd cut short and combed back tightly, giving her an almost boyish appearance. Her blue-green eyes were hard and sharp, giving her a look about her face that made her resemble Germany quite a bit.

"Gentlemen, lady," Alabama said. "Allow me to introduce my charmin' sister, Henrietta Jones, the state of Indiana."

Indiana gave a small, quick, shy smile.

"Nice to meet yuh," she said. "Hope you folks have a nice time and don't end up burning in hell."

The nations blinked, unsure they'd heard her correctly.

"Excusez-moi?" said Monaco.

"Sorry, force of habit," Indiana said with a bright blush on her face. "Just ignore when I do that, please."

"Well," Germany spoke up, hoping to diffuse the awkwardness. "This is quite the event you have put together."

"Thanks," said Indiana, mood lightening. "Motorsport is kind of my thing."

"I say, and mine, too," Alabama piped up.

"Oh, cram it, 'Bama. NASCAR isn't even on a par with my races." Her expression then darkened. "And North Carolina can get that through her thick skull, too."

At the questioning looks from the Europeans, Iowa leaned over and quietly told them: "Indy and NC both have their big races on Memorial Day. Some racers even pull something called 'Double Duty' where they drive in both contests in one day."

"Ah, yes, I have my own race that day, as well," said Monaco.

Indiana turned and looked at the small nation with intense interest.

"You must be Monaco, then," she said, offering her hand which Monaco shook. "No one but me, North Carolina, and the Principality of Monaco share Memorial Day races."

"Indeed," said Monaco. "I must say, it is a delight to finally meet the third member of the motorsport Triple Crown."

A wide, sincere smile split Indiana's face.

"Likewise. Say, we've got a little while before the race starts. How'd you like to come down and inspect the vehicles?"

"I would love to," said Monaco brightly. She turned and smiled at France. "You do not mind, do you, Francis?"

"Not at all, ma petite," said France. "Go have fun."

Alabama pouted as Monaco strolled off with Indiana, chatting amiably about formula car designs, and he couldn't help but feel that he'd been dropped like a hot potato or a Mississippi educational reform.

"Hope they don't bump into Pennsylvania," said Iowa thoughtfully. "It's been almost forty years, but Penny is still mourning Grace Kelly."

"Pardon?" said France. "Grace Kelly?"

"You know, Grace Kelly the actress? Also known as 'Princess Grace'?"

"Oui, I know who she is. It is hard to forget someone as fabulous as Princess Grace of Monaco. But what has she to do with Pennsylvania?"

"Grace Kelly was born and raised in Philadelphia. Penny kind of gets a little worked up when she's reminded of her favorite native-born actress."

"Attention! Attention, ya'll!" a smooth drawl chimed in over the loudspeakers.

"What the…who the hell let Arkansas into the commentator's booth?" said Iowa in outrage. "I'm in charge of commentary!"

"Attention!" the voice continued. "The race will be startin' soon, so all ya'll need to get to your seats, right quick. Also, remember to shop at Walmart for all your basic necessities, like toilet paper and ammunition."

Iowa slapped a hand to her face and began muttering in annoyance.

"Sorry, gentlemen, I need to deal with this," she said. "And, Alabama, you need to go get suited up."

"Right," said Alabama. "And, I say, give Arkansas an extra smack upside his fool head from me."


"And, now, here's Missouri with updates," Arkansas said into the microphone.

"Well, I'ma tell you folks, it's lookin' to be a fine day for a race and very little sign of rain," said Missouri. "We've got a number o' hopefuls out on that there track today. And, um, actually, I don't really know what's goin' on."

"Consarn it, Missouri!"

"What d'you want from me, Arkansas? I don't care about this dumbass sport. It's just a bunch of grown men and women driving around in a freakin' circle! 'They're makin' a left turn! They're makin' another left turn! I wonder what's gonna happen next!'"

"Don't give me that! You know damn-well that you have plenty of racetracks!"

"Fellows, you might want to tone it down, you are still on speaker," said a cheery voice which made Arkansas and Missouri grind their teeth in irritation.

