Okay, so I'm the WORST at updating, but at least I'm actually doing it and not abandoning this. Honestly, I lost all interest in Hetalia, but then I hung out with a friend that was so into it that she rubbed off on me and I'm back.

Also, this may not be that good of an excuse, but since I last updated, I brought my GPA up to a 4.8, moved houses, had a birthday, got a scholarship to a boarding school, recorded almost a whole CD, and a whole lot more. Not to mention the many times my computer got taken away...

A bit long to make up for the absence. There's a few changes from America to outside POV, but it's all fairly obvious.

Anyway, last chapter, I typed straightener instead of iron. *Cough* I'm an idiot.

America's thoughts

("Other languages.")

...oooOOOooo...

WWII Italia Romano

America couldn't help but frown at the nation in front of her. They had met before, many times in fact, but they had never really connected before. They'd fought together, but had never really talked at all beyond pleasantries.

("Hello,") she greeted.

His eyebrows furrowed. ("Hello,") he said back, still warily holding his gun.

I gotta admire his bravery. I'm holding a pretty big gun right at his face and he isn't even flinching. I always thought he was a scaredy-cat.

("Why are you speaking my language?") he asked curiously.

America smirked. ("When in Rome.") She shot the ground at his feet. ("I suggest you run and run far. If we meet again on the battlefield, you better hope we'll be on the same side again like in the last war we fought.")

He looked at her for a long second before he turned and left at a sprint.

America walked back a bit, passing a group of her men. "You boys take care," she called.

"Same to you Captain," they chorused.

...oooOOOooo...

"The turning of the general American opinion towards Russia was abrupt to an unprecedented degree. Where once admiration for the skill of the Russian army was the public opinion, it was replaced almost overnight with fear, suspicion, and a need to take action." A very very (very) paraphrased quote from something I read relatively recently.

"Um, you aren't serious, are you?" China asked.

"Are you kidding man? Russia's the BEST. He took on so many Germans at once. Me and England totally thought he was gonna die, but nope! He was all like, 'Pow! Pow! Whaaachaaah!' and they were like, 'Noooo, it's the Russians! They totally just killed us! Ahhhhh! Oh Noes!' Except they were speaking German, so it was more like , 'Neeeeiiiiin, es ist die Russen! Ahhh! Oh neins!'"

"...I didn't think he was going to die America." England rolled his eyes. "And it's 'England and I'."

"You liar," America scoffed and completely ignored the grammar correction. "You were biting your nails. Even if you hate the dude, you still didn't want him to die."

"I didn't particularly want him to die, that doesn't mean that I thought he was going to."

America twisted her lips in thought, trying to talk her way out of her misspeak and knowing full well that no one had thought Russia would actually die. "Yeah, you totally thought he was going to die."

"Thought who was going to die?" Russia asked, coming into the Allied meeting room. China's glass of water fell off the table as the rest of the Allies jumped.

"You bro!" America exclaimed, ignoring the 'stop' gestures England was doing.

"You thought I was going to die?" Russia asked, turning his eyes on England.

England gulped. "No, America did but he keeps saying that I did as well."

Russia let out a string of kols. "Little America, you thought I was going to die? Do you have so little faith in me?"

"You took on so many German troops I thought for sure you'd at the very least get seriously injured, but nope! You're like, perfectly fine. Well, except for that totally badass-looking cut on you cheek, but whateves, right?" America threw herself back into her chair and stuck her feet up on the conference table with the air of a teenager that didn't give a single damn.

Russia just stood there.

There was an awkward pause.

"Any-who," America babbled. "Russia, dude, you gotta join us in Japan, it just ain't fair to be leaving us all by our lonesomes." She gave him her best set of puppy-dog eyes.

"I will, do not worry. I will not leave you all by yourself, da?"

"Mad props bro." America gave Russia a thumbs up and flashed a large grin.

"Never speak again." England said suddenly. "Just please, stop mutilating my language."

There was a pause as all the Allies turned to England, who looked like he was in pain.

"You speak French?" America asked Russia rather randomly.

"...Yes..."

("Great! Now England can't complain about me ruining his language!")

("I don't like this solution.") France said. ("Now you are just ruining mine.")

