Archive of Our Own ^beta

     "Why are we all expected to speak English?" said an annoyed voice with a Russian accent. Ostensibly, the voice was Russia. He wasn't talking to anyone in particular, but allowed the rest of the room to be free to hear his thought, the room being all of Europe. There was a bit of silence that followed, but not much. 

     "Actually, I have no idea," said the United Kindom. It was in an English accent, so they assumed England was being represented. "It's probably America's fault. Maybe because he's stupid," he cracked. There were a couple snickers. Vatican City, however, frowned but said nothing. 

     "That sounds about right," Ireland smiled. 

     "We should just start speaking in our native languages to confuse him," Spain suggested, leaning back in his chair and putting his feet on the table. Clearly every formality of the meeting was lost. 

     All of the European countries agreed to it, though. Some did so out of a dislike for the superpower, and others were the opposite. They even got most of both of the American continents to join in - though Mexico and Canada seemed to know something. Most of Asia and Africa just didn't bother. Australia and New Zealand agreed to do it if they ran into him, but didn’t want to bother going out of their way. Australia had no official language federally, and there were many languages spoken there, but he mostly stuck to Australian English, at least around other people. New Zealand liked to speak some indigenous languages, and decided to try that if he ran into America. The rest of Oceania took the same stance as Asia and Africa. 

     When the United States of America woke up, he felt like something was off. It didn't feel bad, per say, but just... off. He decided to shrug it off and go about his business. He went into his kitchen and grabbed his bottle of whiskey, pouring himself a glass, then leaving the bottle on his counter. He was about to take a sip when someone walked in. 

     "Hola, América," said Mexico. America would have liked to say that he noticed the language change, but he didn't. 

     "Hey, Mexico," he said quickly, then finally taking a sip of his drink. 

     "Isn't it a little early for a drink, güey?" Mexico said in Spanish again. 

     "Nah, man. I already tried prohibition, imma do what I want now." He smiled, a bit of arrogance seeming to haunt his features. "Uh, except for the dry counties... We don't talk about those." 

     Mexico smirked. America hadn't even noticed the language change, it seemed. Not yet, at least. Mexico hoped he'd be there when we saw the European's reactions.

     Italy was the first to talk to America, other than Mexico. In his defense, he did have a genuine reason to talk to him; he needed to talk about some exports. Italy knocked on the office door that America was usually in. Sure enough, a "come in" sounded from beyond the door rather quickly. Italy opened the door to see him leaning back in his office chair, putting a glass of whiskey to his lips. There was also a half-empty bottle of the alcohol sitting on the desk. It was right next to the phone, of course. 

     "Hello, America. Uhh, isn't it a little early for whiskey?" He said. His native language sounded from his lips easily, easier than it would have been for English. Italy suppressed a smirk, waiting for the confusion to dawn in the superpower's eyes.

     It never came, though. Instead, it dawned in his own. America responded smoothly, seeming to not even notice the language change. Italy blamed it on the whiskey. "Funny, Mexico said the same thing." He took another sip before setting the glass down. "So, what'd you need?"

     "Oh, we need to sort out some export things."

     "Right. You can sit down, then." There was a brief pause, then a bit of realization hit. "Hey, wait, why are you speaking Italian?" 

     Italy tried to not laugh. He really did. However, he was but a man - a country. He leaned back in his chair for a minute, trying to get it together, while America sat there in confusion. Still, it wasn't awkward, mostly because of America's laid-back nature. 

     "Sorry, sorry, I just. Okay, you understand me?"

     "Well, yeah. Italian is the fourth largest European ancestry. Plus, that's my whole thing - a cultural melting pot and whatnot. I don't have an official language, I just mostly speak English because I was an English colony. Actually, my land was Mexican, Spanish, French, and Russian. Well, and the Native Americans. Uh, let's not worry about that now." America looked awkwardly to the side. Italy took a second to remember what they had all done to the native peoples of the American continents, and that none of the countries were "good". 

     "That... actually makes a lot of sense. So you can speak every language?"

     "Most of them, yeah. What brought this up, anyway?"

     "Well, Russia was complaining about being expected to speak English, and the UK blamed it on you." America rolled his eyes, but smiled. 

     "Of course. So y'all banded together to confuse me?"

     "Yeah, basically. Though Mexico and Canada must have known what would happen, they looked like they were hiding something at that meeting."

     "Meeting?"

