And another new story from PurpleLuna98! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia, Macy's, Adele, or LMFAO (or anything else that might be hinted at)

Warnings: France (ohonhonhon~), slight cussing

Song of the Chapter: Just Give Me a Reason: P!nk

"Ah, Amerique! Bon anniversaire!" France said from behind America. He turned and smiled down at his long time friend.

"Thanks, dude. What is it?" America asked, already ripping open the packaging. He blushed at what he saw.

France nudged him. "For some special birthday love, oui?"

"Uh... Y-yeah!" America said, quickly closing the package. France laughed.

"What better gift is there, mon ami?"

America couldn't help it, he glanced over at his beloved Lady Liberty. "Oh, I can think of one..."

France smiled after he followed his friend's line of sight. "Yes, I guess that was one of my better gifts."

America smiled wistfully, and didn't even notice when France slipped back into the crowd. He placed the gift on the table next to the others - in the back so it wouldn't be seen - and leaned against the railing.

Today was his birthday, the Fourth of July. They were in a penthouse on top of some building, and the view of the balcony he was on gave him a great view of Lady Liberty, and where the Macy's fireworks would be shot off.

He felt the wind rustle his hair. No one had contacted him today, which was a giant change from last year. It was nice to have just a day, a day to remember, to feel, that he was and is the strongest nation out there. Built on liberty, built on the pursuit of freedom and happiness.

He sighed happily. He couldn't think of a more touching moment, except maybe Iggy standing here with him, his eyes half-lidded as America leaned down to touch his lips against his soft, velvety ones- wait. What was he thinking?!

America shook his head. No, none of that. He knew England hated this day. For good reasons, of course.

"Mr. Jones?" A male voice behind America asked. He turned to see a lightly tanned man wearing a white tee-shirt under another plaid shirt that was unbuttoned. His jeans were well-worn, and his hiking boots also looked loved. His messy brown hair hung in his eyes, and his stubble made him look a lot older than he was. His hands were stuffed into his pockets.

America raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"

"The DJ is lookin' for ya. Somethin' about singin' a song for the birthday boy."

America smirked. "Could I ask who my messenger is?"

His face stayed stoic, but America could see in his eyes that he was teasing him. "The name's Jayden."

America nodded. "Thanks. I'll see you around, then?"

"I'll be here all night." And with that, the man disappeared into the crowds, still hiding his hands.

America passed Canada on his way to the DJ booth. "Hey bro! What's up?"

"Nothing much. What about you?" Canada had joined him on his mission to the DJ.

"Gonna talk to the DJ."

"Oh. Well, I think I see Katyusha over there with Hungary..." America smiled when his brother's cheeks flushed slightly.

"Go get her, man." America said, pushing the reluctant Canadian into the crowds before he could object.

His mission was renewed. He was almost there, too, when Japan stopped him. "Alfred-kun, happy birthday."

America smiled. "Thanks, Kiku-kun! I gotta take care of some business, but promise me we can get a drink later?" He nodded, and America set back out into the crowds.

He had finally reached the DJ booth. A man with blonde hair sticking straight up, and red, white and blue streaks running through it, had headphones in his hand and they were pressed to his ear was manning it. He was nodding to the beat of the music. He wore tight black jeans, shirt, and shoes. He wore chain suspenders that hung from his waist. His right hand was covered by a black glove that ran halfway to his elbow.

I tapped his shoulder. He put the headphones down and put on an Adele song.

"'S'up, birthday boy?" He asked.

America smiled at the song. 'Someone Like You'. One of his favorites. "Sorry, but I didn't catch your name?"

"Ah, sorry dude. My name's Lance. DJ Lance, in fact."

He smiled, and America smiled back. "Right. So you needed me?"

"Right, well the band was asking about what they were going to play during the fireworks."

America nodded slowly, thinking it over. "Just play the anthem, America the Beautiful, and God Bless America."

"Anything else?" He asked, looking at America suggestively.

"Yes, in fact. I saw a man earlier that I didn't recognize. He had black hair with brown streaks in it. Could you point me in his direction?"

The man in front of him visibly deflated. "Yeah, he went to the seating area with another man."

"Thanks."

America walked away from the booth, and the DJ put on an LMFAO song. He walked through the crowds, occasionally waving or laughing at one of the countries, greeting them, then walking off. He kept his eyes open for England on the way to the seating area and the bar, but he didn't keep his hopes up.

He reached the seating area, and found two men, one being the one he was looking for, and another being someone else he recognized. They both looked at him when he sat down.

The man he was looking for did indeed have brown streaks through his hair, though he knew that they were natural. His brown eyes looked over America with dismay. He wore a brown suit with a red, white, and blue tie, and a fedora perched atop his head was also red, white, and blue.

"Excuse me, sir, but could you tell me if this was a formal occasion or not?" He asked, eyes suddenly shooting up to America's. He knew it hurt to call him 'sir'.

"Of course, dude. It was unformal." America said.

"Dammit! Thanks alot Ne- I mean Noah. You call me up and say you know this is a formal occasion, then you arrive and tell me it isn't!"

America looked over the other man. He wore a white tank top, army cargo pants, and army boots. His arms were bulging with muscles, and one of his arms, his right arm, had gauze wrapped up until the elbow. He made a noise that sounded a lot like 'pfft'. "Did not. You're just trying to get me back from last time, Aiden."

America held up his hand, getting the attention of both men. "It doesn't matter. All I need is-" Both of the men in front of him were glaring at something over him.

America turned and saw Mexico standing there, looking scared of two sets of harsh glares being directed at her. She glanced down at him. America looked back at them, then back at her. He shrugged.

"They hate your soccer team." He said easily. Mexico relaxed a tad, but he could tell she was still wary.

