A/N: Hey! So, this story was a request from Reading Pixie. Hope you enjoy! :)

Sorry for the sucky title though XD Couldn't think of a better Alaska-themed one *shrugs*

Alaska stuck his tongue out in concentration as he stacked his Lincoln Logs on top of one another to make a little car. He smiled at his creation. Then, he took his chubby fingers and placed them on top of the car, pushing it against the hard floor. He made blubbery, childish zooming sounds with his mouth, like most young kids do, mimicking a real vehicle's engine as it roared along.

Alaska looked up at his aunt Belarus. He smiled at the pretty, long-haired woman, who was reading a book quietly as she sat crossed-legged in a chair. "Aunt Belarus," he called out, using his two hands to pick up the makeshift Lincoln Log car he'd built, showing it to her, "do you like my car?"

Belarus looked up, crinkling her brows upward. It took a few seconds before the smallest of smiles crossed her face. "Nice," she panned monotonously. She then quickly got back to reading her novel.

Alaska grinned warmly, happy to get just a little bit of attention from his aunt, though the attention was rather dull. He continued to zoom his car along the floor, crawling around on his knees from here to there.

Belarus then looked back up, just for a few moments, to study her small nephew. She'd been asked to watch over him with her sister while her older brother—and his blasted American boyfriend—had a G8 meeting just a few doors down. She'd agreed to do so, one, because it was per the wish of her precious big brother, and she'd do anything for him; and two because, well, to be quite honest, she still hoped that she'd become this kid's stepmom one day—if her big brother decided to be smart for once and dump that idiot America, and marry her instead. Belarus sighed. She could only hope.

Alaska was a cute little boy, Belarus did have to readily admit that. Of course he was. He looked like Russia.

As she resumed reading her book, Alaska crawled over to his aunt Ukraine, and hit her shoes lightly with his Lincoln Log car. Giggling, he crashed the car into her feet again. Alaska heard her let out a little snort, and she playfully pushed the car away with her foot.

Alaska giggling again, pleasantly enjoying the fact that she was playing along with his game. He looked up at her then, and held up his car, just like he'd done for Belarus. "Auntie Ukraine, do you like my car?" he asked. "Made it with my Lincoln Logs." His childish lisp made all his l sounds turn to w's: wike. Wincoln Wogs.

Ukraine smiled, and bent down to pat his head. "It's a wonderful little car, dear," she told him.

Alaska smiled even wider at this more positive bit of attention. The soft smile lingered as he looked briefly into his aunt's eyes with love. Then, he crawled back over to his Lincoln Logs tin box and continued playing by himself.

After a while, though, playing with a wooden set of toy logs got boring. Alaska missed his daddy and his papa. He wondered where they were.

Alaska was a curious little boy, always looking for answers to problems—the big and the small. In addition, he'd often wander around, like a lone, glowing star in the bright night sky. He'd overheard his daddy joke to his uncle Iggy before that if he had one of those child leashes for Alaska, that would've been great. He knew Daddy had been kidding, though (America didn't believe in discipline tactics as extreme as that). However, that joke might have had some hints to it, because whenever Alaska went out with his fathers, he would always walk feet ahead of the two men, and the boy always seemed to be yelled at for going too far. "You can't run ahead of me and Daddy like that," Alaska's papa had told him more than once before. "If you can't stay by us, you're going to have to hold my hand, da?" Alaska never understood what the problem was. In his mind, he was just having fun, and exploring.

Then, on a whim, an idea popped into Alaska's little head. He looked up to make sure his aunts weren't paying attention to him; Aunt Ukraine was reading a book, while Aunt Belarus was busy filing her nails. Jackpot.

Casually, being careful not to make a single noise, Alaska ditched his Lincoln Logs and tiptoed over to the wide black doors as quickly and quietly as his chubby toddler legs could manage. Craning his neck one more time to make sure the women weren't looking at him, Alaska silently stole out the doors.