"What are you doin' in here, Utah?" Arkansas snapped. "I thought we sprayed this place for pests."

Utah ignored the verbal barb and stepped up to the microphone.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I do apologize that the content of the recent announcements has been a bit disjointed," he said calmly. "Not to worry. The approved commentator for the event will be here soon to straighten things out. In the meantime, please enjoy this soundtrack of Lindsey Stirling violin pieces. As sponsored by your good friends the LDS."

Utah then set the soundtrack playing and turned off the microphone.

"What in Sam Hell is LDS?" said Arkansas.

"Latter-Day Saints."

"I thought you guys were called 'Mormons,'" said Missouri.

"I never said that," said Utah. "You guys did."

"Well, why didn't you correct us?"

"I just didn't want to be difficult."

At that point, the door slammed open and an unusually irate Iowa strode in, grabbed Arkansas and Missouri by the ear, and dragged them from their seats.

"The three of us are going to have a little chat about not stealing other people's gigs," Iowa said with a forced politeness in her tone.


"What's wrong with you?" North Carolina said to Alabama as he leaned against the wall in a sulk. "You look like someone went and canceled NASCAR this year." She shuddered slightly, horrified at the mere thought that anyone would ever cancel NASCAR.

Instead of answering, Alabama pointed to where Indiana was showing off the car she would personally be racing to Monaco. North Carolina immediately realized what the situation was.

"Huh, well, at least you can be reasonably certain that Indy ain't tryin'a put a move on her," North Carolina said, before pursing her lips in thought. "Maybe. I've had some suspicions about Indiana's sexuality over the years."

"Not helpin', Kitty," said Alabama.

"Well, what do you expect? Maybe stop actin' like a whiny li'l sadboy and do somethin' to get the pretty gal's attention."

"Like what?"

North Carolina gave him a looked that screamed 'Really?' and slowly gestured towards the car which Alabama would be driving in the race. It was a stunning red and white vehicle with the words "Sweet Home Alabama" printed on the rear. Alabama continued to stare at her, not really comprehending.

"Oh, for goodness' sake, Owen," said North Carolina. "You could, oh, I dunno, try to win the race."

"Oh, yeah!" Alabama exclaimed.

"Oh, yeah," North Carolina mimicked quietly and mockingly.

In all honesty, though, North Carolina doubted he would win, no matter how much he wanted to impress the pretty girl who'd caught his eye. North Carolina was, herself, one of the competitors and she wouldn't go easy on anyone in a race – neither love nor money could compel her to not do her darndest to win. Actually, North Carolina was a bit nervous going up against Indiana. Her little sister was extremely competitive when it came to racing and was incredibly easy to underestimate if one wasn't careful.

As she continued to watch Indiana show Monaco the racecars, North Carolina saw a manic glint in her sister's eyes.

Yeah, we're all boned, North Carolina thought to herself.


America, meanwhile, was chatting with a bunch of visiting nations. Well, America was chatting, the nations he was chatting at were eager to get to their seats and away from the barrage of information America was sharing. At length, an interruption finally came in the form of China.

"ACHOO!"

China sneezed loudly and wetly, blowing his reddened nose into a tissue. The nations near to him took a few cautious steps away from his proximity.

"China, you okay, dude?" said America.

"I am fine, aru!" China insisted. "It is nothing! Only a cold! Ah-Ah-ACHOO!"

"You should go home and go to bed, Old Man," said Hong Kong.

"Don't tell me what to do, Hong Kong! ACHOO!"

"At least sneeze into the crook of your arm," said Singapore with a disgusted look. "You're getting germs all over your hands when you sneeze into that tissue."

"I have some spare medical masks if you would like one, China-san," said Japan.

"I am telling you, I am perfectly fine, aru," said China. "ACHOO!"

"Don't worry, guys," said America. "I'm sure China's smart enough not to come to a big event like this if he had anything serious."

The other nations looked dubious, but were prevented from commenting by the announcement that the race was finally about to start.

