I'm proud of myself that I was able to write this much for a first chapter. Himaruya owns Hetalia. I own the story concept. Please enjoy!
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The aching in his head was the least of his problems as he tried to get out of bed that morning. Though last night's wild party was one he could just not miss, the side effects were ones that he wished would just go away.
He stumbled out of bed – almost stumbling straight to the floor – as his alarm on his cellphone, wherever that was, went off once again. The bathroom, which was surprisingly clean after a night like that, was where the limp body ended up. He reached down, twisted the cold tab, and splashed the freezing water onto his face a couple of times. He finally built up the courage to look in the mirror.
The damage, at least to his face, was minimal. The few scratches that were there, though no one really ever noticed them, were very old, and from a battle that even he had a hard time remembering. Not that he had lost or anything.
His eyes, as piercing blue as the ocean, stared back at him, asking him why he had ever gone out with them in the first place. But he ignored that, not wanting to answer himself just yet.
Checking for any other problems, he made sure Nantucket was still there on top his head.
Yep. Still in place. Good. Good.
Before he could examine anything else, the phone beside the bed rang. His attention tore away from the mirror and to it. Should he answer? Who would it be at this hour? Wait. What was this hour anyways? Wasn't there something important?
Before he could reply to any of those, the call went straight to the answering machine.
"America,"a voice spoke up, "This is Japan. I was just wondering where you were. The meeting is about to start in a few minutes. Ten to be exact. Germany is getting frustrated. Please hurry."
Oh crap! Of course!
He rushed around the hotel room, gathering clothes, his glasses, and anything else he might need for the meeting that morning – the meeting that he was supposed to be running. How could he forget that! He was finally in charge of a meeting – something that he hadn't been in charge of for a long time – and he was about to ruin it by being late! Though he didn't usually care if he was on time or not, this time was different. He had heroically told England, Germany, and basically the rest of the world that he would be able to pull this off. And although he did throw an awesome after-the-first-crappy-meeting party last night, he still needed to be there for this second one. Gaw! He should have been the first in the room! Even before Germany, Mr. I'll-run-any-and-all-meetings-until-the-end-of-time. Or more like Mr. Tight Ass.
America was in the middle of fussing with his damned tie, when he finally gave up, grabbed his shoes and briefcase, and ran out of the door. He ran down to the end of the hall, until he realized that he left all his paperwork inside his room. Running back, fumbling with the key, the nation darted into his room one more time, grabbing the papers that were flung everywhere. He ran back out, shoes and newly filled briefcase in hand, and, again, ran down to the end of the hall, and pushed the elevator button. Luckily the meeting was in the convention center right by this hotel, which was attached via skywalk.
The elevator finally came. America rushed in, pushed the level 4 button for the skywalk, and started to put on his shoes. Damned it! He forgot his socks! Oh well. No time to go back. Besides, he could make it work, right? If Italy could pull off sandals with socks, why not.
He successfully got on both loafers just as the doors opened. He sprinted out, making sure that his briefcase was securely under his arms. He tactfully swooped through the few people who were walking, making his way down the hall, across the skywalk, and to the convention center. However, once he entered the other building, he realized just how huge it was. And confusing!
He reached for his cellphone. Maybe Japan could help h– and then he realized he forgot his phone up in his room. Damn.
Oh well, he could figure it out, right? He wasn't stupid. Just forgetful sometimes. Heroically forgetful!
He took the emergency stairs, running all the way to the first floor of the center. He opened up the door that led into the main receptionist area. There, he asked the lady – a very cute young woman – at the front desk where the meeting was held.
"My last name is Jones, and I'm kind of . . . well, kind of running the meeting. But I forgot what room it's in."
She smiled, "Of course, Mr. Jones. I understand," she typed something on her computer, and looked back at him, "It appears to be on the fifth floor Luxury Room."
"Thank you," he looked at her name tag, "Darla."
She smiled again, "No worries, Mr. Jones. That's what I'm here for."
As he walked off, she added, "Enjoy your professors' meeting!"
Yeah. Professors.
