A/N: Slight triple crossover in the bottom A/N with the Kane Chronicles. Mentions of US state personifications.

Shoe Delivery

Alfred was a subscriber of many magazines. Time, Entertainment Weekly, US Weekly, Parenting, Southern Living, Esquire, and formerly American Handgunner to name a few. He suspended his subscription to the last one when Americans began to vigorously debate gun control, and reading the magazine gave him serious migraines. However, Alfred also subscribed to the less known magazines from the Hero world; Totally Roman, the Athena Articles, and the Greek Goods Catalog.

Totally Roman and the Athena Articles were just monthly magazines on the happenings in New Rome and Camp Half-blood. They had the usual stuff; latest weapons, issued quests, war outbreaks, and other mundane information.

(It should be noted that when Alfred read both in Totally Roman and the Athena Articles that war was breaking out between the two civilizations again, Alfred cried. Cried, bought an insane amount of ice cream and the latest issue of People, and didn't leave his house for two days.)

Anyway, the last magazine Alfred got every month was his Greek Goods Catalog. It was basically a magazine full of cool Ancient Greek weapons and magical objects that you could buy with either a shitload of golden drachmas or doing 'labor benefiting the gods', which was just a fancy way of saying the gods will give you cool stuff if you resign to temporarily being their bitch. So Alfred, one Sunday afternoon after church, (hey, stereotypical Southern obligation) sat down with his latest issue of GGC while eating his lunch. As he was munching on his lasagna, he noticed that there was a mega sale on Hermes's patented winged shoes. Only 10 golden drachmas (down from 20!), and Alfred got the Heroes' Discount, dropping the price to 5 drachmas. Alfred grinned. He had lost his last pair of winged shoes in the last Greek-Roman Civil war, after California* set them on fire for 'cheating'.

(Incidentally, Florida kicked him in the shin for using Imperial Gold during that war*).

And so, on that lovely Sunday afternoon after another uncomfortable day at church, Alfred ate his lunch, filled out the order form with 5 drachmas for a pair of winged All-Star Converse (Red) and spent the rest of the day watching football with Tony.

Two weeks later, it was the world meeting. Alfred sat in his seat, sipping a Coke through a plastic straw and idly listening to England complain about France. Every now and then he added a "Yeah" or "Uh-huh" or "That's totally unheroic, dude!" when England gave a pause for him to interject his opinion (agree with him). Alfred tapped his fingers against the table, irked. He had been expecting his new shoes a week ago, and they hadn't shown. Hermes was usually really good about deliveries, despite the overwhelming amount of mail he received daily. Alfred sighed, and texted Canada about maybe going out for lunch. Get some Chinese or something. Canada replied something about going out with Prussia. America snorted lightly at the response. Just friends, my ass. He thought sourly. Guess I'm going to be productive today.

(America had this weird paradox about himself, in which that he was usually more productive when he was in a bad mood, because he had less motive or desire to joke around or talk to others and was, in general, less disruptive (though unpleasant to be with)).

America's phoned dinged. Dinner? Came the text from Canada, and America locked eyes briefly with his brother and grinned, mood lifted a tad, and flashed a thumbs up. Canada smiled at him, before informing his pet bear that he was Canada and no, he couldn't feed him right now, they were busy with work.

Italy was giving his speech on the events in his house, which consisted of his boss leaving office, failing and unstable elections, and the possibility of abandoning the Euro due to Italy's massive debt. There were also some interjections about cats and pasta.

"And that's why Signor Grillo says we should abandon the Euro, Ve~!" Italy finished smiling brightly, despite the less than chipper news that had the entire European Union twitching and blanching in utter horror. "Now fratello is going to say his part about the Pope leaving office-"

"Hello." Alfred froze. No. He turned and his mouth opened in pure terror when he realized, yes, that was who he thought he was, and oh man, he was so fucked.

A man stood there. His hair was black and curly (today), and had cheerful but tired blue eyes and an wicked elvish grin. He was wearing a standard US mailman suit, and due to it being spring, was wearing the version with the shorts. America dully noted in the midst of his mini panic attack that all the female nations (and France) had their heads tilted as they subtly checked out his athletic legs. His normal pitch helmet sat upon his head, with his mail bag over his shoulder and clipboard in hand. He was wearing running shoes.

"Sorry to interrupt, but I have a delivery for Alfred F. Jones." Hermes continued blithely, totally unaware that he was ending America's life as America knew it. Hermes checked his clipboard, "Ordered two weeks ago, a pair of-" This is when America bolted out of his seat, ran to Hermes and dragged him out of the meeting room, sprinting as though there were hellhounds snapping at his heels, leaving the room completely drenched in confused silence.

America leaned over, hands on his knees, panting from the run. Dear gods, that had been close. Hermes raised an eyebrow. "Uh, what in the name of the Underworld was that about?" The god paused. "And how are you that out of breath? We go jogging together, for the love of Zeus." Alfred looked up and glared. "It's -pant- from the panic -pant- attack." Alfred huffed, before gaining his breath back and straightening. "Why the hell did you decide to deliver that during a World Meeting? You know I have to keep the mythological world on the down-low!" Hermes looked surprised. "Wow, really? We're an international secret? That's kinda cool." America smacked his forehead in aggravation. "DUDE. TIME AND PLACE."

Hermes blinked. "Hey, how's Greece doing? Does he still talk to his cats?"

"Dammit Hermes, now's not the time- Greece used to talk to his cats?"

