Current Events

a/n: This is my first Hetalia fanfic so hopefully the characters are in character. I made up Afghanistan and his human name because I couldn't find it in the hetalia wiki, so I hope you like him. Also this is rated m, but it is not rated m for smut. There is no sex in this. I've never written yaoi before, so I'm taking it slowly lol. I won't lie I had fun with this because I took all things that are happening currently and threw them in ^^ . There are probably spelling and grammar mistakes, but ill look at them later. Finally I don't own APH or the characters in it.

He held his arms high in the air as he laughed victoriously. The cheers, loud music, and sounds of confetti exploded around him. He heard his name being chanted in a slow rhythmic way and it made him feel like a super hero…well he was a hero!

"U.S.A. U.S.A. U.S.A!" the chanting continued and finally brought down his hands as he opened his eyes wide with a large grin. He stared down at all his boys in uniform. He felt so proud of them. The 21st century had been a difficult one on America and his people. The recession that the world blamed on him, the two wars, and the political polarization of his people was almost exhausting, but Alfred was the hero. He could handle anything! He could win anything. His mind didn't even focus on the Iraq war they had withdrawn from. No, he wasn't focus there. A hero never lost. He was focus on Afghanistan.

He would get Afghanistan all fixed up and everything would be good. As the idea popped into his head he was reminded of the country beside him. America slammed his hand onto the countries back in an enthusiastic pat. Afghanistan was shorter than America, but his shoulders were broader and more define. But the actual muscular form was hidden under the long beige shirt-dress thing he wore. America wasn't sure why the men wore dresses here, something about the heat. Afghanistan also wore a turban that covered his dessert like brown hair and had newly forming beard on his chin. He seemed to be chewing something, even though his mouth was empty, not noticing the pat or just caring enough to notice. America could never figure out if Afghanistan was pleased or angry because his mouth only made that movement of chewing. There was no smile or frown. But for that reason Alfred thought the man was pleased. Who wouldn't be if they had a hero to help them?

"America," the shorter man said in a deep voice, "I must go. I have prayer."

"What? You've already done that four times today! Besides you're going to miss the party!" he said swinging his hands toward his boys in uniform that filled the make shift stadium they made for the event. Lady Gaga had agreed to come and sing for the soldiers and while Alfred could admit she was a little intense he costumes were freakin awesome! His men continued to cheer as his flag waved brightly across the giant screen behind him.

The man next to him grunted in annoyance. "America, I must go," he said then turned away and walked off the stage.

Alfred frowned as his eyes watched the tan man walk away. How could anyone turn down a party? His party? He tried not to let it effect him as he walked up to the mike in center stage. "Howdy hommies!" he shouted into the mike, hearing it echo. All of his men continued to cheer. "I gotcha something special for all your great work," he paused for a moment, "Have I told you how awesome you all are? Cause you're awesome," he said with a grin pointing his hands at the crowd.

"Anyways let's get the true star out here. Lady Gaga!" he shouted and the crowd went wild. As soon as he shouted her name music started playing the lights started making colors. Alfred knew it was his que to get off, but he stood there taking in how happy his men were. He loved to see them happy. He loved feeling his people happy. It had felt so long since he had felt it. He grinned then walked off the stage area as the blond in some feather costume appeared from above him. Lady Gaga was so cool. He already had gotten her autograph fifty five times, but another one wouldn't hurt. He just had to wait until after her performance. Awesome! But why had Afghanistan been such a buzz kill? It was almost as bad as hanging out with Iggy.

He tried not letting it bother him as he turned back to the performance. "You did quite great out there, Alfred," he heard a female voice as a hand patter him lightly on the back. He turned and saw Mrs. Clinton, the Secretary of State. He didn't have problem with Clinton, she was pleasant even though he saw the uncomfortable power hunger in her eyes. Condie was more chilllaxed, but Clinton was still nice. He did enjoy his new boss quite a lot. He was always so amazed by his speeches and determination at such a young age. He missed Bush and there hang outs over beers, but he knew Obama had a plan. Obama actually reminded him a lot of Reagan, but of course on different party lines, but the big imagination and dream was there. It was the same in Reagan. He was so lucky to live an awesome democracy where his bosses continued to change and surprise him. He hoped Afghanistan would have it as well.

"I do my job well, sir…miss…mam," he stuttered out the last bit.

