America was in a good mood. He had finally caught up with all of his work, and his boss had given him a few days off to visit Canada. Well, he was supposed to be doing work with his brother but they usually just goof off. Smiling at this thought, he pulled into his brother's driveway. He noticed that Canada's polar bear was sitting on the front steps, looking rather grumpy.

"Hey there, Kumajirou." America said, giving the bear a pat on the head. "Why aren't you inside with Mattie?"

"Bushy brows and the man who smells like cheese are in there. I got tired of hearing them bicker, so I came out here." Kumajirou grumbled.

America was surprised by this news. He and Canada had planned to spend time together, but he never mentioned that England and France were coming over as well. Curious, he knocked on the door.

"Al, thank goodness." Canada said as he opened the door. He looked stressed out, and his usually neat hair seemed to have grey soot in it.

"I think your age is finally catching up with you bro." America joked, earning him a punch in the shoulder.

"If I'm starting to grey than you will to. Just remember that." Canada said with an amused look. America faked a look of worry, causing them both to laugh.

"But really, why does your hair have soot in it?" America asked as he walked into the house, followed by Kumajirou.

"England tried to cook." Canada said. America nodded, not having to hear the rest of the story to figure out what had happened. Just then, England came out of the kitchen. He looked like one of those cartoon characters that had a bomb go off in their faces. His hair was sticking up at weird angles, and his face was black. He was followed by France, who didn't look nearly as bad as England but had soot in his hair like Canada.

"Canada, I'm going to go wash up." England muttered in embarrassment as he walked by them. "I'll help clean up the kitchen after I'm done. Hello Alfred."

America smiled at England who disappeared upstairs. France sighed dramatically, and looked at the younger nations in irritation.

"He asked me to help him cook. I tried to get him to make some toast, and the toaster blew up." France said. "I'm afraid that he is a lost cause."

"Papa, I think we should get cleaned up as well. You will help clean up the mess as well." Canada said, gesturing to their hair. "Al, you can get your stuff unpacked."

America watched his brother and France walk up the staircase, then walked into the kitchen. It wasn't as bad as he thought, but the toaster was toast. There were burnt pieces of toast all over the place, and the toaster was lying on the floor, charred black. There was also water everywhere, most likely from putting out the fire. As America surveyed the room, he suddenly had the urge to help clean up the mess. (He kind of has a problem with wanting to fix everything.)

"I mean, it's the least I can do for Mattie. He is letting me stay here." America said to himself cheerfully as he pulled out cleaning supplies. For a while, he cleaned in silence, but then he started to sing a song that had been stuck in his head for the last few days. He sang so beautifully and clearly, he soon lost himself in his work. As he finished the song, he heard something behind him. He turned around, and saw Canada, England, and France gapping at him.

"Um, hi." America said, confused by the looks of amazement they were giving him.

"Alfred, when did you learn to sing like that?" England asked, looking clearly impressed.

"I don't know. I guess it just happened." America said, suddenly looking embarrassed. "I'm not that good."

"You don't give yourself enough credit." France said with a small smile. "I think you have a voice of an angel."

"He's right Al. You need to sing more." Canada said, giving his brother a warm smile.

"I...I mean…You know what? Why don't you finish off cleaning? I just remembered I have a few things I need to unpack." America sputtered, and ran out of the room.

"He gets it from me you know." France said.

"Keep telling yourself that, Froggy." England chuckled.

A/N: Americans love to sing. We love to sing when we work, play, eat, and shower, (don't even try to deny it). But most of the time we sing because we want to. Although this is common in other nations around the world, I think that it's one of the nicer traits about Americans. Oh, and I left the song America was singing up to you to decide.