     "Yeah, this happened in a meeting between all of Europe. We got South America into it, too." America laughed. 

     "Russia interrupted a professional meeting to complain about speaking English? Damn commie," he said, still laughing. Italy tried not to roll his eyes at the remark. "Of course he would do that! So, what now?"

     "You could try to fuck with everyone else."

     "Hmm... how? I could either do nothing and just not react, or I could speak everyone's native language when speaking to them," America said with a sly smile that Italy returned. 

     "Ooo, those are good options. Maybe do both depending on the country."

     "Yeah, yeah, you're right. I've gotta speak Russian to Russia, though. I can't wait for his reaction!" America was laughing just thinking about the look that would be on the Russian's face. 

     "Ha, I'd love to see that! Anyway, we should actually talk about those exports."

     "Of course."

     The next people to face America were Canada, England, and France. They had a scheduled meeting in which they knew they weren't going to be doing much. Honestly, it was the type of meeting that they had no reason to be there; they were just a formality. Nobody missed them when they found an empty conference room to relax in while they waited for their representatives to finish. 

     Canada had been glancing at America the whole time they were together in the building. If he hadn't known what had been going on, he would have been a bit weirded out. Instead, though, he gave Canada a knowing, mischievous look. As France and England argued loudly next to the table (France was speaking in French, and England had learned French long ago), about ten feet from the North American nations, America and Canada had a more quiet discussion. 

     "You know? How?" Canada started. He looked a bit amused. 

     "Italy. He came to me about exports earlier today. So I'm just going to fuck with everybody - either speak their language or just not acknowledge the change." They both smiled at that. 

     "That's hilarious. Hey, wanna fuck with France? We can both speak French," Canada suggested. 

     "Hell yeah," he laughed. "He's prob'ly gonna have an aneurysm at my accent," he said, switching to French. His cajun French accent, courtesy of Louisiana, was very distinctly different from both Quebecois French and French French. 

     "He already has one at mine, yours is just gonna put him six feet under," he quipped, also switching to French with his respective accent.

     They began making causal conversation. Really, they were just waiting for France and England to stop arguing and start paying attention to their surroundings. It happened gradually. France heard sounds coming from singers in the room, but didn't completely register them. Slowly, he began quieting and slowing down his speech. England followed suit. 

     Eventually, the two just stared at the North American nations. France had a mix of what looked like pride and sacrebleu what have you done to my language. 

     "Wait, wait, wait, quois? Parles-tu français? Why did I not know this before. Et, mon chére, what is that accent?" France exclaimed, interrupting America. The man in question blinked for a second and looked at him. 

     "You already knew Canada spoke French, though," America said, still in French and with a shit-eating grin. Canada let out an amused snort. England rolled his eyes. France ignored it. 

     "Why did I not know?"

     America just shrugged. "You should have, you sold me like 530,000,000 acres of land." France just paused and blinked at him, suddenly finding a wall very interesting. England laughed at him (emphasis on at). "How do y'all think I survive being monolingual? I'm a world superpower, at the very least I should speak Spanish."

     "Then how many languages do you speak, America?" England asked, genuinely curious.

     America stared at him deadpan, only saying, "Yes." Then he started laughing, and actually answered the question. "Most." England looked bewildered for a moment.

     "No, impossible. How did I not know? Did you not know them as a colony?"

     "I spoke, like, Dutch, and whatever other languages from immigrants there were. A lot of the time you were gone, and if you weren't, you would have reprimanded me for speaking anything other than English - god forbid I speak French." Though he rolled his eyes at the lady statement, America wasn't mad or resentful, he just spoke what truly happened. England felt a little shame, but chose to ignore it.

     "How did you find out about this?" France asked. 

     "Italy and I had to meet about exports earlier. He ended up telling me, so I'm either going to speak to countries in their language or just not acknowledge the change." France smiled at that. 

     Throughout the day, America met with several nations. They were all meeting in the Palais des Nations in Geneva. America didn't know why it wasn't being held in the usual New York location, and was mildly peeved that he had to leave the country for the meeting, but overall he didn't mind. 

     When he met with the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC) about exports (and, jeez, there he was talking about exports a lot for some reason), DRC seemed pleasantly surprised when he started speaking fluent Kituba. They had had a brief conversation about it. DRC had actually planned on participating, at least a little, but had completely forgotten. 

