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Chapter Text

The world meeting was… surprisingly tame. It was a bit weird.

Maybe it was because America seemed distracted by something that day, and didn’t actually say all that much. He kind of stared off into the abyss for most of the meeting, but not in a melancholy way or anything. Honestly, the blond just seemed to be incredibly lost in thought.

It was to the point that, when the hour-long lunch break was called, Canada had to actually elbow his twin in the ribs to break him from his thoughts, since simply calling his name didn’t work.

“Are you alright?” Canada asked and America nodded lightly, gathering his things into a neat pile before standing. “Ah— yeah, dude, I’m all good! Just thinking.”

“If you say so…”

As soon as the lunch break ended, America’s blank staring continued up until the end of the meeting at three in the afternoon. Even then, he didn’t even wait to get back home, simply deciding to just crash on one of the couches in the lobby outside of the conference room, scrolling intensely through an article on his phone.

“What are you doing?”

America glanced over his shoulder at Russia as the older nation leaned on the back of the couch. The blond smiled a bit and looked back at his phone. “Reading about String Theory.”

“That sounds interesting,” Russia hummed. “I looked into it a few years back, da? Has it changed recently?”

America shrugged. “I don’t think so. Quantum Mechanics is a bit weird, though — they don’t have breakthroughs all that often.”

Russia nodded knowingly, then asked, “What made you suddenly so interested in String Theory?”

“Oh!” America beamed and sat up (since he was laying on his stomach). “I was watching a comic dub about alternate universes, and they mentioned String Theory! I was intrigued, so I started looking it up.” 

Russia smiled a bit and walked around the couch, America scooting over a bit so the other could sit down, but not breaking his train of thought. “It’s pretty interesting to think about, considering the fact that String Theory requires at least ten dimensions to actually work… though, that’s what I was just reading about, because that didn’t really make sense to me.”

Russia hummed in thought before shifting his position to face the American directly. “The way I understand it is that the strings introduced in the theory coil to create different shapes, and therefore, different particles, da?”

America nodded and Russia continued. “Because they can curl in so many different ways, and they exist in so many different dimensions of space beyond the third, each ‘compactification’ creates a new spacetime, and therefore, can result in a new multiverse.”

America glanced up slightly with a slow nod. “Ohhh…” He looked back at Russia. “Yeah, I don’t get it.”

Russia laughed a bit and America rubbed the back of his head. “Sorry— I’m all brained out for the day, dude.”

“It is okay,” Russia said. “Besides, verbal explanations can sometimes reveal new information, da?”

America grinned. “Exactly! And it helps you understand it better yourself!”

“You just want me to explain it because learning through reading doesn’t work for you, da?”

“That is not true! I can learn perfectly fine from reading!” America crossed his arms. “But there are dozens of studies that prove that reading accompanied or closely followed by audio greatly reinforces learning!” 

Russia raised a brow. “Is that why you watch so many videos on YouTube?”

“...maybe—” America shook his head. “Just hurry up and explain, dude! We ain’t got all day!”

“Actually, we do, da?” Russia smiled. “The meeting is over.”

The blond dramatically draped himself back over the armrest with a groan. “Technicalities . Just tell me about the damn universe strings, bro!”

“Alright, alright. Sit up, though, before you lose more brain cells, da?”

“Finally!” America cheered, then paused.

“Hey!”

The Next Day…

The chime of an elevator was followed closely by the buzzing of conversation as a few nations walked into the lobby. 

“There’s no way you would get ten hours of energy.” Australia argued. “That’s not how it works!”

“Well, you certainly wouldn’t have twice the amount of energy for five hours,” New Zealand said. 

“That’s because if you drank two five-hour energies, you would probably have a heart attack.” Hong Kong sighed. “Honestly, you all have the weirdest conversations.”

“But if you didn’t have a heart attack, what would happen?” India asked. “It’s a viable question. I’m honestly intrigued.”

“I would say twice the energy for five hours,” Seychelles said. “That one makes more sense to me.”

England let out a deep sigh. “You all are— daft is not even a strong enough adjective.”

“It runs in the family,” Australia said immediately, a stupid grin plastered on his face. 

England turned his head to glare at him, only for Wy to point lightly towards one of the couches and say, “Hey, who’s that?”

Someone was indeed lying on the couch, a white board (where did that come from?) standing a few feet from the piece of furniture and papers littering the floor around them. Given that the person in question wasn’t moving, the group guessed that they were asleep.

Hong Kong furrowed his eyebrows. “I thought the building closed at five.”

“It does,” England said, walking over to the couch, his suspicion apparent in his expression. 

“Maybe they were locked in,” India suggested, following after the European. “It seems like they were pretty busy, so maybe they just lost track of time.”

“I guess it’s possible,” New Zealand hummed, “though, you’d think someone would notice.”

“I think you may be giving this establishment a bit too much cred—” England stopped in his tracks when he got halfway around the couch. 

His eyes widened at the sight of Russia and America sound asleep on the couch. The rivals were asleep on opposite ends, yes, but the couch also wasn’t that big, so physical contact was inevitable (especially with the wild, completely unguarded way America slept). More papers were piled on top of the two and on the coffee table in front of the couch. America was even hugging a hand-held white-board to his chest, somehow still holding the dry-erase marker in his other hand.

Strangely enough, though, neither one had any bruises or injuries (aside from the occasional paper cut), and the only cause for concern was the dark bags under the eyes of both nations.

In fact—

England picked up one of the papers on the floor, furrowing his eyebrows at the sight of both nations’ handwriting. “Were they working together on something?”

“That’s never a good sign,” Australia quipped with a dry laugh. 

Hong Kong walked up to the white board, turning it slightly towards himself. “This doesn’t look like anything malicious,” he said. India walked up next to him, only for his eyes to light up. He pointed at a section of the math-covered board and declared, “These are some of Einstein's relativity equations!”

