.Disclaimer: Trust me, you don't want me owning this.
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America bounced up and down on his feet as he - patiently - waited for his boss to finish speaking with some government hag. No, seriously, this lady was old and very unattractive and rather repulsive. honestly, why are all government people so ancient and mean? Actually that was an overstatement, some were in their thirties... forties...ish, and some people were actually generally nice people but recently... America wasn't impressed with his leaders. So yes, bouncing up and down while singing random songs is patient when dealing with these citizens.
When America started humming "Sexy, Naughty, Bitchy Me" by Tata Young the Secret Service agents standing guard started taping their fingers along with the beat. America smirked and started swaying to the internal beat. The one thing he absolutely loved about being a nation was that any song by his people or loved by his people in large quantities he could both sing in near perfect impression of the original, and he knew the dance to it if there was one. Although, that might just be me, Alfred thought, seeing as I'm the main pop culture-slash-entertainment center of the world. Is it egotistic of me to think that way?
While America had been pondering his ego - it's not as big as everyone seems to think - he had inadvertently started singing and dancing and, as with every time America sang and danced, it was contagious. The guards were not singing, but man were they boogie-ing it up. (AN: I think he can use any term from any era he wants to so...) America smiled as he saw the office door open and the lady leave incensed and ranting about something or another. Her voice was-oh, so it was a guy. Awkward. He's still ugly.
The President stood in the open doorway with an annoyed look on his face and his hands on his hips. Ha, hips don't lie! When he caught sight of the guards who had yet to quit dancing, he frowned, glaring at them. Immediately they straightened, fixed their ties, and stood at attention. The President sighed and motioned for his nation to follow him inside. America hid the smirk he so wanted to show by biting his lip. The guards were good, and it was his fault they got in trouble, so he should not laugh at them.
The nation shut the door behind him and followed his boss to the Resolute Desk. It personally irritated America that his "brother" had the twin to his desk in that palace place. If the desk had a twin and was used as the desk for the top dog in the government, America thought that his twin should be the one to have it. Not the nation that likens himself the father of a world superpower. Suppressing the long term grudge he had, America casually draped himself over the chair and smiled at his irate boss.
"America, what is it? I swear if you lost your work you were supposed to do again-"
America cut him off with an indignant, "No! That only happened once and it was because of Mattie refusing to take that beaver of his back!" Honestly, how could people not trust him this much? Sure he did act carefree and obnoxious around other nations and when he felt things needed to be lightened up a bit, but come on, when it came to his responsibilities he was -well - responsible. His boss had no right to just assume that he came to beg to get off the hook or get copies of the paperwork.
"In fact, " America let a sly smile slide onto his face, "I finished all the paperwork I need to for this month. It has already been filed and stored so that means I have at least a month of no work. Therefore, I came to notify you that I am taking a break from my governmental duties to-"
"America!" the President of the United States yelled, "You cannot just simply say you finished your work them go on a vacation for who knows how long, dong who knows what, and ignore you duties!" His face was contorted in rage and America started have doubts about telling his boss this right after he already had a conversation that seemed to piss him off.
"Dude, calm down! I'm not leaving the country or anything, it's just something that I have to do every few years to keep in touch with my people and know firsthand what my next generation is learning." America hurriedly told his boss. It seemed to grab his attention as he gazed curiously at his nation. "What?" was the simple question America's boss asked.
"Well, you see Obama," America used his boss's name to make sure he was listening, "every few years I take time off from the government and either travel my land and get to know my working class, or I enroll in a random high school or college. This year, I am going to be doing the latter." His final statement left no room for dissuasion, his mind being already made up. Obama caught onto that and inferred the wrong motives. "You just want to party," he accused.
"What? No, I want to keep up with the times and FYI, I have masters degrees in almost everything I can. Night school and online teaching really do make it possible with my busy schedule." America boasted, crossing his arms and leaning back in his seat.
"If you already have all the degrees," Obama asked, "then why do you need to abandon work to learn?" His skepticism was loud and clear in his voice. America was having trouble believing his boss was this thick. he had literally told him twice that he did it to keep in touch with his people.
"Look," Obama started, running his hand over his face, "how about you go to a highly qualified school? one that you can't use your influence as a nation in?" America blanched at the accusation of using his nation powers against his people to get excellent grades. He worked hard for those gosh-darn-it! Obama thought for a minute then asked, "How about Cambridge or Oxford?"
"Ah, how about no." America rolled his eyes, "England takes time to visit his 'pristine' universities that he takes oh-so-much pride in. And I do not want to explain to him why I am there."
