Warning: OCs contained within.
Diclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. If I did, I'd be very rich indeed. The States are mine, however.
Rating: K+
Note: I didn't actually plan on writing another chapter, but this one was over six pages long when finished so I hope it was worth the wait.
A is for action; as in both the noun and the genre of movies. America and his family have never been good at sitting still, or generally being inactive. They have to feel like they're doing something, like making improvements, regardless of whether they're big or small. Things like how Texas and Indiana got together one Thanksgiving and changed out every broken light bulb in the D.C. house, or how every year Delaware and Tennessee organize the others in cleaning the very messy house from top to bottom. Usually, any sort of action just results in America's house getting cleaned, and everyone crowding around to watch a good action movie that California brought. A is also for arguments over which movie to watch, exactly.
B is for belief; in faith and trust, though maybe not quite pixie dust. Belief in each other, mostly, and the unsinkable sense of optimism that surrounds the States. Even the pessimists among them go about their days with a little bit of hope. In fact, it's usually the pessimists like Missouri and Minnesota who remind the others that things can get worse, so they instead focus on making things better where they can. B is also for blatant lies when said pessimists refuse to admit that they're really more optimistic than all the others.
C is for cars; is for cars, namely the ones that Indiana fixes for a living. Mechanic work something that he picked up during the wars and never really put down. He likes mechanical things, engines specifically. It had started with tanks, then moved on to humvees, then eventually onto those small fiddly little eco-car thingies that California is so wild about. Indiana doesn't mind terribly the fact that he gets completely covered with engine grease every day because he always insists on climbing inside the belly of the car to do his work, since it ensures that he gets his job done. Indiana is still too used to fixing military equipment even after all this time away from the wars. Michigan helps run the front of the garage and runs the advertising that helps keep Indiana in business when he's not off pranking the daylights out of someone, and every now and again South Carolina will visit because his left rear wheel is squeaking funny, or Texas will stop by because he thought of a new car design and want to run it by the two people he knows who spend the most time around cars. And no matter who come to visit Indiana and Michigan, they always bring something to drink, and an interesting day. All in all, Indiana figures it's not a bad way to make a living.
D is for determination; Hawaii stares at her scarred left leg with a fierce stare as it twitches from nervousness under the conference table. She's hosting the meeting this time, and has to make the opening remarks. And she refuses to hobble up to the front of the table. Alaska glances at her with a strange expression, holding his hand out under the table as if to say "I'm here to help."
The youngest State shakes her head. 'I can do this.' Hawaii tells herself, taking a deep breath. Gritting her teeth and squaring her jaw, Hawaii stands up and walks swiftly over to the head of the table, papers in hand, moving in a quick, even step. Left, right, left, right. Eventually Hawaii reaches the front, and with an exhale of relief, she opens the fists she didn't realize she'd been clenching. "Ladies and gentlemen, I welcome you to this year's progress review meeting." She greets the other forty-nine people in the room with a smile. "We're gathered here today to review the year that passed, and make our plans for the one to follow."
As Hawaii continues her small speech, she catches Alaska's eye. The other non-continental State nods almost imperceptibly with a tiny smile at her as if to say; "I knew you could do it." Hawaii's smile widens in triumph, as she nods back at Alaska.
E is for earth; New Jersey stands in her garden and smiles. Sunny springtime watching the birds fly past as her plants do nothing other than grow- it's almost too good to be true. Settling down in the fertile ground, New Jersey closes her eyes and tries to soak in everything about the day. She's had many like this before, but every day in the sun with her garden is a novelty all its own and she'll remember every one of them until her dying day.
F is for is for fragile; owning anything breakable is not advisable if one plans on spending any time at all around the States. Things tend to shatter rather easily if one spends too much time around any of them. Whether they do the breaking, or you're the one to do the throwing and simply grab whatever happens to be closest at hand, things of value and fragility are perilous things to bring when visiting America's family. F is also for fury, something often caused by overexposure to the annoyances known as the States.
G is for "good lord, what happened here?"; Connecticut stares incredulously at the ruined mess of what seems to have once been Rhode Island's kitchen at some point, blue eyes wide in disbelief. Rhode Island stands in the center of the kitchen, looking sooty and rather annoyed with the world. "Are you okay?" He asks his neighbor nervously.