"Everyone wants to know when the fireworks are." She said.

America looked at his watch. "Ten minutes. I'll make an announcement over the loudspeaker."

She nodded, smiled, wished him happy birthday, then disappeared into the crowds. America turned on the two men in front of him and leveled a glare at both of them. They visibly shrunk. "I'm going to pretend that didn't happen. Now, Aiden, was it?"

"Yes, that's my name." He said, taking off his hat.

"Could you and-" America waved for the man to tell him his name.

"Noah." He supplied after a pause.

"-and Noah go and take care of the fireworks?"

"Shouldn't he be taking care of them?" 'Aiden' grumbled.

"He's doing other things."

"DJ?" Noah asked, uncrossing his arms, as if knowing he'd have to get up and do America's request already.

"Yes."

"Okay. Let's go, Aiden." He said, already standing up and dragging the deeply-tanned man behind him. Aiden barely had time to grab his hat.

America laughed and got up. Just as he was pushing in his chair, he felt arms wrap around his waist. He looked down at the hands, which were hidden under long, tan sleeves and black gloves. America smiled as the arms were pulled off of him.

"Happy Birthday!" The little girl that had just been detached from him cried as he turned around.

In front of him was a small girl that looked about the age of twelve. She wore a tan parka, black gloves, and black boots. She had her favorite flower in her black hair, blue petals and yellow middle, and her happy violet eyes stared up at him.

Holding the happy child back was another women that wore a sparkly red dress that showed off her curves and could be seen on the red carpet. Her skin was a couple shades darker than America's, and her black hair fell around her face in perfect ringlets. She wore a bracelet with red flowers that matched her dress on her right hand. She had pretty brown eyes.

America smiled at the display. "Thank you. May I ask who you fine ladies are?"

The woman smiled when the smaller girl stopped struggled and she could pick her up. "Yes, you may. My name is Chlöe Valeria. Just call me Chlöe; and this is my daughter, Isabella. She likes to go by Anastasia, though."

America smiled. "It's nice to meet the both of you. Especially you, Chlöe." He said, winking.

Chlöe giggled. "It is always a pleasure to meet the birthday man, I would say. Sorry, Mr. Jones, but we should get going. We need to find good places for the fireworks."

America nodded. "No problem. Have a fine evening."

"You too, Mr. Jones, and a happy birthday, I would hope."

"Bye bye, Mr. Jones!" The little girl cried over her 'mother''s shoulder.

America jumped when his brother spoke up behind him. "Who was that?"

He turned and smiled to his twin. "Just a fine lady I've just met."

"Alfred, have you noticed that a lot of people are wearing things on their right hand, but not their left hand?" Canada asked.

America stiffened. "What? What do ya mean, Mattie?" He asked a light-heartedly as possible.

"I don't really know. I only started noticing it after Kiku pointed it out to me, then asked if I had seem you."

Damn that Japanese man's perceptive skills. "Must be a new crave or somethin'. I haven't really noticed."

"Okay. The fireworks are starting soon, right?" America's twin brother asked.

He looked at his watch. Two minutes. "Yeah, really soon. I better make an announcment. You should make your way over to the balcony."

America made the announcement over the loudspeaker. Someone came up to him afterwards. He wore baggy jeans and a belt, a tee-shirt that proclaimed that 'the US of A is the way', and converse. He had dirty blonde hair and sea-green eyes. His right wrist was covered up by the way he was holding his Alabama 'Tide' hat.

"Hello, Mr. Jones." He said.

"Might I ask who you are?" America asked, though he knew exactly who he was.

"My name's Jackson. I just wanted to know if ya wanted to square-dance with me and a couple 'o friends." His southern accent was very thick, but America could easily decipher it.

"Sure! Dance floor after the fireworks?"

"That'd be awesome. See ya there." And with that he disappeared upstairs. All guests that weren't VIP had to watch from the roof, so sadly every guest but the countries was upstairs.

America made his way to the balcony. He shoved his way to the front, then leaned over the rail. He looked up and saw that his guests on the roof were looking out to the sky, waiting for the fireworks. There were fireworks in the distance, of course, from the Macy's show that was broadcasting across the nation, but he was expecting his fireworks.

Then, they started. The band that was positioned on the roof started playing the Star-Spangled Banner as they started. No one on the balcony but him sang, but everyone on the roof did. Then they started playing America the Beautiful as the fireworks reached their climax. The reds, whites, and blues exploded into planets, UFO's, willows, and happy faces.

America couldn't help but feel his pride swell. It was his 237th birthday, after all. Why shouldn't he feel proud? His nation had grown from the small colonies that had defeated a great empire to a huge superpower that had half of the world relying on it. Yeah, he got insults. Yeah, people hated his. Yeah, he knew that everyone but him kept grudges extremely easily. But his nation had something to be proud about. He was the nation to turn to in a time a of need. Everyone knew that.

The fireworks ended to God Bless America. There was clapping, and the song of 'Happy Birthday' started up as America turned to see his cake being wheeled in. It was basic, and had 'Happy Birthday, Alfred' scrawled on the top in icing.

He blew out his twenty candles. His friends wished him happy birthday, his enemies that had decided to show up took the cake and ran off to another part of the penthouse. He didn't grab one himself, and instead excused himself. He felt no one follow him as he headed to the second dance floor that nearly no one knew about, minus just a certain couple of his guests and him.

Virtual five bucks to anyone that can guess one of the 'random' people America interacts with, a shoutout to anyone who can guess all seven of them! Also, if anyone can guess why they're hiding their wrists, then you get a personal high-five! (And you get to give me a suggestion of a one-shot I should write.)

Let the games begin!

Reviews are welcomed but not required!

~PurpleLuna98