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Chapter Text

America, also known as Alfred F. Jones to humans, was never allowed to vote in his country's elections. Something about “bias and fraud.” However, if he could vote, he absolutely wouldn't have voted for the felon.

It started out the same. The belief and hope that what was on the map was just a red mirage. That blue will come out on top once the large cities in each states’ votes kicked in. However, it didn't stop being red and soon, America, both the country and the person, were covered with a red hue that only meant one thing.

We're fucked.

“Again?!” Alfred slammed his fist on the table. He was in the country meeting room with all the others. On the TV mounted on the wall was the inauguration of his returning boss, who brought his rich friends. It looked more like a reality show than something sophisticated. It pissed him off.

Executive order after executive order. Cheer after cheer. Smug grin after smug grin. The man's grating voice mocking Alfred's occupied brain full of thoughts. Not a moment of silence in there.

The rest of the personified countries watched in confusion and surprise. All except Ivan and Yào, who didn't appear to care either way. The others really thought blue would win, but alas, red complimented better in the eyes of the people. It didn't feel right. It felt rigged, but Alfred was not allowed to have conspiracy on his mind. Mr. President was someone Alfred had already dealt with, and it was a mess. He's had bad bosses before, but this one felt different, and now he had to do it again! Seriously?

“Well, ah, maybe your boss was just lying about his plans?” Arthur, spoke. His words didn't sound sure or comfortable in the slightest. More of a fusion of confusion and coping.

“Ah yes, that boss, the ever so honest man. The second coming of Honest Abe! Give me a break.” Alfred sat down, running his fingers through his hair. It was like he could feel his physical body aging as the seconds passed.

No one else could think of anything to even say. What do you say to this? “Oh, sorry your boss is like this, that really sucks, man?” Well, you could say that if you didn't mind Alfred sucker punching your nose.

“You know, maybe this won't be that bad! Yeah! Congress has to realize this won't end well for our people! And if not, it's only four years! Time moves fast! Totally!” Alfred exclaimed, trying to calm himself down. He's gone through all his previous bosses and came out alive! Besides, it is still only Janurary 20th! It can't start off too bad on day on-

“WHAT THE HELL?!”

Everyone quickly turned to face the source of the yelling, seeing it to be Ludwig. They then turned to the TV, gasping slowly filling the room as they processed what was just aired on national television. The two Italys’ eyes were open and visible. Kiku had his hand over his mouth. Francis nervously tugged at his collar. Yào and Ivan looked on with eyebrows raised in surprise. Matthew was there, too, but he was too busy staring at Alfred to care about not being noticed.

Ludwig shifted his shocked look to Alfred, his breathing staggered and bubbling in anger. All Alfred could do was smile and feel his sweat drip down his cheeks. No one could see his eyes, just a white reflection in his bottom rimmed glasses.

What do you mean it's still January 20th?

Chapter Text

Alfred stood in the oval office. He decided to wear his usual bomber jacket, a nice white shirt with a dark blue tie, and suit pants that matched the tie. Usually, he would've been there on inauguration day, but his boss requested he wasn't. Figured he wasn't rich enough or something similar to that.

He kept his arms to his side, his face as neutral as possible. Even if his boss was someone he wanted to work with, he always kept a neutral look on the first week of meeting them. He looked over to see the Boss’ new friend. He was the guy that did a certain body movement that resulted in Ludwig yelling at Alfred for thirty minutes straight after the meeting. He had heard about him before that but never met him until now. Even then, it wasn't a real meeting at this point, but rather they were in the same room. The man didn't appear to have an urgency to meet Alfred.

In the office were also cameras, reporters, and some of the people Boss picked. Alfred was told to stand outside of the camera crew. Again, he didn't mind this arrangement. The general public wasn't aware he even existed, so it was better to avoid drawing questions to the already question filled air. Alfred watched as the man continued to sign various orders, going off a list one by one. He lost track of what the man was even signing after the 3rd one. He just wanted it all to be done.

“Okay. That's it for today.” Boss announced. The camera crew turned off their cameras as everyone chatted. Alfred shifted his eyes to the walls, staring at pictures of men he had met when he was younger. How would they feel about everything? Alfred couldn't give a certain answer, but he had some theories. He then took note of the changes in the room. The once minimalist room was now decorated with gold decor, seemingly to match one of Boss’ business virtues. It felt like a museum. A place to just look at rather than relax and feel settled in.

“Why was I even called here? I haven't done jack.” He mumbled to himself, making sure no one heard him. He removed his glasses and wiped them with his dress shirt, pulling some of it out so he could have a good grip on it. He usually used an actual cloth meant for this, but he didn't care. He just wanted to have something to do with hands.

“...You're America, yes?”

Alfred looked over, able to see perfectly. It was Boss’ friend. The guy with all the money. He nodded then spoke.

“Yes sir. That's what they call me.”

“Nice to meet you. I've heard some about you.” The man took his hand out for a shake. Alfred complied and shook it, making sure to have a firm grip on his palm which was followed by a firm shake. The man pulled away his hand and walked off, like greeting Alfred was a quick task he needed to do.

Alfred sighed and went back to staring at the wall, waiting for any sort of acknowledgement that made this visit worth it. Eventually, he got what he asked for.

Everyone that wasn't Boss or his friend left the room, leaving the three of them there. Alfred stood in front of the desk, standing as straight as possible without locking his knees.

“It's good to see you again, Mr. President.” It wasn't.

“Yeah. I have some plans that involve you doing some talking with your little country meeting. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes sir.”

“I want Canada as the 51st state.”

“What.” Alfred couldn't help but snort. He stopped when Boss didn't show any signs of kidding. “You're serious.”

“The people there would love it. Our trade deficit is $200 billion and not to mention, it's one of the world's highest-tariff countries, did you know that?”

“No. I didn't.” Not like he didn't speak to Canada a few weeks ago.

“Your friend Canada also gets harassed by Russia and China, too.”

“Really?” Alfred asked, using his best acting skills to sound shocked and surprised. “Well, that's no good!” His mind painted a picture of Yào and Ivan poking Matthew with a wok and a pipe respectively. He then shook the thought away and looked back at Boss.

“Tell Canada the news and report back to what he says. I'm sure he'd love to live with you, again. That's all. Goodbye.”

Alfred waved with his hand bouncing off his forehead then left the office. He walked for about forty feet then clenched his fists.

“CANADA AS THE 51ST STATE?? IS HE SERIOUS?! AND HE WANTS ME TO DELIVER THE NEWS?” Alfred exhaled and looked down. He swallowed and slicked his hair back, feeling his cowlick spring back into place.

“This is fine!” Alfred smiled and chuckled. “Totally fine, dude!” He continued walking, feeling a sweat drop move down his cheek.

Chapter Text

“Feliciano, you're late again.” Ludwig spoke, looking as his friend entered the room out of breath.

“I have a good excuse this time! My dream was really nice! I was on a date with a pretty lady! Besides, I can't be the last one here!” Feliciano exclaimed.

“Of course, you aren't. Actually-”

“Is it Antonio, again?”

“No.”

Feliciano looked around. He saw all the people he knew. Everyone seemed to be here. He turned to his left only to be greeted by an empty seat that was always filled.

“....He's never been late, before!”

Right as Feliciano spoke, the doors opened behind him, pushing him to the side and into a desk. Ludwig got up, helped him up, and shot a quick dirty look at Alfred.

“Sorry I'm late, dudes! Drive thru took forever.”

“Of course, fatass.” Arthur chimed in. He then gasped and stood up. “That's got to be at least five bags of food! All from different places!” It was true. Each bag was a different place. It ranged from burgers, to tacos, to seafood, to pasta.

“Hmm? Oh yeah, but it's all good.” Alfred assured. “I got a diet soda! Can't function without food, after all!” He took his seat and placed his greasy bags down. He immediately pulled out one of the food items. A burger. His usual choice. He was about to take a bite until he felt everyone's eyes on him. He then let out an “Oh!” and got up to stand in the front.

“Sorry, my mind is all over the place!” He then quickly grabbed all the bags of food to keep with him at the front.

He was going to need all the food he could have in these next few minutes.

Alfred cleared his throat, took a large bite of food, chewed it quickly, swallowed, then cleared his throat again. “Alright, as we know, I have a new boss. He's controversial but hey, everything will be fine! In fact, I have a proposal that'll benefit me and everyone else!” He finished the burger and grabbed another, unwrapping it and immediately taking a bite. Then another. And another. ...And another.

“Will you get to the point!” Arthur spat out. “You're filling the room with grease!”

Alfred exhaled with a shake in his body. His heart pounded so fast he couldn't tell if it was a panic attack or heart attack from his eating habits. He decided it was panic, and decided to run off of it.

“Right. So, countries are always changing, yes? Gaining land, losing land, all that jazz! So, here's something we think we'll be awesome!” Alfred then shifted his nervous gaze right at Canada. Right at Matthew. Right at his brother.

“Canada! I want you to join the United States of America as the 51st state!”

Alfred continued to stare, sweat beading down in a rapid succession. His eyes could no longer be seen, only the white reflection on his glasses. His hand that was occupied with the burger shook side to side.

Why wasn't he saying anything? Say something, dude!

Matthew looked, his eyes wide and staring at Alfred. He looked around, realizing he was finally being noticed by all the other countries in the room.

“Um… what do you mean? Aren't we already allies?” Matthew asked softly, but loud enough for Alfred to hear.

“I mean what I said! Join my place as the 51st state! What's hard to understand about that?”

“No no, I know what you said but, what do you mean by that?” Matthew asked again. He let out an awkward chuckle.

Alfred took another bite then put his food down. He exhaled and frowned.

“You know what I mean. You become part of my territory. The whole thing. It'll be like a sleepover but forever! You like it when I sleepover at your place!”

“Um, yes, but-”

“So? Are you saying yes or absolutely yes?!” He had stars in his eyes as he anticipated the other's answer. He was absolutely confident at what Matthew was going to say. He had to say yes! It was Alfred's life on the line, after all.

“...No.”

“Sweet, I'll tell my boss an-” Alfred looked at him again. “...What do you mean, no?”

“I mean no. No means no. Never. Not in a million years. Absolutely not.” Matthew said, talking a little louder than normal. He then got nervous when Alfred started to make his way up to him. He leaned back and yelped as his brother was now in his face.

“I give you the opportunity to join my place and you tell me no?” Alfred's voice was deep, in a panic and angry. The both of them were unable to tell where the anger was aimed at, though.

“I said no, America. Shouldn't that be the end of it? Even if I did say yes, my boss wouldn't!” He then stood up to back up even more. Alfred looked desperate. His blue eyes shook side to side. His right eye had a slight twitch while the left was covered by a white reflection. His breathing was staggered. His fists were clenched, as if his nails tried to rip open the skin on his palm.

“You're not going to join me? Think of the benefits you'll have.”

“You don't have anything that I'd want! What would it mean for me if I do join? Two separate governments? Or one? What would happen to me if it's only by your government?”

Alfred rolled his eyes.

“Y-You finally got noticed and this is how you repay me? Are you brain dead?”

“ARE YOU?!” Matthew raised his voice, which startled Alfred and everyone surrounding them. “I DO NOT WANT TO BE PART OF YOUR MESS OF A PLACE! END OF STORY! NOW DROP IT!”

Alfred stood there, his eyes gone. He then turned his frown upside down, letting out a tiny chuckle. “Fine then! I'll tell him the news!” He looked over at the front, seeing a telephone resting on it. He made his way back down, dead quiet. The only noise in the room were his steps. Once he got down, he picked up the phone and began to press on the keypad. He placed the phone up to ear and held up his index finger to the crowd, as if to say “give me a moment.”

“Hey Mr. President! Canada said no!” Alfred suddenly looked more nervous than he already was.

Matthew watched, his frown staying on his face. He watched Alfred nod his head and say “yes” and “I understand.”

“L-Let me tell him then!” He placed his palm on the speaker and turned to look. “Hey Canada! Since you won't join, my boss has decided to implement a 25% tariff on all imports! Except oil and energy. Doesn't that sound fun?”

“What?! Just for that?!”

“Oh no, he's been wanting that for a while! What's that?” Alfred listened back to the phone. “Oh, and Mexico too! Tell him next time he's around!” Alfred laughed.

The whole room erupted in chatter. Was he serious? It's only been a couple weeks!

“America! You do know you have the ability to say no to this, right?! Not all of us do!” Yào yelled.

“Hmm? Oh, I'm so happy you decided to speak! I'm getting you, too! In fact, add an additional 10%!”

“What the fuck is your plan?! Do you comprehend how much of my stuff goes to you?!” Yào yelled, pure anger in his voice.

Alfred just smiled. He said a few more words to his boss then hung up. He grabbed his half eaten burger and scarfed it down. He then repeated that to the rest of the bag. The only sounds he heard was yelling and his own chewing.

“You have thirty seconds to take it back or I will strike back! Thirty. Twenty-nine. Twenty-eight.” Yào began to count off. He sped up when Alfred's answer was to just stare and smile. Once Yào got to zero, he gritted his teeth and stood up, slamming his hands on the table. “Fine. You want to play this game? I'll play it.” He grinned. This sent the room into an even bigger frenzy. Every single country in there had something to say. Whether Alfred could hear them clearly or wanted to hear them was a different thing. All he could do at that moment was continue to eat.

Arthur couldn't help but stare at America. The country he had raised from a child into an adult. What had gotten into him? Was he okay? He didn't look okay, no matter how much he tried to hide it. Arthur shot a glance at Francis, who was caught up in the yelling and protests. He looked at the food at Alfred’s seat then back at Alfred. Before he could speak up, and calm down the room, Alfred spoke.

“Fine. Sounds good to me.” He sighed. He ate more then whispered to himself in a shallow attempt to calm himself. “This is fine. Totally fine, dude...” In his panicked, stress-filled head, Alfred was now playing chess with all his friends, and he was going to be the king, the most powerful piece, controlling all the pawns.

…That is how chess works, right?

Chapter Text

Safe to say, when Alfred runs on a panic attack instead of actual logical thinking, everything turns into a pile of slop. He knew this and did it anyway. Not like he had much of a choice.