England raised a brow. “Really? America knows what that is?”

“You worked on the Manhattan Project with him,” India said with a small, but bright smile. “You should know first-hand how intelligent he is.”

“Well, he should show it more often,” England muttered. 

“I just wanna know what the hell they were doing,” Australia asked, watching India read through the work of the two sleeping nations. “Relativity isn’t something you work on for no reason, right? It’s a theory of gravity, so—”

“THEY’RE TRYING TO SOLVE STRING THEORY!”

The two rivals jolted awake, America letting out a small shriek as he fell off the couch, landing on the rug with a dull thump. Australia busted out laughing and America cursed under his breath, pushing himself off of the floor and fixing his glasses. “Dude. Why .”

India crouched beside him, grabbing the blond by the shoulders. “You two were trying to solve String Theory! And—”

“We didn’t?” America raised a brow, and wearily pushed India’s hands off of his shoulders. “Yeah, dude, we know,” he raised a hand to his mouth to cover a yawn, “we were up all night trying…”

“It did not go as well as we had hoped, da?” Russia said. The bags under his eyes made his small smile look that much more scary. 

Another chime of the elevator and the door opened. France took about two steps into the room before raising a brow. “What is happening?”

“We arrived to see Russia and America asleep on the couch, surrounded by dozens of papers on String Theory,” Hong Kong explained.

“So that’s what you were so distracted by yesterday,” Canada said, exiting the elevator behind France. America rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t that distracted.”

“You were staring off into deep space .”

“You were,” Russia affirmed and America glared at him. “Shut up, dude.” He grabbed the hand-held white board off of the floor and flipped it over to make sure none of its contents had been erased. “I guess we should prob’ly…”

America furrowed his eyebrows, almost squinting at the board. “What…”

“What?” Russia asked and America looked at him, picking up the dry-erase marker and sitting back on the couch. “What the hell was I doing ?”

Russia read over the math, then raised a brow at the younger nation. America just shook his head and erased all but the top two lines of the math with his sleeve. “If we’re gonna do this, I really need to learn freaking algebra again.” He uncapped the marker and started re-evaluating the equation. A few more nations arrived while he was doing so, curious as to what was happening.

“That’s wrong, da?” Russia pointed at a portion America had just written. “You forgot to take the exponent of both terms.”

America lightly batted his hand away with a hiss. “Shh. You’re right, but shh.” He erased the mistake and kept going. 

Italy bounded up to the group with a wide smile. “Hey, why are there so many people over here? Are we having a party?”

“Yeah, what the hell is going on?” Romano questioned. 

“Russia and America are working together on something,” Germany said. “I don’t know whether to call this a miracle, or a warning…”

The two Italians looked over the seemingly endless rows of mathematics before both saying, “Is this String Theory?”

“You know what it is?” England questioned and Romano glared at him. “What’s that supposed to mean, you tea addict?!”

“Ve~!” Italy smiled brightly. “Of course we know what it is! The Father of String Theory is Italian, you know!”

“No, he did not know,” France said with a smirk, which only earned him a quick jab to the ribs. 

“Stop!” Russia shouted and everyone turned to him. He wasn’t talking to the steadily growing audience, though. 

America blinked. “What?”

“America,” Russia said, pointing at two of the terms written in the blond’s unfinished equation, “you defined those terms last night, da? We can substitute them—”

America rocketed off of the couch, practically throwing the board on the cushion he was sitting on before glancing over the papers scattered on the floor. He started picking them up, muttering excitedly under his breath, stopping only to turn to Russia, telling the older nation to “get off his ass.”

“What are you looking for?” Denmark asked and America looked up at him, biting his lip in thought. “Uhh— it should be a paper with my writing on the back—” He paused, then picked up the board again, circling the two terms. “This should be about halfway down the page— Indented!”

Denmark nodded. “Alright!” He turned to the rest of the nations. “If you aren’t helping, take a few steps back to give us some room, please! We have a paper to find!”

“Yay!” Italy cheered, jumping into the circle to help, followed closely by Romano. A few other nations joined as well, helping gather the papers and sift through them to find the one they needed.

“Come on,” America muttered, chewing the inside of his cheek. “Where the hell are you?”

After a few seconds, someone let out a gasp. Czech jumped to his feet, raising a paper in the air with a wide grin. “I’ve got it!”

“Yes ! Thank you, dude!” America took the paper from Czech, grabbing the board from off of the couch and substituting the defined terms for what was in the equation. He started writing something else down, then growled and erased it. “Goddamned calculus, man— ”

“Do you need a break?” Russia asked, and America bit his lip before reluctantly pushing the board towards the older nation. “Dude, we are so freaking close, I can feel it!”

“We’re not there yet, da?” Russia said, continuing to work out the math. Still, he couldn’t keep the excited smile off of his face. 

America watched from where he was on the floor in front of the couch, somehow able to read Russia’s work upside-down. After a few minutes, he furrowed his eyebrows and tilted his head, trying to look at it from a different perspective. “Huh.”

Russia paused and looked at him. “What?” 

“Just keep going.”

Russia let out a small hum, but did so. After about a minute, he hesitated for about half a second, then started writing again with a bit more fervor than before. America pushed himself up slowly as the older nation began to near the end of the line he was writing. 

Russia looked up at the other nation.

Without having to be told America, got up and grabbed the bigger white board, wheeling it over to the couch. Russia handed the smaller board to America, flipping the wheeled one over and cleaning it off before writing down a few equations to reference as he worked. 

Denmark leaned forward a bit, furrowing his eyebrows. His grin started to widen. “No freaking way…”

Intrigued, the Italian brothers walked around to be behind the couch so they could see what was happening. They only got about halfway down the board before Italy let out a gasp, smiling ear-to-ear.

