An Allied Meeting

"Yo, dudes! It's time for this meeting to convene!"

Low grumblings of discontent spread from one side of the room to the other. The day was unnecessarily warm and of much hindrance to the 'good' moods that may have otherwise prevailed.

"America, I protest. It's inexcusable to discuss the epidemic of obesity, something relevant only to you, in this heat."

"Hahaha! Dude, England, are feeling like an ass today, or what?"

"Is he not always an ass?" France inquired.

"I am not of the impression that anyone asked for YOUR opinion."

An unsuccessful attempt to strangle France ensued, while the rest of the nations looked on either with passivity or irritation. No one thought it worth intervening. After all, England had made a fair point. The chosen place of discussion, false promises, and comical fighting was not lending itself to productivity.

"Now, guys. Let's chill out." America advised.

England glared, forcefully removing France's hands from his neck.

"Was that pun intentional or were you, as I am inclined to believe, demonstrating your carelessness?"

"Dude, why are you on the offense?"

America was feeling the stirs of aggravation.

"I'm not. I'm merely making an observation, you git."

"England, you're starting to piss me off."

"Oh, are you not all smiles today, America?"

"England, please."

France, recovering from his minor brawl with England, put forth another instigating opinion.

"Ohonhonhon, England, even America is demonstrating more maturity than you."

"Be quiet, frog!"

"Did you just call, moi, a frog? Oh, England!"

And so, amongst the stifles of the heat, France replaced America as England's adversary for verbal abuse. Again. Russia was, perhaps, considering putting his pickaxe to good use.

"I'll destroy them all, someday. Someday soon. Kolkolkolkol..."

"When will they stop, aru?"

"Maybe they'll finally notice me."

Would Canada finally raise his voice beyond the incoherent level of mumbling? Twas' unlikely.

Or, maybe, just maybe, it was not.

One day, at an unspecified point in the future, England would testify that it was the heat. France would claim that his wandering hands, which had accidentally latched on to the invisible Canada during his second British rumble, had made the poor maple lover snap. But to China, perhaps the only nation present who was not plotting, groping, being groped, or engaging in battle, it was simply inevitable. That was, it would have been, if China had realized that Canada was even at the meeting. In any case, Canada let out a loud yelp of protest, thereby transforming Mr. Kumajiro into a fluffy projectile, as France 'curiously' misplaced his hands.

"AHHHH! LET ME GO!"

A sudden halt. The room had gone silent with the exception of a loud "THUMP" created by Mr. Kumajiro's unfortunate crash-landing.

"Canada~ I didn't know that you were here. I've been pleasantly surprised." France left a parting squeeze before he withdrew his hands.

However, much to the chagrin of France, Canada was none too fond of parting gifts.

"I HAVE NEVER BEEN LESS PLEASANTLY SURPRISED! NOW, would you all stop acting like COMPLETE fools? Or is that too much to ask of YOU?"

The first outburst was unexpected. The second, China reasoned, was his own imagination. England was mesmerized. Had something been slipped into his tea? It might have been that damned France. Or possibly America. But he was surely giving the Yankee far too much credit. On the other hand...

England forced the image of 'the hero' out of his mind. The silence was becoming uncomfortable.

Canada, aware of the eerie atmosphere that he had generated, found himself in an awkward position. In his head, a number of questions abounded.

"Did I just get groped by France?"

"Are they actually paying attention to me?"

"They heard me?"

"Did I just yell at them?"

"I did. I did!"

"I DID!"

The last exclamation was, in fact, audible.

"Well, that's not very nice." France huffed. "But are you sure about the 'less' part?" The Frenchman's face contorted into a sly grin, but it was quick to dissipate. America, meanwhile, took a step forward. Having the attention directed towards his northern neighbor, instead of himself, was quite odd.

"Canada, it's nice to see that you're actually contributing to the group! Way to go!"

Canada seemed unimpressed. Adrenaline was coursing through him. It was a probable explanation for his next action.

" I WOULD AMERICA, if you would actually listen to me! But, no, you're too busy annoying the rest of the world. And do you know what happens, eh? I'll tell you. I get my head smashed in by Cuba because I'm always getting confused for YOU."

America wanted to retort that "being confused for the HERO was the utmost of compliments (dude)," but found that he could not form the words. He was dumbfounded. Simply dumbfounded.

Canada, pleased with his success, relocated his critique.

"And, YOU, RUSSIA, I'd appreciate it if you would stop sitting on me! I am NOT Estonia, Lithuania, OR Latvia."

"You think it's good to to criticize me, da?" Russia's eyes flickered towards the shining pickaxe.

"At this moment, I do Russia. Now, shall I call upon Ms. Belarus? She'd LOVE to be a Mrs. I'm sure Ms. Ukraine would be glad to inform her of your affections if I were to ask for her assistance."

Russia took a moment of pause, contemplating whether the reborn Canada was worth arguing with. Better yet, to contemplate whether or not the threat of Belarus should be heeded to. Canada, as it seemed, did have ways of contacting Ukraine. Russia could practically hear the booby bounce. A shiver, colder than any he had experienced at home, overwhelmed him. Three single words were uttered.

"They're comfier, anyway."

"Good answer, communist!" Canada proclaimed.

"I'm not the Soviet Union any-"

"Quiet! No more from you! NOW, does anyone have anything to contribute to the obesity topic? Or should we change the topic? Because, honestly, I'm sick of talking about America! It's always America this, America that, and then a fight breaks out! Nothing EVER gets done. Even the Axis are more orderly than THIS!"