It was just a cover up of course. Neither America, nor any of the other nations, wanted people to know that they were personifications of the countries of Earth. So why not make up fake meetings and groupings and such. Like a college professor board meeting. He kind of stole the idea from England – but don't tell him that – but it worked, right? Better than Italy's last meeting. (Apparently they were all pasta chefs. To say nonetheless, Romano didn't approve. To him, they should have been pizza makers.)
America bolted up the stairs in record time. After he opened the door and entered the hallway, he tried to fix his hair as best as he could. The tie was giving him more trouble than necessary, so he decided to go with a so called "laid back" looked. He made it to the room, hearing the loud voices beyond the closed entrance. He breathed slowly, and then –
"Hey everybody! Ready for a meeting with a super hero!" He burst through the doors, his fists up triumphantly in the air.
The other nations, or at least those who cared enough to stop talking, acknowledged his entrance with a couple of grunts, and one or two nods in the crowd. Japan, who had seemed to be calming down a disgruntled Germany, smiled. Now he didn't have to stop a riot, if one were to break out . . . though it still might, considering the crowd.
America boastfully made his way to the podium at the front of the room. Some nations were congratulating him on the fantastic party he had thrown last night – Denmark shouted, but was soon shut up by Norway, who had pulled on his tie. Others were snickering at the fact that he was more than likely late. And a couple were either really excited or really disappointed – apparently they had placed bets on whether he would show before noon or not.
As America was about to pass the last few people before getting up to announce the start of the meeting, he was intercepted by Germany. The other nation, one who was about his height, but might have a few more muscles on him, scowled at him.
"We are now fifteen minutes late, because you were not here earlier. I hope you can make it up, or we will have to cut it from our lunch break to get out on time."
Italy squeaked on the other side of the table, "But Germany~ My pasta~"
The other blonde ignored the whining, in order to keep staring at the host nation, "Are you ready, America? Do you have the list of activities and points for today's meeting?"
Not intimidated one bit by his former war rival, America mockingly grabbed the schedule that Germany had on the top of his briefcase, and plainly showed it to the man, "Of course, dude. Don't I always?"
America walked away from the huffing German, who sat back down and grabbed another schedule from his briefcase.
The host made his way to the podium, turned and looked down at the nations who were more or less not really paying attention to him.
In order to stop some of the recent bickering that had kept getting more and more severe in past meetings, they had all agreed to have four to six separate tables to seat all attending members. This was why America picked this center, and specifically this room. The room was big enough to fit five long tables, and still have space for the podium, a giant screen, and kick-ass projection and stereo systems. In fact, America could use the stereo system to get everyone's attention. . .
He flipped the microphone on, patted it a few times with his finger – only a few turned their heads to him, noticed what he was about to do, and covered their ears – and he shouted into it, "Hey everyone! Let's get this meeting started where we don't have to miss lunch!"
Dozens of nations grumbled and grunted from the sound invasion on their eardrums, while Italy cheered for his pasta.
"So here's the deal! To save time let's try to get up here and down in a few minutes top! Then we won't have to miss out on the private dining hall time we have!" He grinned widely, "So let the hero start off by telling you what's first on the list today!"
America looked down at the schedule, only to find it was all written in German. Damn that Germany! He must have known America would take his! Or at least didn't want to think in English for a while.
Well, America wasn't completely lost when it came to this language. He was taught some by Prussia years before, and still remembered a few things here and there. But after reading, err, trying to read, it, he decided on a different approach.
"Hey everyone! It's international day here in my country!" A few of them looked at their phones to confirm, "And so, to celebrate it, let me ask my dear friend Ger– I mean Prussia to translate the first item on the list for us! Ready, Prussia?"
The former nation, who was about to cut Austria's coattail for a joke, sprung up at the sound of his name, "W-was? Ach ja! Of course I will! Just call it out!" He inched away from both Austria and Hungary as America looked down at the list.
Thankfully, America did not forget how to say German, "The first item on the list is: die Weltwirtschaftskrise."
"Ah! The World Economic Crisis!" Prussia took a seat on the other side of Liechtenstein, the only German-speaking country that didn't want to kill him right now, "The Awesome Me would translate that simple one correctly!"