The meeting ended shortly after that whole outburst. Yào promised to strike back with his own tariffs, along with Matthew. Then Francis decided to join the party by demanding his birthday gift to America back. The hot lady (Alfred’s words) herself, the Statue of Liberty. To add even more insult to injury, Alfred wasn't allowed to bring food into meetings anymore. In such a short amount of time, so much had happened. A speedrun for the world record of ruining everything. The President was more focused on his new friend instead of Alfred. He even gave him his own branch of government that had the goal of cutting budgets and whatever the two didn't find up to their standards. Not to mention the amount of people Alfred knew that were suddenly fired.

Oh, can't forget planes falling out of the sky. However, if it meant less physical interaction with his boss, Alfred was going to take it.

It had been a month since everything had happened but to Alfred, it felt like a century. He had to have aged physically at least a little. Maybe he'd stop being ID'd at bars!

“I need a drink.” Alfred mumbled, once again standing against the wall of the oval office. His boss insisted he match him, so a blue suit, white dress shirt, and blue tie was the uniform of the day. He wasn't focusing on anything in particular. His boss didn't think he should, anyway. Again, he was preoccupied with being with his new friend. Alfred decided to not think about what kind of relationship they had, but if it came out they had a certain closeness, he wouldn't be surprised. This meeting was, again, being televised. The only difference was the boss’ friend decided to bring his child. The child had some weird name Alfred couldn’t remember or bother to. The name spelled out looked like something his friend Tony would write, and Tony was a damn alien. He wasn’t sure why he brought his son to an oval office meeting like this but what the hell, sure. The kid was cute, even if his dad was… that guy. He had a comfortable tan jacket and a gold chain that hung off his neck. Just what he wanted to see. More gold in the room. The child spotted Alfred and waved, who then got a wave back. He then put his index and middle finger together and bounced it off of his forehead, giving the child a tiny salute and a genuine smile. The child giggled, which caused the Boss to give Alfred a dirty look that told him to stop. Alfred swallowed and returned to his position. He sighed and gave an apologetic gaze to the child. Guess he hates happy children the same amount as he hates most of his people.

Alfred continued to watch the child, who clearly wanted to run around and play. He picked his nose, played with his dad’s ears, and spoke gibberish. It looked like a good time honestly. Alfred remembered those days. Constantly bothering Arthur and pulling Matthew into his antics. He frowned and shook the thought away. No reason to be getting nostalgic right at this moment. He had to listen to everything the two were saying. Or he would if his attention was not suddenly drawn back to the child. Was it more gibberish? It sounded more like clear English than the developing ramblings of a small child learning to speak.

“I want you to shush,” The boy said. Did he hear that right? Did that kid really say that to his boss? The boy spoke again, sounding almost like he was speaking from something he heard someone else say. “You are not the president. You need to go away.”

Holy shit.

Alfred looked to the other people in the room, curious if they heard the boy. Their blank faces that stared at the friend told him no. Did the microphones pick it up? He wouldn’t know until the press meeting finished. He hoped it did. It would be kind of funny. The son of your friend told you to shut up and fuck off? Dude. The jokes write themselves at this rate. Alfred could help but let out a tiny laugh at the event that transpired right in front of him.

”Pffft.”

The President shifted his eyes to Alfred. His gaze pierced right into his head like a bullet. His expression was the same, but his eyes looked murderous and full of hate. Alfred quickly changed his demeanor and froze in place. Looked like he was not about to move a single muscle for the rest of the meeting. Was it normal to be scared of your boss? Should it be normal? Was it his new normal? At least thinking didn't require body movement.

Eventually, in a moment of sweet mercy, the meeting concluded. The press left the office one by one, leaving the three adults and the child behind. The sounds of the press speaking amongst themselves faded the more seconds passed by. Once it was silent in the hallway outside, the president turned to his friend and spoke.

“Give me a moment with Alfred. It's very important and secret. Go play with your son or something. Just go.” He ordered. His friend rolled his eyes and picked up his son. The boy giggled and sat on his father's shoulders. The man made his way to the exit door, which required him to walk past the personified country. As he did so, he gave him a dirty and disgusted look while the boy happily waved again. Alfred nodded as a goodbye then turned to face his boss. The door shut loudly, now leaving the two alone.

“Alfred, come here.”

Alfred felt his chest tighten and his sweat glands release. What the hell did he want with him? Was his snicker the last straw? Was it the waving? Was it the meeting? Was it-

”Are you deaf? Come. Here.”

“Sorry dude, sir.” He quickly made his way to the other side of the desk. The president shook his head and gestured right next to him. Oh geez, close up. He dragged his feet as he went to stand right next to his boss. He spoke again, his voice dipping into caution and confusion. “What’s up?”

Alfred shivered when he felt his boss’s hand grip his arm. It slid up and down for a brief second then released. Goosebumps remained on his arm under the suit sleeve. He hated when that man touched him. At least he had the privilege of clothing between their skin this time.

“Alfred. Have you ever had a father? I know you came from the land of England, but were you born from a female?”

What.

“I kind of just appeared one day then lived with England, dude. I don't know.” He shrugged. His boss spoke again.

“I see. Well then, son. Can I call you that?”

Fucking hell no, you creep!

“If you want, man. Can't control what you choose to do.”

“Good. I really do see you as my son. If you were my son, you’d be treated like royalty. You're the prince and I'm the king. I’d give you anything you wanted. You'd be a rich man. Doesn’t that sound good? Don’t answer, I already know. It's what all America's want.” The President smiled, patting the other’s arm again. “And as my son, you should make me proud, yes?”

Alfred nodded.

“I know your little meeting didn’t go as planned but you aren’t the type to give up easily, just like me. Canada just doesn’t know what he wants. His boss doesn’t know what he wants. China is just a little girl who wants to play games with you, but you. You are a tough boy. The toughest around. The hero of the world. The king of the playground.”

All Alfred could do was listen and nod along. He had almost blissfully forgotten his boss liked to give these speeches during his first term but alas, there never was a blissful moment of ignorance with him. He backed up instinctively as the President suddenly stood in front of him. He felt his body get pulled back, as if he was prey. He forced a smile, tensing up his entire body. Did he really have to be touchy?

“Why are you so tense? Do I scare you? You saw me with the kid, he wasn’t scared of me. I've never scared my kids. They all love me.” He did have a point. He was very comfortable being here. Real comfortable saying those things to him. “I gave you those looks because it’d bring attention to you and I can’t have that happening.”

“Your friend would get jealous.”

“What does he have to be jealous of?”

Alfred gave him a look that equaled the words, “Really dude,” which made the president smirk.

“He’ll get over it. He's too busy having fun with his new job. It'll keep him busy from me.” He said, who sounded annoyed of the clinging his friend appeared to be doing when they were televised or out. Alfred wasn't sure what to make of it. Honestly, he wanted to leave.

“Did you need me for something? I'm not sure what else I could do today that wasn't already said in the meeting.” He asked.

“Oh yeah yeah. How's this sound?” The man cleared his throat then put his hands up, moving his hands towards the right with each word he said: “Red, White, and Blueland.”

“Are you serious?”

“Very. I'm very witty, yeah? I got plenty of these. I want our country to be the most powerful. It's what you deserve.”

“What I deserve?”

“We start by getting rid of the undesirables. The crooks and criminals. Anyone we don't like. Is there anyone you don't like?”

“No.”

“Well, eventually you'll find someone. Now, head on out. Keep up with my plans and you will be living in luxury as the best country on the planet. That's what you've always wanted since your independence, isn't it?”

“...Yes sir.”

The President rubbed his arm again then pulled him into a side hug. He kept his hands on his lower back and patted. Then, as quick as Alfred was pulled in, he was pushed away.

“Go.”

Alfred saluted and made his way to the door. He then paused when he heard the other's voice again.

“Oh right, one more thing.”

“Yeah, man?”

“How well do you get along with Russia?”

“...We're fine. Totally fine, dude.”

His boss nodded then allowed him to leave. Alfred closed the door behind him and stared at the hallway in front of him.

He just

Stared.

Chapter Text

Countries usually only report to their main boss. In Alfred's case, however, he makes it a point to be known to the Vice President. He's done it since the concept of a VP has existed in his home. They're usually very in the background and helpful outside of anything the president did. Alfred usually made a point to recognize the VP and make sure they felt important.

Not this term, though!

Alfred wasn't entirely sure what this guy's qualifying traits were. All he knew was something about couches and photoshop edits of him online. He's laughed at a few and has caught himself seeing him as those edits. Honestly, VP was no big deal in his eyes.

Unless you decide to put him in the same televised meeting with the president and make the foolish decision of giving him a moment to speak.

Alfred was once again in the oval office, watching his boss and VP ruin even another relationship with the world. The two sure had a knack for doing that! Alfred swore he could feel gray hairs growing on his head. Maybe he was as physically old as Arthur by now. It sure felt like it. This time it was in talks with Ivan's boss. Alfred didn't bother to pay any real attention to this meeting. Every meeting was worse than the last. It didn't help that his boss and VP liked to tag-team against his friends’ bosses and their own people. Was there even a point of Alfred being here? Was he eye candy to his boss?

Without thinking, he decided to slip away, looking for a moment of actual quiet. He hid behind the camera crew then used men's yelling as a distraction from the door opening and closing. Finally, he was outside the oval office and in the quieter hallway. He sighed in relief and began to walk, putting his hands in his suit pants pocket. It was the same uniform as before, matching his “dad.”

God, why did he start that with him? Why did he let him do that? Why wasn't he fighting it?

After a minute of walking, Alfred stopped to look out a window. His eyes looked out onto 1600 Pennsylvania Ave. They shifted onto a few protestors that stood and walked along it. He couldn't help but smile at the sight. At least it was a reminder that not everyone wanted this mess of a place. He wanted to do better for them, but he just-

Alfred suddenly felt the air get colder and his light get darker. He stiffened for a brief moment then relaxed, letting a chuckle escape his lips.

“Nice try, Ivan. How did you get in here?”

“If I told you that, you'd know my secrets!”

Alfred turned around and put his hand out. The other grabbed it firmly and shook it. It was Ivan, the personification of Russia. After forty-five years of tension, spying, and space racing, he's become a rather good friend of Alfred outside of politics.

“I hear the meeting from the walls. Sounds like trouble, da?”

“Probably. I stopped paying attention once they all started talking at the same time!” He then squinted. “Seriously though, why are you here?”

Ivan smiled and put his hands together.

“Asking for you to join my house, da!”

“Nice try, but that's not happening. As much as I'd love to hang out with you outside of meetings, I'd rather die than be a commie.” Alfred playfully said. He looked as Ivan's smile faltered for half a second then returned to a normal smile.

“And I'd rather die than be a capitalist!” Ivan playfully replied. The two shared a laugh for a moment then went back to silence. They looked out the window, staring at the protestors and the water sprinklers that began to water the lawn.

“Ivan.”

“Yes?”

“Do you think our bosses are alike?”

“Alike?”

“Yeah, alike.”

Alfred listened as Ivan made tiny hums as he thought and searched for an answer.

“Maybe!”

Alfred shivered. He crossed his arms in an attempt to stop his shivering, but to no avail.

“It's not that bad! If your boss follows mine, you won't deal with silly voting choices!”

“....Yikes.” Alfred then perked up and turned his attention to the oval office's entrance. He was greeted by the sight of VP and other politicians. He then turned to face Ivan, only to be greeted by nothing there.

“Seriously, dude,” He mumbled. “How the hell does he do that?” He then frowned and saluted as the men approached him.

“Hey America guy. I don't blame you for leaving. That guy has no clue on how to talk to us. It's ridiculous.”

Alfred nodded, trying to not smile as his brain filled in the blank of photoshop edits of the man in front of him. Yeah sure. That guy is the one who made the meeting bad. Not the VP. Was it worth it to even listen to him right now? He's never said anything actually intelligent. Oh God he's still talking? Dude.

“...Anyways, you have a good day, Alf. I can call you Alf, right?”

“I guess.”

“Sweet!” The VP patted his shoulder and ran off. Alfred gave him a pathetic wave and sighed.

“He's the guy who likes couches, yes?”

Alfred looked over and chuckled.

“Yeah. Didn't want to talk to him?”

“I don't talk to people below me!” Ivan smiled. Before Alfred could reply, the president made his appearance. He quickly straightened himself out and frowned.

“Mr. President.”

“Hello son. I see your friend Russia has found you.” He looked at him, expecting Ivan to reply, but he was greeted by a calm smile.

“Good to know you were telling the truth that day. Well, you're dismissed for the rest of the day. I have big news coming soon, so keep a perfect blue eye on it.” Alfred shook when he felt a hand on his back for a brief moment then relaxed when his boss left.

“Do not worry, friend Alfred. You will get used to it! It will be fine! Totally, as you say.”

Alfred sighed.

“Yeah, totally fine.”

Chapter Text

Every morning that Alfred woke up was another morning of bullshit. It almost became a game. A game called “Which right did my people lose now?” The morning could also bring another game, which was called “What new unneeded order was just given?”

This morning fell on the latter.

Alfred allowed himself to sleep the night before for the first time in a couple weeks. He wasn't the type to sleep every night like a regular normal person. All he needed was caffeine and his fast food to stay awake. However, in an attempt to better his mental health, as humans say, he slept. Did it help? Totally! It was a beautiful morning! The sunlight was out! The birds were singing a sweet song! He had a blissful moment of forgetting who was his boss.

Then he checked his phone.

Alfred was now back in the White House. He didn't bother to put on his matching suit. All he did was wear a red T-shirt, jeans, and his bomber jacket. On this trip to the oval office, however, Alfred was visibly pissed off. Any staff he walked past immediately stopped what they were doing, stood completely still, and greeted him.

Now he was getting some damn respect.

His footsteps echoed, despite the fact his feet were on carpet. His fists were clenched. His jaw was tight. His right eye twitched. No part of his body was relaxed. He didn't see a reason for it.

As he reached the door, he knocked twice then once towards the top of the door. He turned his head and pressed his ear against the door, waiting for a confirmation that he could come in.