Rhode Island makes a nonchalant gesture with his left hand, and shrugs a little, his other hand on the nozzle of the fire extinguisher that appears to have gotten its fair share of use recently. "I'm fine." Rhode Island tells his neighbor. "I just had a little oven fire, is all. I tired to make a soufflé."
Connecticut just blinks at his friend. Rhode Island is possibly the only person who can retain his dignity under circumstances like this. Another spurt of flame escapes the charred oven, and Connecticut yelps. Rhode Island simply sprays the oven with the bright red, metal fire extinguisher without looking, the jet of carbon dioxide putting it out. Having forgotten why he originally came and no better idea of what to do in this situation, Connecticut picks up the professional camera hanging from its strap around his neck and snaps a picture. "For posterity, of course." He later assures his friend as they eat out at a small restaurant in Providence.
H is for horror; America isn't the only one who's afraid of ghosts. California knows this, so she continues to make scary movies year after year. Granted, her taste has deepened from simply "The Attack of the 50 Foot Whatever," but now it seems to all be about icky red corn syrup. She doesn't quite mind. As long as she can keep bringing in the money when she shows off her films overseas, she doesn't care at all. And if she manages to scare the living daylights out of her family… Well, that's just a bonus.
I is for irritation; Mississippi prides herself on her tolerance of her family. She finds it a miracle that she puts up with them with what she assumes to be stunning restraint, all things considered. However, even Mississippi's patience has its limits. Finding South Carolina peeping on her one morning as she swims in her namesake river is one of the places where she draws the line, usually by enlisting Virginia's help. And several blunt objects.
J is for joker; the wild card, the person who can be anything that's required of them at the right moment. Flexible, loose and cunning; the ultimate spy. Something Idaho most certainly is not, at least not on the surface. In actuality, she's less of the wild card and more of the joker itself, loud, obnoxious and barely restrained; she tends to shock her opponents into underestimating her. After all, how could that annoying American girl with the missing teeth and the too-loud laugh have stolen the documents? She can't even speak Russian in the first place, let alone have pulled off something as intricate as stealing important papers from the KGB without a trace. Idaho whistles a happy tune on her flight back into the States, another adventure successfully completed.
K is for kindness; random acts of, to be precise. Some days are too much for Delaware to handle. Stopping fights; trying to balance out Massachusetts and New York as they come to her so she can settle an argument; getting Pennsylvania motivated while he tries to sleep off a sugar crash- some days Delaware gets in a little over her head. Sighing tiredly, Delaware stumbles into her house through the kitchen door and flicks on a light switch. Slumping down into the chair at the kitchen table, Delaware lets her forehead hit the table softly while she groans. Except, her forehead doesn't hit the plastic table, but instead something soft. Opening her eyes, she pulls her head up and looks at the offending object. Picking the note off the table, Delaware reads it to herself. "Sorry we're such a pain. Thanks for everything, from, the guys." Below that, shesees some writing followed by a set of scrawls that marks it from Massachusetts, Pennsylvania and New York. Delaware smiles wryly as she picks up the small teddy bear. Clutched in its paws is a bar of chocolate. Delaware looks at the note again and turns it over to see the other side. "P.S. We, took some of Pennsylvania's chocolate. NY & MA." Delaware laughs softly to herself, shaking her head as she breaks off a piece of the Hershey bar and eats it. 'Tastes good.' She admits to herself before remembering that she'll have to admonish the baseball crazy States later for stealing from their "brother." But for now, Delaware's just going to enjoy the chocolate.
L is for laughter; as in the laughter of children, something that makes America terribly happy, especially when he hears it from his own adopted children. The Territories careen wildly about the playground three of them playing hide and seek with the other children there while Puerto Rico pushes the Virgin Islands on the wings as the little girl shrieks happily, insisting that he push her "Higher! Higher!"
A human couple passes by, glancing at the beaming Nation. "Are they yours?" The woman asks as her own daughter yells and runs off to meet a friend. "They seem very sweet together."
"Yep." America responds proudly as Guam chases after American Samoa screaming that the other Territory is a lying, dirty cheater. "They're all mine." L is also for love, the kind that fathers feel when they see their children happy and healthy.