("I ain't speakin' no Axis Power language, and not all of you know Spanish, so this is the best y'all are gonna get.")

("Did he just say y'all in French?") China asked.

("I think he did.")

France swore.

...oooOOOooo...

"Come on Russia! Come on! Come on! Come on! Come ON! Seriously bro, we like, need you real bad over in Japan. Pleeeeaaassseee! Pleeeaaase!"

"I will be there soon. Now stop bothering me."

America grinned and nodded, leaving the Russian alone in his office. The second her back was turned she frowned and went into deep thought as she walked down the halls of the Allied quarters. Russia wasn't going to help until it was too late, that was clear to her. She entered her own little office and threw herself into the office chair, spinning around in it as she thought.

Japan. We used to be such bros. It's sad, he's nothing like he was before. But I need to put that aside for the good of my people.

CLANG. The back of the chair hit the wall as her faster spinning made the chair inch to the left.

A land assault would end up with a really high death rate on both sides.

She continued turning, deep in thought.

CLANG. THUMP. She used her army-standard-boot-clad-foot to kick the wall and turn faster.

Right, so what the hell do I do? Is it time for-.

It very well might be.

Sorry Japan, but this is war.

...oooOOOooo...

The Splitting of Germany

"I don't trust the Krauts," France said, loudly and without any regard for Germany or Prussia, who were sitting in chairs in front of France, America, Russia, and England.

"I don't think anyone does," England pointed out.

"They need to be rebuilt though," America sing-songed childishly, casually turning a Pelikan pen between her fingers. "We sorta need 'em for your guyses' economy." Germany was staring at the German-made pen twirling in her hands curiously, but did not ask.

"Says who?" Russia asked menacingly.

"Says me," America replied, examining her nails casually.

"Excusez-moi? Since when do you have a say in European affairs?" France demanded.

"Since I joined the war France, duh." America rolled her eyes and propped her face on her elbow on the top of the conference table. The pen clattered to the table, making a rather loud noise in the large, echoey conference room. "You guys always seem to forget that I saved your asses."

"You're so full of it. And even if that were true, it still doesn't mean you can decide what we do. You belong on a different continent America. You have almost no power here."

"Oh, I have no power here England? That's funny. You'll excuse me while I pull my soldiers out of everywhere, will you?"

"There's no need for hasty actions," France said soothingly, as America and England were glaring at each other and had jumped to standing positions.

"No!" England said. "You treat me worse than we treat him!" He pointed at Germany, who was awkwardly sitting in his chair. "All that bloody money! What the actual hell?!"** He slammed into his own chair, fully expecting America to sit as well.

But instead of America sitting and either laughing it off or responding with something stupid, something that none of the nations had ever seen happen happened. America straightened up to her full height, almost as tall as a standing Germany, and looked down at the seated nations with a completely serious, impenetrable look on her face.

"Excuse me," America said shortly. "I need a minute."

She turned and left the room. She shut the door behind her and leaned against it, breathing heavily. Something felt odd. America couldn't help but feel as if people were out to get her. It was probably dangerous being in the hallway all alone.

Who knows who could be watching. Right at this very moment...

But she still needed to calm down. America took a deep breath and focused on the cream-colored wall in front of her. Light swirls of a slightly darker color danced across the paper, only visible by the reflections of the bright lights on the ceiling above. The air smelled old and she suppressed a shiver, a chill running down her spine despite her jacket. Something was definitely off.

Re-entering the room, America slammed her palms on the table and announced, "Let's get back to the subject at hand," she pointed to the two countries sitting in front of the Allies, "them." Germany shifted. Prussia was looking at America, trying to catch her eye, but she refused to look at him or Germany.

"But Berlin is in Russia's part," England pointed out.

France took his pen to the already black-marked map and drew a section dividing Berlin. "We can do it this way," he suggested, labeling the different parts.

Germany was sitting in his chair, pale and nervous. He couldn't see the map, and was scared of what was going to happen.

"Looks... good I guess," America shrugged, oblivious on the outside while her mind churned wildly. She had so many citizens of German blood that the idea of hurting Germany killed her. Plus she really liked Prussia. "Here, Germany, take a look." She held the map out towards him.

