Disclaimer: I don't own these darlin' characters.

"The fundamental cause of trouble in the world is that the stupid are cocksure while the intelligent are full of doubt."

~Bertrand Russell (1872-1970)

He would be alone. His allies didn't even tolerate him for a large extent. They were saddened by him, disgusted.

He knew that.

He knew.

But he still wished he could have his knight, or his damsel, or his special someone stand up and say that he was loveable too.

America pasted a huge grin on his face. Beaming. Radiant. Not enough. He began loudly, "Dudes! I have this great idea to counteract global warming! We set up—"

The rest of the nations drowned him out. He knew that; and even as he continued to ramble, he watched sharply how England was already arguing under his breath with France, how Spain was already batting his eyes at Romano, how the rest of the fucking world didn't care. Even Germany was watching Italy (who was sketching on the table) fed up with the idiotic American's useless ideas.

America knew. He knew.

But he still wished they would care enough to smile with him, and laugh with him, and look at him fondly, not with such burning hate they showed in their eyes everyday. Yet he also knew it was his own fault. He had chosen the happy-go-lucky persona for a reason, though he sometimes wished he had chosen a different mask.

"—and for world obesity, I think we all totally need to—"

America froze in his speech. Luckily, and sadly, no one noticed. He was tired, and worn, and fed up.

England looked up, followed by France. Their argument was momentarily postponed.

America easily punched down his blue emotions. He continued, flow smoothly remembered, pause unnoticeable. "I think we all totally need to—"

England looked back at France. Their hissing words started up again.

"W-we all t-totally need to—"

He cut himself off again. No one noticed. His eyes were starting to get itchy. He took a deep breath. "We—"

"Alfred," the air near him whispered. "It's okay."

America choked, face pinking. "Mattie?" he whispered back, hands swimming around in suspicion.

Canada, not invisible anymore, sidled up beside the podium. He smiled softly and repeated, "It's okay, Alfred."

His eyes were fond. He knew, as well.

America sniffed, scratched at his blotching cheeks. "Sit back down, Canada."

Canada did. He smiled, patted America's shoulder gently, and shuffled carefully back to his seat.

"We all totally need to change the way we are representing the health issues." His voice was the same influx from before, but it held just a tint of something warmer. "People, specifically the awesome younger generations, aren't really caring. Or they are, but it's hard for them to stay determined and exercise daily and eat healthily.

"Pushing education further into this problem would help, for real, y'all, but it won't be enough. While having the food pyramid proudly shown around in schools is totally wicked, we need to make this fun for the kids and teens. We need to branch out.

"Think intelligence. Does reciting history dates from memory make you smart? Sure thing. What about if you're a great artist and you express the War of 1812 through your acrylic paint; is that intelligence? Damn straight."

"The bloody—?"

America grinned his same beam from before. He talked over England. "If intelligence is flexible, so can the way we approach the obesity epidemic in the world. We need to take a whole shit load of ideas from all over! We need to involve music, dances, art, technology, history, and, hell, math if we need to. We need to take into consideration the uniqueness of each individual."

America paused; everyone noticed.

Their eyes were open wide, some blinking owlishly up at the boisterous American, others just gaping on in wonder.

England, recovering quickly, scowled. "And how do you propose we do that, America?"

America smiled beautifully. "We all totally need to—"

And he rambled. He rambled about increasing the amount of games that require movement, making more dance discs, making rewards more accessible and smart.

But this time, England and France were watching him curiously (and fondly, though England tried to weakly mask it). Spain, holding Romano's hand under the table as the Italian grumbled, was looking on in interest, head tilted. Germany was frowning in thought, and Italy was smiling softly through his hair as he continued to doodle, ears trained on the American but eyes on the sketch.

Canada grinned, shooting his younger brother two twin thumbs up over France, not knowing but hoping America could still see him.

America's smile stretched further, and he winked happily at the empty seat.

.

.

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A/N: Short and crappy, I know. I was originally going to have Alfred become all smart during the meeting and then have no one notice at all for the irony. It would have been like:

"Hero, hero, hero, hero~"

*no one listening*

"Hm. *smart talk*"

*no one listening, thinking he's still being stupid*

"Wut? D: I hate you all."

But then I decided I'm a loser and Canada is cool, so… happy, unrealistic ending for all! Woot!