Canada waited at the door of the conference hall, Kumajirou grasped tightly in his arms. The normally calm country was excited, having to use all of his willpower to keep from leaping up and down in anticipation. He'd been doing this for several years, ever since the end of WWII, but this time it would be really memorable. This time, they'd all remember the experience whenever they looked at him, and then they would know him. He grinned to himself, his teeth gleaming white. If any of the other nations saw him at the moment, they would be nervous, thinking him insane. But they never even noticed him… Now they would! No more being mistaken for his idiot brother by his friends! No more being accidentally sat on by Russia!

He was broken from his reverie by a burst of yelling from down the hall. After a few nervous seconds, he chuckled to himself. Just England and France arguing. Again.

"Ah, Angleterre, why do you refuse me?"

"Because you're a bloody insane Frog, you wine-drinking bastard!"

"And you are no better than moi, uneducated barbarous Englishman. But return to Big Brother France and he will forgive you—ah!" This was followed by loud thumping, and some very creative British curses. Canada laughed silently, and Kumajirou poked at him with his nose.

"Who're you?"

"Canada," he replied automatically, fighting against the rolls of hysterical laughter that threatened to come up at a new voice. "The one who feeds you."

The new character had a strong German accent, and did not sound happy. "Alright you two! Enough of this Scheiße! Do you want to have a normal World Conference or not?"

France and England chorused pitifully, "We're sorry Germany…"

"Hmph," Germany replied. There was a dragging sound, and a few moments later, an irritated-looking tall fair-haired nation appeared, pulling two other blondes by the collars of their suits. One had long hair and a smattering of stubble on his chin, and the other had short spiky hair and ridiculously thick eyebrows. All three ignored Canada and the polar bear he clutched.

After all the other nations had filed in, Canada jumped behind Japan and Hungary, gossiping cheerfully over some magazine he didn't recognize. He chose a seat that was hopefully close enough to the front to be noticed, but far enough away from all the major nations there. There was a reason for that; not his annoying brother (though that was reason enough), or the constant fighting between England and France. Out of the corner of his eye, Canada could see him. Most nations ignored him, or wished they could, but he was always there, always listening carefully to the proceedings, always smiling. A dark and cold aura emanated from the country, lit only by the eerie purple light that flickered from his eyes. Canada always felt as though he was being watched by him whenever he went up north or to a World Conference, but he knew that now he was watching America. The northern nation gulped, imagining that creepy visage following you wherever you went. Always there. Always smiling.

Canada shook himself. Stop it! He told himself sternly. This goes on, and you'll be as bad as poor Alfred. He sighed. Normally, he'd be glad to be noticed, but when it was someone scary like that… He shrugged. At least his sister was nice… Bored, Canada drifted off into his own little world, filled with maple syrup and polar bears and Ukraine.

England scanned the schedule, ignoring America's babbling. After this, it was Canada's turn to talk… Canada? Oh yeah, America's brother… He's here? Where? The Brit looked up, swiftly scanning the nations. It took him a little while, but he finally spotted a country with longish, wavy honey-blond—or was it strawberry blond?—hair grasping a polar bear. England observed him, frowning. Apparently, he had been partially raised by France. He didn't look the part; he had a quiet smile on his face and glasses over his pale lavender eyes, and a little looping curl of hair hanging over his face. But he did look an awful lot like America. At that thought, England's eyes went to the superpower he'd raised. America was ranting about "commies", glaring at Russia all the while, who was taking the verbal abuse with his typical innocent smile. The old country breathed a sigh of relief at that. When Russia got mad at America, when Russia got mad, period, it was worse than all of his major wars rolled into one. This stupid Cold War was getting international relations nowhere.

"…And when I finally get permission from my boss, I swear I'll nuke you, fuckin' commie, before you nuke me!" America finished, his face livid.

Russia's smile widened, his eyes gleaming. "Why would I ever bomb you, dear America? You know I have other plans for you, Alfred." America twitched at the use of his human name. It wasn't like they were intimate or anything, Russia and he; the larger country merely enjoyed teasing his rival. And he did it well—it was everything the American could do to not jump across the conference table and attempt to strangle Russia. He might've done it, too, if England hadn't stood up at that point and placed a hand on his friend's shoulder, pushing him down.

"Now that America is done, the next speaker on the schedule is Canada, to talk about—,"

"Who?" nearly the entire room chorused.

Canada stood up, trying to keep his smile innocent.

"Me," he said, his voice soft and unthreatening.

Murmurs passed through the World Conference.

"He looks like America…I thought he'd be taller…what was his name again? Canada?"

Still smiling, Canada stepped up to the front, his eyes on the far back wall. "Hello. My name is Canada, and I'd like to speak about the annual trip all the major nations take across my land."

"Oh, that was you?" interrupted France.

"Don't interrupt!" England hissed, hitting the European nation over the head.

"That's America, England, France, China, Russia, Germany, Italy, Japan, and I," continued Canada as though nothing had happened. "As you must remember, you all received separate campers to drive and sleep in the last few times." Germany snorted. Although Italy had his own camper, he never actually slept in his; the Italian just came over to Germany's camper and slept there. A similar thing had happened with France and England a few times.

"Unfortunately, due to technical issues, we only can use half the campers." Shocked glances were exchanged. "Therefore, each of you will have to share your camper with one other nation. I haven't chosen your partners yet, but I assure you that you will know them in a week, when the road trip begins." Canada gave them all a smug smile, and sat down. The faces of most of the nations were filled with horror, except two. France was edging closer to England, and Russia…

The tall nation smiled even wider, his purple eyes glowing. All side conversations stopped as the World Conference room was filled with a dark chuckle.

"Heheheh-kolkolkol…"

Scheiße- shit (German)

Well, there's the first chapter! Please review! This is not my first fanfic I've written, but the first one I've published btw.