“Make it quick, Alfred.”

Alfred opened the door and shut it behind him. He looked and was greeted by both his boss and the boss’ friend. Can this guy ever fuck off for once? Geez.

“Care to explain the name change to-”

“Ah yes. Gulf of America. Good to see the maps finally updated. Rolls off the tongue, doesn't it?”

“Why? That name has been that since, like, the 1500s! Before I was even born!”

“Why are you upset? You don't look good when you're upset.”

Alfred paused and frowned. He looked over when his boss’ friend spoke. His voice was as grating as ever.

“Yeah, man. Anger does no good for a face like yours.”

Who asked you to talk? Alfred exhaled and adjusted his glasses. His blue eyes stared right at the president and ignored the other.

“How does changing the name do good for our people? Wouldn't it just mess with our relationship with Mexico even more?”

The President huffed and stood up. His friend pushed his chair in and followed behind him. In a quick moment, the president was now in front of Alfred, leaving the country no choice but to lean against a wall.

“You seemed down lately. I changed it for you. Isn't it great? You get to have your own gulf! It's closer to our land, anyways. It's time to update these old names into one's that hold more power. The name of the order is even brilliant.”

He did it for him? Wait.

“Restoring Names That Honor American Greatness,” The President said. “A great name for a great man like you.”

Alfred felt sick.

“I didn't ask f-” Alfred yelped as his boss’ hand was now holding his chin. He focused his vision right at him and nervously chuckled. He put his hands up like he was being arrested. “Err, I'm just surprised you did it for me. No malice!”

The grip on his chin tightened ever so slightly before being released. Alfred quickly sighed in relief and straightened himself.

“All these things I do are gifts for you. Fathers give their children easy lives, yes? In fact, I have another gift for you.”

“Gift?”

The president turned to face his friend. “Go grab it.” He barked. His friend smirked and went to the desk and picked up a file. A file that was the same as all the other executive orders. He walked up and gave it to Alfred, who snatched it with a dirty look. His eyes looked at his boss for a brief moment then down at the file.

“By the authority vested in me as President…. It it hereby ordered…” Alfred swallowed, but forced himself to continue. “...It is therefore long long past time that English… is declared as the official language of the United States!? Are you serious?!” His hands began to shake as he began to process what the fuck he just read. “But, the founding fathers…”

“What do they know? They're dead. They can't be upset. I'm willing to bet they'd love it. They're looking down on you and feel so proud like I do. The most amount of pride anyone could have for a man.”

Alfred stared at the words in the file, sweat beads starting to form on his head. He wanted to yell. He wanted to scream. He wanted to run to anyone and apologize for the mess. Despite all these internal feelings, memories, and need to apologize, Alfred gave his father figure a smile.

“You're right. It only makes sense. My friends will just have to accept it. What's the point if everything here is in English anyways?”

His boss smiled, then he laughed. Alfred felt even more sick.

“Good boy. Now, I have more business to attend to,” The older man went close to Alfred and patted his shoulder. “You be good, son.” The man's hand then rightly gripped Alfred's shoulder, causing him to hold his breath. “Next time, wear that nice suit I got you. I refuse to be seen with you if you're not dressed properly.”

"I think the way I dress is perfectly acceptable!"

That felt familiar.

Alfred left the oval office. He looked at his outfit and took off his jacket. It's just a suit. It'll be fine. Placing it on his arm, he walked down the hall and looked at the decor on the walls. It was mainly portraits and landscapes. Typical stuff. When he got tired of the decor, he looked at any furniture. It was mainly tables and chairs. Slightly more entertaining. As he eventually reached the main hall at the entrance of the building, he picked up a pamphlet welcoming any visitors. Each display had the pamphlets in a different language. Deciding this was more eye-catching than a chair, he grabbed a pamphlet from the Japanese holder. He stared at the characters on the paper for a solid minute. He squinted and brought it close to his face. After a minute of that, he removed his glasses and repeated the step.

Huh.

That's weird.

“I can't read this.”

Chapter Text

So that was something. Alfred spent an hour staring at the other pamphlets trying to decipher what they said. He knew what they said based off the English one, but he didn't know. You know?

Alfred was soon back in his home, laying on the couch and staring at the ceiling. He stripped himself from his jacket, shirt, and jeans, leaving him only in heart patterned boxers. His blue eyes narrowed as his brain began to replay today's events, then yesterday’s, then the last month. How was it possible every new day his life got worse? Genuinely. How was it possible? The worst part, in his mind, was the fact he wasn't pushing back. He didn't like being touched by his boss. He knew it was purely on a control standpoint rather than any sexual attraction, but still. He sighed and turned his head, staring at a liquor cabinet that contained alcohol from the states. From California wine to Massachusetts moonshine, he had all kinds of American alcohol.

Fuck it.

Alfred got up from his couch and walked to the cabinet. He placed his hands on his hips and bent down, looking at what was available. Deciding on some good old whiskey, he opened the left cabinet door and took out the bottle. He read the alcohol percentage, which was 40% per volume. Eh, it'll do. He twisted the cap off and drank straight from the bottle, the only sound in the room being his gulps and satisfied exhales as his veins began to tingle throughout his body. Once the bottle was empty, he placed it back in the cabinet and wiped his mouth.

“Hmm. Let's make this less depressing!” He said to literally no one. Alfred snapped his fingers and danced to a speaker and boom box. He opened it, satisfied with the CD that was already in the player. He pressed play and cheered as the music played party music. Once that started, he turned off his light and switched to some party lights he had forgotten to remove from New Years.

“Now It's a party!” Again, said to no one. Alfred ran back to the cabinet and grabbed any bottles that was right in front of him. He popped off the caps and began to pour the liquid down his throat. Wine, vodka, beer, and tequila mixed in mouth, irritating his taste buds and throat, but he didn't care. You don't drink for the taste. You drink to get fucked up!

And Alfred sure was fucked up!

A few hours passed and Alfred was now on the floor lying down. How much was a few? Well, it was day time when his plan started. Now, the stars were up in the sky. The CD continued to play on repeat. His head was spinning. His stomach was churning. His breathing was at an unnatural slowed speed. His body was hot. His heart was slowly beating. He was drunk. Obviously. All he could feel was his heartbeat, his extremely slow breathing, and the feelings from earlier starting to bubble up. Or was it vomit? Was there a difference? Either way, something he didn't want was bubbling up.

“Oh God… Shit.” He groaned. He placed his right palm over his face and pulled down, moving his cheeks and chin down until they returned to place once he let go. “....Alcohol poisoning can't be that bad… lots of.. people… uh… huh.”

Okay, this was bad. Real bad. He couldn't exactly call anyone right now. Well, maybe Ivan. He didn't seem to hate him. Gilbert? No, he doesn't want to bother him. Francis? Hah. No. Alfred closed his eyes and attempted to think of anyone that didn't appear to hate him at that moment. He thought and thought. He thought so much it felt like he could burst a blood vessel. At least he wouldn't feel it in this state!

“Come on, Alfred, think think.” He sighed and looked over at a bottle that used to have gin inside. Gin.

…

riing

riing

ri-

“Francis. I'm not in the mood at this hour.”

“Not him.”

“...Alfred?”

Alfred sighed in relief once he hears Arthur's voice and swallowed. The country of England. The country that raised him. The country that was who the President wanted to be. He stayed quiet for a few seconds then spoke.

“How are you, dude?”

“I'm fine. Any particular reason you called me at this hour at my home?”

Alfred pursed his lips then let out a raspberry. He inhaled then exhaled, then burped.

“Alright, I'm hanging u-”

“No, don't go…”

“....Alfred, you don't sound like your usual annoying self. What's the matter?”

Oh you know, the usual. Alfred exhaled and closed his eyes, trying to have his only sense be his hearing. He had to sound normal!

“Is that loud music or are you just next to a speaker?”

“The first thing.”

“So, you're calling me from a party? If this is some invitation to spend time with you-”

“Will you just let me speak?! Fucking God!”

Alfred heard Arthur gasp but stay quiet, giving him an invitation to speak. The young man exhaled and opened his mouth.

“So, like, crazy idea. Hear me out. Er. What if, hypothetically, or not hypo…” Alfred trailed off as he felt himself burp again, the burn from the alcohol forcing his eyes to tear up. “...Are you still there?”

“Unfortunately, yes. Will you bloody spit it out?! You're freaking me out a little.”

“OKAY! Geez, dude.” He frowned then snorted. “Hold on, the walls are spinning.”

“Right. Alfred F. Jones, are you sober?”

“Totally.”

“Now this call makes more sense.” Alfred could hear the other sigh. Was it a disappointed sigh? Was it one of annoyance? He couldn't tell. He turned to his side, leaving the phone on the floor as his head laid on it. He felt his eyes start to close but took a deep breath.

“Do ya think, if your boss allowed it, I could join your… effing, British Common leaf thingie.”

“...Join the Commonwealth? Are you serious?” In his ear, Arthur sounded surprised and somehow excited. “You want to come back with me?”

“Yeah. I don't like it here. My boss likes to tou-”

“Stop right there.”

Alfred bit his lips, looking like he just ate something sour. He could hear a bed and clothes shuffling from the other end which concluded with an exasperated sigh from his brother.

“So, let me get this correct.” Arthur cleared his throat. “You messed up. Your people hate the way you run things. Then you come crawling to me??” Arthur forced himself to chuckle. “Your big scary boss made you cry and now you beg to return? To escape from everything? Well, unfortunately Alfred, I'm afraid I am not helping you. Maybe your people will revolutionize and leave you in the mud for a change.”

Before Alfred could say something, Arthur concluded the phone call.

“May God have mercy on your people. You, though? Grow up. You wanted to be independent, now deal with it. You're on your own.”

Alfred was greeted by hang up beeps then silence. He stared at the gin bottle from before then whimpered. He felt warm tears fall down his face and drop onto the phone. His heart slowed more and more. His breathing slowed. His eyelids finally dropped down as his chest let out a final exhale.

Everything's fine. Totally…

…

Alfred laid there completely still, the party music continuing to fill the house.

Chapter Text

“Feliciano, you're late again.” Ludwig spoke, looking as his friend entered the room out of breath.

“I have a good excuse this time! Really! My dream was really nice, again! I was on a date with a nice blonde! Besides, I can't be the last one here!” Feliciano exclaimed.

“Of course, you aren't. Actually-”

“Is it Antonio, again?”

“No.”

Feliciano looked over, seeing the same empty spot as last time. He looked sadly then sat down next to Ludwig. He then turned to face his friend Kiku, who appeared nervous.

“Ve, Kiku. How are you this morning?”

Kiku looked over in a slight startle then relaxed. “I am doing well, Feliciano.”

Feliciano nodded and looked to the front.

“Of course,” Francis spoke from the right of the room sitting next to Arthur. “When the meeting is about him, he's the one late.”

“Perhaps his boss got too angry and he is dead! I hope he is not!” Ivan said, genuinely meaning the latter sentence.

“Please,” Arthur spoke up. “He's probably somewhere in a coma from all the food he eats!” He frowned as memories from last night replayed in his head. He figured there was no point in bringing it up. This meeting wasn't about drunken phone calls.

Everyone then looked over as the door opened, revealing to be the man of the hour. As he walked in, the other counties got a good look at his appearance. A white dress shirt, a brownish gray vest with matching pants, his green jacket, dress shoes with what appeared to be dried vomit, and in his hand, a thermal bottle that let out a bubbling noise. As Alfred walked to his seat, Yào immediately covered his nose with his long sleeve, immediately smelling a mix of alcohol and vomit, the alcohol, fortunately over compensating for the vomit smell.

“You smell like back of dumpster!” Yào exclaimed.

“Yeah, dude! I totally partied hard!” Alfred exclaimed, immediately breaking into his good guy persona. “So,” He sat down at his desk and looked at everyone. “What's this about?”

Arthur raised a brow then stood up and walked to him, handing him a wet wipe. “First of all, at least clean your shoes.” Alfred took it and did just that, muttering a tiny “thank you” as the other went back to his seat.

Once he finished, Ludwig stood up and cleared his throat. “Now then, I called this meeting personally to discuss some changes a good lot of us have wanted to do, and it concerns you.”

“Sounds good, dude. So who's fir-”

“I've decided to not let my people visit your home! Stupid bastard!” Lovino, the representative of South Italy shouted. Ludwig looked over in a slight annoyance at being interrupted.

“Lovino, we agreed to say it in a normal tone!” Feliciano exclaimed.

“He's gotten me too pissed for that! I don't care anymore! We are not visiting you for the next four years!”

“What?! Dude, you love coming over here! All the pasta dishes we got! All the different cultures! The art?” Alfred exclaimed in surprise.

“None of that is worth it when your home is falling to shit! I said my word and we are sticking to it!” Lovino responded. Feliciano looked at Alfred and gave him a regretful nod.

Alfred stared at the two for a moment then sighed. “...Alright, a-”

“I am following in their steps, as well,” Francis spoke up. “In fact, about everyone here has decided it. We do not want to travel to your home in the near future.”

“All of you?! That's, like, all of where we get our money! You can't just! You!” Alfred frowned and looked down at his thermal cup. He grabbed it and took a sip, feeling the fizz go down his throat and begin to soothe his poisoned stomach. “Can't we work something out? My boss isn't gonna like all this.”

“No offense, Alfred,” Kiku said. “But I believe your boss would not actually care. All he thinks about is himself. My boss may have found him to be a pleasure in person, but I do not. None of us do.” Kiku turned his eyes to face Yào, who looked over and nodded.

“Alfred, the both of us, along with Im Yong Soo, have decided to join forces against your home's decisions! We refuse to indulge in your stupid ideas! We will go against your useless tariffs AND warn our people to not visit!”

“Yong, too?! Come on, dude! This isn't my fault! Don't you realize that?”

“Well, I'm not sorry! You just happen to be the messenger to your big man child boss! Suck it up!” Yào yelled.

“You're one to talk about man child bosses.” Alfred let slip out. He quickly scrunched his lips and looked to the side when he felt Yào's death glare on him. Kiku looked away for a brief moment then right at Alfred. He sighed then returned to staring at his spot on the table. Alfred swallowed and took another sip of his drink, breaking away from the brief awkward moment.