Germany's expression was resigned as he received the paper. Prussia took a look and he paled slightly. America met his eyes for the first time that meeting, and it took all her strength to keep a poker face. She was pretty sure that her eyes were apologizing anyway though.

You're supposed to be enemies. You had to fight him, don't forget that.

"Danke sehr," he said softly and he passed the paper back after a look. (Thank you)

America smiled tightly.

"Bitteschön," she responded. (You're welcome)

There was silence in the room for a minute.

"Alright!" England said, breaking the silence. "Let's talk Poland, shall we?"

"Oh hell yeah," America agreed.

"You can go," France said, giving Germany an intense look of dislike.

Germany stood without saying a word.

"You too," America said to the other nation left and she sent Prussia a look that she hoped conveyed how sorry and hurt she was just before he left the room.

...

Coming up soon!

America nearly threw up at the sight.

"Oh my god. What've I done!?"

...

Grande Hermano

Arriving at the fort in Texas, America grinned. The air was cooling rapidly in the night, and she was let into the building with open arms. She talked and joked with the men inside for a bit before she noticed a small child in the corner. America excused herself for a minute and walked over to the boy.

"Hello," she smiled at him.

"Hello. Who are you?" His cinnamon eyes were wide with curiosity and confusion, and his little head tilted to the side as she knelt down to his level to speak with him. America suddenly got the sense that this was an important moment. She couldn't really think of a reason why, but she knew this was something she should remember.

"I'm Alfred," she said, holding out a hand to shake. "You?"

"I'm Juan."

"Well Juan, nice to meet you."

Juan smiled and hugged her knee. America grinned and straightened. Juan still clung to her canvas-clothed leg, sitting on her foot. America limped back over to Davy Crockett.

"So Davy, who's this little rascal?"

"No one knows," Davy admitted. "I found him wandering around the desert a couple months ago. He only spoke Spanish then, but he learned English very quickly. Much quicker than the average child at the least."

"How quickly?"

"About the time it took for us to move from where we were before to this fort."

America did some calculations in her mind. That was a pretty quick time to become totally fluent in a language. "Was he wearing what he's wearing now?" America was curious now. Was Juan a nation?

"Why does it matter?"

"Just answer the question."

"No, he was wearing a little white dress. It was a bit odd actually."

"Can you give me a minute?" Davy nodded and America foot-carried Juan over to a corner, the small child clinging on like bristles to a cactus.

"Hey there Juan?"

"Yes?"

"Do you have another name?"

Juan nodded shyly, peering up at her through his lashes. America went down to his level again, smiling kindly.

"Can you tell me it?"

He shook his head. America was confused.

Why can't he tell me? Did he forget?

"Why not?" she pressed gently.

"My caretaker told me not to," Juan admitted, burying his face in his hands.

"Can you tell me who your caretaker is?"

Juan nodded and said, "Mr. Mexico."

America's heart leaped. He was a nation! Another nation! He could be her little brother.

I'd love to be a big brother! Er, sister.

"Well, I'll tell you a secret," America leaned and whispered in his ear. "I'm America."

Juan's eyes widened. "You're America?"

"Uh huh! Now, are you Texas?"

He could possibly be New Mexico, but as they were in Texas, that was most likely who the kid was.

"Yeah!" Juan yelled.

All the eyes in the room went on the two.

"Juan?" a motherly-looking woman asked. "Did you just yell?"

"Sorry," Juan whispered, burying his face in America's chest. America smiled and hugged him tightly, picking him up. He couldn't have been older than five, and was cute as a button, especially with his black hair flopping over his face, which had a smattering of brown freckles that were only a shade or two darker than his skin. They weren't unlike America's own freckles actually, though America's usually blended to her skin (except for the summer, when she was more freckled than the average Irishman).

"No! Please be loud, you're always so quiet!" She turned to America. "How did you get him to come out of his shell?"

"He's my new brother!" Juan informed her, twisting to face the woman, but still clinging to America, who marveled at the warm feeling in her heart.

No wonder England loved being a big brother so much. I could get used to this!