He trekked down the clean, clear hallway on his tippy-toes, putting his index finger to his mouth as he looked around curiously. Alaska only had to travel down a few corridors before he heard voices coming from another room—behind another set of black doors. Cocking his head to the side like a dog, he toddled closer to the doors. Hearing the voices grow louder, Alaska meekly turned his head and pressed his ear up to the door in order to understand what the people inside were saying.

Little did Alaska know that behind that door was a group of men, all of whom ranged in emotion from content to confused to miffed, to downright angry. Inside the room, England squeezed his index finger and thumb on the bridge of his nose as he heard yet another completely idiotic idea spew from America's mouth. "America," he snarled, "robots are already taking over the world badly enough. We cannot have secret robots roaming the streets."

America snorted dismissively, clicking off the powerpoint that he'd been showing to the group. "Why?" he asked obliviously. "Robots are totally awesome. And, if people are doing bad stuff, we need super-awesome hero robots to go and save them, right?"

"Isn't that what police are for, though?" England asked. "Or do they have a different job description in America?"

"Yeah, kinda, I guess," America said, "but robots are way cooler."

England wanted to reply something back, but he held his tongue as him and the rest of the G8 sat in silence for a few moments.

"I like America's idea," Japan then piped up.

"I like it, too," Russia added, beaming. "Spying on people is good, da?"

France looked to his right at the tall man and curled his upper lip. "Of course you would think so."

Russia stared right back at France, a deep purple aura surrounding him. "Why do you say that, France?"

France immediately cowered, his face flushing a blotchy pink, but before he could reply, Germany nearly snapped, "I agree with England, America. That's just a stupid idea."

America's eyes grew wide. He threw his hands up in the air, and was about to say something tart back. However, when he opened his mouth, he was interrupted by soft sounds coming from outside the door. The G8 all turned to look. Then, a little voice called out, "...Papa! Papa!"

America froze, knowing exactly who that voice belonged to. The voice continued to call, "Papa! Papa..."

Russia gulped. Alaska! He looked up at America; his eyes were frozen to the door.

England then abruptly leaned towards Russia, and whisper-yelled into his ear, "Russia! What the bloody hell is that kid doing here? I thought your sisters were watching him!"

"I—" Russia started to reply.

However, he was cut off when he heard Alaska again. "Daddy? Daddy, Papa?"

America looked from the door to the meeting table, then back again. He chuckled (Russia knew it was out of embarrassment) and rubbed the back of his neck nervously, face turning pink. "A-Alaska? You know you're not allowed here right now—right, bud?"

The confused faces of Germany, Italy, and Japan became apparent as they turned to look at each other, brows furrowed. America looked at them in particular. He highly doubted that they realized Alaska even existed. And that...yes...he was the child of himself and Russia. He turned back to the door, and began to jog up to it.

At this point, though, Alaska had already pried the door open to peek inside (for once, America thought, it was not a good thing that this kid had inherited his super-strength). A little beige-haired head poked up as he looked into the meeting room curiously. He saw Russia and immediately squealed, "Papa!" He started to dash towards the man, until America stopped him. He grabbed the small boy tightly by the arms.

"Alaska..." America breathed, and then as quick as a cat he shut the door behind him and pushed himself and his child out into the hallway.

"Alaska," America said once again once him and Alaska were safely in the halls. He held tightly onto the Alaskan boy's hand, which felt hot and sticky. He craned his neck down to talk to him as they headed off towards the room Alaska was supposed to be in. "Why did you come here? You know you're not allowed."

Alaska didn't reply, just kept that little small smile on his face as he skipped along, already trying to free himself from America's grasp. The bespectacled man sighed; his son obviously didn't realize he'd done anything wrong. He tried interrogating the toddler again, even though he knew it was probably useless. "What were your aunts doing? Were they very busy with something?"

"No," Alaska replied this time, humming. "Just got boring in there."

America furrowed his brows. He bent down to Alaska's level, grabbing his shoulders so he could force the small child to make eye-contact with him. "Alaska, that's not a good enough excuse. You cannot sneak off like that. You're in big trouble when we get home. Understood?"

