Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.

A/N: This is a deanon from the kink meme. The prompt was "Anon figures that each time a head of state comes into office, they get the low down on who their Nation is. But what if someone forgot to give the "Nation talk" to the boss or the boss doesn't believe the story?"

...It took me about three weeks to get over writing about someone in real life.

The President of the United States was still getting used to his position, he was still a bit confused about some things, and he desperately wished to spend time with his two daughters, but he knew that if he waited any longer, the financial situation on Wall Street could spiral even further out of control. As a matter of fact, he had a lot of things he still had to do, like pick out a bunch of cabinet members...hopefully ones that weren't screwing the US Government over with their taxes.

Haha, fat chance.

Thoughts of taxes aside, he was currently within a private meeting, talking with his advisors, cabinet members, and economic experts. He knew quite well that this meeting was important and that it would probably extend into the next day, and perhaps the week after that. He wasn't about to take anything too lightly, lest he hurt the economy even more. He was currently listening to an economic professor whom he didn't know very well speak on the housing crisis. To several people's amusement, including Barack's own, the man was interrupted as he went on about historical housing bubbles.

"Hey guys! Sorry about being late! But look, I brought McDonalds!" A young adult with golden blond exclaimed happily. Barack dared a quick glance at the secret service agents, who simply stood in their placed. He relaxed slightly, though he noted that most of the new cabinet members were just as perplexed as he was, at least they weren't in on some sort of joke. However, the returning members had mixed reactions, one of which was surprise (Rahm Emmanuel) and the other was amusement (Hillary Clinton). However, neither said anything.

This boy was one of the mysteries of the White House that Barack couldn't figure out. Although he had full access to all parts of the building, he, for some reason, seemed to live in the house itself, even though he didn't have any sort of known position. He also had full security clearance and the respect of the secret service agents present, which eliminated the possibility of him being an intern or aide. Furthermore, he had an odd obsession with fast food and being awesome.

"Hello Alfred, nice to see you still so lively," Hillary commented. He just grinned and gave her a thumbs up.

"I think I'm getting one of those cold things that Arthur and everyone else always goes on about. But of course, I'm too awesome to be affected by it!" She chuckled at the comment.

"I'd love to take the time to catch up, Alfred. But don't you have a meeting in New York tomorrow?"

"Yeah, but they'd understand."

"Aren't you suppose to lead it?"

"...Your point?" The conversation went silent. "Anyway, the meeting's about economic stuff, so if that's what we're discussing, I'm doing research and being productive and stuff."

"I doubt they're going to see it like that," another cabinet member interjected. Alfred just waved him off with a grin.

"Nah, they're totally cool with it. So what're we gonna start talking about?" With the quick topic change, the annoyed professor continued his lecture.

—

"What does that boy even do?" Barack asked his Secretary of State, the only person who appeared to have a clue about Alfred's existence. Hillary laughed.

"I assume he didn't explain it that well to you either. Bill and I spent a good year trying to figure out what he did," she reminisced fondly, "Anyway, he spends most of his time around here when congress is in session. But during election season and when congress is out, he likes to travel the US, taking odd jobs here and there. Plus he occasionally has to go to world meetings and other important events." The President nodded, taking all of this in. "Oh, and don't mind if he bursts into the Oval Office, exclaiming about some lame accomplishment or another. He once interrupted Bill because he won one hundred dollars in some sort of ridiculous fruit by the foot contest." Barack laughed at the thought. Hillary eventually left to take care of some matter, and about ten minutes after she was out the door, the President finally noted something odd.

If Alfred was around nineteen now, how could he be have been care of international matters at the age of three? Damn it, this was just getting more and more complicated. Moreover, Alfred was currently on his way to some sort of meeting in New York, so he couldn't ask the boy right then. He sighed and cleared his mind, he had other more important things to worry about.