America stayed in the area for the next year, putting off heading home for a long time. Of course, she hadn't anticipated the Mexico would be angry. She knew there was some dispute on the border, but she didn't think it would be that much of an issue. Nations knew where their borders were, and for the most part other nations respected them. Not always though…

America found herself heading off to war for Texas, and she didn't mind a bit. Nations always went to war for their younger siblings. England had done it for her. She'd done it (mistakenly) for Canada, Spain had done it for that one half of Italy, and now she was doing it for Texas.

It was a long war. America was tired at the end of it, but Texas ended up as his own country. She went back to his house, more excited than she'd ever felt in her life. Well, probably not, but it felt like that.

"Texas!" America yelled when she had ridden up within yelling distance of the house. "Me pequito hermano! Vaminos!"

Texas didn't come out the door.

"TEXAS!" America yelled, banging on the door.

Texas answered the door, and America fell off her horse in shock. Texas had gotten bigger.

America swept him up in a hug. He was still shorter than her, and looked about ten. She squealed and hugged him tighter.

"I missed you so much!" Texas shouted as America began to swing him around.

"Lone Star Republic! That's what you are!" America sang. "How does it feel to be your own country instead of a territory?"

"Awesome!" Texas laughed.

...

America stood staring in total shock. He was gone. Her little Texas was gone. They'd never ride horses together again, or paint pictures or sleep under the stars again.

Oh, this is what happens when you let people into your heart! They just end up dead or distant, and you end up crying.

She fell to her knees in front of the small body.

This is all my fault. I should have done something else. I thought that Texas joining me as territory would bring us closer. He wanted it, I wanted it, and then he could live in my house. He gave up his freedom, and it killed him.

America leaned over him and cried even harder.

I need to stop crying. Nations aren't supposed to cry. They're supposed to be used to this stuff.

But then she just pictured Texas' eyes brimming with tears and looking up at her begging for forgiveness after he'd broken a plate and she put her head down where his still heart was, tears dripping down her face and clinging to her eyelashes.

I cry too much, but little brother, rest in peace.

But Texas didn't hear. The corners of his mouth were turned up, even in death. The brown skin of his face and arms were uncovered in the cold night, and he looked for the world to still be asleep. But his skin was growing cold, the brown glasses perched on the end of his slim nose growing cold even faster, and his eyes, those bright inquisitive brown orbs with a hundred questions and a hundred things to say, would not open from this sleep.

America didn't really know what to do. She'd never had a nation die in front of her. She hadn't even seen her mother die.

Do I bury him? I should take him back to his country-well, territory now. I-

She never had the chance. Just as she touched his face one last time, he shimmered and turned to a golden shimmering dust. America's mouth opened in shock as the dust began to float away, still in the shape of the young personification that had just died, and it slowly turned silver before settling among the stars. America glanced up and couldn't help but start in surprise. She could see a constellation she had never seen before, five stars in the shape of a star and a single star in the center.

America saluted the sky and tottered back to her house.

A strong drink was in order.

…

For the First Time

The first time America ever met some of her fellow nations was in the middle of a great war. Georgie hadn't wanted her to be involved in European Affairs, so this, this meeting of war, would be her entrance into the world. America didn't spend much time around other nations at all except for Japan, Canada, and sometimes Southern Ireland.

Well, Republic of Ireland now.

It was safer that way; the less time she spent around nations, the less likely it would be that they'd find out.

America was nervous out of her mind, and trying her best not to squirm madly in her seat. No one she knew was here yet, and her outgoing nature seemed to have vanished into thin air. Pulling on her sleeves, America jumped when a nation plopped into the seat next to her's.

"Italy Veneziano" the nation said, extending a hand. "Ve~ it's great to meet you United States! You're really tall, even sitting!"

America grinned broadly and enthusiastically shook the proffered hand, taking in the nation next to her. He was good looking with reddish-brown hair and bright hazel eyes that she only caught a glimpse of before he closed them in contentment. He had a slim build that America couldn't help but wonder at, because how did he fight if he didn't have any visible muscle?

"Buongiorno Italia Veneziano," she said, using her fluent Italian learned from the numerous Italian immigrants living everywhere. ("It's a real pleasure to meet you.")

("You speak Italian! This is wonderful!")

("Thanks bro!")

("Bro? We aren't related are we? Oh no, are you that cousin I keep forgetting?!") Italy's face screwed up in worry and he shook his head back and forth.