“Okay,” Paraguay said, “am I the only one who has no idea what’s going on?”

A chorus of “no”s and laughter followed that. Argentina smiled a bit, glancing over his South American siblings before turning his eye back to the board. “The biggest issue in String Theory was the problem of quantum gravity. It’s been in theory for years — practically since the Big Bang Theory was introduced.” 

“Figure that out,” Israel said slowly, “and you open the door for a whole world of scientific discovery.”

A hushed silence fell over the room as the two nations started to reach the end of their calculations. 

The squeaking of the marker against the white board stopped. 

After a moment, Denmark shouted, “Someone get over here and double-check this, dammit!” 

Japan was quick to volunteer, taking a few blank pieces of paper and a pencil to calculate. The minutes passed agonizingly slowly as the Asian nation checked behind them. America was literally struggling to sit still in any capacity, opting instead to pace back and forth in front of the couch.

Japan glanced up at the board, then furrowed his eyebrows slightly and looked back down at the paper. He repeated this motion about two more times before looking at Germany. “Germany-san, can you please check this for me?”

Germany furrowed his eyebrows. “Sure, Japan, if you think it needs it.” 

Japan nodded and handed the paper and pencil to his friend. Another few minutes tick by. 

Finally, Germany raised the pencil from the paper. “Damn…” 

“What—” America’s eyes flicked back and forth between Germany and Japan. “What does ‘damn’ mean? Is that a good damn or a bad damn?” 

“I think we need to make a phone call,” Japan said, taking out his phone. Germany nodded. “That is probably a good idea.”

America walked around the coffee table. “What does ‘damn’ mean?!”

“Well,” Germany said, glancing at the rivals, “you two certainly have your work cut out for you.”

America lightly gripped the front of Germany’s suit, his hands almost trembling in desperation. “Germany, what does ‘damn’ mean? ”

Germany pushed America’s hands down, then let out a small sigh. “As far as we can tell,” he said, “you did it.” He looked evenly at Russia and America. “You two opened a new world of scientific discovery.”

For a full three seconds, there was nothing but silence.

Czech raised his hands to his mouth.

“Oh my God,” Russia muttered.

America looked at him. “Oh my God.”

“Oh my God,” Britain said slowly.

“You— You’re serious?” America asked, shaking his head. “We can’t have really— Did we actually— ?” He shook his head again. “ Oh my God— ” 

“We need all the proof!” Denmark declared and Italy smiled brightly with a salute. “Yes, sir!” Without much hesitation, the Italian brothers started gathering the papers, and Denmark took pictures of the boards.

America turned to Russia, putting his hands on the taller nation’s shoulders. “Please tell me I am not dreaming right now, dude. This is real, right? This— we just—?”

Russia glanced around, looking almost as shocked as America. “I think we did, da?” A bright smile spread on his face as the reality dawned on him. “We just figured out a major step in solving String Theory.”

“Holy shit— ” America laughed and all but tackled Russia in a bear hug that the other didn’t hesitate to return. “We did it! We really freaking did it!”

America let go after a moment, his smile so bright and so wide that one could only imagine how much it hurt. Still he didn’t care, practically vibrating with enthusiasm. “Dude, I’ve been wanting to do something like this for my whole life! Solve some massive world mystery—” He excitedly took Russia’s head in his hands. “Dude, I could actually kiss you right now!”

Russia blinked and the younger nation let him go, his mind going a mile a minute as he muttered to himself about all the calls he needed to make. The President? Harvard? He didn’t know — he was too excited!

Britain crossed his arms. “What the hell are you doing, America? Are you celebrating? You haven’t done anything until a professional checks it.”

Alfred’s face lit up (more than it already was, at least). “That’s right! NYU’s only like ten minutes from here!”

Russia looked at the blond. “Can we just walk into a university?”

“We just solved a major part of String Theory, Russia. Who the hell cares?!”

After a second, Canada said, “What are you waiting for, an invitation?”

“Right!” The teen nodded, then ran back to their things, helping Russia and the Italies gather all of their work. No matter what he did, though, America could not stop freaking out and giggling like a little kid every five seconds. “We helped solve String Theory! Dude this is so cool!”

Russia smiled. “If we’re going to a university, you may need to relax a bit, da?” 

“Right, right. You’re right.” America took a deep breath. “I’m good. Totally good.”

And he was.

Until he looked up at Russia again, and broke into a radiant smile and started to giggle once more. 

“Wait—” Australia started, “you’re going to NYU now ? What about the meeting?”

“They just made a major scientific breakthrough, and you’re worried about the meeting ?!” Iran questioned. “Are you serious?!”

“No, I was wondering if this means I get to go back to the hotel or not.”

“Y’all can do whatever you want!” America declared, straightening the hefty stack of papers before shoving it (quickly, yet gently) into his bag. He stood up straight, still grinning. “We just solved the universe, so go throw a party or something, I don’t care!” He grabbed Russia’s wrist, his smile widening, which the other didn’t think was even possible. “We did it !” 

The two nations hurried towards the stairs. America tried to tear the door off of its hinges, pausing only for a moment to apologize to the inanimate object before practically dragging Russia into the stairwell.

The door closed and a small silence filled the room.

Canada looked at France. “I wasn’t the only one who heard America say he could kiss Russia, right?”

“HE WHAT ?!”

Chapter Text

No one said a thing.

Sure, the rest of the nations thought pretty much the same things about the American, but they had all either refrained from vocalizing the opinion entirely, or talked about it when he wasn’t present to hear it.

Or, at least, when they thought he wasn’t hearing it.

But no one had ever thought about saying it to his face with any seriousness. They joked about his naïveté and general incompetence, but to say it directly to Alfred and to mean every word was something different entirely.

