A/N: if you're someone who follows my main story holy moly I am so sorry but this was important.

So guys it's 2017 and I just discovered Hetalia. No, I don't know where I've been either. In any case, this fic ensued. Right now I'm looking at just a two-shot but who knows what'll happen along the way.

Please don't take this seriously.

I don't own Hetalia.

At first, Matthew thinks his phone is malfunctioning when it starts shrieking an obnoxious tune in his pocket.

It surprises him so suddenly that he accidentally dumps the entire bottle of syrup onto the pancakes in front of him, but he consoles himself with the fact that they're pancakes and he'll eat them regardless.

He gingerly sets the now empty bottle aside and fumbles with his phone, but by the time he's able to see what the problem is the noise has already stopped.

Furrowing his brow in confusion, Matthew makes to put it back down when the screen brightens and the wailing begins once more.

And then he realizes. Someone is calling him.

The number is one he doesn't recognize, but this particular fact doesn't surprise him, as seen by the complete lack of contacts in his phone's memory to begin with.

"Who?" Kumajiro asks curiously, and Matthew shrugs helplessly.

He tilts his head with a puzzled frown. He doesn't think anyone's called him... Ever. Whoever this is must have dialed the wrong number. He sighs, only feeling slightly disappointed. He should probably let them know.

"Hello- I think you have-" he doesn't even finish before the speaker on the other end interrupts- a common occurence in Matthew's life.

"Canada!" Matthew pulls the phone away from his face with a wince at the shout. "Boy, am I glad you answered!"

Matthew sputters and doesn't know what to say, because that voice sounded an awful lot like America's and did he just say he was glad that Matthew answered?

"W-what? You're serious?"

'"Course I am!" America confirms brightly. "I wanted to talk to you!"

What?" Matthew repeats in bewilderment. "Why?"

"Lots of reasons! But the main thing-" America's voice trails off, and Matthew sits forward in sudden apprehension. Something must be seriously wrong if the other nation is actually thinking before he speaks.

Finally, America starts again. "Um, actually. I don't think I have the best reception. Maybe I should call you back in, like, five minutes?" He pauses. "Just... Not... With... This phone..."

Matthew feels like he's missing something. "A different number?"

"No-, well. Maybe it'd be easier to talk if we both used our old phones?"

Matthew is still hopelessly lost. "This is the only phone I've- OH, do you mean the-"

"Yes!" America emphatically interrupts. Once again. "Yes, that is exactly what I mean. I'll call you from that in five minutes."

Click.

Matthew stares at his phone for a few moments. He's not sure if he's ever been this confused in his life.

Of course, he's pretty sure he knows what America meant by "old phones". When they were much, much younger, and the two were still being governed by England, they'd set up a communication system hidden on each side of the border that consisted of nothing but two tin cans and a string so they could talk to each other when they couldn't be together. But he's sure those things would have worse reception than their cellphones did, and neither of them had used them since they'd grown up, so what was the point of this?

He casts a mournful look towards his stack of pancakes before sighng and getting up from the table. He tells Kumajiro that the bear can have them if he wants (no need to waste, and Matthew knows how much his friend likes to eat) and sets off to find his end of the connection.

Matthew waits fifteen extra minutes (not counting the half hour it took for him to actually find the device way out in the middle of nowhere) before he finally hears America speak through it.

"Sorry," he says, and his voice is much quieter (though maybe that's because he's talking through a string). "Took me a second to find it."

"Alfred, what's going on?" Matthew asks, then wonders belatedly if he's still allowed to call him "Alfred" and what the rules on that are.

Fortunately, Alfred either doesn't notice or doesn't care about that. "We couldn't talk on those phones because They might be listening and I don't want Them to know I've figured it out."

Matthew frowns again. "Who's They?"

"The government!" Alfred gives a shaky sigh. "Okay, so this might sound weird and crazy, but..." he takes a deep breath and exhales slowly, and Matthew's shoulders are starting to hurt from how tense he's sitting. "I think that Donald Trump is a lizard."

Matthew blinks. Then blinks again.