“...Okay. I'll tell him. That's what my job is, after all. Good ol’ messenger pigeon.” He looked down at his drink, staring at his tired reflection. It almost looked like his reflection from the last night. Painted on a remedy instead of a poison. Was there a real difference at this point, however? He looked like this on every reflective surface. The same exhausted eyes and strained lips. The same white hairs that began to mix with his blonde strands. The same Alfred that took form a month ago.

It really has been a month.

“Alfred. If you are ready to listen, I would like to speak my words.”

Alfred stopped his brief escape and looked up, realizing that Ludwig was now speaking. He straightened up his back and nodded, putting down the cup on the table.

“Thank you. Along with joining the other countries limiting visitation. I would like to ask something of you.”

“Yeah?” Alfred perked up. Was it something good? Oh God, please let it be something good.

“As you are aware, your boss has assigned someone not in politics to run a new branch in your government. A very infamous one.”

“Him and his stupid dealerships in our place!” Lovino butted in. He lifted his middle finger when Ludwig shot him a look to be quiet.

“Yes. His electric cars, but that is not what my request is about. Alfred. I am requesting you to discuss with him and your boss for that man to cease his attempts to participate in my government.”

Alfred raised his left brow in confusion. “He's trying to get into your government business? What do you mean?”

“You know exactly what I mean.”

“....I do.” Alfred flinched when Ludwig began to approach him, leaning in close so their faces could feel each other's breaths.

“I don't understand why your boss and his people appear to have memory loss, but I do not. I know what the hell that hand salute was that day and I refuse to let that man control the narrative. Do I make myself absolutely clear?”

Alfred weakly nodded as his body shivered. He instinctively tried to cover himself with his right arm but forced his left hand to hold it down. He stared right into the other's piercing blue eyes, stabbing right into his tired ones.

“Yes…?”

Ludwig narrowed his eyes at him.

“Yes sir.”

Ludwig pulled away and looked at everyone else. “If everyone has anything else to say, speak now.” The room stayed quiet. Kiku and Yào turned away, the both retaining their individual upset expressions. Francis brushed his fingers through his hair and let out a huff of annoyance. England only stared at Alfred, much like a disappointed parent. Feliciano and Lovino looked away in opposite directions. Ivan only gave Alfred a weak smile, impossible to decipher if it was pity and indulgence.

“Alright then. Dismissed. Alfred. I hope you understand the side of history your boss has led your home to.”

Alfred watched as everyone began to single out and leave in silence. No one looked at him. No one gave him a goodbye. It was like he wasn't even there.

All except Kiku.

Kiku turned to face Alfred right before he left. Alfred took this chance to speak to him, even if only for a brief moment.

“Kiku. Come on, man! Can't we work something out? I mean, you guys did this without discussing anything with me! Aren't I supposed to be the one who protects your home if something should happen??”

Kiku looked to the side then directly into his eyes.

“You will always be my protector in violent situations. You will always be my friend. However, if I had to choose which side to support in your tariff war, I am picking the side with the country who raised me.”

Alfred's glasses turned white as he stood still staring. His lips quivered a moment then were forced to go back to a straight line.

“I bid you farewell, Alfred. I hope the next we meet will be for the good.” Kiku bowed and left the room, leaving Alfred standing there.

The blonde swallowed. He went back to the table and grabbed his cup. He finished it off then stared down at it. He glared and bared his teeth, throwing it onto the ground and flinching at the echo it created. He grabbed his hair and gripped it, allowing his vocal cords to release a growl and yell. Once he felt satisfied, he bent down and picked up the cup and placed it in his inside pocket of his green jacket.

“...I need a drink.” He checked he grabbed all his belongings then made his way to the exit door. As Alfred left, one more person sat in his seat holding his bear friend.

“...I'm still here. I wanted to talk about my home removing his alcohol from our shelves and cutting electricity to some of his land. Can't forget the no travel…”

“Who are you?”

“I'm Canada…”

Chapter Text

What a shitty meeting. Alfred didn't even get to have a real say in it! Seriously, did everyone have to gang up on him? It wasn't fair. He wasn't the one causing all this! Well, the meeting before it kind of was, but all that other stuff wasn't him! He didn't cause planes to fall! Nor the mass firings! Nor the random cars on the White House lawn!

…The what.

Alfred was walking down a pathway to meet up with his boss when he was suddenly greeted by trapezoid shaped cars that had the same color as a refrigerator. Okay, maybe there was some event. Some big party his boss conveniently didn't invite him to! He would think that if he wasn't also greeted by another car from the same company as the trash can cars.

“What the hell?” Alfred sped up his walking and looked at the cars. They were parked right on the bright green grass and right in front of the neoclassical columns that was the main entrance. He raised his brow in confusion as his eyes scanned each vehicle. He continued to walk, approaching the entrance of the White House. Alfred quickly hid behind a column when he spotted cameras and the two people he had grown to dread seeing on a daily basis.

Oh, and the friend brought his son again. Nothing like a good ol’ fifty seven pound human shield. Well, he figured the kid was about that weight.

“So, Mr. President,” A male interviewer behind a news camera asked. “Are you looking to lease or buy?”

“I'm going to buy, because, number one, it is a great product. As great as it gets, and number two, is because this man,” The President pointed to his friend. “He is devoted. His life. His energy, to do this. I think he's been treated very unfairly by a small group of people.”

Alfred looked over, seeing his boss bolding a paper. He looked side to side then bent over, walking to hide behind another column to get a closer look. He squinted his eyes but still couldn't read what was on it.

“There's no way he wrote this himself.” He kneeled and watched, waiting for a moment for his boss to possibly walk over or happen to be close enough. He was too invested in this to back off. Alfred adjusted his glasses, as if it would help in his mission. It looked cool, at least. If anyone was watching.

“Now here's the bad news!” The President spoke again. “I'm not allowed to drive because I haven't driven a car in a long time! And I love driving cars, so I'm going to have it at the White House and let my staff use it. Let people at the place use it and they're all excited about it. I'm not allowed to use it, can you believe it!”

“Yes.” Alfred muttered under his breath. He moved his head closer as his boss walked off and stood somewhat close to Alfred. He took the chance and stared at the paper. To his surprise, he had two papers in his greasy fat hands.

He stared at the smaller paper. It had a list of pricings for each car model, all of them except for the last, listed for over one hundred thousand dollars. He mumbled to himself as he continued to read.

“....can be purchased as low as $299 a month or $35K… all cars have self driving. Sure, not like our people can't afford eggs.” Alfred backed up and stood up properly. He grunted and placed a hand on his back. He jerked himself backward, hearing a crack. He sighed and walked, as if he had just shown up.

“Yo! Boss guy! What's with the cars?”

“Oh, Alfred, my favorite man. I want to make our friend feel good and show off his cars. They're excellent cars. I know you love cars so you can use the one I just bought. Isn't that great?”

“Oh, thanks… It's just what I've always wanted! Heh.” Alfred blew a raspberry then pushed his hair back. “Listen, I got called to a meeting.”

“How did it go?”

“Er, not good. So my-”

“Shh shh. Meet me in the office and tell me there. Too many, uh, cameras.” The boss began to walk, his friend following. The man turned around and glared at Alfred, giving him a look of disgust. He purposely held his son's arms down so he wouldn't wave to the personified country.

Alfred sighed and rubbed his temple with his right hand for a brief moment. He figured it was going to take his boss a hot minute to even make it to the office, so he had time to kill. He decided to look at the trapezoid cars.

God, they're fucking ugly.

Alfred walked around one, trying to process that someone made a vehicle shaped like that and felt proud of it. He snorted and tapped on the front bumper, only to watch it fall to the ground.

…

Alfred was now inside the White House halls, leaning against a wall and under a portrait of one of his former bosses. The 42nd to be exact. He closed his eyes and let his medicine seltzer breath exhale out. He made a face at the smell and turned his head upwards. He stepped out and looked at the portrait, the man's blue eyes staring into Alfred's.

“...We used to impeach for less. Now look where we are.” He groaned and licked his lips. Feeling that he had spent enough time, he made his way to the office. He didn't bother knocking. He didn't care. “Hey, boss? Oh, cool, you're here.” He entered and closed the door behind him.

“Yes yes, now, what were you saying?” The man's voice returned to its disgusting and cold tone, a tone Alfred was used to.

“All my friends decided to not visit the place. Warnings on traveling here and all. Oh and, Germany requested that your friend leave his politics alone.” Alfred lingered on the last word, saying the last syllable for a few seconds. He then grinned, showing his teeth as his sweat glands began to form drops on his forehead and armpits.

“We both know that not visiting us will only hurt them. We are too powerful to fail. We are strong. They are making the mistake.”

“...I suppose so.” Alfred looked as his boss gestured to him to come closer. He swallowed and did so, standing near him. “I can talk to your friend if you want. I know you're busy with… your stuff.” Alfred offered. He bit his lips as if he ate something sour then released them.

“Oh, don't worry about him. The car thing will set his ego for a while. That's all I need. Bigger ego means better work on his branch and finding the bad in our system. You know that DEI stuff? It's, uh, not needed. Why gift people because of skin or what they chose to make their sexuality? Not needed. You get it.”

“Sure, man. DEI is something all right.” Where are the hidden cameras? Why is he rambling about DEI? Alfred barely heard the phrase until his boss took office again. It felt like a replacement word for-

“So, I have a big surprise. You'll love it. I'm sure your friends hurt you and you know what? First off, I don't like anyone hurting you like that. They don't understand us. The surprise will be a great one for us. Secondly-” His boss put his hands out then down, staring at Alfred for a second, nothing behind those eyes of his.

“...Yes?”

“This surprise will hurt our people for a while but it will bring gold and amazing news to our country. It's time that your friend learn to not mess with us.” The man bent under his desk and pulled out a stack of papers. He shoved it into Alfred's hands then placed a gentle hand on the other's right hand. “Go ahead, check it out.

Alfred blinked and adjusted his glasses. He brought the papers to his face and immediately put them down.

“What do you mean by ‘Liberation Day?’ What have my friends done wrong?” He pressed. His boss gave him a look that read like, “Are you fucking stupid?” He sure felt fucking stupid at that moment.

“Everything, Alfred. All those years of treating you awful. You're like our friend. Treated unfairly! I know for sure you share the pity I have for him. So unfair for all the brilliant work he's done.”

“...I don't think I'm like him.”

“Treated unfairly, yes.” The man ignored his comment. “It's time you let them know who is the one in charge. Who the hero in all this is.”

Alfred swallowed. His lip quivered as he forced himself to open his mouth.

“Listen, I don't think this is a good idea.” Alfred dared to speak. “Shouldn't we keep good relations with the other countries? Like we do with Japan and had with Canada. I mean, I have been here much longer than you have an-”

Alfred suddenly hit the wall on his right as his cheek stung and skull shook inside his head. His glasses went lopsided on his face. His eyes shook side to side. His breathing quickened as he placed a hand on his cheek then looked at his boss. In front of him was a man who had his hand up and a soulless look in his eyes. He almost looked surprised that Alfred wasn't fighting back like he should. A pleasant surprise. Alfred swallowed and slowly put his hand down, keeping his body on the wall. His mind immediately attempted to shift into fight or flight, like he was suddenly back in a trench on the western front or in the trees in a jungle. He forced himself to swallow any vomit that attempted to come back out. After that brief moment of internal struggle, he watched the man stand up and approach him, invading his very precious personal space.

The President fixed his suit. He grabbed Alfred and stood him up properly. His hands adjusted his jacket and shirt, as if he had accidently bumped into an art display. When he felt the boy looked presentable again, he cleared his throat and spoke.

“So, that shuts you up. Interesting.” His breath invaded Alfred's nostrils as he continued to speak. “I know what's best for you. No need to question what I do. See what happens when you do? You don't want me to be the bad guy, right? I'm not the bad guy.”

The two didn't speak. The only sounds their ears heard was their blinking and the boy's slowly steadying breathing. It felt forever, despite it only being four seconds max. Alfred slightly shook his head no, cautiously adjusting his glasses so they sat properly on the bridge of his nose.

“No sir. I'm sorry.”

“Good boy. Get out of my sight.”

Alfred stood outside the office, his heart continuing to pound to match his staggered breathing. His cheek continued to replay the memory of the string it seemed to let linger. He swallowed and forced his legs to walk forward, putting one foot in front of the other. He held his left wrist with his right hand and kept his gaze forward. He had been hit before by many people, but this felt different. He wasn't sure if he preferred it over the more sensual touches. At least those only hurt on the inside of his head.

The young man stared out the window, his eyes meeting the cars that remained out on the front lawn. He swallowed and kept moving, slowly changing his posture to be straight and serious. He clenched his fists and sped up his steps. He was back to normal. He was fine. Everything is fine.

Totally fine.

Chapter Text

Alfred woke up feeling sore all over his body. The smell of alcohol escaping his mouth invaded his nose. He blinked multiple times then yawned. He closed his eyes and moved his hat around his bed, trying to feel for his glasses.

“Shit. What time is it?” He put on his glasses and yawned once more, feeling his eyes tear up for a moment then blinking them away. He pushed himself up from his bed.

Oh wait.

He pushed himself up from his bathtub and scratched his cheek. He opened his eyes wide and blinked, finally getting himself up. He stepped over the rim of the tub and left the bathroom, turning off the light behind him with his right hand. He felt the colder air of his home hit his skin, making him realize he was only in a pair of “I ♡ NY” boxers, which was wet from not making it to the toilet in time. Alfred stretched and walked to the room with his television. Some TV was sure to help!

The room was a mess. Various beer cans and bottles laid on the floor, couch, and coffee table. They shared the space with fast food wrappers, take out boxes, and empty pain relief pill bottles. The blonde moves some cans put of the way and sat on the couch. He then decided to lay down instead. He grabbed the grease covered remote, turned on the TV and went to any news channel that was the closest to the channel he was previously watching on. What greeted him was the man who asserted himself a couple days ago. What a delight. Alfred just loved seeing his dad on TV. He looked around and grabbed a bag of chips he left lying around and began to eat them by the fist full. They were stale and tasted terrible, but he didn't care.