Clinton chuckled lightly, but Alfred could see something more calculating going on behind her eyes. "I was talking to General McKiernan. He thinks it's a bit odd that Afghanistan decided to leave so abruptly."

Alfred snorted, "Yeah he had to pray or somethin'. He's missing out though. I mean look! She's like dangling up in the air!" he said point to Lady Gaga.

"Yes quite talented," Clinton commented quickly, "We were actually hoping you could follow him, Alfred."

Alfred's eyebrows furrowed together in confusion as he continued to watch the intense performance. "What you mean like spy?" he asked.

"No…more like have a friendly chat. We have been here for almost ten years, Alfred, we want to make sure are friends are still friends," she responded.

Alfred turned to face the older blond wearing knit wear in this heat. "Of course, he's our friend that's why were saving him," Alfred said with a grin, "But I can do that." He nodded.

"Perfect," she responded with a grin that matched her husbands, or his old boss.

"No problem," he ended with a thumbs up and headed off the back stage area towards the exit. He bummed about missing Gaga, but Clinton wouldn't have asked if it wasn't important.

He pulled on the collar of his white button down shirt trying to get some fresh air in. The sun had gone down, but it was still blistering hot. He left his bomber jacket at his hotel room, so he walked around with his sleeves rolled to his elbow and his pants sticking to his legs from sweat. Why couldn't the celebration been held near the mountains or in the mountains! Why did have to be closer to the dreadful dessert? His pistol in his waistband even rubbed awkwardly against his side. He was still within the green zone, but he was coming to the edge of it. You could never be too careful.

Why couldn't Shah (Afghanistan) have just stayed in his hotel room? It made no sense to prayer all the way out here in a hookah bar. When he finally reached the wooden door, his hand went to the doorframe. He had to take in some cleaning breaths so he didn't look like a mess. He was the hero he couldn't be looking like a sweaty pig. With that few moments of recollecting himself he put on a grin and slammed opened the door. The small room went silent as the other Afghan people looked at him with bewilderment and then slight annoyance as the smoke that had been hotboxed into the room tunneled out of him. He wasn't fully prepared for the barrage of smoke and started coughing. It wasn't that he hated smoke, back in the fifties he was smoking a pack a day, but when different flavors hit the back of your mouth at the same time it can make anyone hack.

He shut the door behind him as he continued to cough, still feeling the staring eyes on him until they eventually went back to their conversations.

"Shit," he heard a deep monotone voice comment from the far back.

"Hey-ca ca," he coughed through his words, "Shah, ca wh-at are ya doin' here?" He let out a sigh as he finally gained control of himself and looked up towards where he heard the voice. He froze.

There in the corner of the room sitting at a small table across from Afghanistan was Russia.

"Hello America," Russia said with a smile implanted on his face as he gave a small wave.

What. The. Fuck?

"What the hell is he doing here!" he shouted as he stormed across the small room, causing the hookahs to shake on the tables from vibration. The outburst caused a few of the other people in the room to leave, but Alfred didn't care about them at the moment. He cared about the man with the scarf. How the hell was he wearing a scarf in this weather? At least he didn't have the bulky jacket or Alfred would really start to question things…though he couldn't understand how Russia was wearing a long sleeve shirt and not sweating at all.

"No, hello America? That is awfully, how do you put it…rude," Russia said with an innocent expression as he folded his hands on his laps.

"I'm not talking to you," he growled facing Shah again.

Shah face seemed expressionless as he brought the hookah pipe to his lips. The tan man took in a deep breath causing America's fist to tighten. He hated being ignored. Shah then breathed out the smoke slowly as he spoke, "Russia and I were merely discussing his plans to help us rebuild."

"Help you what? I'm helping you. You don't need his help. Beside he invaded you before, how could you even trust him!" Alfred shouted.

"I didn't invade him, America," Russia smiled, "I was merely handling a security threat."

America shot Russia a glare. He could frame that anyway he wanted, but America knew the truth.

"If I recall," Shah said, almost bored, "You have invaded me currently, and I hold little grudge against you for it. So I will not be so quick to turn away Russia's helping hand."

"I didn't invade you!" he found himself throwing his arms in the air, "I'm helping you. I'm helping you get rid of the Taliban and become a democracy!"