—

Alfred returned a week later, as enthusiastic as ever. So enthusiastic, in fact, that he burst through the oval office doors and interrupted bill signing in order to give the president a bear hug. After Obama glared at the Secret Service for doing nothing, Alfred went on a tirade about whatever meeting he had to attend. Though he got less of actual adequate details and instead got the boy complaining about the 'dirty commie Ivan' or 'that stupid pervy Francis' or, on one of his more interesting rants, he was going on about England, France, Prussia, and Spain's drinking habits. Before Obama could wonder why the heck Alfred was going on about countries' drinking habits, one of the secret service men mentioned something about Sasha and Malia's new swing set and Alfred was off. Obama murmured a thanks and sat down to finally relax and finish up some paperwork.

When the final bill was read and signed, he moved over to look out the window at the swing set he had helped set up just a few days ago. He smiled as he saw his two daughters and Alfred playing some sort of game. From the looks of it, Alfred was losing, mostly because Bo decided to start nipping at his heels. Despite the countless questions he had surrounding the boy, at least his daughters liked him.

—

For about a month in July, Alfred receded from view to do something or another. He returned around the middle of August, during Congress' recess. Even after he came back, Obama barely noticed his presence, for he remained in his room mostly. If it weren't for Alfred's door being open conveniently as he walked by one day, he probably wouldn't have realize the boy's presence for another week or so. He noticed the boy laying in his bed, clutching his head as he tried to fend off concerned maids.

Tentatively, the Commander-in-Chief walked into the room. "Alfred?" Obama called out.

"Barack!" Alfred replied. "Get these crazy women away from me!" Barack looked over the now startled maids with a pleasant smile.

"You two can be dismissed now, I'll take over from here." They nervously curtsied and left the room in a hurry. Obama tentatively took up the seat that one of them had been previously sitting on as Alfred groaned in pain. A bit unsure of what to do, Obama placed a hand on the boy's shoulder.

"Are you alright?"

"Erg, as good as I'm gonna be for the next month'r so."

"Have you tried some painkillers?"

"Won't work. Never do." Alfred sat up and leaned against the headboard. "When a bunch of people get lots of differing opinions and it's brought up in Congress or the Supreme Court or somethin', it gives me a killer headache," he explained, "You shoulda seen me last election, I had to deal with this for a year. But...it's not bad." Alfred's face was overcome with an aged look that Obama had never seen before on the nineteen year old. "It means that people care, it means that they're participating in the democracy that this country was meant to be. Even if I have to suffer through a couple killer headaches here and there, I'll willingly do it." The president's face remained cool, even though his mind was running a million miles a minutes.

"Excuse me if I seem rude, Alfred. But...who are you?" A few moments of silence passed.

"Huh? I explained it to you after inauguration."

"....Explained what?" Alfred's brows furrowed in confusion before realization dawned. He shot up from his position and subsequently clutched his head in pain.

"Oh my god I forgot to tell you!"

"Huh?"

"Sorry, man. Funny story, I actually forgot to tell Dwight too, except it took him his entire term to figure it out. I was so used to Franklin and Harry knowing that I just totally spaced on it."

"Alfred, you're getting off track."

"Oh sorry." The boy swung his legs over the edge of the bed, still clutching his head. He rose to his full height and held out his right hand. "Nice to meetcha, I'm Alfred F. Jones, otherwise known as The United States of America."

"...Excuse me?" From the corner, Obama heard an uncharacteristic swear from one of the secret service agents.

"Damn, now I owe Bill a hundred."

—

A few days later, Alfred was still suffering from his headaches, but they had subsided enough for him to continues his (non-existent) duties in the White House. Unfortunately, he had taken to bugging the president at every available moment.

"Okay, so I know you don't believe me. That's okay, Abe and Rutherford didn't believe me either. But really, just ask any secret service agent or old presidents and they'll tell you it's true!" The president looked exasperated.

"Alfred, we're discussing the merits and disadvantages of sending more troops to Afghanistan. Please, if you will, leave the room."

"Fine, but I'll be back!"

—

"See! This is a picture of me with Franklin, Churchill, and Stalin at the Yalta Conference. Look, there's even England and Russia!"