Indeed, it was hard to argue otherwise.

Unless the one doing the arguing, better phrased as blathering, is America.

Now recovered, America was not keen on letting Canada steal the day. And the 'fat' puns were losing their luster.

"Canada, are you okay?"

In normal circumstances, Canada would have been grateful for the acknowledgment. With the a small nod, and a couple of flustered gestures, he would have replied with a 'yes' and proceeded with his wallflower status.

But, no, never again would he be reduced to such circumstances.

"America, he cooed with cynicism. "My sweet basement-"

"Woah, dude. You're just an attic. Mexico's the basement."

"DON'T INTERRUPT ME."

Canada edged forward, gaining the upper hand, simultaneously coercing America a step backwards.

"Uhhh, my apologies, dude. But, really, you're not acting like yourself..."

"That I know, America." Canada's tone was almost sinister.

"So...can you, like, return to the way you were? Here! I've got a nice label for you and everything." America held out a sticker decorated with the ever familiar US of A flag. It wasn't his best use of judgment.

Before any of the other nation's could step in to help (not that they would have, of course), Canada had flung America to floor. It was as if France and England had decided that a third brawl was in order. Except there was no France, no England, or any other European charms. It was pure Western Hemisphere. And the remaining countries, standing up to form a circle around the other two, decided that contentment was equated with watching Canada attack America.

"Canada-" America wheezed. "How about that Free Trade Agreement thing...yeah, remember that?"

"The War of 1812, America. Remember that?" Canada was trembling with rage.

"Come on, it was the war hawks. The war hawks!" America began to cough. "Besides, we needed to get some concessions out of England! Impressment sucks, dude!"

Off to the side, England shrugged his shoulders. Were it not so hot, some tea would have been delightful.

"Is that so?" Canada asked.

"Yeah...it's so!" Breathing was becoming difficult. "Canada...would you mind laying off? A truce would be totally awesome."

"Awesome isn't your word, America."

"Whatever! Just get off of me, Canadia!"

A pause.

"What...was that, America?"

"TREATY, TREATY!"

"That's not what I heard."

"Please, get off of me! I...meant Canada."

Canada refused to budge, keeping America pinned beneath. The moment was hardly erotic. Alas.

"Guys...please, help!"

The remaining Allies were disinterested in assistance.

"I thought that we were just back up, aru."

"You hear me, da? I'm not sending you cannon fodder."

"Ohonhonhon. What kind of help would you like, America?"

"You're getting what you deserve, baby brother."

"PLEASE! CANADA'S GONE CRAZY! WAHHHH!"

"What did you say, America?"

"MERCY CANADA, MERCY! WE COULD GO OUT FOR HAMBURGERS, HUH? SOUNDS NICE, RIGHT?"

"I don't think so." Canada was vaguely beginning to resemble Russia. All he needed was the 'kolkolkol.'

"THEN PANCAKES, RIGHT? YOU LIKE PANCAKES?"

"May I pour maple syrup over your head? It would be a decisive improvement."

Yes. Canada had definitely "snapped," as they would say.

America was still struggling to move, but a smile crept across his face.

"Haha! Where are you going to get maple syrup, Canada?"

"I'm Canadian! I always have maple syrup!"

And so, before America could even blink, a bottle of syrup was being precariously dangled over his head.

"AHHH!...It's not even Mrs. Butterworth Syrup..."

The bottle was getting closer.

"No, America. It's not!"

A twisted smile. Canada removed the lid and proceeded to make a "dipping" motion with the bottle.

"It's coming for you America!"

"WAHHHH! I'LL NEVER GET THIS STICKY MESS OFF OF MY JACKET! NOT COOL!"

America's own adrenaline had finally kicked in. In one hardly graceful motion, America succeeded in freeing himself from Canada's wrestling maneuver. Unfortunately, it also sent the maple syrup into the air...where it promptly landed on a stunned Mr. Kumajiro.

And Mr. Kumajiro was not happy. Not. at. all.

He had been neglected, his owner could never remember his name, said owner had thrown him across the room, and now he was covered with maple syrup. Revenge was imminent.

A small voice came amidst the insanity.

"Who are you?"

Canada instinctively turned to face Mr. Kumajiro.

"I'm Canada! Who are you?"

Canada seemed to have returned to normal.

Mr. Kumajiro tilted his head.

"Wrong answer."

"Eh?"

And, in a turn of events that were surely not expected of Mr. Kumajiro, Canada received a swift smack to the head courtesy of the friend he could never remember.

Another silence fell upon the room. America, now in hiding, peered from behind England. England seemed flustered about America's newly formed attachment, but he refrained from speaking. Russia and China continued to observe.

Canada laid upon the ground, apparently unconscious. His hair was splayed about his face and a large bump was developing on his head. Mr. Kumajiro had learned from the best, otherwise known as Cuba.

China hesitated, but finally broke the silence.

"What did you just do to Canada, aru?"

Mr. Kumajiro dodged the question.

"He'll be better in the morning."

Nothing more was said between the nation and the polar bear. Heaving a sigh, Mr. Kumajiro grabbed hold of Canada's feet and dragged him out of the conference room.

As Canada's head disappeared around the bend of the hall, the countries found themselves in what Germany would call "a situation." America, although not as eager as his nature usually permitted, reclaimed the seat the authority.

"Well, dudes, I think that's a wrap."

And, for once, the Allies all agreed. It would not be happening again.

The End

Please R&R! Every review is cherished! :D

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. *sigh* Cruel world!

~Regis Filia