M is for mornings; Maine smiles and takes another sip of his coffee as he sits out by the bay in the mists of the mid-winter morning. Around him, the air is frigid, but he doesn't much mind, wrapped up in warm clothes and his favorite coat. Glancing out across the harbor, Maine watches as slowly, slowly, the familiar orb of the sun rises over the Atlantic. He waits to watch the star rise farther into the sky over the next half hour, shaking off the lingering feeling of depression that comes with his winters while sipping contentedly at the thermos of coffee that's still vaguely warm in his hands. Maine knows he's going to feel like crap at work today, but he doesn't care all too much. It seems completely worth it just to see this.
N is for not; as in it's probably not a good idea when New York ribs New Jersey with an elbow one day after a meeting as she tries to gather her papers. "So, I heard some of your mayors were caught selling kidneys." He jokes, not seeing the warning twitch in his neighbor's hand, as if it was trying to pull the trigger of some invisible weapon. "I never really thought that you'd sink that low, but-" New York watches as the smaller State opens her briefcase to put her papers in, and beneath them, New York notices something shiny. And most likely dangerous. The blonde State swallows nervously, and then hastily leaves with an unintelligible, too-fast excuse shouted over his shoulder. Flashbacks to the 1920s beginning unpleasantly in his mind, New York resolves not to mention kidneys ever again if he wants to keep his. New Jersey smiles grimly to herself as she watches her annoying neighbor retreating out of the corner of her eye and buries the shiny thing a little deeper in her briefcase.
O is for opacity; reading Nevada is like trying to look through a solid brick wall. Nevada has the world's greatest poker face. Popularized most famously in Las Vegas, she's learned it very well. Unfortunately, Nevada uses it as her default expression, since she can't keep a secret for crap. And Nevada has a lot of secrets. "Area fifty-one." Florida questions her, looking serious in the stereotypical news reporter hat she bought from a costume shop. "Yes or no?" Nevada clams up and it's like a wall has descended behind her eyes, despite the fact that her body language denotes panic and desperation as she quickly walks away in jerky awkward motions, not really sure what to do other than scuttle away. Florida calls out after her retreating "sister;" "You can't bury the Truth forever!"
P is for programming; every State has their little superstitions, their rituals. Massachusetts doesn't go anywhere without a foul ball from the Game That Broke The Curse; Connecticut doesn't leave home without his camera in case he sees something he wants to remember; Indiana feels weird when not in mechanics overalls; and if California ever took of those rose-colored glasses of hers, someone would probably break their neck from the double take that would ensue. Everyone of them has their little things that put them at ease. Fortunately, this is one of the easier understood quirks among America's family- they all want to be unique, in whatever way they can.
Q is for quintillion; which can't possibly be a number, according to Maryland. "There!" Florida shouts happily as she barges into Maryland's laboratory one day. "I found it." She crows in triumph, hefting what looks like Webster's English Dictionary over her head.
Maryland looks up from his work table, startled by his "sister's" sudden appearance. "Found what?" He asks in confusion.
Florida slams down the book onto the table, crushing a delicate piece of equipment that Maryland was in the process of disassembling with a crunch that causes the scientist to wince. "Quintillion; one followed by 18 zeros: the number equal to 10 to the 18th, written as 1 followed by 18 zeros." Florida reads off confidently. "In. Your. Face!" She cackles, the runs out of the room, leaving Maryland dazed and confused as he wonders if Florida came all this way just to prove a point.
R is for retribution; "Honestly, Michigan, what made you think planting a paint bomb over Ohio's seat was a good idea?" Delaware fusses at the bruise-covered State. "You had to have known she was gong to get back at you sooner rather than later." Wearing the same dazed grin he's had since he saw Ohio get absolutely covered in pink paint during the climax of her speech to the rest of the States Michigan shrugs, then winces. Delaware sighs and suddenly tightens the bandages around one of the scratches the angry Ohio had left on her neighbor, causing Michigan to yelp a little. "You're going to look like crap for a while, you know." Delaware informs him. "And I can't imagine sitting down right now feels good." She adds. "You're going to have to tend to yourself later, uh… Down there…" The eldest State turns away, embarrassed. "What was this" -Delaware gestures to the mess left in the now abandoned meeting hall with a free hand- "even for, anyway?"