"Alfred, that's just you and your friend's heads photoshopped onto some poor soldier's body."

"Here's some pictures from the Tehran Conference and the Potsdam Conference too! I've even got some with me during the Great Depression and during JFK's inauguration."

"Alfred, I don't have time for this."

"Come on dude. This is where I won Bill over! I'm running out of ideas!"

—

"Honestly honey, I think the boy is of his rocker. He thinks he's the country, for God's sake!" Michelle looked up from her book and removed her reading glasses. She was silent for a moment before she finally spoke up.

"Maybe there's something to it?" Barack looked at her with an expression of disbelief.

"You don't honestly believe that nonsense?"

"Well...why is it nonsense? You told me before that Hillary said that Alfred worked for Bill and her during Bill's presidency. They even specified that they first meet him at the beginning of their first term. Plus he had pretty high security clearance and he lives here." She flipped open her book again. "The universe works in mysterious ways, Barack, and no matter how ridiculous or absurd it seems, I think that there may be some merit to what he says." The president gained a contemplative look. "Even if he's not a country and he's off his rocker, the secret service seems to trust him and I think he's someone that you can rely on."

"I suppose you're right."

"Anyway, he's not gonna leave you alone until you accept it. Wouldn't it be nice to have the free time to read more than a page in a book?" The president laughed before kissing his wife on the cheek.

"Thank you, Michelle. What would I do without you?"

—

"Okay, so here's my brother! He's Canada! Do you believe me now!?" Alfred cried as a poor wavy-haired boy that Barack recognized from his trip to see Harper was dragged into the room. He looked alarmed as the president looked annoyed.

"Alfred, there wasn't an argument made in that statement at all."

"Mr. President, I'm sorry for— "

"There was definitely an argument in what I said! It was something about him being Canada and me being America and...uh...brothers...uhm."

"It's fine, Alfred. I believe you." The American brightened and grinned.

"I knew you'd come around eventually!" He slapped the Canadian boy on the back in a brotherly gesture. "Thanks Mattie, knew you'd help!"

"Alfred, next time you need help with something like this, please just ask. And please, don't drag me out of bed at 2 AM, put me on a flight to DC and not tell me anything."

"Huh, sure, whatever. You're just no fun."

Obama watched the interaction with a smile and a laugh. However, despite what he had said, he still held some doubts to what Alfred had been claiming. This doubt wouldn't subside and would continue for a quite awhile. However, the final nail on the coffin would come after another couple of weeks, until the end of September.

It was the early morning, only around 6. Alfred was up unusually early, and Obama sat in the chair next to him, both waiting for their breakfast. Alfred was talking to the president about one thing or another, when he suddenly fell silent. Barack, figuring the boy had just lost his train of thought, took no notice of it (after all, it happened rather often), and continued reading the article in the newspaper. However, the next sounds from the boy alarmed him enough to drop the paper. Next to him, Alfred was gasping for air.

"Alfred!" he exclaimed. The boy had pushed himself away from the table and was on the ground, grasping at his throat. Barack stood up quickly to get to the boy and help him. However, as he grabbed Alfred's arm, he felt a secret service agent hold a hand on his shoulder. Angrily, he turned around.

"It won't work," the man who Barack recognized as Tim stated, "I've worked here for years, whatever you do to help him won't work. All we can do is wait."

"But he's clearly in pain!"

"As I said, all we can do is wait. He'll be fine soon."

"But– "Barack was cut off by Alfred suddenly inhaling air. He took in deep breaths, and two minutes passed before Alfred could speak again.

"Samoa. American Samoa's been hit by a Tsunami!" He gasped out between breaths. "I...I have to help them! I've got to get there! People are dying! I need to get there!" He wearily got to his feet and started walking, his feet stumbling over each other as he took each step. As Barack Obama looked into the strange boy he had come to know as Alfred F. Jones, as he saw the desperation in his face and the determination in his eyes, as he received news that confirmed Alfred's story, he knew he was looking into the face of the United States of America.

Fin.