The boss was in front of the White House where several American flags hung next to the pillars. He stood at a podium with a microphone, already in the middle of his slop. He had his usual blue suit and red tie, along with his makeup that looked like he got stained with orange juice. With the pulp.

“This is one of the most important days in American history. I consider it to be. More important than most things. A declaration of economic independence. My fellow Americans, this is…”

“Fucker.” Alfred replied with his mouth full, almost hoping his boss could hear him.

“...Liberation Day.”

The broadcast played the claps from the crowd, which was full of his supporters and political friends. It sent a shiver down Alfred’s spine. Almost every person had something on them with the president’s name. Hats. Shirts. Phones. Anything that could be decorated. Even hard hats from construction workers.

“....This day will forever be remembered as, uh, the day America, er, industry was reborn. The day America’s destiny was reclaimed, and the date that we began to make this country wealthy, again.”

“Again, no one can afford eggs! Fucking dickhead.” He crunched on some more chips.

“Steel workers, oil workers, farmers, and skilled craftsmen have lived in anguish as foreign leaders have taken our jobs and cheated our system. Foreigners who have destroyed the American Dream. No more of being ripped off. I am putting America first,” The man then tossed a hat into the audience like it was a baseball game giving away free T-shirts. “I will now sign off my executive order to enact tariffs on countries around the world.” He sat at a desk with the presidential seal on it. Beautiful red tulips were sprouted on the ground, unfortunately complimenting the president's red tie. Alfred narrowed his eyes. When he was given the sneak peek, the order was still a bunch of papers. Now, it was a whole display, like a preteen's project on a cardboard cutout. He couldn't read the list from the broadcast, but he knew someone would post it online in a matter of minutes.

Alfred turned off the television and rubbed his temples, gritting his teeth and kicking his feet around like a toddler throwing a tantrum. It was stopped by his phone vibrating on the coffee table. He grabbed it and squinted at the screen.

Arthur (Probs Mad At Me)

Maybe he was calling to check in! Or for a visit! Anything positive! Alfred slid his finger on the green phone symbol on the screen and placed the phone to his ear.

“...Hello?”

“Bloody finally! I've been calling for ten minutes! Are you out partying again?”

“No, I was… uh, pissing.”

“...Lovely. Seriously, you need to come to the meeting room. Everyone is just delighted to hear what they have just been hit with and they have requested it to be said from you.”

Of course. It never was going to be positive. Why did he still have hope on it? Stupid.

“Okay. Yeah,” Alfred yawned. “I'll be there in a few.”

“Good. Please be decent and try not to smell like vom-”

Alfred hung up before Arthur could finish his sentence. He really didn't need his bitching at this hour. Okay, it wasn't bitching, but it felt like it. He got up from the couch and stumbled to his room to grab some decent clothes. He looked at the floor, scanning for clean looking clothes and grabbed a shirt. He smelled it and shrugged, putting it on. He did the same with some pants, socks, and a jacket. He didn't bother changing his underwear. Not like anyone was going to see it. All together, they form a… an outfit.

Well, it didn't smell like vomit. Just a hint of piss and stale chips!

Before getting to the meeting place, he needed to pick up a copy of the executive order in order to read it. Everything is fancier when you aren't reading off a phone, and he needed to look good. He made a quick stop to the oval office, which was fortunately empty. Alfred looked around and pulled out the stack he was shown earlier, which was now properly put together.

“...Alright Alfred. You got this. How bad can it be?” He chuckled to himself then sighed.
…

Alfred burst through the doors holding a dark blue binder that was filled with pages that were in sheet protectors. Like he thought, fancy. He kept his gaze to the front, ignoring any comments or stares he received from his friends. About every single country he knew was in that room. He could hear their voices but not what they were saying. He couldn't understand them. Alfred stood at the front and opened the binder. He was slightly impressed at how neat it was. His boss definitely did not put this together. Focus. He cleared his throat and forced his eyes to not release their grip from the pages.

“Hey dudes…. I know you're all super excited to hear what my boss did! To be honest, this is the first time I'm hearing it sooo…”

“LIST THE LIST OFF, STUPID!”

“Okay Yào, geez.” Alfred's hands shook as he held up the binder. He glanced behind him and sat down in a chair. The presidential seal was on the front, while the table had a vase of red tulips.

“...Alright.” Alfred cracked his neck and opened his mouth, the breath of alcohol and stale chips momentarily taking over his nose before getting used to it.

“I'll go by country then the percentage. Okay. …Australia, 10%. Cameroon, 11%. China… 125%. Egypt, 10%. European Union, 20%. Iceland, 10%. India, 25%. Indonesia, 35%. Japan… 24%. Korea, 25%. Malaysia, 24%. Moldova, 35%. Monaco, 10%. New Zealand, 10%. Norway, 15%. Philippines, 17%. Singapore, 10%. Switzerland, 31%. Taiwan, 32%. Thailand, 36%. Turkey, 10%. Ukraine, 10%. United Kingdom… 10%. Vietnam, 46%. Liechtenstein, 37%.”

Alfred read off every country that got hit, which, of course, still included Canada and Mexico, despite them not being on the fancy list. It also included lands that did not even have people living there. Only penguins. When he finally finished, he was met with dead silence. He dared himself to look up at everyone, nervously biting his bottom lip as he tried to read everyone's expressions. The silence was then broken by Yào screaming insults in his own language. Alfred didn't respond verbally to them. He didn't know what he was saying. Yào yelling was then added on by the other Asian countries, excluding Kiku, who only gave Alfred a defeated look. Arthur's brothers then chimed in, along with the rest of the European Union, which happened to be, literally, all of Europe. Ludwig, Feliciano, Lovino, Francis, etc.

Alfred's heart began to beat rapidly. His skin grew sweaty. His vision grew blurry. His body shook. He needed to leave. Now. He was only the messenger! Not the decider! Oh God, the voices were getting louder. They were getting more foreign. What was Feliciano saying? What about Francis? Ludwig? Kiku? His heart beat even faster, forcing him to place a hand on his chest. Everyone's voice filled the entire building, making the walls vibrate like it was in the middle of a violent earthquake. Alfred had enough. He quickly grabbed the binder and ran out of the room, sweat dripping down his forehead and cheeks. His body was hot. His armpits stained his clothing. His mouth was dry. He covered his ears and continued to run. He ran and ran, trying to escape it all. Everything will be fine! A judge will block it for sure! Maybe his boss will get a heart attack! Maybe someone with better aim will-

Alfred left the building, pushing open the doors and flinching as they hit the walls.  He then ran to his home. He needed a drink. He needed some pills. He needed food. He needed something, God damn it.

As everyone continued to yell in shock and anger, one country stood up, having a gentle smile on his face. He looked at the door that Alfred ran out of and felt his cheeks flush.

“Everyone got a tariff except me!” Ivan exclaimed, clapping his hands together. “He is the sweet, like tea in war rations!” His smile grew as tiny flowers spun near his head. The only joy in the room of anger.

Chapter Text

“Do you want to buy laundry pods? Detergent? Fabric softener? Buy direct from China! American companies are the middle man! Go to this website! No middle man! Pods only for two dollars!”

scroll

“These designer bags! Only ten dollars in China! Same quality as so called ‘luxury!’ Go t-”

scroll

“I will sell you anime merch! Right from China! The United States makes items overpriced! We will not have mi-”

Alfred put his phone on his chest and gripped his hair. He whimpered then grabbed his phone again, his eyes shaking and twitching.

“Damn it Yào! This is how you repay me after I paid the cat tax on your app?!” He exhaled deeply and turned to his side, grabbing a half empty bottle of beer and finishing it off. He wiped his mouth then put the bottle down. His body felt terrible, and it wasn't from the alcohol in his veins. It wasn't from his lack of comfortable sleeping spots. It wasn't even from his boss’ way of authority on his body.

It was the same pain he felt in the Great Depression. So, not good!

Alfred looked back at the empty beer bottle and sighed. He then felt his stomach grumble, which made him sigh again. Deciding he deserved something good, he sat up and got to his feet. He was going to go to the grocery store! Like a normal person! He smelled his arm pit and made a face, which prompted him to rush to the bathroom and put on deodorant. He turned on the bathroom light and stared at himself in the mirror as the warm light basked over him. He was in gray sweatpants this time but still no shirt. His torso had a few scars from his past but they were mostly healed. He looked at his stomach and poked it, watching it jiggle ever so slightly.

“Geez, is this that beer gut old dudes have? I haven't drunk that much.” He lied to himself. Alfred opened his medicine cabinet, ignored the extra amount of pills, and pulled out his powder deodorant, which had the scent of bergamot. He slid it onto his armpits, starting with his left side then his right. Once he finished, he showed his teeth to the mirror, trying to see if they looked clean enough. He ran his tongue over them, feeling the coating of dental plaque on them. Eh, he wasn't planning on showing his teeth to anyone, who cares. He left the bathroom, leaving the light on, and walked to his room. He turned that light on and headed towards his closet. He grabbed a random shirt, put it on, then grabbed his green jacket off the floor. It smelled like sweat and garlic from a grill but, again, he wasn't planning on being near anyone. Who. Cares.

He slipped on slippers that looked like alien heads. They were gray and looked like his friend Tony. Where was he, anyways? His boss sure didn't like the idea that Alfred, “adopted an illegal alien,” and that he should “go back to where he came from before I do it myself.”

“...I hope he didn't go back to whatever planet he escaped from. Yeesh.” Alfred sighed and headed back to the bathroom to look over his outfit. Well, not the worst he's looked. He grinned at himself and snapped his fingers, only to sigh and rush out, turning the light off behind him. He got to the front door and grabbed his wallet and keys from a tray. Alfred decided to drive to the store, despite the fact he could've easily just walked with a grocery cart. Well, he would if there was an actual sidewalk and not just streets and crazy drivers. Would the drivers hitting him be that big of a deal? It’s not like he'd move out of the way.

He entered the store, grabbing a shopping cart and speeding his way to the freezer aisle, specifically the frozen dinners. He looked at the selection then grabbed a few boxes.

Orange chicken and rice.

Yakisoba noodles.

French fries.

Fried fish fillets.

Chicken nuggets shaped like dinosaurs.

Poutine.

Fettuccine alfredo pasta.

Hot dogs.

Pelmeni.

Lasagna.

Cheeseburgers.

Frozen waffles.

Microwave burritos.

Pizza.

He moved his cart towards the eggs and dairy section, staring at the prices. He sighed and grabbed the smallest selection of eggs, which was a pack of four. He then grabbed a half gallon of whole milk, stared at it, swapped it for unsweetened almond milk, stared at the price, then got 2% milk. He was watching his figure after all! He moved to the bread aisle, putting in white bread and hot dog buns in the cart. After that, he headed right for the cereal aisle and grabbed the most sugary cereals, along with one box of plain, unsweetened, wheat cereal. He was watching his figure after all!

“...I guess this should be enough for…two days. Three if I skip breakfast.” Alfred blew a raspberry and pushed the cart to the chip aisle. He looked around and just grabbed a whole row and put it in his cart. He didn't bother reading what he even put. The bags looked pretty, though. Satisfied with this trip, he turned his cart around and headed to the registers. He faced the self checkout, which was filled with people already. He then eyed the regular registers, which were less filled.

Damn.

Once Alfred got to his turn at the register, he gave the cashier a gentle nod and watched as his items got scanned. He refused eye contact with the person, not wanting to find out if they were actually judging him heavily on what he picked. What if they knew he was actually a pig under his jacket? Maybe they just think it's for a party! Yeah, right. What party serves frozen meals stupid?

“$247.38.”

“...Really?”

“Yes.”

Alfred took out his wallet and pulled out a card. It was a golden card. (He didn't pick it out.) The cashier gave him a look then looked away as they waited for him to pay. He looked at the screen and tapped his card, only to read the words:

Card Declined.

“....Maybe the tap is broken? Hah,” Alfred slid the card and got greeted by the same message. “...Maybe the slide is-” He inserted the card and, once again, got the same message. Alfred quickly opened his wallet and looked through his cash. He pulled out the bills and counted them, only having $73 on him.

“Uh..” Alfred awkwardly looked next to him, only to be greeted by a shrug and an amused smile from a man in a specific red hat.

“Sorry pal, I worked for my money. I'm not a charity.”

Alfred exhaled and looked at the cashier, who gave him a sympathetic gaze. It was the warmest thing he's felt this week that wasn't cheap beer.

“...Take off the milk and the bread. …Hot dogs, noodles, fish.” He looked at the price then back at the food. “Poutine, that's not really essential. Five of the chip bags.”

“Really dude? Hurry up. Maybe you should've checked your damn bank!”

“I'm supposed to have money! These prices are insane!”

“That's why our president is going to fix them! It was the other guy's fault.”

“Uh huh yup. Can't wait.”

Eventually, Alfred was able to pay for his groceries, which cost him $68.28. In the end, he only had two bags of groceries, which included four bags of chips, cereals, orange chicken, chicken nuggets, pizza, fries, and pelmeni. Truly a meal for a king. He got into his car and pressed his forehead to the steering wheel. He banged his head a couple times then took out his phone, opened his contacts and called his boss.

“Pick up, you fucker. PICK UP!”

“Err… hello?”

The voice wasn't his boss. Instead, it was his ever so helpful friend. It sounded slurred and almost drunk, like he wasn't fully there. Just what he needed.

“It's Alfred. Why is my card empty? I just tried to pay for groceries an-”

“What category is that under?”

“What?”

“What part of the budget is that?”

“...The, uh, America Payroll section in the finances.”

“Oh, that. Yeeeaaah, I cut that.”

“...You did what?”

“Look, dude, do you really need free money when that money could be going into something else?”

“We've had this in place since the place was founded! In this day and age, I get $1776 biweekly!”

“Well guess what. Life isn't fair, kid! Go work like the rest of us. It's not my fault you choose to leech off the government like some illegal DEI immigrant.”

“A what.”