For the western nations, the event felt like a nostalgic trip back in time to when motorsport really started gaining recognition. The historic nature of the location, the styles of the formula racecars, the uniforms of the racers, and the costumes everyone was obliged to wear took them back to that briefly pleasant time after World War One and before the Great Depression. For the rest of the world, or those nations who had only just gotten into racing in the last few decades, it was an interesting lesson on the history and culture of their colleagues and of motorsport.

Even the nations who were not particularly enthused about the event started to get invested in what would happen, especially when Illinois began going around taking wagers.


Down at the starting line, the racers awaited the waving of the checkered flags with eagerness and the revving of engines. Alabama threw a look of challenge towards Indiana, who merely raised an eyebrow a him. He then turned his attention back to the road ahead, determination blazing in his eyes. He was vaguely aware of Wisconsin, North Carolina, and Florida sitting in their own cars, as well as the sudden arrival of another competitor in the race. Alabama tuned out whatever it was Iowa said as she announced the additional racer, as he was much too 'in the zone' to notice.

Finally, Louisiana stepped out onto the tracks in her flashy flapper getup, carrying a pair of checkered flags behind her back. As she stood between the cars, completely unfazed by the fact that the vehicles would soon be speeding by within an inch of where she was standing, she waited for the signal.

Then, she waved those checkered flags in a graceful arc and the racers zoomed past her.


America smiled as he watched the race. Nearby, New York was pressed against the railing beside his friend Hong Kong – the two boys were cheering for North Carolina. New York normally wouldn't support one of his southern siblings if he could help it, but the only two northern states in the contest were Indiana and Wisconsin (and, seeing as New York was so close with Illinois, he couldn't root for either of those two).

"Everyone seems to be doing really well, so far," America said to Georgia and Maryland, who were sitting close by him. Maryland was still wearing her suit of armor and Georgia was studiously ignoring that fact.

"I still think Indiana's gonna crush them," Maryland said with a wince. "She seemed really intent on winning."

"I don't know, Alabama looked like he's fixin' to reach that finish line somethin' fierce," said Georgia. "I'd say he's got a fair chance at winnin' this."

"I'm just happy that so many nations showed up," said America. "And every cent they spend here is going to charity." He then furrowed his brow in thought. "Say, girls, you wouldn't happen to know what charity this is all going to, would you? Iowa was a little vague in her announcements."

"I think it's for third-world development," said Maryland. "Something about water pumps and irrigation systems in African villages."

"No way," said New York, glaring over his shoulder. "This money is going to fund my pal Hong Kong's independence movement."

"Hashtag: SuckitChina," said Hong Kong.

Georgia shook her head and Maryland rolled her eyes.

"Hey, here they come again!" New York shouted as the racers drew close to their spot in the stands on yet another lap of the race.

"Well, Alabama's certainly keepin' up with Indiana and North Carolina," Georgia said, smiling that her observation was proving true.

Only for her smile to fade when Alabama overshot his turn and crashed headlong into the wall.

"Ooh, I stand corrected," Georgia added.

"Oh my God," America shouted and shot up to lean over the rail as Alabama stumbled out of the wreckage. "Alabama, son, are you all right?!"

"Oh, the doo-da day!" Alabama sang out, his eyes crossed.

"He'll be fine," New York said with a shrug.


Alabama was still dazed as he lay on the gurney. His father was standing beside him looking concerned as Minnesota kept testing him for a possible concussion.

"I still think you should go to the hospital," said America.

"Darn it, Pa, I don't need no stinkin' hospital," Alabama protested. "I need to know how bad my crushin' defeat was. I do say, I must face it like a gentleman and shake the hand of the person who forever destroyed my pride by bestin' me in a race."

"Well, that's very mature of you, Alabama-"

"And then put a rattlesnake down their shirt when they ain't lookin'."

"You don't even have a rattlesnake."

"Uff-da, I was wondering what that thing was for," Minnesota muttered. Minnesota then handed America a box, from which was emanating an angry rattling sound. "Don't yuh dare open it, now."