"Ok. How about the Ecole Normale Superieure de Paris?" America firstly was impressed that his boss knew about that school and pronounced it flawlessly. Secondly he was repulsed and drawled, "No, don't feel like being molested by France."
"Maybe the University of Copenhagen or the Swiss Federal Institute of Technology?" Obama prepared himself for a long listing of top-notch schools. All the presidents knew how picky and stubborn America could be.
America raised an eyebrow at his boss. "Really? At one all I would be thinking about is chewing tobacco and at the other, if Switzerland ever found out I was in his land without permission, I would be shot."
"Alright, so no on those two... what about Ruprecht-Karls-Universitat Heidelberg? You don't have anything against Germany do you?" As far as Obama knew his nation personified seemed to interact well with the personification of Germany. Them being army enthusiasts, Germany and his brother often came over and America would take them to a gun show or to the shooting range. Although, once the albino representation of a no longer existing country did something that upset America and he left the fair-skinned man in Death Valley... The German politicians were not too happy when he returned burnt, cranky, and dehydrated with no intension of telling people what happened.
America thought about it for a moment before replying. He could not think of some witty comment and he actually did want to attend somewhere both friendly and having some Americans studying there. So he simply shrugged and said, "Sure, why not?" His boss gaped at him, having expected more of a protest.
"Now since I will be going to another country I will need to have an alter ego name, I also need to work on all the technical details of transferring to studying abroad, and I will need a way to keep in touch with you-because it will have to be a semester abroad. I'll start working on it." America leaped out of the chair and practically skipped out of the room to prepare everything for his semester abroad. It may not be with his people, but hey, who knows? This could turn out to be fun.
America sped through the preparations and found himself a week later in Germany attending a university under the name, "Alfred Jackson." In case of any high ranking officials recognizing him, Alfred had died his hair a raven black and wore green contacts, leaving Texas in the care of Tony. The entire process was made easier by Alfred having a distinct lack of a language barrier, but he still needed to be careful, if he started speaking any random language he heard someone speak in, he would have no idea what he was doing. Every talent comes with a downside right?
So far his guise had held and he had befriended several exchange students, and students studying abroad, along with a few native citizens as well. In fact, befriending those local students seemed to be one of the best moves he had made. They were priceless in knowing the surrounding land and helping with the different schedules.
Of course, there was that one time a guy asked him if he wanted to go to his place for a beer. That wouldn't be strange, the legal drinking age was lower than in America, but when Alfred had told him that he did not want to drink until he was legal in America-the awesome nation of heroes-the dude laughed and told him that's not what he meant. And then he would not tell him what it meant! And when Alfred told his friends about it, they all laughed and wouldn't tell him either. Finally the self-dubbed "cool" person in the group took the withheld information and turned it into a contest. Who could say the normal-est pieces of conversation/invitations to Alfred and confuse him? It seemed to be a fun game. To them.
Anyway, the weeks rolled on and Alfred found himself excelling in his classes and learning more about the culture of Germany and whatever countries the foreign students he talked to were from. Eventually, as every friend group has the party boy-in Alfred's case Jamie-said party boy decided that the whole group would take a day off to go to Oktoberfest in Munich. Every single normal human agreed whole-heartedly but Alfred leaned against going, not wanting to risk anything. Eventually they persuaded him to at least accompany them and be the Designated to drive them all home when they, quote en quote, "finish going crazy and have had ten beers to many." Alfred made sure to slap them and make a mental note to keep an eye on them all.
That is how Alfred ended up in a car rammed full of men and women just out of their teen years and no more mature. Honestly, and people called him loud and annoying? Shaking his head, Alfred turned on the radio to block out the game of Physiatrist and Count-my-Cows going on at the same time. Why did I tell them about that? Alfred asked himself.
Just when Alfred was about to yell at them to be quiet, a song he recognized started playing. Smirking, he turned it up even more and tapped my hand against the steering wheel. When the song came to his favorite part, he belted out, "Alles was ich sagen will, bitte hr jetzt gut zu, hier ist einer zuviel, und das bist DU!" (AN: Best be noted, when Al is in Germany the main language is German, so that is what he is speaking. I will bold other languages used but this passage are lyrics from a song that... well if someone can tell me what it is, kudos.)
Silence filled the car with only the persisting music from the radio to fill it. Alfred fought the smirk creeping on his face. He knew they all hated it when he randomly burst into song or dance. So why not surprise them with a German song?
"What... was that?" Jamie asked.