“Whatever. Be glad that money is going to actual important shit, you woke asshole.”

“HOW DOES THIS MAKE ME QUOTE UNQUOTE WOKE?”

Alfred heard the phone beep, indicating the guy hung up on him. He stared at his phone screen then yelled, hitting his fist on the passenger seats headrest. The car shook side to side as he let his body tantrum around.

“I CAN'T GET A JOB! THAT DAMN IDIOT! HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO EAT?! DO I HAVE TO WHORE MYSELF OUT? WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO?” He felt his eyes sting and vision blur as his anger continued to stay around. He stared at his grocery bags then felt his stomach start to growl loudly. He let out a defeated exhale of air and started his car. He looked at the gas dial and let out a small whimper, seeing that it was a line away from empty. He had enough to get back home, but he wouldn't even have money for gas. Alfred shook his head then his hands, trying to get his energy out of him. Once he felt relaxed enough, he looked side to side and left the parking lot and got onto the street heading back home.

“I could make it a week if I just stick to dinner. It'll help with my weight, anyways! I've survived on just hard tack and canned meat in the dirt! I can do this, too! It'll be fine!”

He continued to drive, passing by a small group of homeless folk. He swallowed and stared ahead, suddenly feeling like he shouldn't have been allowed to complain about today's events. People have it worse than him, after all.

Why the hell was he complaining?

Chapter Text

Thanks to the boss’ ever so intelligent and chronically online friend, Alfred was stuck attending dinners at the White House. All the other options he thought of ended in failure. Getting a job? Can't exactly prove he can work in the paperwork. Veterans aid? Yeah, he sure looked like he was in his 80s. Food banks? All filled by citizens and the deep guilt he'd be taking food from a family who actually needs it. Asking one of his friends? Uh, they're all mad at him, so he didn't even bother trying.

So, White House dinners it was.

The room was silent except for the sounds of utensils scraping the plates and the boss' heavy breathing. Oh God the breathing. Every inhale and exhale sounded like his last, which, to be honest, Alfred wouldn't mind. For once, he wanted conversation. Maybe it would be normal for once! They were just eating dinner, after all. Dinner time is for catching up on your day!

“So, your friend, kind of took away my money.” He said, taking a sip of his drink.

“He cut off your payroll? Hah. That sounds right.” His boss sat across from him. Next to him was his wife, the First Lady. Alfred didn't have much of an opinion on her. She was always nice to him but turned a blind eye to any negative motions her husband inflicted in him. A lot of the staff did. What are they gonna do? Tell their boss no? He's the king of the castle. He even had a picture of it on his own social media app and on the White House’s accounts.

“Any chance that'll get fixed?”

“I don't control him, if he thinks it's a waste then it is a waste. Besides, it means now I get to spend time with my son. My other kids are busy in school. They're very smart.” The President took a bite of his food and nodded, as if it was the best thing he had ever eaten.

“Yup, you've told me for the past two days.” Alfred put more food in his mouth. It was a well done steak. Very dry, almost like a jerky. Absolutely no seasoning. The only condiment he had was ketchup. Luckily for Alfred, he usually covered his food in ketchup, anyways. It wasn't helping, though. Next to the steak were mashed potatoes with the skin still in the mush, and a pile of soaking wet greens. At least his drink was alcoholic! A nice rosé that tasted like water. He stared at the food and sighed.

“I miss British food.” He muttered to himself. He dipped a piece of steak into a dollop of ketchup then chewed it. He pushed his teeth into it, each bite becoming harder than the last. How was this old man eating this fine? Oh, he wasn't eating this. He was eating his own meal that consisted of two burgers (with the buns taken out,) two fish sandwiches, (which were from the same fast food place,) and the toppings from a pizza. Just the toppings. All eaten with a fork and knife. To finish it off was about four cans of soda, each with its very own straw that bent.

Alfred felt himself get filled with dread at the familiar sight. Of course, he wasn't insane enough to remove the bread and crust, but it still made him feel gross. Maybe he was like him, like he keeps telling him. He forced himself to stare at his plate and eat everything, using as much ketchup as he could to add some goddamn flavor. Honesty, if something in that room deserved credit and cheer, it was that ketchup.

Eventually, he finished everything, his stomach satisfied it finally had food in it to digest instead of his stomach lining. He excused himself, mainly for the first lady's sake, and quickly left the dining place. His boss, thankfully, didn't need anything from him, probably because his wife was there. Alfred walked through the halls, hearing several employees talking amongst themselves. He waved to a few of them, most of them ignoring his greeting. Whatever. He continued his way down until he finally reached his own personal pathway that led to his home. Only he was able to access it. Literally. Country magic!

Alfred was back in his home, the faint smell of beer still lingering. Did he even have any alcohol left? He had no idea. He closed the front door and took off his suit jacket, hung it on a coat rack, then slipped off his shoes. He kicked them to a wall with the rest of his shoes. He groaned and decided he was going to stay in his living room. First, though, he quickly went to his room and took off his pants and dress shirt, leaving him only in American Flag boxers and socks. He grabbed his phone from the pants pocket and stood back up. He looked down at his belly and poked it, watching it jiggle. He frowned and turned around, making his way to the living room. He tossed his phone onto the coffee table, cringed at the loud sound it made when it landed, then jumped onto the couch and laid on it. He stared up at the ceiling and blinked a few times. He closed his eyes and let himself just breathe. His body felt heavy as a feeling of tiredness and sleepiness began to swim in his veins. Was he this tired all day? Was he going to be in this constant feeling of pain for the next four years? At least it was only going to be four, then the next boss will be blue. It's how it goes.

He shifted to laying on his left side and opened his eyes, staring at his reflection on the television screen. Did he always look this fat? He grabbed the remote and turned it on, deciding some background noise could help. Like a lullaby. He scrolled through his options, looking for something he didn't need to pay attention to. Unfortunately, his state of relaxation came to a sudden stop.

“...Memecoin? What the heck is that?” He felt for the selection button on the remote and pressed it, watching as the video loaded and began to play. It was a section from a news segment. It was a female news anchor that spoke.

“The President has offered a private dinner to the first 220 investors of his ‘memecoin.’ In addition, the top twenty five buyers would win access to a reception with him and a V.I.P tour of the White House before dinner.”

Alfred sat up slightly as he watched the video play out. He felt his brows turn down in anger along with his teeth gritting against each other. If ANY other president attempted this, they would've been thrown out of office, but no, whatever the king said, goes. He shut his eyes and gripped his air with his right hand. He released it then exhaled sharply.

“My money that keeps me alive is a waste. Our people are dying from a secure source of food. You've kicked out people who should have a chance to live here. You think a good chunk of the citizens shouldn't have rights, and now you are using your supporters to show off?! Are you fucking joking?! What's next?! You get sick of me and shoot me?” Alfred looked back at the screen and felt his eyes widen.

“In addition to all that, the administration's website has begun to sell hats with his name and 2028 embroidered on the cap.”

“No, he's not.” Alfred grabbed his phone from the table and quickly looked up what the news was claiming. “Shut up, he is… not.” His blue eyes started at the screen as he opened the official link and read the description:

“The future looks bright! Rewrite the rules with the President 2028 high crown hat. Fully embroidered with a snap closure in the back, this will become your new go-to hat.”

Alfred blinked and felt his hair turn gray. His body began to pulsate like a pounding headache as he processed everything. The sounds of the news people talking began to turn muffled in his ears. His heart beat began to speed up. His breathing quickened. It was supposed to be four years max. Less than that would be even better. No more than that. That's the rules. Since forever! Alfred let out a small chuckle, then a giggle, then a full on laugh. He laughed and laughed for a minute straight and finished it with a strained laugh that went for a few seconds. When he finished, he inhaled and threw his phone onto his couch chair. Can't risk breaking it, after all. He doesn't exactly have money for a replacement!

“I revolted against this! Our foundation was getting away from a king, and now he wants to be one?! WHAT IS HIS FUCKING PLAN HERE?! ARGH! …Okay, Alfred. No need to get angry. Where has anger gotten you? Nip it right now! Nothing a little drink can't fix!” Alfred quickly got up and rolled off the couch, landing roughly onto the carpet floor. He got up and practically ran to the fridge. He opened it and looked around, only to be greeted by nothing. He huffed and checked the freezer, but it only had food. He didn't want food. He needed to feel better.

“Alright, think, think… What can-” Alfred turned over to stare at his cabinet of baking ingredients. He gasped with a smile and opened it. He looked at his options then pulled a bottle of vanilla extract. He opened the cap and smelled it, feeling his mouth water at the thought of vanilla ice cream or vanilla frosting.

“The guy in the sitcom just drank it straight up…” He shrugged and chugged the bottle down, holding his left thumb in his fist in order to prevent his gag reflex kicking in. Once he finished the bottle, he burped, feeling his throat burn and smell like a bakery. His veins began to tingle as the alcohol contents spread in his stomach. It didn't feel enough, however. He went back into his baking supplies and grabbed a jar of maraschino cherries. He opened it and sipped on the liquid inside, letting out an exhale and burp when he ran out. “...Not that bad. Come on.” Alfred licked his lips and resealed the jar. He put it down and closed his eyes. What else had alcohol that he'd seen done in movies?

…

Alfred turned on his bathroom light, his vision starting to blur as it hit his eyes. He placed a hand on his forehead and opened the cabinet under the sink.

“Come on, come on I know I have some.” His hands pushed various shampoo, body wash, and toilet paper to the side until he finally felt a rectangular snapped bottle. Pulling it out, he read the label.

“...89%. Surely, this should work!” He popped open the cap and stared at it. He blinked as his mind screamed for him to put it down and settle for the vanilla and cherries. His gut told him this was wrong. His brain said it was wrong. All his friends in his head said it was wrong. Arthur said it was wrong.

Alfred took off the cap entirely and chugged the liquid inside. He only got halfway before he fell backward and hit his head onto his bathtub edge. He felt his consciousness fade into blackness as the alcohol coated his stomach and veins.

“...What's eight more years? It's…fi-” Alfred closed his eyes as his heartbeat began to slow down. His breathing matched the speed as he was finally no longer awake for the moment.

Just fine.

Chapter Text

Alfred awoke a few days later. Or, better put, it felt like he woke up a few days later. He had no memory between the time of hitting his head and waking up now. According to the date, it had been days, so he assumed he was asleep that long. The smell of old blood hit his nose, causing him to gag. Alfred swallowed and let out a sigh. He didn’t feel that good. He felt hungry. He felt hungover. He felt sore. He felt like a typical American!

“...Twice within a month. I can’t keep doing this. Damn it, dude!” Alfred placed a palm on his face then slid it down. He grunted and picked up his glasses, which somehow survived the whole ordeal. He put them on and faced forward, placing his hands on the edge of the tub so he could hoist himself up. He muttered to himself then lifted himself up. His vision blurred for a brief second then went back to normal. Once he felt well enough to walk again, he exhaled and left the bathroom, turning off the light behind him. He walked to his bedroom, opening his closet and grabbing the first shirt he felt. It was red with blue short sleeves. He put it on then looked to the floor for any pants. He spotted some black sweatpants that had a visible stain of ramen broth. Before he picked it up, however, he removed his boxers and grabbed a fresh pair. They were simple gray ones. He put them on then followed with the sweatpants. A perfect outfit for his mood.

He walked back to the living room, seeing the television had become a screensaver. He spotted his phone and turned the screen on, surprised it hadn't died from low battery. He had a few missed calls, a good chunk of social media notifications, and several texts. He decided to look at those but not answer any.

Mate you're starting to worry me. There's no way you're just accepting this from your boss.
Arthur.

I hope when you need to ship something to my place it costs you an arm and a leg! You dick!

Would you like to come to a cafe with me? It would be fun ^J^

Er, why did my boss tell me your boss said we could join this Golden dome thing if we became the 51st state?
‘Cause I'm not saying yes to that.
Or the $61 billion pay!

I apologize but my new game system will have to be negotiated for a new price in your home.

Mon ami, you're worrying me.
Francis

Alfred closed his texting app then grabbed the TV remote and woke the screen back up. He exited the video from before and refreshed, now seeing what he had missed. As he put his phone down on the couch next to him, he looked at the screen of videos. Every title on each video was more ridiculous than the last.

Golden Dome around America!

100% tariff on foreign films.

Could Alcatraz be reopening as a functional prison?

All of these only made Alfred let out a defeated sigh. Nothing surprised him at this point. Every time he checked his phone it was ridiculousness. Every time he watched TV, ridiculousness. There was no end. It was, well, ridiculous. He put the remote down then looked over to his right. Alfred walked to his kitchen and was immediately met with his regrets from before. An empty bottle of vanilla extract that laid on it's side with a new stickiness on the rim. Next to it was the resealed jar of maraschino cherries, which was almost empty. He grabbed the jar and placed it back into his baking supplies then tossed the vanilla bottle into the trash, which was full of frozen meal boxes and ramen packets. At least there was no food smell from it. He turned around and opened the fridge. Inside was a half empty bag of chicken nuggets, a bowl of extremely leftover rice, probably expired milk, and a box of cereal. He raised a brow in confusion at the cereal inside the fridge and pulled it out. He shrugged and pulled out the milk. He walked to the sink and grabbed a somewhat clean bowl and began to pour the cereal into it. It was a sweet sugary cereal that made the milk cinnamony and coated your mouth in it. Once he emptied the box, he uncapped the milk and immediately gagged at the smell. He forced himself to swallow what attempted to come up and poured the rest of the milk. He tossed the two empty things into the trash and grabbed a spoon he had used earlier to stir coffee. He put it in the bowl then grabbed it, heading over to his couch to eat. Once he got himself situated, he took a bite of the food and raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“Huh. It's not as bad as I was expecting.” He took a couple more bites then grabbed the remote. Might as well be updated on the ridiculousness he missed. Despite the unbelievable words that came from his boss’ mouth, it wasn't “just silly politics.” It had everything to do with him. It had to do with everyone on the planet. He refreshed the feed and began to scroll through, reading each title then moving on. Not every single video was about politics, but a good chunk of them were. He decided he would play a feel good video after catching up with the news, but he needed to find one that really, really got to him.

