So, another de-anon. This fill is finished, but it needs extensive editing. My beta for this first chapter was wt-chan, but she's busy with college right now. So, if anyone wants to give me (and her) a bit of help, I would appreciate it. I don't want to bother her during her studies, but I also want to get this de-anoned-for the sake of. It's ten chapters and about 17,000 words. If any one is willing to take up the task until her schedule calms down, please let me know. I'm not sure if any more of this will ever be de-anoned without a beta, it might just get deleted altogether. I'm not just searching for praise, there are parts of it that I kinda like, but other parts are strange to me now. The plot got away from me, and the fic could use a fresh mind that hasn't become frustrated with it.

There are a few human OC's in here, that serve to help the plot. The president in this fic is not our current one, so he will remain nameless.

I don't own Hetalia.

Chapter 1

"Alfred," America's boss murmured, letting the name swirl across his tongue as though savoring a new delicacy. His unusual tone made the young nation to pause in the middle of his tirade about having to share a room during the upcoming World Meeting.

"What's up boss? Everything all right?" America asked, quickly changing tact. "You probably think I'm not too happy about the room assignments. But, I can deal with them. I know the budget's still tight. No worries! I can be a hero and bite the bullet. Just had to vent about it for a bit first. I'm okay with it now, really." He gave the President two thumbs up and his brightest heroic smile.

"That's comforting to know, Alfred." His boss—dwelling on his name again—rested his elbows on the table and released a sigh that had been held in for far too long. He didn't look convincing enough though, as he drew a hand down his face. He clearly had something on his mind.

"Okay, then." Uncomfortable with the vibes he was getting from his boss's pensive tone and amused gaze; who said Alfred couldn't read the atmosphere? The nation squirmed in his seat. "Um, Mr. Pres... uh, Sir, do ya happen to have a room assignment list?" America would have to be the attentive one in their conversation today—so weird. He guessed that he would not be rooming with Canada. "Can you tell me who I'll be staying with in London for all next week? I'd like to be mentally prepared and such."

"Yes, give me a moment, Alfred." The president emphasized his name once more, and he rubbed his thumb and index finger along his chin like The Thinker Statue—smoke might come out of his ears at any moment!

"What's the matter, Mr. President?" America groaned. "I'm not as stupid or oblivious as most people think. You've been in office a year and a half now. At this point, I can kinda tell when you have something on your mind."

"I suppose." He shrugged. "Changing the subject for a moment, then?"

"Okay." America leaned back in the antique wing-back chair.

"I have a question. I've actually been wondering about this since our introduction, and it was brought to my attention again last night." The President sighed. "This morning, too."

"What is it, sir? You can ask me anything." America flashed his hero smile again, and tried to disguise the discomfort he was sure was showing in his eyes. There was a long pause, during which his boss avoided his gaze, shifted in his chair like a child caught asking something he shouldn't. "Go ahead. I'll answer it if I can."

"Your name, America? How did you come by your name?"

"Uh…The founding fathers took the name some German dude used from the name of the Italian dude that discovered the continents over here. Supposedly. I thought they taught that in schools." And who said America didn't know anything about geography? Score one for The Hero. Alfred tried to keep his thoughts triumphant about knowing his own historical knowledge. He was slightly troubled by the fact that his own boss didn't know it.

"No, no Alfred. I know that."

The young nation sighed in relief, but stiffened again upon the realization that his boss's question was more complex. "I'm sorry, Sir. What do you mean, then?"

"Your name, Alfred. " The man paused. "I meant your human name."

"What about my human name?"

"I suppose, I'm just wondering who gave it to you. Why 'Alfred'? It's not a very American name, is it?"

America's mouth gaped open and released a squeaky gasp. He took a deep breath in an attempt to stay calm. He couldn't very well tell off his boss, could he? A boss was a boss…but telling America that his name wasn't 'very American' just set his mind in a tailspin. "What the hell?! What do you mean my name isn't…isn't…" The thought was so absurd; he couldn't even say it. "My name is Alfred F. Jones. I am America." He pouted through his frustration, as though that was the only rebuttal necessary. It was certainly the only one he could manage at the moment.

"Calm down, Alfred. Oh, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean it that way at all."

"Then you better tell me what you meant. Right. Now!" His head was spinning. His grip on the antique table—a gift from England when he was still a colony, along with the chairs in which he and his boss were sitting—could result in splintering at any moment, and he didn't want that, so he bit his lip instead. He hadn't yelled at one of his bosses since Nixon. "What is an 'American name' anyway?!" He could taste blood on his tongue.

"America." The President wisely decided not to use his human name in an attempt to placate the young nation. "America, please calm down." He held his hands held up in a gesture of peace. "Forget about what I just said, then. Okay?"

"Yeah? Right." Alfred looked at him through narrowed eyes, his mouth pressed into a thin line.

His boss gave him a warm smile and pushed toward him a plate piled high with cookies. "I really am sorry, America."

America fought the smile that pulled on his lips at the smell of warm chocolate and took a couple.

The president's smile widened. "Good. Much better then."

He nibbled at the cookie and waited.

"So, who gave you your human name?" He pressed again.

"Uh…"He was prepared for that. "Well, England did, I guess. Is that why you asked?" He became suspicious again. "Is something wrong with that? Why?"

"I'm curious. 'Alfred' isn't one of the most common names in America, is it?"

"Uh, I guess not?" America still didn't care much for the conversation; it made him feel increasingly uncomfortable, but he let it play out, figuring the subject would drop on its own when his boss's curiosity faded. Still, where the subject originated was anyone's guess. He remained quiet, hoping the inevitable subject change would come sooner rather than later, and scratched the back of his neck for something to do during the awkward silence.

"But, why?"

America blinked. This was ridiculous. He couldn't win.