And from Arthur of all people.

The entire room had been shocked into a heavy silence. 

The two nations were standing barely a foot apart, fury and decades of pent-up frustration etched hard into Arthur’s features. Francis and Matthew were still on their feet from their attempt to break up the fight, both wearing the same bewildered, almost mortified, expression.

None of that was what scared everyone, though.

The scariest part was the completely blank expression on Alfred’s face. 

The nations had expected him to react passionately, whether it be in anger or tears. They had expected him to react at all . 

But all he did was slowly return his arms to his sides. And he just stood there.

After a few moments, Arthur’s rage began to fade, falling to realization, then horror and shame. He opened his mouth, but no words came out.

Alfred lowered his head slightly. 

Then he simply walked to the table, quietly pulled out his chair, and sat back down. His expression remained blank and empty the entire time.

No one had a clue what was going on inside of his head, but the message was clear enough.

“Let’s just continue with the meeting.”

So they did.

It was the worst World Conference that anyone could remember.

Neither of the two nations said anything for the entire rest of the time.

When the conference was over, Gilbert and Matthew tried to talk to the American teen.

Alfred smiled lightly. “I’m a little worn out after all of that… Do you think we could talk about this later?”

Reluctantly, the two agreed, knowing he would need some time to himself. By next month, he would probably be back to normal, so they could give him a bit of time.

The next month came.

He wasn’t back to normal.

Instead, he wore a small smile — nothing like the wild, bright, cheerful grin the nations had grown so accustomed to — and felt inclined to keep to himself for the majority of the World Conference. 

The only talking he actually did was during his presentations, which were well thought out, plausible and professional, or to ask for clarification about other nations’ presentations. When he wasn’t talking, he took notes in silence.

If he was aware of the growing tension in the room, he didn’t show it. He kept that polite smile the entire time.

Over the course of the next few World Conferences, the teen’s silence began to stress the other nations more and more. America had never changed something about himself for this long, at least not of his own free will. 

How long was this going to last? Was this a permanent change? Were they really never going to see that obnoxious, yet contagiously cheerful young man again?

The questions circulated in everyone’s minds, causing physical tension as much as emotional. 

Gilbert had spent most of his free time trying to figure out how to get Alfred back to normal, but to no avail, and it was beginning to take a toll on him in more ways than one.

Ludwig swung between being distant and distracted, to being hyper-focused and burning himself out over work. 

Feliciano was much quieter than usual, and Lovino found that he was often not very keen on eating. Lovino made a fuss about it, though he was feeling much the same way. 

Toris was more quiet than usual, fidgety and anxious, but if you were to question it, you would quickly find out that it was mostly pent-up frustration he was desperately trying to contain.

Even Kiku had exploded on his boss at one point, (for which he apologized profusely, but the damage had already been done), unable to completely suppress the compounding emotions.

After the first few failed attempts to get Alfred to smile like he used to, Francis almost seemed to give up, coming into work looking messy more than once.

Since that day Arthur had barely said a thing.

And since that day, Matthew had said a lot. 

The drastic change in their demeanors even had the world leaders on edge. The number of calls exchanged between them increased nearly threefold as they attempted to figure out what the issue was and if it was something they had caused, whether it was directly or indirectly.

At one point, there was a series of calls between DC and Ottawa, first asking if the two nations had swapped places, then clarifying it multiple more times. Neither leader could believe the change in the behaviors of the teens, as drastic as the swing was.

The American President got so keyed up at one point that he suggested therapy for the nation. To no surprise, Alfred had just smiled and said—

“Why do you think I need therapy? I’m perfectly fine, Mister President, sir.”

Alfred offered a manila folder to his superior before the man could say anything else. “It’s the latest statistics concerning the economic contraction,” he said as the President took the cream-colored file. “I already dropped off some copies with the Fed, the EDA, the EB, and Assistant Secretary Harris, but I figured you might want to see the numbers, too.”

The President stared down at the folder for a second, idly flipping a paper. It was objective, organized and concise, giving the reader all the information they would need to make an economical decision, but managing to omit unnecessary numbers and useless commentary.

Impressive work all things considered. If he wanted to, Alfred could probably be a very successful business owner (considering he sort of had been, at one point) or something similar. 

It was somewhat relieving to see that the teen’s desire to be the best at what he did was still present. At least that was something that hadn't changed.

The President closed the folder and set it on his desk. “Thank you for considering that. I’ll read through it when I have time.”

Alfred simply nodded. “Right. As for the rest of the work, I should be done with that by tomorrow.”

His desire to be the best suddenly became something that the President felt he needed to watch out for. Assuming nothing else came up, two and a half days, and he was nearly finished with his normal work for the week?

That should be impossible.

The President didn’t comment on it directly, saying, “Good. Don’t rush, though.”

Alfred just nodded. 

The President furrowed his eyebrows slightly, but calmly dismissed the nation without voicing his concern. When Alfred closed the door, the leader sat back in his chair.

He glanced at his desk, and picked up the folder.

It was incredibly impressive what the nation had managed to do in such a short time. Professional, effective and succinct — the report was about as close to perfect as anyone could hope to achieve.

And that’s when he noticed the tab on the folder. Alfred always put the date on that tab, right after his signed and decorated initials.

The President pressed his lips into a thin line. 

It was there in perfect print. 

No stars. No swirls.

No sign of Alfred F. Jones anywhere to be found.

Chapter Text

Summer, 1987

The door to the World Conference was practically kicked down, the crack of wood echoing throughout the room. Russia looked disheveled and severely under-slept (more than usual at least), but despite the deadly aura around him, his refusal to look anyone directly in the eye almost made him seem… embarrassed?

Oh my god, is this real? America thought, struggling to keep a smile off of his face as he watched his enemy storm over to his seat. 