Then he saw it. A title so ridiculous Alfred felt his anger start to bubble up again. He inhaled and quickly finished his cereal, trying his best to suppress the sudden emotion he felt in his core. The cinnamon in the cereal made the sour taste of the milk slightly less sour, which was good enough. Not like he'd die from bad tasting milk. When he didn't feel like his stomach was planning to contract, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“Okay. Getting mad is what led to that thing in the bathroom. That's what he wants! I need to calm down. Maybe it's just exaggerated. He is a TV personality after all! A trashy reality guy!” Alfred took one more deep breath and pressed play on the video. He leaned back against the couch, placing an elbow on the arm rest and placing his right cheek against the back of his right palm.

“The President has suggested on his social media app that he would like to rename ‘Veterans Day’ to ‘Victory Day’ in honor of the end of World War one as well as creating a new holiday on May 8th as ‘Victory Day for World War Two.’ He claims it is to match the European days that celebrate the same thing. However, he has received backlash over wanting to rename the previous stated holiday to the new one.”

Alfred watched, managing to keep himself pretty calm for the news that came up. Okay. It isn't that bad of an idea. It makes sense! He did fight in both of the wars after all! It'd be nice to feel recognized for that.

Oh wait.

There's already a holiday for that, and his boss wanted to change it.

Alfred frowned but bit his tongue. Well, it used to be the marker for the end of the first war! Then it changed after the second one and the one in the east, in order to honor everyone who had served. To change it back to just one thing. Would that be right? There was Memorial Day, too. That happened back in the Civil War. If this choice was just to match Europe's own holidays, then wouldn't it be September 2nd? That's when it ended for him! He was conflicted. He wanted to be angry but, was this worth getting angry over? Was it worth going up to his office and giving him a piece of his mind?

Yes.

It absolutely was.

Alfred got up from the couch and marched to his room. He looked around and switched his sweatpants for the dark blue dress pants. He went back to the living room and grabbed the matching suit jacket and put it on, not bothering to switch out his T-shirt for his white button up. He adjusted the collar and his cuffs then walked a couple feet to put on some slip on dress shoes. Once he felt like he looked like his boss, he went to the front door and left the house. This time, he wasn't going to be stomping and huffing like a child. He wasn't a child. He was a grown man, damn it.

Thanks to his country magic, he was now inside the White House. The employees in the area gave him gentle nods and waves, not sensing his bubbling annoyance/upset stomach inside him. He waved back and calmly made his way to the Oval Office. He looked to the window and spotted the same crowd of protesters from weeks ago. Alfred smiled for a quick second then went back to his stern expression. As he approached the door, he paused to listen to two voices coming from inside.

“...You know, I told you that was in this bill!”

“No, you didn't.”

“Yes I did. Your electrical vehicle thing, whatever it is, is stupi-”

“It is not stupid! You love my cars!”

“Yes but-”

Alfred rolled his eyes and opened the door. He watched as the two put space between them and collected themselves, as if they had only been having a normal chat versus an argument.

“Alfred. My favorite son. I haven't seen you in a few days. My wife missed seeing you at dinner.”

“Sorry, I got caught up in… Look, I need a few words with you.”

The President adjusted himself in his seat then rested his arms on the desk. He tilted his head to a nearby chair, which Alfred walked up to and sat in. When he got as comfortable as he could at that moment, he sighed and looked his father in the eye.

“Respectfully, I feel that your recent choices aren't what's best for the country. Don't get mad, but-”

“Who says I'll get mad.”

“Uh yeah, who says?”

Alfred sucked in his teeth then let out another sigh.

“Okay, here's one thing. The movie thing. I watch a lot of those and about 95% of them, like, film internationally. Don't you want more movies for the economy?”

“Why would they need to film overseas when we have Hollywood right at home? There's no need for foreign footage in American movies.”

“Okay that's… rac-” Alfred shook his head. “Forget about that. What about the prison in San Francisco? It's a museum and old! I was there when it was built. We already have way too many prisons so why would we need to open that one.”

“For the criminals and illegals coming in. Th-Th-They bring in drugs and crime into this beautiful country. Everything bad that happens is from these aliens. Reopening would send a message to those aliens. It would be, the message, be, do not come here or you go to an island. Do not.”

Alfred blinked a few times then shook his head.

“Okay fine. Golden dome?”

“Ever seen that show with the yellow family?”

“...”

“That was funny, Mr. President.”

“Shut up.” The President and Alfred both said.

“No, seriously. A dome to protect against foreign missiles and aerial attacks. One day your little friends might get super super scared of us and send an attack. We'd use trackers in space.”

“That would mean space weapons, sir.”

“I know. I know you love space. We did win the Space Race, too. It makes sense. We put the aliens in Alcatraz and shoot at aliens in the air.”

“...Sure, whatever dude.”

“They're all brilliant, I know.”

“They really are!”

“Shut up.” The two suited men spoke again.

Alfred looked at his hands in his lap as he nervously began to play with his fingers. This was the real reason he came here. The real source of his anger of the day.

“I'll leave soon but, one last thing. I understand wanting to recognize the end of the world wars but, is it necessary to change Veterans Day?”

“I had a feeling you'd come and ask. Isn't it great? I'm sure you were so happy when those wars ended. So happy. You're a winner. You're a hero. You did the most work out of the allies. The reason Germany backed away. No one was close enough to you in terms of strength, bravery, or military brilliance!”

“Yes but, Veterans day is for everyone who's served. You know, people I've been alongside practically my whole adult life so far.”

“Then they'd understand why I'd want to change it. All those other wars don't compare to the big ones we won. You should be happy.”

“...You do know, I'm part of those veterans? Why the FUCK would I want that holiday to be changed?”

“Alfred.”

“No. Seriously, why would I want it to be changed? Why would I be happy? Do you know the impact war has on the brain? How much it will impact a man? At most, a human will experience serving, maybe two wars. I've had to serve, every, single, one. I've watched people die. I've felt myself die. Every retirement place I visit there's always one person who recognizes me as someone they used to serve with. They are the people of my home who fought for, God damn it, everything! Maybe you would understand if you weren't a dodge drafter so adamant on showing off our forces!” Alfred felt his breath quicken and his eyes shake. His fists were clenched. He was now standing up, practically towering the man. “So, fuck no, I'm not happy about it. If you want a day like Europe does, then pick any other day, but do not think, for even a second, you can erase everything I've witnessed with my own ears, nose, eyes, mouth, and hands.” The personified country continued to tower of the man, who was now staring at his with a dead look in his eyes. No, with a childish look.

“Are you done? Are you done throwing a tantrum?”

“...Yes sir. I am.”

“Good. My good friend, would you like to show what happens when other friends act like this?”

“Oh, you mean this?” The friend held up his fist and aimed to punch Alfred's head, only to feel his fist get grabbed and twisted. He yelped in pain then was released. The president watched, slightly surprised Alfred fought back, but not impressed. He sighed and looked right into his eye.

“You mentioned, feeling yourself die in that little blabbering thing you did, right?”

“...”

“Good to know. Leave.”

Alfred frowned then turned around. He walked to the door and held his hand out for the door knob, only to pull it back once he heard the sound of a shot being fired. He looked to the side as he was the end point the bullet had pierced into. It was inside the carpet floor next to him. Alfred froze and felt his heart begin to pound. His breath stuttered out. His blue eyes trembled as he shakily turned his head to face the two, who were now back to the original seating positions from when he walked in. His eyes looked as the friend held a pistol in his hand.

“What are you waiting for? He said leave.”

Alfred quickly turned the knob and ran out of the Oval Office. He ran past a few employees who were now chattering in confusion of the sudden sound of a gun. He continued to run until he reached his hide away point to his home. He ran and ran until he finally got to the front door. He opened it then slammed it behind him, catching his breath as his adrenaline began to wind down. He looked down at his hand, which now had blood dripping down onto the floor below him. He frowned and quickly made his way to the bathroom. He turned on the light and opened the cabinet under the sink.

“Come on, come on, I should still have some!” He swallowed and looked back at the sink. He then turned to the floor, only to see what he was looking for.

The rectangular shaped bottle with 88% alcohol. It had tilted to its side and poured out the remaining liquid he didn't drink, which evaporated thanks to it's alcohol contents.

Alfred sighed and turned on the sink, watching as the blood stained tap water went down the drain. As he cleaned his hand, his phone in the living room buzzed again, Alfred unable to head it from where he was.

Call me when you can. My boss would like to discuss these tariffs with your boss.
I hope everything is fine with you.
Arthur

Chapter Text

Alfred woke up in his bed for once. He had no alcohol in his system. He actually had food in his stomach from dinner the night before. He felt pretty good. His hand had even healed from the gunshot cut. He felt hopeful. Perhaps this meeting with England will go well and he'll slowly feel his home fight back for their freedoms and a better leader.

…Probably not.

The blonde put on the usual matching suit, making sure his shirt was tucked in, shoes were shiny, and not a wrinkle in sight. He looked pretty good. He looked approachable, like you could grab a beer with him! Well, maybe not beer anytime soon. Alfred left his room and quickly heated up a couple of toaster pastries in his toaster. Strawberry flavored. A classic. As he waited, he pulled out his phone from his pocket and opened his texting app, opening the conversation with Arthur. He never responded to the last text he sent, but on Arthur’s end, it would tell him Alfred read it. He tapped his thumbs on the edges of his phone, trying to think of what to type and say. Should he reply or start a new conversation? Either way, it was about the same thing. The upcoming meeting about making a trade deal. He guessed his boss got pressured by someone in his cabinet. Who knew raising tariffs like he did would cause problems? Truly, a revelation that shocks all. He looked down at the phone screen and began to type.

Hopefully this meeting goes well for both of us!

Did that look happy enough? Hopeful enough? Could Arthur sense the distress and dread Alfred had inside him? Maybe he knew how bad everything actually was for him! Or maybe he didn't care! Which one was it? Both would make sense. Arthur was the type to insult Alfred but also show concern for him in his own grumpy old man-ish way. He wasn't sure which one would make him panic more. The idea of someone being concerned for Alfred felt fake and the idea of someone not caring what he did also felt fake. Was he being perceived or not? Did he want to be perceived? Were the other countries perceiving him because they wanted to or because they had to? Clearly, they wanted to! Why else would they send him texts? Did that make him a dick that he wasn't responding to any of them? Well, he responded to one now. Was he now less of a dick? Or more? Alfred began to feel his heart pound against his lungs and rib cage, forcing his breath to inhale and exhale rapidly. Oh God, why now? Why before a meeting? He can't look like this in front of his boss and Arthur's boss! Oh God. Oh G-

Alfred snapped out of his thoughts once he heard the toaster pastries pop up loudly. He grabbed one, dropped it because it was hot, then repeated the same steps with the second one. He licked his fingers, trying to soothe the burning pain that lingered for a moment. As it faded away, he grabbed a napkin and picked up his breakfast, taking a bite from both of them at the same time. The artificial strawberry flavor hit the spot. He looked back at the wrapper and shrugged, deciding to clean it up later. He took another bite and walked out of his kitchen and out the front door. As he closed it behind him, a gentle breeze brushed against him. The world in front of him began to shift into a portal of sorts that gave him an entrance to the White House. He finished his food in a few more bites and placed the now crumpled up paper towel into his pocket, making a mental note to throw it away when he saw a trash can.

Now out of his special portal of sorts, Alfred walked down the hall, feeling the plush rug under his feet. He gave a friendly wave to the employees, only to be greeted with a dirty look and amused chuckles. Alright, it looked like his boss got to them. Whatever. He continued to walk until he saw the back of someone familiar. The person turned, his green eyes meeting Alfred's blue ones for a brief moment. The other's eyes widened then returned to normal.

“Alfred. You look thin.”

“Huh? Nah, I'm wearing shapewear under this!”

“Right, at least you don't smell like the pub during a football game anymore. Seriously, what was that phone call a couple months ago? You still haven't given me a bloody explanation. Seriously, your antics can certainly drive someone mad. It's incredible how you have not realized that. Or maybe you have and you choose to ignore it like everything else.” There he goes. Arthur always had a habit of blabbering his mouth in that posh language of his. Alfred let the old man speak his mind like always, like a child letting his grandpa talk about “back in my day.” Honestly, he was one to talk about antics and getting someone mad. Maybe that's where Alfred got it from. “-and yes, well, anyways, how have you been? You took a couple days to respond to my message.”

“Huh? Oh, I've been fine. Really! How about you?”

“Me? Fine. Other than monitoring the idiocy of your Boss, fine.” Arthur let out a sigh.

Alfred gave him a look. “Dude, maybe don't talk like that when you're in the same building as him. He could hear you.” His tone had a slight hint of fear but it was fortunately covered by a half ass'd joking manner.

Arthur chuckled and placed a hand on his hip. “Please, like I'm afraid of some old man who has an addiction to spray tan. Besides, threatening us and hurting us would be a very big deal.”

“...Uh huh.”

The two turned their heads to face the door of the Oval Office. The door was now open as Arthur's boss stood in the doorway. He called over the two then headed inside, keeping the door open behind.

“This is going to be boring. Gotta warn ya, my boss isn't going to let us talk, so don't even bother.”

“That's idiotic.”

“Again, he can probably hear you.”

“And again, like he scares me.”

The two blondes walked to the office and entered. Arthur nodded his head and stood against the wall. Alfred followed and did the same, minus the head nod. Alfred felt his boss stare at his hand then move on. As the two bosses spoke, Alfred's being the louder one, of course, Arthur turned his head to speak.

“Is there a reason you are wearing the same suit as him?”

“He asked me to.”

“I'd at least expect you to keep your green jacket over it.”

“He doesn't want me to.”

Arthur raised a brow then decided to move on. Not his business. Alfred almost wished he would continue to pry. The negotiating continued on, keeping a focus on agriculture and cars. Honestly, it felt like the cars were the main focus, or at least, the media and social media would focus only on the cars. Alfred was annoyed. His boss went on and on about farmers and ranchers and all the struggle they'd have to go through, like he wasn't sending men playing military to deport said farmers and ranchers. It was ridiculous and, well, idiotic like Arthur said. It continued with removal of tariffs on beef importance on the United Kingdom's side and some quota about vehicles and steel and aluminum. Honestly, Alfred stopped paying attention after twenty minutes. If he was allowed to participate then he'd get bored after forty minutes instead.