That was when Alaska's smile began to falter. He frowned, and then that frown turned into a whine, then a cry. He grabbed ahold of America's arm as the man went to stand back up, and bounced up and down, starting to descend into a mild tantrum.

America stuck to his guns, ignoring the defiance of his child as he began to practically drag the small boy back to the room he was supposed to be in (making sure not to hurt him, of course).

He wondered how Ukraine and Belarus could have not noticed Alaska had went missing. Oh, well... America sighed as he looked down at Alaska, now puffing his lower lip as he strutted along, now unhappy. He was one curious...but sneaky boy. America had to give him credit for that.

Ukraine pushed open the doors to the room she'd been it, tears threatening to flow from her eyes. She can't believe she'd just looked up and Alaska...wasn't in the room. She thought that he'd been with Belarus, while Belarus thought he'd been with Ukraine.

The two sisters—with the elder already beginning to feel worrisome as her stomach fluttered with nervous butterflies—began to look around the large room for Alaska, hoping he'd just been hiding somewhere, as the playful little boy he was. But, lo and behold, he was nowhere to be found.

This was when Ukraine really started to panic as she realized she had no clue where Alaska—her own nephew—was. She told her sister that she'd go out in the hall to find him. That was what led her to go out the large black doors, quite rapidly, and start her search.

Ukraine's shoes clicked nervously on the hardwood floor as she looked from hallway to hallway, and poked her head to peek into every room. She felt herself really starting to almost cry. The little boy had been her responsibility—sure, Belarus was supposed to watch over him, too, but even though Ukraine was aware on a surface level that her sister was partially to blame as well, she still thought the whole thing was her own fault. She didn't want her little brother and America to be angry with her.

Just when Ukraine was beginning to think that maybe she should start calling out Alaska's name, as it was quite possible he was just hiding somewhere in a hallway, she saw America walking through the corridor, with little Alaska holding onto his hand. Once America saw Ukraine, he let out a noise that was halfway between a sigh and a huff. "Oh," he gasped, "there you are. I was just going to take Alaska back."

Feelings of relief flooded over Ukraine like a broken dam as she looked at Alaska, who was completely okay. "Where did you find him?" she asked very quickly.

The small smile that had been plastered on America's face soon fell. "Well," he began, "he tried to poke himself into the meeting room. I guess he'd heard me and Russia's voices through the door or something, and actually managed to pry them open. I guess I'm starting to know how England felt when I was swinging buffaloes around as a kid."

Ignoring the joke America had made, Ukraine let out a little cry. "Oh, no! I'm so sorry..." She reached out to grab Alaska.

"It's okay," America assured. "He's a sneaky kid, anyway. Nothing atypical of what he'd normally do." Again he tried to chuckle.

Ukraine let out a rapid breath, holding Alaska in her arms. "No! I'm really sorry; I should've been watching him."

Realizing that Ukraine was really starting to get upset, America softened his tone. "Hey...look, it's okay—it could've happened to anybody."

Ukraine just turned to stare at America, blinking her eyes rapidly. He rubbed the back of his neck and said, "Just be glad he's okay, right?"

Ukraine continued to look at America, and very slowly she started to nod. She glanced down at Alaska, who was pressing his face against her shoulder, and then smiled a little bit as her eyes landed back on the man. "Yes, I suppose so. Thank you."

America let out a mm-hmm sound in response, and turned to go back to the meeting. "Tell him to be a good boy for Daddy—and Papa too; alright?"

"Alright." She started to walk back to the room she'd been in.

Alaska began to feel increasingly tired as he laid his head on Ukraine, playing with a button on her blouse. His eyelids fluttered more and more before he fell peacefully and quietly into sleep, forgetting all his kiddish troubles—allowing the limited but wild energy he had to be refueled, like all young children do when closing their eyes for a catnap.

Ukraine smiled as she looked down and realized Alaska had fallen asleep. He'd finally been spent. Now, when she went back into the room, she wouldn't have to be troubled with constantly glancing over her shoulder—hopefully.