Afghanistan walked into the room right after Russia, a calm smile resting on her face. She walked to her chair and sat down.

“So,” America said after a moment, “how’s the war going?”

Russia shot him the darkest glare he could muster and America just smiled. “That good, huh?”

“Gorbachev has suggested a complete withdrawal of the Soviet forces from my lands,” Afghanistan said, trying hard not to sound smug. 

Holy shit, this is real.

America took an inconspicuous sip of his coffee in a desperate attempt to conceal his silent laughter. It didn’t work, obviously, as Russia shot the nation another glare. That only made America laugh even more, though.

Years later…

America sat down next to Russia. The older nation gave him a look. 

America was exhausted. His hair was messier than usual, and the dark bags under his eyes made him look one wrong word away from murder.

Russia just smiled. “How is the war going?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Russia laughed a bit and America sighed, putting his head in his hands, muttering “Goddamn Graveyard of Empires…”

Russia only laughed harder, earning him a jab to the ribs from the blond sitting next to him. “I told you to shut up! This isn’t funny, dude— It’s humiliating !”

“You laughed at me when I had to withdraw from the region, da?” Russia smiled and America scowled. It was short lived, though, since he was too tired to actually be anything more than mildly irritated. America simply turned his eyes away from the Russian, pouting into his hand.

After a moment, America said, “I was still there longer than you were.”

“But at what cost?” Russia asked with a smile.

“I’m not telling you that!” America huffed, then crossed his arms. “Seriously, what is up with that region?! Why are they so— invincible ?!”

“A mixture of terrain, weather and home-field advantage,” Russia said. “That, and the people themselves are formidable.”

“It’s not even just that!” America threw his hands into the air. “Everyone makes jokes about everything in Australia wanting to kill you— the Middle East is worse! Dude, it is so much worse!”

Russia almost winced, and surprisingly, America noticed. The younger nation just raised a brow. 

Russia sighed.

“The camel spiders, da?”

“The fucking camel spiders, man.”

Chapter Text

The conference room was loud, the sound of multilingual shouting and arguing easily heard from all the way down the hall. A few of the nations tried desperately to calm everyone down, but to no avail. 

“A new nation! This is so exciting!” Hungary smiled. “It’s been so long since we’ve seen a new face around here! I wonder what he’s—”

“The boy is awesome, and that’s all you need to know!” Prussia declared. “Not as awesome as me, of course, but it’s not often that the student surpasses their great mentor!”

Hungary smiled darkly. “Interrupt me again and there will be no mentor to surpass.”

“Most of our governments haven’t recognized him, yet,” Japan said. “Are you certain it is alright for him to be here?”

“Well, over ten of us have recognized him,” Portugal said with a small shrug. “Why shouldn’t he be able to attend? It’s been two years since the revolution ended, and even England’s recognized him as independent.”

“However reluctantly,” Spain chuckled. England glared at him. “Shut your gob, you tomato addict!”

“The tomatoes at least give his food some flavor,” Austria said flatly.

“My food has flavor!”

“The flavor of ashes .”

China let out a deep sigh. “How does anything get done around here…?”

“It doesn’t, really,” Japan said. 

The nations continued to argue, their barely muffled voices sounding through the door and rising to the ears of a young nation. For about two minutes, America had been standing outside of the door, raising his hand to go knock, then stopping himself, only to repeat the motion about seven more times. 

“America!” a voice called from down the hallway. America turned to it, smiling at the sight of one of the six people he knew. “France!”

“I was waiting for you!” France stopped in front of him with a grin. “I was going to help you find the conference room, but it looks like you’ve already done that.” He raised a brow teasingly. “That eager to meet everyone, are you?”

America laughed a bit. “I guess so.” He looked back at the door. 

“...so, do I just— walk in?”

“What else would you do?” France asked. America just shrugged. 

France stared at him for a moment before facepalming with a small laugh. “Right, you’ve never been to one of these before!” He patted America on the shoulder. “No, you don’t have to do anything special unless you want to. We can just walk in like normal, oui?”

“Yeah,” America chuckled awkwardly, “normal .”

“You are so weird. And so nervous,” France cooed, then moved to fix America’s hair a bit. He smiled. “Relax a bit! Just follow Big Brother France, and you’ll be fine!”

America raised a brow. “But you—”

France didn’t give him time to complete his sentence, just grabbing the boy’s wrist and opening the door. The voices got a lot louder without the obstruction, which did nothing to calm America’s nerves. He didn’t have much of a choice though. France was already dragging him into the room.

The first thing that the two nations saw was England about ready to hit Spain with his chair, held back only by the Netherlands. Prussia was just laughing at the situation until Hungary “lightly” smacked him with her frying pan, which, of course, resulted in them getting into a fight. 

France glanced at the young nation beside him. America wore a smile, but it looked almost painful, his furrowed brow and anxious gaze clearly revealing his true feelings about the situation. France smiled and nudged him lightly. When America looked at him, he said, “It’s always like this. You’ll get used to it.”

America let out a half-hearted laugh and looked back ahead, watching the chaos unfold. After a whole three minutes of fighting, France concluded that they probably weren’t going to stop any time soon, and decided to take things into his own hands. He cleared his throat lightly and America looked at him. The boy moved to put a hand on France’s arm to stop him, looking nervous. “Uh… France—”

“ When all of you morons are done releasing sexual tensions, we have a meeting to attend to! ”

Surprisingly, everyone actually shut up, turning their attention to the two standing nations. 

America tensed up, his face flushing a deep red (well, more than it was already, thanks to France’s unnecessary commentary). He desperately tried to think of anything to say, but nothing came out, only making him more uncomfortable.

Almost sensing the boy’s distress, Hungary smiled softly. “Who is this?”