("Sorry, it's just what I call people,") America reassured. ("You aren't offended, are you?")

("No, I like it! So where did you learn Italian?")

("From your people that moved over to me,") America explained, adjusting her glasses.

("Oh, okay!") America couldn't help but notice that Italy looked slightly put-off.

Note to self: Don't mention the people that left the other nations to stay with me.

("Where did you learn English?")

("A teacher. My boss said that I needed to learn it, so I did!")

("How long have you been studying it? It sounded good earlier.")

("I've been studying English for one year.")

("Wow, it's really good. You're pretty smart.")

("Well thank you United States!")

("You can call me America.")

("You can call me Italy!")

("But aren't there two of you?")

("Yes,") an angry voice came from behind. ("I'm Italy Romano.")

("Pleasure to meet you Italy Romano. You can call me America.")

("Well then America, can you move your damn ass so I can sit next to my brother?")

America laughed and switched seats.

("Well, since there's two of you, I'll call Veneziano Italy, and you Italia.")

Romano opened his mouth to speak and was interrupted by France.

"Amerique!"

"France!" America waved to him, speaking French now. ("What's new bro, haven't seen you in years?")

("War,") France said with a shrug.

("You know, the usual for you Europeans,") America joked, and France shook his head in amusement.

("It seems to be the new usual for you as well. You had a civil war a bit back, didn't you?")

America's face hardened and she grabbed the edge of the table to keep from losing control.

("Yeah, I did. Can we not talk about it please?") she asked, trying to keep her voice light. America let go of the table when she realized that her handprints were imprinted to the table now.

France opened his mouth, but before he could anything, a familiar huff came from behind him.

"Greetings United Kingdom," America said politely with a nod of her head. "I hope that we will work together well in the coming months."

"Glad to see you are using something that I taught you, although I don't recall teaching you to start a civil war and lose it."

The room had gone silent. America wanted to punch herself in the face before strangling England. Sorry, strangling the UK.

"I didn't lose it. I wasn't the rebel that time. And now I would like to apologize, because I know what it is like to lose younger siblings. Maybe you can take comfort in the fact that I'm still alive. However, my apology does not mean that I am pleased with your decision or the way that you treat others. I've got far too many former Irish and former Germans for that."

No one spoke. Germany shifted in his seat.

"Now, if we could get this going,, it'd be great. Peace negotiations make me itch," America grinned madly.

Within two minutes, the room had descended into chaos.

"Holy shit, maybe I should've just stayed home, 'cause y'all are a bag o' crazy!"

"Stop butchering my language!" England screamed. "Y'all is not a word, neither is 'cause nor 'o. Alright?!"

"Sure thing, I'll write myself a telegram," America said evenly. "Now, can we get some peace all up in here, because," she said with a pointed glare at England, "some people like peacetime."

"It's not going to work," Germany shook his head sadly. "I apologize."

"Hello, sorry I'm late. Had a bit of trouble with the stairs!" Hungary entered the room.

America noticed it immediately. Hungary was pregnant. But nations- she glanced at England. He'd never said anything like that, and she'd always just kind of thought it couldn't happen. But nations could get pregnant. She could, and that would ruin everything that she'd worked for.

And then it hit her like a two-ton train. Her civil war had ripped her in half. A memory hazed with pain came to her.

...

Then she looked down. America almost passed out at the sight. There was a large, twisted, slash through her abdomen. She vaguely recognized the path it took as being the edges of the seceded states.

Oh look, it's Louisiana. Are those my guts?

And then she passed out.

When she came to, there was a doctor standing above her in total disbelief.

"America, you're a woman!"

"Yes sir. Sorry sir." America blinked a few times. She was suddenly grateful that she didn't actually need glasses and wore Texas symbolically.

Wait, that beyotch stole my last solid connection to Juan. Alright, that's it, this is war!

"No need to apologize child. But these injuries-you will never be able to have children. Certain tubes have been severed."

"Okay! I can't anyway." Jesus her stomach hurt!

Is my mind supposed to feel this foggy? Ooh, that's a lot of blood. Wow, I'm stocked with the stuff.

"Listen to me! The damage caused... America, it looks like I'll have to remove your ovaries. They've been sliced along with their tubes."