Damn. Why'd it have to be such a serious topic first thing in the morning? That would be the last time America asked Italy for help . . . considering that Germany would just get in between their planning and make his own, in fear of not wanting a "stupid schedule to go with hungry minds" at a meeting.
"So! The World Economic Crisis! Anyone have any thoughts?" America smiled.
There was a slight snicker throughout the room. Apparently some countries thought a world economic crisis was funny.
"How about this," America turned his attention to see Britain with a haughty smirk on his face, "you could always stop eating McDonald's for lunch and find something else to spend your money on, America."
He inwardly groaned. He did not want to mess with this jerk right now.
"How about a real answer."
"I know!" China chimed in from another table, "You could always repay your debt back to me America! Then you could actually have some of your own money for a change!"
More nations than there should have been laughed at this comment. America just rolled his eyes.
"Or how about getting rid of those nasty bombs, da? You don't need those right?" Russia followed suit.
"Hey, I – "
"Or getting your troupes out of my land!" Another country shouted.
After that, almost everyone in the room had a comment to say about America. If it wasn't this, it was that. And so on and so forth.
He could not get a word in to say anything to anyone. They just kept rambling and rambling, insulting him one way or another. He felt like he was on trial. Like he was the only one who could do wrong.
"You could always give Alaska back, da?"
"And while you're at it, how about my thirteen original colonies! They'd do much better with the pound instead of your puny dollar."
He was still trying to figure out how to speak up, when Germany did it for him. The blonde banged both of his clutched fists onto his table so hard that it seemed to shake the whole room, "EVERYONE SHUT UP!"
The whole room silenced at once. America stared down at Germany, who was walking toward the podium right at that moment.
"It might be wise if I took the stage now," the other calmly said to him, as he stopped right at the side of the wooden fixture.
America, not wanting to fight with him, or start another riot, smiled the biggest smile he could, "Of course, dude! Just my plan exactly!"
After handing the spotlight over to the European, America walked nonchalantly and heroically to his seat. He pulled out the oversized chair easily and sat down. Unfortunately, Britain was right beside him, with France on the other – this new seating system didn't really fix anything, did it?
But as the meeting finally started again, he just ignored the furry brows and frog breath beside him, though the two were both trying to pester him even now. Even after they had spoken up earlier.
"Hey, you wanker, I wasn't kidding about those colonies. You know good and well that they'd be better off with me, and you know it."
"Oh hush, Britain, mon cher wouldn't want to do that. You know those states are a vital part of his land. Take them away, and he wouldn't have a reason to be fat and lazy in the winter no more~"
Just a few hours until lunch. He could wait until then.
"At least then he couldn't say it was 'only curved muscle'"
"True. But he would have another reason to not like you. Besides your scones that is."
A few more hours. And then he could skip out of here.
"Oh shut it, Frog! My cooking is good!"
Besides, it seems like Britain and France would be whisper-fighting back and forth in a little bit, which would exclude him from their comments.
"Oh please. If it is so good, then why did your former colony turn to making junk food? If you were any good, he might not be fat at all."
Or not.
"That's not true and you know it."
"Oui. If only he were raised by me, then maybe he wouldn't have grown a pot belly."
It was irritating trying to keep on a smile and not bash their heads into the table. But America had to keep it up, if he wanted to get out of here soon . . . especially with Germany eyeing him specifically, somehow not even catching the other two as they talked around him.
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Once Germany called the meeting for lunch, America nearly sprinted out of the room.
"Oi! America! Why are you running so fast?!"
"Don't you know? There's a McDonalds down the road!"
America ignored the banter, and the laughs that accompanied it. He was ready to get out of here, and away from these jerks.
On his way out, he accidentally bumped into Liechtenstein.
He spun around, facing her, "Oh, sorry, Princess! Didn't mean too," turned back and sprinted to the stairs again. Luckily he was able to avoid Switzerland's attack – he seriously did not want to get hit with a peace prize today.