Latching onto the opportunity as if it were a lifeline, America steeled his nerves and said, “I’m America. The new nation.”

A small silence.

Austria turned to Prussia. “I thought you said you trained him.”

Prussia gasped. “I did! He is excellent at fighting, I’ll have you know!”

“He looks as if throwing a singular punch would break his arm.”

“I should break your arm—”

While the two continued to bicker, a few more nations started almost fussing over America like parents, or asking him a bunch of questions. He tried to keep up, but was so overwhelmed that all he managed to say was—

“I’ve never been in a room with this many people before.”

Hungary smiled and patted his head. “Oh, you are so cute! Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it!”

“The amount of people, maybe,” Turkey (though, he was going by the “Ottoman Empire” at this point in time) said, “though the people themselves are a different story.”

“He has time to adjust,” Hungary said. “He is still young, after all! He barely looks older than fourteen!”

America bristled, heat rising to his face. “I’m not— I’m sixteen! At least physically!”

“Okay, I’m not going to lie, amigo,” Spain said, “I thought you were younger than that.” He looked at England. “Though, with him being your main supplier of food for so long, I suppose that makes sense—”

England stood up with a scowl. “I will not hesitate to hit you with another chair!”

“Before you do that,” France said, “we should begin the meeting. We have a lot to cover today, so all the questions can wait until after, oui?”

“I suppose,” Hungary sighed, then smiled warmly. “You probably need some time to adjust anyway, yes?”

America nodded shyly. “Yes ma’am, that would be appreciated.”

Hungary beamed. “You’re so polite! But please, just call me Hungary.”

America smiled brightly back at her. “Alright! It’s really nice to meet you, Hungary!” 

France lightly nudged the younger nation with his arm. “Come on, you little attention-stealer. You’ll be sitting with me today, at least until you get the hang of things.”

America nodded and followed after France (who thought it similar to the way a duckling followed its mother, though he didn’t comment) as the man walked over to their seats. 

America found himself scanning over the room as he walked, searching for the other familiar face that he had yet to see. Upon not immediately finding him, though, America decided that he could search a little better later on, focusing instead on listening and taking notes as the nations gave their presentations.

Or, rather, tried to give their presentations.

Mostly, the conference consisted of arguing and shouting, someone’s enemy refuting every other sentence that was said simply because they could. It got thrown off topic many times, and while it was highly amusing, America also found it a little off-putting. These were other, more experienced nations — they were supposed to be the mature adults and the responsible leaders.

Why did they act more like children than America did?

What have I gotten myself into…?

~~~~~

The meeting lasted until two in the afternoon, and it didn’t get any better as time passed.

In fact, it almost got worse . As time passed, people had gotten tired and started becoming a lot more irritated a lot more quickly. Presentations and civil conversation were practically nonexistent, as the entire room seemed to be engaged in some massive battle of wits (that, somehow, everyone was losing simultaneously). 

Two o’clock came, and they were so preoccupied with their arguments that they failed to notice for another fifteen minutes. When the meeting was finally adjourned, America was mentally exhausted, and he had barely even said a thing. 

It certainly didn’t help that he got assaulted with questions and conversation almost immediately after the Conference had ended. Dozens of people whose names he didn’t even know clapped America on the back and congratulated him as if he were an old friend. Entire groups congregated around him, asking the boy questions about his future when he didn’t even know what he wanted to eat for supper.

Is there not a way that I can just— apologize to England and become a colony again? Because I’m not so sure that I can handle this.

America did his best to keep up with everyone’s enthusiasm, but thankfully, a certain four nations realized his discomfort and started intervening where they could.

“You’re really asking him how he defeated England?” Prussia laughed, ruffling America’s hair with a wide grin. “Obviously it was because he was ten times as awesome as England’s stuffy military, courtesy of me, the awesome Prussia!”

“And funding from France,” Netherlands said. “Though, much of the revolution was driven by America. He would never say, but he’s formidable on the battlefield all on his own.”

“Of course he is!” France put a hand on America’s head. “He has quite the brain in that little head, no? We may have taught him and given him a little push,” he looked down at America with a smile, “but he still adapted and went his own way with it.” 

America briefly turned his eyes away from a figure in the crowd and smiled up at the Frenchman.

France laughed. “As much as I would love to take credit for it, the spies were all the doing of him and his people!”

“You just sound like you’re bragging about him,” Hungary cocked a brow with a smile.

“But of course! He deserves it, and he’s too humble to do it himself, so we have no choice!” France smiled innocently. “I suppose I taught him that, too.”

“Yeah, right.” Spain barked a laugh. “You’re about as humble as one of Greece’s “gods”.”

“Just about as promiscuous, too,” Prussia said with a snicker. “At least the boy didn’t pick up that habit from you! He’s a good Christian boy, just like the awesome Prussia!”

“It wasn’t you who taught him that, you wanker!” England hissed, stalking up to the group and pointing at them accusingly. “Stop trying to take credit for my teachings!”

“Oh, believe me,” France said, “no one except you wants to take credit for America’s ability to cook.”

England’s face reddened slightly, though whether in rage or embarrassment was up to debate. He opened his mouth to argue, but Denmark spoke first. “Is he at least teachable? If he can be taught to cook properly, then it’s not all bad!”

“He seems teachable enough,” Netherlands said with a small shrug. “We taught him a few basic things during the Revolution.”

“Maybe you can have cooking classes for him,” Hungary suggested with a smile. “You can schedule them around the meetings to make it easier.”

“Quel genie! (What a genius!)” France grinned. “That sounds like a magnificent idea!” He turned to look at America. “How does that sound, Amerique ? Having cooking—” 

France stopped, staring for a second at the spot where the teenage boy used to be, before glancing around. “America? Où êtes-vous allé? ” (Where did you go?)

“You lost him?!” England shouted. “Are you serious?!” 

“We’ll find him!” France loudly declared. “Besides, he’s nearly an adult! He should be fine. The boy is responsible enough, no?” 

“No, no, no .” England shook his head. “You did not spend as much time with him as I did. You have no idea how naive he is when it comes to other people!”

Prussia raised a brow. “And who’s fault is that?”

“Shut up ! You try explaining things about this world to his face, and then you can try to make that comment!”

“He wouldn’t have left the building without one of us, England,” Spain said, putting a hand on the nation’s shoulder with a small smile, “so he’s still here, at least. Relax a bit.”

“Oui , which is why I don’t understand why you’re so worried,” France said with a light laugh. “He’s a smart boy! A little anxious, but he’s more than capable!”

England grabbed the Frenchman by the shoulders, shaking him none too gently. “It’s his first day outside of his lands, you absolute moron! He’s never left the colonies! He has no idea what this world is like! What the other nations are like!” His grip tightened, whitening his knuckles, and likely leaving France with bruises later. “You and I know well enough that people will do anything to gain the advantage against his enemy!”

“And you two have a lot of enemies,” Portugal said.

“You’re not helping!”

France took a moment to process the implication of that statement.

His face paled. “Merde —” He looked around, pushing England’s hands down. “We need to find him— America!”

“When was the last time anyone saw him?” Spain asked and Netherlands looked at the spot the teen used to be occupying. “About two minutes ago.”

“Helpful,” England muttered, stomping away from the center of the crowd. “Do you have any idea how far he can get in two minutes?!”

“He’s not a dog, England.”

England tightened his jaw a bit, walking towards the door. “Sometimes his— brainless impulsivity really makes me wonder.” He pulled the door open and looked out into the hallway, cursing under his breath. “He’s going to get himself hurt.”

“Do you have any idea where he could be?” Netherlands asked, and England sighed. “He had dozens of hiding spots as a child, and the chances of him finding a similar place here are higher than what would make me comfortable.”

“Well, then,” France said, “we’ll just have to search everywhere, no?”

“And how are we going to do that in a timely manner? By running around and shouting his name as if he were a lost toddler?”

France smirked. “That is what your reaction suggests you see him as.” Without another word, he started down the hall, calling America’s name, Prussia, Spain and Netherlands following suit without any qualms. 

England took a deep breath.

“I should have stabbed that frog centuries ago.” 

He let out a heavy sigh and started after the four nations.

Switzerland watched them for a moment as they walked down the hallway, searching and calling for the young boy. And arguing with each other about every five seconds. 

He raised a brow. “I wonder if they know he’s with Russia.”

He watched them disappear behind the hall corner.

Switzerland shrugged. “They’ll find out sooner or later.” He turned and walked back into the room. 