He heard small chuckle and shot a glare at Russia. "It's quite humorous, Da?" the Russian replied, "Wasn't it you, America, who put the Taliban in control?"

America's eye widened at the comment. They had given the Taliban weapons, but it was to stop Russia! "We were stopping you, you stupid commie!" he said pointing a finger at Russia.

"Hypocrite, Da?" Russia nodded with a smile, "You are still as naïve as before, America. I only want to help Afghanistan as a sign of less tense times."

"If you wanted to help you would have joined the NATO forces and helped us fight against the terrorist," Alfred said leaning over the small table. After the Cold War had ended they shook hands and went their separate ways…well after America gloated for a moment or two. He didn't hate Russia, but he didn't like him either. During the Bush administration the tension had increased slightly, with Russia's invasion of Georgia. He was still trying to take over the world, but his new Boss had told him they were starting on a new leaf. They would not let the tensions of the past ruin future ties. Even though, his boss stressed better relationship, Alfred always felt an underlying untrustworthiness from Russia. Look what he's doing right now! He was going behind his back! Russia was getting back to his old tricks, and it infuriated him.

He disliked that fake childish voice Russia spoke with often. It was taunting and itched at his skin. He had heard his voice break out of characters many times during their decades of tension. He almost always looked forward to angering the Russian just so he could hear the real voice.

"I'm handling the terrorist in a different way," Russia stated, his voice flattening only a bit. America had heard of the increase security after the Moscow attacks. "But I digress," he said in a happier tone, "I'm here to help Afghanistan and if you are not pleased by that America, there is nothing I can do."

Alfred glared at Russia before whipping his head to Afghanistan. "You can't seriously be taking help from this madman."

Shah took a drag from the hookah pipe, once again making the silence drag out until he blew out the smoke. "I have been around for a long time, but I have never seen my fellow nations fall to their own people so quickly and swiftly. I must make my people happy and as a beggar, I cannot choose where I get my help," Shah's eyes gave him a slight glare that obviously meant America's help wasn't by his choice either, but America didn't read it that way.

"Those nations aren't fallen. The people are throwing out their bad leader," America justified the protest, "Those people want democracy!"

"You miss my point, America," the man spoke as he put the pipe back into his mouth.

"I feel that I am interrupting," Russia said as he stood from the small table. Alfred had to take a step back forgetting how large the man was. "I will be on my way. We will work out details on another time, طابت ليلتكم" the last words were foreign to Alfred, but he knew it was Arabic. The amount of time he had been spending in the Middle East was starting to expand his languages…barely.

The large Russian walked passed him without even a farewell. Alfred frowned, "Russia, I'm not through talking with you!" Russia ignored him and walked out the door. Alfred brought his eyes down to Shah who was just staring at the hookah absently. "I promise, you don't need his help. I'll prove it to you, but I have to deal with him first. I promise though. I can help you in anyway you need. I'm the hero, that's what heroes do," he said with a grin and only received a nod.

America grin got larger and headed out the door to find Russia. Luckily he was so focused on his fury with the Russian he missed Afghanistan's last words to him. "We are all merely pawns of the west, played on a board of chess that is doomed to crumple beneath us. So unfortunate," the Afghan man then took a depressed drag of the hookah and let the smoke encompass him.

"Russia!" he shouted, as his head whipped around like a drug addict in search of his dealer. He only saw a few people walking the dirt barely lit street. Where the hell did he go?

"Капиталистические свиньи, there is no reason to shout. I am right here," he heard Russia's voice to the side and quickly turned his body to see the man leaning on the edge of the small building they had just left. The man still had that annoying smile on.

"Don't think I don't know what's going on. France just stupidly sold you warships, you're helping Afghanistan, and not to mention, your economy wasn't as hurt as the rest of ours!" he said, narrowing his eyes as he walked towards the Russian, "If you even think any of us are going to allow you to expand again, you're dreaming. You lost the Soviet Union because of your own failed policies."

He watched that fake smile falter for only a moment, revealing the briefest of frowns. Russia's arms were crossed across his chest before he chuckled. "Oh Америка, I have forgotten the unsettling paranoia you can have. France has sold me the warships out of celebration of us strengthening our connections. You know as well as me, France does enjoy giving gifts. As for Afghanistan, is it so terrible that I wish to be a hero too?" he said with an innocent hurt expression.

"You can't be the hero!" he shouted.