"It'll be easier to pass as a man then I guess," America offered a weak smile. The man shook his head in sadness.

"Oh America, you poor poor woman."

"Shhh! Don't talk too loud, it's a secret. Don't tell."

...

She was brought back to the present quickly. The room was staring at her. America didn't know how long they had been, but even England looked worried. She realized that she was the only one standing. She didn't even remember standing.

"Hello Hungary," she said, and it sounded like her voice was coming from the end of a long, dark tunnel. "Long time no see. Glad to see you're well. Congratulations. Will you all excuse me for a minute?"

After America exited, the room was silent.

"What the hell was that all about?" England asked.

"I'll go talk to him," Prussia stood up, glaring at Hungary when she tried to follow.

What she'd lost hadn't hit her until this moment. She sat down by a window, not sure what to do with herself. America pulled on her jacket and burrowed farther into it.

"Hey, America?"

"Oh, hi Prussia. How are you?"

"How am I? You look like your dog just died!"

"I don't have a dog Prussia."

"You know what I mean! Tell me what's wrong!"

"I didn't know nations could have kids."

"So?" Prussia asked expectantly. "Oh god, you aren't-"

"No! But nations can have kids and I can't!"

"What?!"

But Prussia's wasn't the only voice to speak.

"Alfred?" It was Canada. "You can't? That's impossible!"

That little brat followed me!

"Oh, is it?" America challenged. "Well look at me doing the impossible!" America said mockingly. "That shouldn't be new Matthew."

"But you're the land of hopes and dreams and fertile farming lands and-"

"Don't remind me Prussia. Thankfully my land hasn't suffered because of it."

"How did it even happen?" Canada asked tentatively.

"My civil war. I woke up one morning cut in half." America lifted her arms in mock celebration. She felt more bitter than she ever had before, and she wasn't even at war.

...

Two Kirklands and a Jones. (early 1900's)

"Hey, are you America?"

America froze and turned around. There were two people standing shoulder to shoulder glaring at her. One was male with bright green eyes and slightly bushy, red eyebrows. The other was a woman with curly black hair and the same eyes, though her eyebrows seemed fairly normal.

"Hello," America nodded. "Can I help you?"

"We're Ireland," the man said shortly. "I'm North, she's South."

"If this is about my people, I just want you to know that I don't agree with their opinions of you guys and totally don't go along with it at all. I think it's awful, and whenever I seen any signs or anything I make the owner take them down," America said hurriedly, hating her peoples' racism.

"Treat us with respect, Yankee, and we'll see in the future," Southern Ireland said.

"Nice seeing you," Northern Ireland said, and they began walking away.

"You didn't seriously come all the way across the Atlantic just to talk to me. Come on over to my house. I'll give you the grand tour of New York!" America winked at them.

"Alright, we'll see if you've gotten anything from us," Southern Ireland said carefully.

The two of them smiled evilly.

America felt slightly nervous.

~IIIII~

Modern Day

America tapped her pencil repeatedly on the table in front of her, her head propped up on her right hand as Germany droned on about something boring. America knew that she should be listening, but she was exhausted. She hadn't slept properly in a week due to everything going on. Negotiations and rulings had run her dry, and it was hard to listen to Germany talk about his economy on a good day, let alone one where'd all the sleep she'd gotten was about an hour on the long flight to Berlin.

England kicked her foot under the table and America spared him a glance before turning back to her unfocused staring in the general direction of Germany. She fell asleep with her eyes open then, and no one noticed until Germany called a lunch break and she didn't move.

...

England waved a hand over America's eyes. America didn't blink, just kept staring straight ahead with a dazed look in his eyes.

"What's wrong with him?" Japan asked curiously.

"I don't know," England poked America's face. The man wasn't blinking, and he suddenly let out a huge, sleepy sigh.

The nations around him jumped.

"What the hell, is he asleep?" Germany asked in shock.

"It certainly seems so," France waved his own hand in front of America's face. America didn't react.

"But he was still talking!" China exclaimed.

"And taking notes," France touched America's notepad, which was filled with messy but readable print, and had everything to do with the meeting that had been going on.

"He slept through the whole meeting!" England yelled. "That little brat!"

"Oh shut up England," America said unexpectedly.