Michigan's grin twists a little, suddenly looking much more feral, and triumphant. "Toledo." He says, something weird in his voice, his eyes faraway. "That was for my Statehood, bitch."
Delaware startles, then tugs on the bandage sharply, with more force than necessarily needed to tie it off. "You better not be talking to me that way." She warns him. And you better not talk to Ohio that way in the future if you don't want her to beat up on you again."
S is for sanity; something that erodes very quickly if you spend too much time around America and his States. Just ask England. It's a terror to behold the elder Nation rant about how "that bloody git can't keep his bloody family under control, the bloody bastards the lot of them and another thing-" Most people are kind enough to their ears to cut him off around there. After all, England's rants tend to wear away one's sanity as well.
T is for travel; something that Georgia enjoys. It's a wonderful thing, she thinks, to be able to go wherever she pleases in the world, visiting America's friends and allies. Georgia likes to visit Spain and the Italy brothers the most, since every time she sees them they're always happy to teach her some new dance move that has originated in Europe recently. Georgia always finds a way to return the favor, though it's usually by bringing several crates of tomatoes and a bottle or two of wine that she bought from California especially for the trip. It's interesting, it's fun, and watching Spain try and entice Romano into being his dance partner for these lessons is entertaining all by itself.
U is for ubiquitous; McDonalds is everywhere. Which is fine, considering that most States share their "father's" favorite food. However, for the few that don't, walking down the streets of their cities is often a problem. Such as Colorado. Skinnier than he should be, Tennessee has decided that her goal is to "feed him up." In Colorado's life, McDonalds is not the only thing that is everywhere now. In fact, he gets most of his exercise dodging Tennessee and her ridiculously portioned meals now. U is also for unwanted attention from well intentioned yet overzealous "big sisters."
V is for victories; the last-second and the triumphant, the hard-won and the bittersweet. The victories that were barely that; the ones that ached. All the scars and all the pain and all the things that came of them. America's family hates to lose, and so they don't, even when they do.
W is for why; as in, "Why, God, why do I have to be on a plane with her?" Washington groans as Idaho gets into the seat beside him, her blue eyes going wide with happy surprise.
"Hi there!" She says sunnily, sitting next to her neighbor. "I didn't know you were going to visit Isreal, too, Washington!"
Washington blinks hard as the plane begins to take off. "Isreal?" He snorts in disbelief. "This is my connecting flight to Ontario. You're on the wrong plane, Idaho."
"Nu-uh." She says, looking slightly confused, her mouth turned down into a small uncharacteristic frown as she fishes in her pocket for her plane ticket. "See," she says, thrusting the piece of paper at her "brother;" "Flight 347 to Ben Gurion International. I think you're the one on the wrong plane; I checked that I was on the right flight twice today." Idaho informs him. Washington stares at the paper in pure, undisguised horror as a silent scream tears out of him. It's going to be a long, painful set of hours.
X is for XD; as in the happy and impossibly painful-looking to make kind of face that California makes when Indiana finally agrees to taking a look at her design for the electric car. X is also the fact that almost no words start with the letter X, and Pennsylvania has a hobby of tracking down as many words that start with that letter as he can.
Y is for Yankee; for everyone outside the family, it means anyone inside the family. For everyone inside the family, it means New York. For New York, it means his favorite baseball team. In any case, the name started when England made fun of America way back when. Now, Massachusetts uses it to make fun of New York, and it mostly backfires when the younger State takes pride in the title.
Z is for zippers; fashion in the Eighties was not pleasant for anyone to look back on. The less said about some of the States' choice in clothes during that time, the better for everyone involved. Let's just say that it was… Regrettable and leave it at that. We're not talking about the hair, either."How could we let each other wear that?" Oregon winces as he looks back on some of the photographs in the family photo album that Connecticut's put together and sent to everyone last Christmas.
Author's Note: Yeah, I ran out of things for X. I've been reduced to chatspeak.
Trivia: What was the Toledo War and what does Michigan mean by his Statehood?