"I believe I was talking," Russia continued, "The economy had nothing to do with me. I was merely smart and saw the downfall of your greedy selfish ways. While globalization has forced us to stick our hand in the filth you call capitalism, it has not drowned us yet."

"It's not filth! Capitalism is awesome, and it beat out your stupid communism. So we had a bump, we've come out of it! We're getting even stronger!" he said, though he stretched the truth slightly. They weren't out of the recession, but Alfred was determined they would be. He would heal his country.

"Я вижу, вы все еще живут в этом мире смешно фантазия ваша. Я возьму большое удовольствие, когда он разрушает вокруг вас," Russia spoke to him in that dreadful language. Alfred caught a few words in there, but he couldn't make out the full statement. He did know one thing: it was an insult.

"Speak English if you want to talk to me," he said stepping closer in frustration.

He saw Russia's eye roll before he stated, "I'm curious to know how you feel as your world power position slowly slips through your grips. Does it upset you to know that European Union is falling apart as the debt suffocates them? Does it cause you fear to know that it will happen to you? Your selfish people spend beyond their means causing the world to suffer and you only follow suit. What will you do when China ask for his money? What will you do when China becomes the super power?"

Alfred couldn't exactly describe his feelings at the moment as Russia pulled out some of his greatest fears. He knew he was feeling something pass anger…something close to hate. So he wasn't surprised when his body reacted on his own. He punched Russia hard in the face watching the guy fall to the ground. America might have lost creditability with the world after the economic crisis, but it didn't mean America wasn't a super power. He did pick up a buffalo when he was only a year old. Of course, Russia was strong as well, which explained why the man hadn't gone flying into the next building. Alfred looked down at Russia and saw the man cough up blood into the dirt. "I've been wanting to do that since July 16, 1945," America said with a huff.

He watched as Russia wiped his mouth then pushed himself off the ground. He still had that annoying smile on his face. "I thought you could to better then that, Америка. My turn," he stated and before Alfred could even blink a fist hit him hard in the cheek causing him to fall a few steps back. It hurt, and he swore he felt his jaw crack. That bastrad! He stopped himself from falling back and immediately pushed himself into a run as he tackled Russia onto the ground. He heard the bigger man let out a grunt, but barely paid attention. Alfred was furious. Russia had been taunted and pushing him for almost half a century. He was America! He didn't deserve such nonsense, and he began pounding in Russia face. He saw blood, and he preferred it that way. He felt bone against his fist. He felt his own fist start to bleed, but the sickening sound made him continue. He didn't know what he wanted from this, but it felt good. It felt like fifty years of tension coming to the surface.

A strong grip grabbed one of his wrists and forcefully pulled him off. Alfred landed on his back feeling a rock slam into his spin. It hurt, but he looked up and saw Russia now looming over him with his pipe. Where the hell did he keep that thing? He wasn't wearing his jacket! "Silly little Америка, do you really think a few blows to the face will hurt me," he asked as he balanced his pipe in his hand.

Alfred didn't answer. He pulled out his gun from his waistband without a second thought and pointed it up at the man, clicking it into place. "A bullet to the face might," he said deadly.

Russia's smile finally left his face as the two continued to glare at one another. This felt similar to the Cuban Missile Crisis: neither one wanted to swallow their pride, but neither wanted to get hurt either. The tension felt encompassing, almost more suffocating then the dessert heat. His eyes focused on Russia's violet ones. He never understood how such a kind soft color could go on such a cruel man. The only thing that pulled his eyes away was the sound of metal against ground. He watched as Russia held up his empty hands innocently, followed by the smile. Alfred couldn't help smirking. He won again. The hero always won! He brought down his gun, but as soon as it was lowered he felt a boot kick his face hard causing him to drop the weapon all together. He groaned in pain as he heard in the distance his gun being pushed far away. His hand had flown to his face trying to consol the pain, but being kicked was far from a pleasurable experience. He tasted iron in his mouth and moved his jaw feeling a sharp pain traveling back. Damn it.

Something heavy sat down on his waist, which caused his eyes to jerk open only to be met by violet. "You are quite frisky, Alfred," Russia said, bringing the pipe towards his throat. He must have picked it up when he was distracted by the pain.

"Don't call me that," he hissed before spitting the blood in his mouth on Russia's crisp shirt.