"They're nearly at the finish line!" Iowa announced.

Two drivers pulled into the lead, neck-and-neck. There was another wave of checkered flags, cameras flashed, and the audience cheered.

"Well, ladies and gentlemen, this is certainly unexpected. It appears we have a tie between our own Indiana and the Principality of Monaco."

Had Alabama been drinking something, he would have done a spit-take.

"What? I say, what?" he said. "What does she mean that Miss Monaco was in the race?"

"Weren't you paying attention at the start of the race?" said Maryland. "Indiana invited Monaco to join the contest at the last minute. Found her one of the backup cars to drive and everything."

By now, Alabama was bright red in embarrassment as he watched Indiana and Monaco shake hands after removing their helmets. The two girls spoke with the rest of the competitors for a few minutes, likely consoling them on their crushing defeat. The two then headed over in his direction and he immediately felt very self-conscious about the fact that he was laid-up in a hospital gurney. Indiana looked impossibly smug.

"…we absolutely must have rematch in the future," Monaco was saying to Indiana.

"I look forward to it," said Indiana. "How are yuh doin', Alabama?" she said to her brother.

"I say, my pride is what's hurt most," Alabama replied.

"You were still very impressive on the track," said Monaco. "If you hadn't crashed, I am sure you would have placed second to Indiana and me."

Alabama slumped at the backhanded compliment.

"Frankly, I am just pleased that you escaped your crash relatively unscathed," Monaco continued. "Your brother, Florida, said he was certain your head would have come off in that bad of an accident."

"Bet he was disappointed it didn't," Alabama grumbled. "Thank you kindly for your concern, Miss Monaco."

"I was also wondering, if you were feeling better, perhaps we could go to lunch together sometime." Monaco's cheeks had the faintest hint of pink as she spoke.

"What, really? I say, really?" Alabama's eyes widened in astonishment.

"Well, after how Indiana was talking you up, I can safely say I would love to get to know you better."

Alabama looked at Indiana in disbelief. Indiana just smiled quietly back at him and Alabama felt like an utter heel for his earlier pettiness. He really owed one to Indiana, now.

"I say, I would be delighted, Miss Monaco," Alabama said smoothly, his Southern Charm coming back in full force.

Indiana didn't even bother to stifle her snort of laughter.


Author's Note: Seeing as we're in the '20s again, I say we bring back swing music, flappers, vaudeville, and real value in our currency (it would be pretty great if pennies could actually buy things again).

German is the largest ancestry group in Indiana (not all that surprising, really, considering how many Germans there are out that way).

Indiana has a bit of a thing going on with billboards that read things like "Hell is Real" or "If you die tonight? Heaven or Hell?" or "Dear Truckers, if you go to an adult bookstore while you are here, we will take your picture and send it to your employer and post it online." Which is kind of weird, if you ask me, especially because Hoosiers are generally pretty nice people. So, while Indiana is a nice person, she will occasionally blurt out comments about hell.

I said I was going to work in an Alabama x Monaco pairing and, by God, I did it. The two just seemed so perfect for each other when I sat down and thought about it. They both are known lovers of car-racing and boating (as well as just sports, in general), Hetalia Monaco is a little old-fashioned in her manners and Alabama is a traditional Southern gentleman, and they both have French roots and a shared fondness for red and white flags.

Also, Monaco had an American princess before it was cool. Hashtag#princessgraceiswaymorefabulousthanmegan.

Yes, I had to include a Coronavirus reference. The events in this fic are still, technically, in 2019, so it was more a foreboding of things to come. And, folks, in this Coronavirus season, remember to wash your hands – and STOP BUYING UP ALL THE DAMNED TOILET PAPER!

New York not rooting for Indiana or Wisconsin because Illinois is his favorite little bro is based on the historic bond between New York and Illinois. The two were partners in crime, literally. Mafia organizations kept close ties between NYC and Chicago branches (and likely still do). Even if the two states argue about who makes a better pizza, I think New York considers Illinois his favorite brother.