~~~~~

America stood on the balcony, looking over the city. Normally, he enjoyed this kind of thing — watching people from a small distance as they walked through the streets, talking and arguing and living their lives. He did the same thing back home on the hill outside of town. 

The difference, though, was the smell. 

Granted, it wasn’t much better back home, but at least he could get away from it there. 

Here, there seemed to be nothing but large cities, occupied by a seemingly endless number of people. America couldn’t get away from the city smells even if he were to jump into the ocean. 

Actually, that would probably be worse.

After about a minute, the boy simply resorted to leaning against the railing, folding his arms and hiding the bottom half of his face in the fabric of his sleeves (since he was short enough that the position wasn’t entirely uncomfortable). At least his coat didn’t smell like horse manure and dead fish.

In fact, it had miraculously retained some of the fresh pine scent from back home, even after the months on a ship. It was faint, but present. 

He heard the door open behind him. “You have found the outdoors,” a familiar voice said. America’s eyes widened and he straightened up, turning around.

Russia gave his usual smile. “It is a bit lonely out here by yourself, though, da?”

America beamed up at the older nation. “Russia, you’re here! I was looking for you earlier— I couldn’t find you, though.”

Russia furrowed his eyebrows slightly at this, but his smile still brightened a bit, almost as if he didn’t know whether to be happy or confused. Honestly, the expression looked strange — kind of frightening, even — but America either didn’t notice, or didn’t care. “Have you been here the whole time?”

Russia nodded. “Of course. I am a nation, after all.”

“Right, right,” America nodded, glancing over the city again before looking back at Russia. “Speaking of which, are you and your boss going to recognize me as independent?”

“Ah,” Russia smiled, “it has been brought up a few times. Her Majesty is still a bit concerned about the effects of such a decision, though, regarding how England would react. She does not want to start any wars, da?”

America nodded in understanding, though he couldn’t completely mask his disappointment. “I guess that makes sense. But England’s recognized me, too, so—”

“America !”

The two nations glanced back at the door, only for England to lunge for the teen at near light-speed, pulling him away from Russia with enough force to dislocate a normal human’s shoulder. England put himself in front of America, glaring up at the taller man. “What are you doing with him?! You better not have hurt him!”

America furrowed his eyebrows and reached towards his former older brother. “England, it’s fi—”

“America!” France shouted, practically tackling the boy. The only thing that kept them from falling was America catching the railing at the last minute. The Frenchman evidently mistook the adrenaline-induced spiking of his pulse as something caused by Russia rather than himself, and promptly began fussing over the boy in his native tongue before turning to the taller man. “What did you do to him?!” 

Before America could properly argue, France hugged the boy to his chest, glaring daggers at the eastern nation. “He seems frightened out of his mind! What have you done?!”

“That’s probably because you almost knocked him off the balcony,” Netherlands said, walking casually through the doorway with the other two. Prussia grinned. “Either way, the awesome Prussia is here, so there’s no need to be scared anymore!”

“France— !” America struggled against the nation’s grasp. “Let me go—! I can’t breathe—!”

