It had been well-over 5 decades since Germany and America had been enemies at arms; and fierce ones at that. There had been unspeakable bloodshed on both sides, but a winner was eventually declared. And America, ever wanting to fulfill his self-proclaimed role as hero, became the driving force in building his former enemy back up and protecting him from those who wanted nothing more than to pounce on the severely weakened country.

In the midst of this unexpected courtesy, German let down the barriers between them. They found a shared love of movies, of writing, of music; and a fascination with food and drink which stayed passionate without turning pretentious. With trade opened up, and the former power returning to the splendor he had once possessed, the two became rather close allies and joint peacekeepers of the world.

For lack of a better word, the two had become friends.

Still, it never ceased to amaze America exactly how daunting his ally could be even when he meant no ill will. Though only having an extra inch over America, Germany created an aura of intimidation with a heavily-muscled body, soldier-like stance, and unyielding stare. Even now, as a smile twitched momentarily at the stoic mouth in a greeting of an ally, America couldn't help but be tense. Even from a distance, he could tell that something was upsetting Germany, and as such he could be exceedingly dangerous and should be treated accordingly.

But that was perfectly fitting as America was upset, as well.

When America made it to where Germany stood, they didn't so much greet one another as they simply began to walk side by side though the masses that passed by the UN.

"Where the hell have you been?" America asked, his voice sharp and purposely lacking the usual charm. "I called for you ages ago."

"It wasn't as if I've been idle, Alfred," Germany said dully. "I was participating in NATO's…"

"Barely," America shot back. "You didn't send many troops at all." America turned his eyes in annoyance. "I know you knew how many we actually needed, so don't try and lie by saying you underestimated."

"Of course I didn't, don't be ridiculous. I simply have other issues to attend to," Germany said. "You know that." His eyes were purposely kept forward to avoid the look of anger he could feel hit him.

"You have issues?" America asked sharply.

"Not like yours," Germany replied, gave a small nod that was meant more as acknowledgment than apology. "But issues." His mouth pulled into a bit of a frown. "You've been on my mind a great deal lately, Alfred. I needed to talk to you."

"You're pretty late in the game for that," America said. He brushed whatever insult he felt off with a wave of his hand. "I don't mind, really. All I want to know is that you're planning on being my back-up, right?" He looked over at the finely-tailored suit Germany sported. It was an outfit for diplomacy, and that was all the answer America really needed but he refused to accept that. "Why aren't you in uniform?"

When Germany didn't respond immediately, America forced him to turn so that they could be face to face. "G-…. Ludwig."

Germany, obediently, gave him the eye contact he was after; but his eyes remained as stoic as the rest of him. "No, I'm not."

"You're not coming?"

"No." Germany shook his head once. "This war shouldn't be happening, and thus I'm not going to participate."

America gritted his teeth. "I was attacked…"

"And you're allowing your anger to cloud your better judgment," Germany told him. "Jumping into things, especially something like this, is going to get you seriously hurt…"

"You're in NATO, you son of a bitch," America snarled. "You're supposed to feel this, too. Are you just going to ignore…"

"I didn't say that."

"You just don't want anything done about it, is that right?"

"I didn't say that," Germany said flatly. He squared his shoulders to emphasize all the military presence he'd always had. "If I, of all people, am telling you that it's not the right time to go to war, I'd think you'd listen. After all, I might just know something about that." There was a near undetectable amount of hesitation as he referred to himself as a person, in which his eyes darted to the numerous passers-by moving in constant streams around them. "Speaking of, is there somewhere we can speak with less people? I'd rather not…"

America looked his supposed ally, supposed friend, over critically. America finally offered a 'yeah' and led Germany back to his house. Germany was tight-lipped about the current situation for the duration of the walk. It was taken up by idle chat of media and food only to ease the tension between the two. Neither one pushed the conversation too far, though, as neither one, it seemed, wanted it gone entirely.