A hand grabbed his chin forcing it to look up at him. It caused that sharp pain to attack him. "I will call you whatever I like," the Russian stated darkly.

Alfred glared at the man. He wanted to kill him. He swung his fist out, but it was caught this time by Russia. "Not as strong as we thought we were, Da?" he said with a creepy smile. Damn it, if he wasn't dealing with the recession he wouldn't have any difficulties pushing Russia off. It was probably similar to watching to water against a giant bolder.

"Get off of me," he said coldly, his eyes darting around the street to see if anyone was around, but their fight had somehow put them into the small alleyway between the two homes. It also was hard to see anything when it got this dark.

"Nyet, I think I enjoy the mighty America in such a useless state," he taunted.

That's it! Alfred started struggling again, but felt the pipe being pushed down on his throat. His air was being limited, and he was forced to stop moving.

"You're not going to kill me, Russia, so why don't you get off of me and we can be on our way," he muttered through the limited air source. He wasn't begging or fearing for his life. He was just annoyed with the entire situation. He also didn't enjoy the way Russia's eyes were traveling along his body. They seemed to be observing his every reaction.

"Я ненавижу тебя," was the Russain's only response, which only caused Alfred to give that annoyed confused look again. Was it so much effort to speak English? But before that thought could even settle in his mind he felt a pair of lips against his.

His eyes widened in horror as Russia's fingers went into his hair and pulled him into a deeper kiss. What the hell was going on? He didn't quite understand because strangely Russia's lips didn't taste of evil, but of snowflakes. With how hot it was, he almost wanted to deepen the kiss himself, but had to remind himself who was on top of him. This wasn't Japan after a friendly hang out of video games, or England after a night at the bar. This was Russia. Why the hell was Russia kissing him?

He felt Russia chest rub against his own and the friction against his hips was causing a hot feeling to settle inside of him. No. This was not happening. He tried to struggle, but his body stood frozen in shock and horror. Luckily, Russia pulled away with a slightly confused expression on his face as well. Of course, it disappeared behind his mask of emotions. "I apologize," he said while he got off of Alfred, pipe in hand.

Alfred wanted to say something witty or smart like 'Ya you better be!' or no…something cool…something a hero would say, but his mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water.

"I must make my flight. It was nice having this friendly chat," Russia said in that fake voice then walked away from him.

Even after Russia left him alone in between the two houses, America continued to lay on the ground completely and utterly confused. The man he loathed for half a century, the man who constantly mocked him had just kissed him. What made it all more confusing was that the only thing America could think of was when it would happen again.

Translations: I'm not sure if they're correct. I just found them online.

طابت ليلتكم–Good night

Капиталистические свиньи –capitalist pig

Я вижу, вы все еще живут в этом мире смешно фантазия ваша. Я возьму большое удовольствие, когда он разрушает вокруг вас - I see you are still living in that ridiculous fantasy world of yours. I will take great enjoyment when it shatters around you.

Я ненавижу тебя- I hate you.

This is a one shot.

Random current and historic facts: France just recently sold two warships to Russia for 1.6 billion dollars. Many republican politicians are furious at Frances choices especially with Russia and China's increasing strength.

Russia is currently in discussions with Afghanistan over how to help them rebuild. Russia plans to give Afghanistan money and resources to rebuild the destruction in the areas Russia had invaded during their war. NATO finds this appalling because Russia has not send in any military or supplies for the current war in Afghanistan.

When Afghanistan is talking to America about falling countries he is talking about the riots and protest going on around the Middle East. Particularly Libya, Syria, Egypt, and Tunsia.

The date America mentions is the first meeting after World War II ended. The Potsdam Conference.

Condi is in reference to Condoleezz Rice. The Secretary of State during the Bush administration.

Side note: I hope it doesn't come off that Russia and the US are ignoring each other. They're not. Obama and Medvedev have agreed to have a fresh start. The reason Alfred gets easily agitated by Russia is because not all the people in the US trust Russia nor are they will to make stronger ties with Russia. As seen by a lot of citizens uproar over France. So remember Alfred is not just based on the President's feelings towards another country, but the people of the entire country. Russia's people also are not fully trustworthy of the US. Something like 75% of Russians believe the US abuses their power. So again while leaders might be getting along it does not mean the countries themselves are getting along. So I hope I cleared that up!