Finally, the two leaders agreed on something they considered a historic trade deal. Right on the anniversary of Europe's Victory Day.

Right. That.

As the two men finished their conversation with each other and other politicians, Alfred and Arthur left the office to stand outside of it. The Englishman fixed up his suit, making sure everything was still presentable. Once he finished, he took a quick look at Alfred and did the same for him, fixing his tie and wiping some crumbs off his chin.

“Dude, I'm not a little kid anymore.”

“You are in my eyes. There. Now you look like a real gentleman.”

“Greeaat.”

“Just because your home is such a mess doesn't mean you have to be. You must look good for your people who reside here. Give them someone to look up to.”

Alfred felt his eyebrows raise at his logic. He didn't think of it like that but now it was going to stay in his head for at least an hour or so a day. He put his hands in his pockets then pulled out the crumpled paper towel from before. He looked around and began to walk to a nearby trash can. As he did, he listened in on a conversation from the Oval Office.

“...And really, he's starting to get on my nerves. I told him, this is in the bill, why are you angry? He was quite literally sucking up to me and now he's showing signs of a tantrum. He's like Alfred sometimes.”

“Our countries certainly love their tantrums, don't they?”

Alfred rolled his eyes and walked away after tossing the paper towel away. He walked back to Arthur and stood next to him. The two awkwardly stood there, looking around at the hall. It was very shiny with splashes of gold at every other glance.

“I have to be honest,” Arthur spoke. “Why have you been silent? You didn't even react to the messages Feliciano sent everyone about the pope passing on.”

“THE POPE DIED?”

A few people looked at the two then went back to what they were doing after realizing it was just Alfred being loud.

“Yes, he did. Your boss even said he would like to be the new pope. A king and a pope. It is insulting, but see what I mean? You didn't even know that big news occurred. That was a few weeks ago. It isn't like you. What's going on?”

Oh great. Someone was actually confronting him about his silence. Shit. What was he supposed to say? Should he tell him his boss gets touchy? What about the drinking he's done? What about the lack of income for groceries? The gun fired at his hand? The two times Alfred has di-

“My boss has just kept me busy! You know him! Always making others work so hard while he plays golf.” He looked over at Arthur to see if he believed him. He didn't look like he did but Alfred didn't care.

“...Clearly, you don't want me to pry so I won't, but just because I said to not come crawling back to me doesn't mean I wouldn't want to make sure you're doing alright. Just keep that in mind.” Arthur turned his head as he saw his boss finally leaving the office. “Well, it appears my time here is finished.” He moved his body to face Alfred. “At least think about what I've said. You'll get through this. You've gone through worse, Alfred.” He waved goodbye and followed his boss down the hall. As he did, Alfred quickly called his name, prompting him to turn around.

“Hey, uh, happy VE Day!”

Arthur softly smiled and nodded. “Thank you. Happy early Memorial Day.” With that, he continued to walk with his boss down the shiny hall, eventually disappearing from Alfred's sight. Alfred looked down at the ground, staring at his shiny shoes. The perfect amount of shine to match the shininess of the entire hall. All he was missing was some tacky gold. He started to make his way out of the place then stopped once he heard a voice call out to him.

“Alfred, come in here. We have another negotiation to get through.” The President spoke, gesturing to him to head inside.

“Oh? From who, sir?” Alfred walked to the room, goijg rather quickly to not keep the other waiting. As he reached it, he closed the door behind him as his boss spoke again.

“China. They want to talk about pausing the high percentages. I told you, eventually they come running to me begging for a change, and I'll give them the change.” He looked tired and sleepy. Way more sleepy than Alfred's previous boss did. If he wasn't who he was, Alfred would've felt bad for him.

“Are you sure it isn't for you and your friend? A lot of our things come from there, including parts for his cars and your merchandise on your website.” Alfred quickly moved his head to the side as a pen was thrown at him. He sighed and sat down, as if the attempt at harming him was an annoyance. “Are they coming over here?”

“No, we need to go to Switzerland. Or, I need to. I don't need you there. I do all the talking.” He said, despite the fact he said we before Alfred walked into the room. Why did he keep up the contradictions?

“...Whatever you want, dad.”

“Now, go away.” After he spoke, Alfred quickly got up and walked backwards to the door, keeping an eye on the mam. As he turned the doorknob and opened it, he heard the man's voice again. “Oh, by the way. Um. If you see you know who around, pay him no mind. He's, uh, acting differently. Like he's on a drug.”

“...Will do.” He left the Oval Office and let out a moan of relief that he wasn't attacked more in that meeting. He stretched his back and began to walk, ignoring anybody he passed by. However, as he was about to head to the dining area for some food, he was stopped by said guy he was told to pay no mind to. The boss friend himself. He looked awful. More than he usually did. Alfred looked down then immediately back up. Oh God the crotch of his pants were wet. Why the hell was it wet? Did he piss himself? It was a big enough stain for that insead of… something else. He stood almost like a hunchback with a nice big black eye on his face. Truly a face only a mother could love. Not any mothers Alfred had met but a mother. Either this guy just got beat up in a fight, had an accident in the bathroom, was clearly on drugs, or all three. Probably all three.

“Alfred. Have you heard the bullshit going on?!”

“...No? Which one?”

“The bill the president is going to propose! It's going to hurt me! I helped him win this election you know and this is the repayment! What a fucking joke!”

“Helped him win?” Alfred raised his left eyebrow in confusion. What did he mean by that?

“Ehh, forget it. Just watch your back in case he stabs it.” With that, the man walked away like a troll with his pants caught in his legs, causing him to not walk like a normal person with working legs. Alfred watched for a brief moment then continued his way to the dining room. He felt his stomach grumble, prompting him to pick up the pace.

This place was a joke. The whole administration was. At least he would have a day away from the man, which was the kindest thing he could ever do for Alfred. Other than passing away, of course.

Not that he'd say that out loud or anything.

Chapter Text

The President left for Switzerland, leaving behind Alfred with Mr. Pissed His Pants. He wasn't sure which situation would be worse. Stuck with his boss or stuck with this guy. He eventually decided this was still better. Boss’ friend it was. Geez, he needed a better name. He'd figure it out later.

Alfred was once again in the White House, who had just finished another filling meal. Shitty steak and wine again, but the hungry can't complain. He walked through the empty halls, hands in his jacket pockets. At least no boss around meant he could wear whatever he wanted! Despite the bad food, he was in pretty good spirits! He had no update from the negotiations yet but he had trust in Yào. They had to get something sorted, even if it was for a little bit. Still, why couldn't he come along? He was still important, damn it! He was sure the other leaders would be surprised he wasn't there. He always came to meetings like this! Ugh.

Alfred was basically left in charge of the place by the boss himself. Yeah, not even the VP could tell him what to do. All this power and still no money for him to eat. Tragic.

“Okay, I've walked this entire building for the past hour and have seen everything at least twice. Why couldn't he say ‘Hey Alfred monitor the place but also you're allowed to stop and go outside?’ Ugh.” He went back to walking around and staring at the same paintings and golden decor scattered around. At least he saw people who worked there on occasion. Fortunately, his walking was suddenly now on a pause as he felt his phone begin to vibrate and ring. A cutesy song began to play, Alfred answering before the Chinese lyrics could start.

“Alfred! Why are you not at this Swiss meeting?! Your boss says you are too busy!”

“Hey Yào.” Great. Just who he wanted to talk to. The guy most angry with him. He hadn't talked to him since that meeting about Liberation Day. He still couldn't believe 125% was real. Oh well, time to face the music. “Are you around the important ones right now?”

“No. We went to recess.”

“Cool! Uh. My boss told me he didn't want me there.”

“...Why? I mean, that's a better explanation but why?”

“Good question, man. He says it’s ‘cause he does all the talking. Like we need him to talk more, am I right?” He let out a defeated chuckle.

“For once I agree with you!

“Is Basch around? How does he feel about the meeting so far?”

“Neutral as always, you idiot.”

“Sorry.”

“You say sorry for that but now this whole mess?”

“I can't control that. He won't let me.”

“Don't you have freedom of speech? Just tell him enough is enough.”

“I can't or else he-” Alfred stopped himself and licked his lips. Yào didn't need to hear this. It wasn't his business. No need to trauma dump on the old man. “Look, I just can't. End of discussion.”

“...You can tell me.”

“End.”

“Fine. Stubborn American.”

During that entire conversation, Alfred had returned to walking around, this time in various circles and touching random objects around. He hated standing still for a call. He needed to move his body or he'd explode. Not literally, but it sure felt literally.

“Other than all that, how have you been?” Alfred asked.

“Other than stupid taxes?! Fine. Are you going to keep asking stupid small questions?”

“Yào, I just want to talk to you. Quit being an ass.”

“I have a right to be an ass! You have done nothing but bad to me for years! You don't deserve nice small talk!”

“...I know. I know I don't.” Alfred could hear Yào seem to pause and think for a moment. He heard a small sigh and sniffle, though, it sounded more from allergies than sadness.

“I'll talk to you later. I'll see what we discuss. Bye Alfred.”

“....See ya.” He sighed as he heard the call end, turning his phone off and putting it in his front pants pocket. Well, that went better than he expected. At least he wasn't yelling yelling at him. He looked around, seeing that he was now inna different part of the White House. Well, what's wrong with a third time around? He put his hands back into his jacket pockets and walked and let his thoughts wander. Geez, he hoped their meeting would go well. Maybe it'll go super well and there won't be any more trouble! Or maybe it'll go bad.

“Heh, maybe he'll disappear on the way back home. That'd be…” Alfred stopped walking and turned his head. He raised a brow as he started to hear a strange noise. “...unfortunate.” He frowned and walked closer so he could hear better, stopping at a door. He placed an ear on the door and closed his eyes. He then immediately pulled away as his eardrums processed the sounds as heavy breathing and…

“...Okay! No!” Alfred smiled and sped walked away. “I'm going to shove this memory in the back of my head and forg-” He stopped walking as he heard the erotic noises turn into full on yelling.

…Wait, that sounded like-

The door suddenly burst open as a man and a woman left the room. Following them was, well, who else? Good old friend. The man had very short hair with a heavy receding hairline, which, at that point, you might as well let the hair go and embrace baldness. The woman, on the other hand, had long dark hair and an almost smug smile. The woman and friend looked disheveled while the other man looked completely fine, baldness and all. The two looked very familiar, but there was no time to dwell on that. Alfred was about to retreat, but it was too late. He was spotted.

“Alfred! I need help! Go beat up this man for me!” The friend yelled, pointing at said man. Alfred looked up to the ceiling to avoid the sight that was greeting him. His face was bright red, purely from vicarious embarrassment. The friend was naked except for his socks. Honestly, that made it more scandalous than if he was fully in the nude. What was up with that? Probably more concerning though, he appeared bruised. Dark spots, scratches and scabs. Should Alfred care about that? Probably, but what was he going to do? Be a medic? Yeah, no. He's not touching that guy. Either way, this man was showing off his everything. All out in the open. No shame. This is the worst thing Alfred has ever seen and he once walked on his boss with his mistress in the Oval Office in the early 1990s. More like Oral Office. Okay, enough, back to whatever the hell was happening.

“Me?! You're the one being an asshole! Also, who the hell is this?! Looks like some kid.”

The woman chimed in. “Do you not recognize him? He’s-”

“That's the president's fake son!” The nude man exclaimed. “Ugh! Doesn't matter! He has power over you! Alfred, go punch him!”

Alfred looked to the side like he was in a sitcom, then back to the ceiling. Still didn't want to see that small thing.

“...First of all, no. Secondly, put on your clothes! Thirdly, why couldn't this be done at any of your houses?! Where's the class?!”

The friend looked down and ran back to the room, as if he couldn't feel the air touching his skin. Alfred rolled his eyes then turned his focus to the other two.

“I'm Alfred F. Jones. Consider me at some level above VP but below President. Or, more fitting, a guy who represents the people in his country.”

The man shrugged then spoke.

“Right. I remember you, nowm Fine. Look, whatever you heard and saw needs to leave your memory.”

“Promise me, I wish.”

“This man that your boss has inserted into your politics is insane! A drug addict who wants to steal my wife.”

Alfred blinked a few times and sighed. He crossed his arms and leaned to his left.

“Dude, nothing I can do. That's your business. What I CAN do is kick you three out since I didn't consent to this.” He looked at the two again, decided now was the time to figure out where he had seen them before. “Wait… you're the White House Deputy Chief of Staff! And that is your wife! She's on the Intelligence Advisory Board! I shook your hands! …Aw, dude, I shook your hands!” Alfred immediately wiped his right hand on his jacket and shivered. He looked over again as the friend came out again, fully dressed this time.

“Alfred. Why is he still here? I told you to beat him up.” He closed the door and stood near Alfred, who immediately stepped away a couple steps.

“And I told you I'm not doing that. Look, either you three leave and go deal with this not around me or explain what is going on, minus the intimate details.” He watched as the three looked at one another and began to speak over themselves. It was a mixture of cursing, talks of the friend using ketamine, and the wife saying she wanted to leave her husband. Truly eye opening and important words. Was he talking to adults or teenagers? Alfred rubbed his temples with both hands and looked at them. “Okay, you know what? I'm going to go home and never think about this again. Fight. Yell. I don't care.” With that, he turned around and began to walk. He heard the protests from the boss’ friend and ignored them. He heard the Deputy Chief speak and ignored it. He heard his wife protest and ignored it. Not his clowns, not his circus.

“Did you just punch me?!”

“I'll do more than punch, druggie!”

“Fight back!”

“Nevermind, going with my boss would've been better.” Alfred was away from that part of the building and decided it was going to stay that way for the next month. Maybe he could go to the dining hall again. Grab a plate of dry unseasoned chicken isntead of dry steak!

Eugh.

What a year. Oh, wait.

It's only been five months.