After the door was shut, however, there was no more time for being idle. "What the fuck do you think you're doing, abandoning me like that? After you go so pissed at Italy for…"

Germany's eyes darkened fiercely at the reminder of the final portion of the war. The betrayal of Italy had been a painful one, and Germany had reacted to it with all the violence the rapidly weakening nation had left. The tensions between the two had been high for years, but with trade, military-cohesion, and culture it had mostly been repaired. They were friends again; or, at least, that's what others would refer to it as. Regardless of good terms, Germany hadn't forgotten the actions of the only nation he'd ever called a friend.

It wasn't a good feeling to cause such a reaction in his ally, but America was happy to finally get some sort of emotion out of Germany.

When Germany finally spoke, his words were slow, deliberate, and fierce. "My actions are nothing like what Italy did to me, America. Italy was acting as a traitor more concerned with saving his own skin than with any semblance of honor or loyalty. I, on the other hand," he said. "Am going to do this in the name of… camaraderie."

Germany didn't use the word 'friendship' anymore; out of concern for being abandoned again. This was as close as he would probably ever get, and it was enough to make America shut his mouth and, with an indignant nod, agree to let Germany go on.

"Your people, and you, are blinded by anger right now. Your boss is responding to that like a human, and is rushing into things blindly. All of you are ignoring the other nations you are aligned with; you can't succeed if you…"

"I'm only doing what I have to do," America told him.

"You're jumping the gun, and you'll regret it," Germany told him; his flat tone a fierce contrast to America's snarl.

America paused for a moment.

"Once the initial emotion passes, you'll realize that you should have taken your time more. Hopefully by that point you won't be in so much trouble that there's no getting out of it, but either way regret is hardly something you want to have to go through the rest of your life with." Germany paused. "I have to carry a great deal for mine. It's rather troublesome to say the least, and I don't want you to have to do the same."

America scoffed. Were it not that he was in his own home, and didn't want to mess his newly-polished floor, he probably would have spat at the insinuation. "Don't compare what I'm doing now to what you did," America said fiercely. "You started that, twice. I know there were 'economic hardships' or whatever the hell the second time, but it was your doing. I was brought into this by being attacked for no reason. It's entirely different."

Germany frowned deeply to match the glare America gave him.

"I just want you to listen to reason for a few minutes; you have to think of the rest of us if you don't want to lose all support…"

"I don't want or have 'a few minutes', and I don't need support from nations that refuse to understand what I'm going through," America snapped. "I'll get England…"

It was Germany's turn to scoff. "For what little that's worth."

"I like how you're saying that like you're willing to do anything."

The two stared each other down for a moment. Both hoped for a sign of concession, but they both knew their ally far too much to do so realistically. The European was the first to make a move, but not in a sign of defeat. Germany simply had too much to do; and he'd never much enjoyed standing around idly.

"Despite what you may think, I don't have ill-will against you," Germany said. "Not to say that I'm supportive, but still. I will grant you what aid I feel I must, but don't expect me to don a military uniform." He readied himself to leave. "Considering you could use the finances, I'm assuming trade will still continue?"

America nodded curtly.

"Good." Germany turned and opened the door. "Do take care of yourself, Alfred. I'll still be around when you can stand to listen to someone else."

America frowned as he watched the blond walk off with the same well-trained precision he'd always had. Germany had an exceptional military presence; and his alliance would have brought along the Italian army, which had been molded by the strict standards of the former Axis leader into something worth aligning with. He watched the superpower leave to handle his own issues, whatever those were. America didn't know. Or care, really.

He had forces to assemble and move out. He had comrades to gather. If not Germany and those Germany could have brought along, then someone else. And, if there was no one else, he'd go in alone. It wasn't like a hero couldn't do such things.

What he'd said had some credibility, America had to admit. Germany knew a great deal; but that most certainly didn't mean that he knew everything.

America wanted what he was about to do so badly that it hurt. He needed this. Fuck those who would call him hasty and stand in his way; he'd just do it on his own and prove that they were wrong to doubt him.

America turned on his heel and headed deeper into his house to go make what calls he had to.

He'd move out in the morning.

AN: My first attempts at Hetalia writing; and I had to start with an actually angry America. Tips on characterization would be loved.