“Fear can do that, mon ami, but there’s no need to be frightened! We’re here to protect you!” 

“I don’t need protection!” France didn’t let him go until the boy forced himself out of the man’s arms. America took a deep breath of air, then said, “I wasn’t in danger! I was fine!”

“But,” England stammered out, pointing at Russia and ignoring the dark aura growing around the taller nation, “why else would he be with you if he wasn’t trying something suspicious?!”

“Maybe because we know each other?”

“What?! ” England grabbed his former colony by the shoulders. “How do you know him?! He hasn’t tried to force you into something before, has he?! I swear— tell me how you know him!”

America opened his mouth.

Then he closed it again.

“No,” he said slowly. “I sense I’ve made a mistake of some kind.”

“He has some serious survival instincts,” Spain commented, pulling a snicker from Prussia.

Netherlands hummed lightly and raised a hand to his chin. “Is Russia who you were asking me about during the Revolution?”

America’s eyes widened in panic and he turned to the older nation, but couldn’t get anything out before Netherlands finished his thought. “You wanted to know if he would be a largely beneficial trading partner, but with you just listing the resources, I didn’t make the connection.”

France raised a brow. “Trading—” 

“Partner ?” England growled, slowly turning his head back to America. “How long? ”

“Umm…” America smiled nervously, “do I have to answer that?”

Russia smiled. “It has been since 1763, da?” His smile grew slightly. “I even helped him a bit with the Revolution. Unofficially, of course.”

“Russia!” America cried. “Why would you—”

“You violated the Navigation Acts?! ” England shouted and America quickly hid behind France. “I thought I was through with being parented…”

“I mean,” France said and America’s attention shot up to him, “he didn’t only trade under the table with Russia. For a while, he still imported some molasses from my colonies, or rather,” he smiled mirthfully, “smuggled it in, since it was technically illegal. Honestly, England, your laws were quite suffocating. It’s really no wonder he wanted his independence.”

“I’ve been betrayed by three of you,” America muttered. “I can’t believe you’ve done this.”

“You’re independent, in case you have forgotten. It isn't like Angleterre can do much more than get upset.”

“Or start a war,” Spain said, and America looked at him. “You’re not helping!”

“Relax, America! Gosh, you’re so high-strung for someone so young!” Prussia slapped the teen on the back good-naturedly, the impact jolting the blond’s body. “Besides, if England does try to start another war, you were taught by the awesome me, so you can just kick his ass again!”

America pressed his lips tightly together, his eyes flicking up to France. 

He knitted his eyebrows and opened his mouth to speak. “Umm— I don’t think— ”

“If you’re worried about man-power, don’t be,” Spain said with a friendly smile, turning smug when he looked at his friend. “France will go to his grave to screw over England whenever the opportunity arises.”

“But of course!” France chuckled. “Though, at this rate, he’ll ruin his empire all on his own, no?”

“Shut up, you wanker! Even after that juvenile rebellion, I can still kick your ass!”

“Can you? You did lose to a child half your size.”

“You —”

America jumped out of the way as England lunged at the Frenchman, eyes wide as he watched the two fight concerningly close to the railing.

“Well, if that’s the plan,” Netherlands said, “we should go so we don’t get dragged in.”

“You can go,” Prussia smiled, “but this is free entertainment for me— hey! ”

Netherlands grabbed the albino man by the collar of the shirt and dragged him back inside. “Don’t make it worse.”

“The awesome Prussia does not make things worse! I make them more awesome!”

Netherlands didn’t grace Prussia with a response, leaving the man to complain loudly to himself and demand that Spain help him get free.

America started to follow them, stopping only after a few steps. He glanced back and furrowed his eyebrows. “They’re not going to fall, are they?” he asked.

Russia patted him lightly on the head, continuing down the hall. “They will be fine, da? Come along, little one.”

America raised a brow and trotted after the taller man. “That wasn’t really an answer, you know.”

“Well, if either of them falls, we will know tomorrow.”

“Hey, amigos!” Spain called from up ahead, and the two nations looked at him. He smiled brightly. “Since we missed almuerzo , we were planning to try a place that just opened down the street. You want to come?”

At the mention of food, America’s stomach grumbled, and he raised his arms in embarrassment. Then he glanced up at Russia, a habitual act of confirmation. 

Russia just smiled. “You are independent, da? You can decide for yourself.”

America smiled a bit, and nodded. “Right! But, are you going to come, too?”

The older nation’s eyes widened slightly, then he smiled. “Da, so long as it does not run too long.”

“ Yes !” America cheered, speeding up to meet the other three nations. “Food with friends!” He glanced back to make sure Russia had followed before asking, “What about France?”

Spain made a face, hesitatingly saying, “I’m sure he’ll catch up.” He smiled. “In the meantime, what do you think after day one of the World Conference?”

America let out a small hum. “Well, at first, I thought it was really chaotic, and I was really tired by the end of it, but that might just be because of the excitement of someone new.” He sighed. “I’m just hoping I can get used to it.”

“You will, don’t worry,” Spain said. “Besides, even if the meeting is bad, we usually have small gatherings with friends afterward, so that’s something to look forward to.”

“Right!” America nodded, then smiled sheepishly. “Though, I think my issue is going to be names. It’s just— so many people… ”

Russia smiled. “It takes some time, but you will learn.”

“Eventually,” Netherlands commented.

“Or you can be like me!” Prussia grinned. “My awesomeness is all that anyone needs! No one else is all that important, so who needs to know who those losers are?!”

Russia’s smile darkened. “Careful with your words, da? Else your awesomeness may be short-lived.”

The two nations continued to bicker, with Spain trying to stop them, and Netherlands not caring enough to acknowledge it most of the time. America looked up at the four, smiling brightly.

Yeah. He could get used to this.