The nations jumped again, but America was still asleep.

"I will wake him up, da?"

"Go to hell Commie," America said sleepily.

England dumped his teapot over America's head, and America woke up so suddenly that he jumped violently out of his chair and had guns in his hands before anyone could even blink.

"Whodunit?!" America barked before shaking his head. "Woah, sorry dudes. What just happened?" The guns disappeared back under his large jacket.

"You slept with your eyes open," Italy said, impressed. "Can you teach me that?"

"I slept?" America asked, confused. "I feel like I just blinked and got... tea on my head." He rounded on England. "You dumped tea on my head!"

England smiled smugly.

"You jerk," America complained. "Great, now I have to change my shirt." He started rummaging in his backpack, pulling out a rolled-up black dress shirt. "BRB guys." America headed to the bathroom.

"Let's go to lunch," England walked out of the room. The other nations followed.

...

America walked into the bathroom and showed the clean shirt to a confused-looking Austria with an explanatory "England."

Austria nodded and swept from the room.

America ducked into a stall and started changing her shirt.

Oh great.

The binder she was wearing had gotten soaked with tea, and she didn't have another. It was extremely uncomfortable.

"Joy," America muttered to herself and slipped on the new shirt, a black one that didn't look that great with her tan suit.

There was no one in the bathroom when she got out from the stall, and she took a minute to study her reflection. She didn't look much like a girl to herself. America thought she looked exactly like a slightly-girly boy, sort of like Italy. Italy could probably pull off the girl look better than she could. America was nearly all muscle, though her body fat percentage was higher than it would be if she were male due to her unfortunately (or at least to herself) rather large boobs and the fact that she was female at all. America had seen herself in a mirror before, and unless she wore a binder or got them removed, there was no way she could ever pass as male. Even if she did have pretty wide shoulders.

Yet there she was, soaking wet binder crushing her chest and her soul(but mostly her chest) and a stupid-looking shirt-and-suit match, perfectly masculine. Although she had gone out as a girl in the past, and she'd (America blushed at the memory) gotten catcalls so maybe she wasn't as manly as she thought she was.

It was then that Alfred realized it was lunch hour, there were forty-five minutes left, and that she'd made plans with Canada.

She sprinted through the building, yelling "Mattie, where are you?!"

"Geez, I'm right here," Canada was waiting by the front door of the meeting building.

"Thank god. England poured tea on me and I had to change my shirt. Apparently I slept through the whole first half of the meeting. I don't remember a bit, but I found a nice caricature of Prussia in my notebook that wasn't there when I went into the meeting."

"Ha, even when you're asleep you goof off during meetings," Canada teased.

"Shut up little bro."

"Will do little sis."

America rolled her eyes.

...

America threw herself into the rest of the meetings and took attentive notes. The notes that she had taken while sleeping were clear, crisp, and concise, and America scowled at that. She could take better notes in her sleep than she could when awake, and she still wasn't allowed to pull a Greece.

One nation sleeps noticeably during a conference and no one cares, but a superpower does it discretely and gets tea all over her. And in and under her boobs.

Gah that feels awful. See, this is why I don't swim often.

After a few days of conferences, Australia made an announcement in the last couple minutes.

"As everyone knows, the next meeting is at my place in October. Therefore, I invite you all to come to a pool party I am hosting the day after the last day. I expect you all to swim and help Miss Hungary get a lot of shirtless pics. Thank you, and goodbye."

America sat rooted to her seat.

Did he say shirtless pics? What the hell Australia?!

~IIIII~

**After WWII, the USA treated the UK like crap. The US demanded money, and tried to impose all this stuff and basically acted as though the UK had started the war instead of Germany.

Review responses:

Hi, I seem to have forgotten most of my French, but yes, Canada knows that America is a girl. Someone else mentioned this, Anon-ee-mouse. Next chapter will have that little discovery.

Hey, Guest that really likes historical accuracy? Yes, the US declared independence on July 4th 1776, but just because you say something doesn't make it true. Officially the war ended and the revolution was done years later.

One last thing:

Okay, so some of you might not agree with America's Civil War thing, but I just can't picture any girl that could get cut in half and still be able to have children, nation or not. Hate me or whatever, but that's the canon for this story now.