"Oh? You guys are quite now? Good. 'Cus we're here."
The next five hours were spent hopping from tent to tent and roaming the grounds. Alfred kept an eye on each member of the group, making sure he lost none. That turned out to more difficult than he expected. Every two seconds someone would veer off and try to flirt with someone or get more beer. Eventually the whole group ended up at a table in some random tent with dancing. Since it was almost dark, Alfred found no harm in letting the group drink, so he ordered one round on him.
After the first couple of rounds most of the gang tumbled onto the dance floor and started tearing it up. That was mostly because Alfred was one of the first people in the group to go out there. He spun and shook and moved to the rhythm that was played; eventually getting lost in the crowd-no worries, he had his friends cell phone numbers if he couldn't find them.
Somehow Alfred swindled up to a group of rowdy and obviously drunk tourists that had no idea how to dance. That much was evident when a redhead tripped him up so he fell onto a sandy blond that instantly took that as a signal to start grinding on him. Alfred felt blood rush to his face as he flinched back off of the blond and swung at him. Unfortunately, the blond man moved so Alfred's fist connected with a familiar green eye... Actually, the redhead looked familiar too and so did the blo- Oh. Shit.
Alfred tried to pull back but his fist was already connecting with England's gigantic eyebrows. As soon as the punch was delivered Alfred spun to the now identified France and swept his legs out from under him. Out of all the tents on all the nights, they just had to be at the exact same one as him.
Alfred backed up and muttered a quick apology that had no effect on the furious Brit who had obviously already started drinking.
"You bloody git! That's my face you wanker! I should adloifkn drjhe r..." England half whined half screamed at Alfred. His use of English confused Alfred for a moment, having assumed that his former care taker would use the language of the country he was in, but apparently he was too drunk to remember that.
"S-Sorry," Alfred gave a nervous laugh, "I intended to hit you friend here who was-"
France cut Alfred off with a drunken purr of, "Oh by the end of tonight we will be mooore than friends."
Ignoring how creepy that was, Alfred tried to make a breakaway but England pulled out his wand and shouted after him that any who assault the great empire will pay. Yeppers, this one is drunk. And unfortunately, despite what Alfred put up as a facade, magic was real and in the situation such as this? Very, very dangerous.
Alfred stumbled back and attempted to draw on his reserves of magic, not sure which version he would need or what it would need to accomplish. England muttered some spell that Alfred did not immediately know; persuading Alfred to use his Native American Shaman magic to construct a shield. Better to use a shield that won't have devastating side effects if it reacts negatively to whatever England cast. So while Voodoo would create a stronger shield or fling the spell back at England... there were too many people to be sure and it would be best if England and the entire room did not know he had magic.
Sweeping his arm up in a motion that could look like a dance move, Alfred constructed a thin veil shield that intercepted the spell, and attempted to fight it. Unfortunately European magic was a refined art that thinned wild magic, taming it, and in doing so made it poison to the wilily magic of spirits. The veil collapsed and the spell connected with Alfred.
A hiss of pain escaped Alfred's lips as he turned and ran. The tactical retreat was necessary so he could determine the severity of the spell. Finding the closest bathroom he stumbled in and locked the door. Then he leaned against the cool wall and directed his attentions to inside his body. After scanning to make sure the spell did not cause internal damage, he called up the Shaman magic again to establish what he was hit with. The magic presented him with an image of it fighting the invading spell that seemed to be targeting his... physical appearance. The spell was rather weak for England, most likely due to his drunken splendor, so it had a time limit on how long it would last.
A spike of pain coursed through Alfred's body, causing him to double over and groan. Alfred could let his magic destroy the assaulting spell and be in increasing pain until his magic cycled through it, or just call his magic off and use it as a buffer until the spell did it's coarse and wore off. The latter sounded so much better right now.
Alfred reached over and unlocked the bathroom door in case he passed out and someone needed to find him-hey boy scouts, always plan ahead-and eased his magic off the spell and let it overrun him. A sudden, blinding numbness swallowed Alfred and shoved him out of the real of the conscious. The last thing he was aware of before passing out, was his magic curling it's self around his psyche as a protective blanket, and giving him dreams of the wild, of wolves.
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Bonus: Name the movie I referenced an the next chapter goes out to you!
Ok then. So yes, this is my full chapter, I might work on chapter two this weekend or you may get it next week/weekend depends on if I have time to write.
Thank you for reading, review what pairing you want for this, and please vote on the poll on my profile for what Al gets named!
As always, flames are welcome I take them as constructive criticism, yours truly~ Nena