     Meeting with China was an interesting experience. America had decided to just ignore his language change, but perhaps would switch to speaking Mandarin halfway through. 

     "China, hey. We need to have a meeting about exports." God, would he ever stop talking about exports? America was starting to get tired of it. 

     "Stupid yankee. Fine, follow me," he said in Mandarin. China was mature, and usually didn't resort to petty insults, but he figured he could indulge in them for once. He smirked ever so slightly, waiting for America to be confused. 

     "Fine," he rolled his eyes. China paused, trying to figure out what happened. Perhaps it was a lucky guess. That can't be too hard to guess, and he's smarter than he often gets credit for. 

     "Let's make this quick," he said, as if he expected it to go fast with a language difference. "My government wants more cars and more integrated circuits. We can offer more computers and office machine parts. And, of course, money will be involved as always."

     "We can do the cars and the circuits, but we could do with more broadcasting equipment and  keep the office machine parts the same." China blinked, stumbled on his words for several moments. He thought he saw a small smirk appear on America's face, but when he blinked, it was gone. 

     "Uhm, yes. That should be doable. I will have to confirm with my government eventually, but consider this meeting done." 

     "Very well," he paused. "Goodbye," America said in Mandarin as he got up and left. China looked at him with a longing to know what the hell had just happened and a gaping mouth to accompany it, but he didn't say a thing, and America ignored his silent hope. China went to find Russia as soon as America was gone. 

     "Russia, remember when you suggested we speak our respective languages to confuse America?"

     "Very clearly, yes," he said with a smile. It wasn't quite evil or unsettling, but it wasn't very friendly. "I take it you met with him."

     "Indeed, I did. About exports. But it continued like normal. He even said something in Mandarin when he left. A simple 'goodbye' but Mandarin nonetheless." Russia raised his eyebrows in surprise. 

     "How? That doesn't make sense. America couldn't know Mandarin. Surely he's too dumb for that." 

     "He is smarter than people give him credit for. Do not underestimate those you are against. Do you speak Mandarin, Russia?" His silence was telling. Truthfully, he spoke very little, barely enough for a basic conversation. A wall beside him suddenly became very interesting. "That's what I thought."

     The two continued conversing, but the topic shifted away from America. They had been there for about 20 minutes when a group of people suddenly came into the lounge room they were in. It seemed a meeting had been dismissed, and among those had been America. He walked in and got himself a cup of coffee and a glazed doughnut. 

     America had felt eyes on him since he had entered the room. He was used to this, but it felt strange that time. He soon realized it was Russia and China "subtly" following him with their gaze. He decided it was the perfect opportunity.

     "Hello there, you two. Anything I can do for you, or do you prefer watching from afar? I mean, I guess I can't blame you," he said with a Hollywood smile. He honestly didn't mind them looking at him, he was more amused than confronting. Overall, what he said was perfectly in character for him. Except for the fact that he said it in perfect Russian. 

     A few other nations that had been around started to "subtly" listen in (it was obvious they'd be able to hear their conversation). Russia and China still sat there, unsure of what to say. 

     "You speak Russian?" Russia asked, confusion extremely evident in his voice. 

     "No, I thought I was speaking Greek," he said, still smiling. 

     "You aren't monolingual, then, are you?" China asked genuinely. 

     "What gave it away? No, I'm not. I speak most languages, actually."

     "Then... did you know what I had planned? How?"

     "Italy and I had to meet about exports early this morning, that's how I found out. Then he told me what had happened, so I decided to fuck with everyone by either speaking their language or not acknowledging the change." It was only then that China and Russia realized they were still speaking in Russia. "Actually, come to think of it, Mexico was speaking Spanish to me, too, before I saw Italy. I just didn't notice."

     "You... didn't notice?"

     "I know Spanish very well. A lot of my population speaks it and a lot of my land comes from what used to be Spain or Mexico. Most of my immigrants are from Mexico."

     "I suppose that makes sense," said China. 

     "Why and how do you speak so many languages?" Russia asked. America gave them a really look. 

     "I have the highest population of immigrants. I don't have an official language, either, and my whole thing is being a cultural melting pot. Honestly, it's not that hard to figure out. Did you really think the world superpower was monolingual?"

     Russia realized his mistake. He supposed that wouldn't make sense, but it seemed most nations never really put two and two together. Perhaps America was smarter than he thought - just a little. He had a bit of a newfound respect for the nation, and China did, too. France, however, was conflicted in that department.