He's sure he's heard that incorrectly.

"Matt?" Alfred frets on the other end. "You still there?"

"Can- can you repeat that, please?" Matthew asks politely.

"I said that I think my president is a lizard person but hey, wait, hear me out! I have some really important and undeniable facts!"

So, he wasn't imagining things, then. He's wholy unprepared for this.

"A lizard," Matthew repeats slowly, voice squeaking a bit.

He knew that Alfred had had some really conflicting feelings when the orange man had been elected, and that over the course of the few months they'd been working together those feelings had all but melted into sole contempt for the uneducated president. And Matthew understood. He really did. But a lizard? Alfred thinks Donald Trump is a lizard?

America's probably just playing a joke on him. That's exactly the kind of thing he'd do, and it's the only explanation that makes sense.

"Yes!" Alfred sounds mildly frustrated, and Matthew decides to quit talking and let his brother explain himself. "I swear, I was in a meeting with him the other day and I saw them! His eyes switched into a lizard's! And it's not just that! Why do you think his face is so orange? It's because he loads on the spray tan to cover up his green reptile skin!"

Alfred's beginning to sound rather hysteric, and Matthew feels that it's time to jump back in. "Hang on there. Maybe these are just coincidences."

"But if lizard people have infiltrated the government systems, it would explain how he won the elections in the first place! They must've rigged it!"

Matthew runs a tremorous hand through his hair and breathes deeply through his nose. He has to admit, Alfred is making some good points.

"And have you noticed how many times he sticks his tongue out when he's talking? It's like he's trying to catch flies or something!"

"Alfred, I don't think-"

"AND! Just look at his face! That's a lizard if I ever saw one! Not to mention his personality is pretty reptilious..."

There's silence on the line between them for a good fifteen seconds.

"Oh my goodness, I think you might be right," Matthew breathes.

"Oh my God!" Alfred wails tragically, as if Matthew confirming his suspiscions only made them that much more real. "I knew it! I knew it oh my God what should I do-"

"Okay, first, we calm down," Matthew says in a voice that's anything but calm. "We need to think. What's our plan?"

"Um," Alfred sighs and considers for a moment, drawing out the "m" as he thinks. "We need more support," he finally admits decisively. "But we can do that tomorrow. In the mean time, I'm coming over tonight and we can watch some more conspiracies- I mean, research the situation."

"Good idea," Matthew agrees, voice slightly faint. He nods to himself, doing his best to come to terms with this entire situation. "Yes, that's a good idea," he repeats, though for all his effort it barely sounds any stronger.

"Good! See ya in a few lil' bro!"

Although there is no way of telling if Alfred hung up his end of the line, Matthew knows the conversation is over and sets down the can (still sparkingly clean and shiny- how did that work? It was centuries old!).

He knows he should probably be on his way home so he can clean up a bit before his brother arrives, but knowing Alfred's complete misconception of punctuality and his ability to create a mess of a room simply by walking in it, Matthew decides that there's no rush, and takes a moment to reflect.

Donald Trump is a lizard. The president of the United States of America is, no doubt about it, a lizard person. The facts are there, right in front of them. And now it's up to them to do something about it.

Matthew sighs dramatically and slowly climbs to his feet. He doesn't really know where he stands in all this, but for the moment he's content to just back Alfred up and help him search for possible clues and/or a plan of action.

With that thought in mind, he determinedly begins the long trek back to his house.

3:12 A.M.

Matthew turns his face away from the computer screen with a grimace, clutching at Alfred's arm with a renewed sense of fear.

"It makes sense," Alfred murmurs with a haunted expresssion, glancing down in dawning horror to look at Matthew. "I do remember it as Berenstein, not Berenstain!"

Matthew takes a deep, solemn breath and meets Alfred's gaze unflinchingly. "Wake up, America," he whispers.

Alfred cringes away. "I'm woke!" He promises, though if sounds more like sobbing. "I'm woke! I promise I'm woke!"

Seeing no better option, Matthew sobs with him, the two holding onto each other in the dark living room as the laptop in front of them continues spouting out the conspiracies.