Down the stairs and out the door – this one leading straight outside. He made sure the door was closed, before walking straight down the street . . . to McDonalds. He knew it wasn't the best thing to have, but he loved the food so much! He remembered when the first one opened right after the last world war. His country had won, but was still worn out. But with new innovation coming in computers, cars, phones, food – With all this, America couldn't resist trying everything new. Including the famous McDonalds' burger.
Speaking of, he was just a few steps away from his destination. He opened the door, making sure to keep it open for the older couple that was walking out, and walked into his favorite place. He was able to order and get his meal within a few minutes, even though the place was crowded. But at least it gave him the great idea of eating in the park. It was nice out, so why not?
With his sack and drink in hand, he was able to find a bench by the lake. He plopped down, drank a little Coca Cola, and pulled out his double cheese burger. He instantly unfolded it, biting into his comfort food.
Well, he guessed it was comfort food. More and more these days, it seemed like he would hunt down a McDonalds in any town, any city, or any country. He really did eat things other than burgers . . . really. But, burgers just seemed like the ideal meal to have. They were there after he had just bombed one of his friends, after he had just torn down an entire empire*, after he had lost most of his friends to war. Burgers were there when he tried to make amends, kept getting into fights and battles with most of the world; and even when he lost at an event in any of the Olympic Games. And they were here now.
The day wasn't even half over, and he had had his fill of insults and jerks already. Usually he would be in the mix, throwing insults back, showing everyone that the hero never faltered, etc.
He wasn't fat.
He wasn't in debt that much.
He didn't have to disable his weapons.
He would be able to pay everyone back.
He had more muscle than anything.
He wasn't the cause of the economic crisis.
He . . . he . . .
He threw his burger down, fed up with "comfort" food; disgusted at the fact that he would be eating that crap again. He grabbed his stomach, pulling at the fat that was there. It was honestly a healthy amount for anyone who hadn't really exercise in months to have. But to him, right at that moment, he seemed to be grabbing an elephant's worth of flab.
He stood up, even more irritated than before. He grabbed the trash around, leaving the dropped burger for the birds to eat, and threw the rest into the trash. He walked back, not really knowing how long it had been or what time it was. When he made it back into the convention center, he decided to use the elevator instead of the stairs. Why not get some rest before heading back to the hell hole?
As he walked towards the room, he could hear some voices talking about him, and stopped before turning the corner to listen to them.
"That fat brute better get here soon, or we'll never be able to leave."
"Oh, come now, Britain. He's probably still eating his McDonalds. You know that if he eats one, he'll have to eat another~"
"Of course. He usually eats the entire food place clean before coming back. No wonder he's in debt."
"Ohonhonhonhon~"
"Well let's hope Germany will just finish up the meeting today. Maybe the twit will be on time tomorrow."
They both walked in, not even realizing he had heard them.
America didn't want to go back in. He didn't want to deal with them again. So, what else?
He walked back to the stairwell entrance, ran down to the fourth floor and back across the skywalk. He rode up the elevator before he realized that he had left his briefcase back in the meeting room – he didn't think he'd have to take it during the break. But, when he got to his door, he realized he didn't have the key. He was sure that it was in one of his pockets – no.
He would have to go to the receptionist area here in the hotel to get another one. But when he made his way down, he saw a few nations coming in.
Oh hell no! He wasn't going to be insulted again today!
He decided to just get out of the place all together, and used the side entrance to escape.
Where would he go now, though?
Well . . . no meeting, no room . . .
There was always the park . . .
He decided to just walk around the city. Besides, Germany would be able to handle the rest of the meeting. And the others could just screw themselves.
Thoughts of showing those morons up kept swirling around in his mind that he didn't realize the pedestrian light had just turned red.
America had no time to react when a large truck stomped on its breaks, trying to avoid him.
Screeching tires –
A honking horn –
Someone screaming –
And then –
Nothing.
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*The entire empire part was actually referring to Prussia, not Britain. Prussia was dissolved after World War II.
I hoped you liked this first chapter. It was an idea I have had for a long time. I was trying to start it, and ended up with my drabble, Germany gets Mad, instead.
Please R&R, and check out my HetaOni fic, Don't Enter.