"...No." Hermes looked shifty for a second, before coughing. "Uh, anyway, here are your shoes." He handed Alfred a slightly shaking box as the shoes' wings beat against the sides, struggling for freedom and the open air. "You know the command word, and all." Hermes said, pulling out his cell phone and turning it into a pen styled like a caduceus. Alfred knew from personal experience that the snakes on the 'pen' were actually quite real. "Hey Martha. Hey George."

Hello dear. Martha hissed kindly. How are you, ssssssweeite?

Got any ratssssss? Her husband, George, asked. Martha turned towards him and headbutted him. George! She scolded. The poor boy hassss jusssst been embarrasssssed in front of all hisssss friendssss! Be more sssssenssssitve!

Ssssssorry for your plight. George said to Alfred. But seriousssssly, do you have any ratssssss?

GEORGE!

"Knock it off you two." Hermes said sternly. "Or I'll shut down your laser mode for a week."

Not the lassser mode! The lassser mode is awesssome!

"Gee, Herms, that's a little harsh." Alfred muttered as he signed the waiver presented to him, feeling bad that he indirectly got the two snakes reprimanded. Hermes shrugged. "Eh. I'm a god. I have to appear somewhat disciplinary."

"...Sure, Herms. Sure."

America was screwed. He stared at the closed meeting double doors, wincing as he heard the muffled conversations about him, his 'friend', and the sheer oddity of what happened bounce around in the room. I could manipulate the Mist and make them think it was just a mistake delivery, Alfred thought, but the nations that use magic won't buy that. Thank hamburgers that at least Greece was asleep. Okay, deep breaths America. You're the hero. Literally. And with that, America pushed opened the doors, delivery box under his arm (he had already calmed them down with the command word), and as casually as he could, strolled back into the meeting like he owned the damn place. "Sorry 'bout that," he said in a hopefully-not-nervous tone of voice. He settled back in his seat, horribly aware that the stares of every single nation (that came to these meetings) were drilling into him like George's laser mode. He looked at Italy and Romano, and gestured awkwardly. "You were saying?"

"What the fuck was that America?" Ah, Romano. If only you knew, America thought at the ironic statement. If only you knew. "That was a delivery for me. Personal, the security dudes must've sent him up here by mistake. Probably the new British one."

"HEY!"

"But why did you drag him out, cher?" France inquired silkily, hand cradling his chin as he stared at Alfred in a speculative and seductive way that America was not comfortable with. "You seemed utterly terrified when he began to list your order, non?" America swallowed. Crap.

"Yes, Měiguó," China said suspiciously, golden eyes narrowed, "What did you have delivered, aru?"

Quick America! Think! Think of something! America took a desperate look around the room and answered with the first object he saw.

"...Mugs." he said. You could hear a pin drop, it got so quiet at the utterly bizarre answer.

"You ran out of the room like your life depended on it, dragging some random mailman out with you, because you didn't want us to know you ordered mugs?" China said incredulously. "Are you serious, aru?" America slowly nodded, rapidly adopting a very serious face. "Yes." he said. "That is correct. ...Dude."

"Why would you cover up the fact that you ordered a bloody pair of mugs?" England asked, looking like he wanted to pull his hair out. Or strangle America.

"...They have...an...embarrassing design?" America tried. And England crossed his arms. "Really?" he asked scathingly. "And what would that design be?" America scrambled for a suitable answer.

"...Hello Kitty?"

The meeting became a chaotic hell after that, but at least he was able to beat China and Japan away from his shoes, and no one figured out the true nature of his package.

Greece, naturally, slept through the entire thing.

A/N:

Flying shoe 'command word': Maia (The Lightning Theif)

Hermes wasn't able to deliver America's mail on time because Zeus had banned the gods from contact with mortals, but Hermes argued that it was America, and he wasn't mortal, so he was able to eventually get the delivery to Alfred.

Esquire: A fashion magazine for men (according to the Internet)

Parenting: I assume its a parenting magazine. Its to help America deal with his many states

Southern Living: ...I hope that the magazine is basically the title, or that's awkward.

Cher: Dear

Non: no

Měiguó: America in Mandarin. I would use characters, but my writing program won't let me, so it's in pinyin (and you know vaguely how to pronounce it now)

I don't know how many drachmas have to be paid for something to be expensive in the Percy Jackson world, so I guessed 20 drachma's would be pretty pricey since the gods only accept the pure gold ones.

*Florida is where things from the Bermuda Triangle (the Sea of Monsters) wash up, and some of the Party Ponies party in South Florida. Florida takes up the role of handling Ancient Greek/Greek affairs since, according to the always slightly questionable Wikipedia, Tarpon Springs, Florida has the highest concentration of Greek-Americans in the country, with 8.87% speaking Greek at home and 11.7% having Greek ancestry (as of 2000).

*New York rents out the Empire State Building to the gods, but honestly doesn't really want them there. They keep messing up Manhattan and stuff, and they're too childish in his opinion. He is much more fond of Ancient Egypt, and actively participates in the House of Life's affairs/wars/ and generally helps them out while trying to forget about the Greek gods existance(unless he's yelling at them about trashing Manhattan and demanding that they pay for damages or else he'll cut off their power. He did manage to do that after the Titan War. And they did pay him for damages once they realized, that yes, he could shut down their power and keep it shut down despite the fact that they were gods)

*California and Rome are bros. Except he hits on her a lot, but she either doesn't mind or doesn't notice.