literature

AmericaxReader - Interview with an Immortal (2)

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A heavy sigh escaped _____’s lips as she rose from her seat. She watched the other men and women make their way out of the conference room, her eyes scanning for one person in particular.

Shortly after she recognized America in the meeting, a hint of doubt crept into her mind. What if he didn’t recognize me? she thought, stepping out into the broad hallway. What if he was just trying to be nice? Or maybe he was flirting? Or—

“Well, lookie who it is.”

_____ jumped, letting out a squeak and dropping her briefcase. She bent down to pick up her case and turned to see a familiar face grinning down at her.

“It’s been a while, huh, _____?” America said, offering her a hand.

_____ blinked, astonished by the fact that he had remembered her name after all this time. Still, a smile formed on her lips as she took his hand. “Six years. Though, I’m sure for you, it was only an instant.”

America chuckled. “Well, not really. We may live longer, but that doesn’t make the time feel any shorter.”

“I suppose I should have asked that in our interview,” _____ quipped.

America laughed at the comment. “Maybe, but I think you got the gist when I spilled my guts to you. Speaking of which, how’d you do on that assignment, anyway?”

_____ breathed and ran a hand through her neatly straightened hair as she thought back. “The overall grade was a B-plus, if I remember correctly.”

“What?!” Alfred exclaimed, clearly offended. “Just a B-plus?! C’mon, you had a freaking country as a source! What kind of crackpot professor did you have?!”

_____ laughed nervously, now conscious of the turning heads of curious passersby. “Yeah, my professor was pretty strict. Apparently, I ‘didn’t have enough sources’.”

“Are you kidding me?! What part of ‘interview with a country’ did he not understand?!”

“I know, I know. He was ridiculous.” _____ shrugged, a half-smile on her lips. “But I’m here now. I worked my way up.” Her smile softened. “And it really is nice to see you again, Alfred.”

America mirrored the smile. “Likewise, _____.”



“So, what’s new in the world of personified nations?”

“Eh, mostly just the basic drama,” America replied, taking a gulp of his soft drink. “England and France have been on way better terms ever since those Muslim extremist attacks in Paris. North Korea is still refusing to meet with any other nation. And, as usual, everybody’s pissed at me.”

_____ let out a low hum as a response and continued eating her meal. After some discussion, the two had decided to go to lunch together and catch up, much to the dismay of America’s cohorts (they feared he would become an “easy target” if he went out alone).

“And what about you?” America suddenly asked. “What’s new in the life of _____ _____?”

_____ blinked, then pondered briefly as she gently tapped her plate with her fork. “Nothing much, really. After I graduated, I was given my master’s degree in politics, and I moved out of my parents’ house into an apartment. I job-hunted for about a month until I was offered the chance to live and work in D.C. Someone apparently saw some worthwhile potential in me and decided to take a gamble on this”—_____ gestured to herself—“lazy procrastinator.”

America laughed. “Well, if that person hadn’t have offered you the job, then I certainly would’ve. To be completely honest, I saw potential in you the second you asked to interview me. Everybody else in that long-ass line just wanted to take pictures and all that basic crap. But you”—he leaned over the table, pointing at _____—“you saw potential in me, a loud, obnoxious, shallow figurehead that’s only purpose is to show up to meetings and smile and nod.”

“Alfred, that’s not your only purpose,” _____ started, but suddenly held her tongue. As she thought of reports and articles involving America, even the meeting she was just in, she couldn’t find any sliver of information that could contradict his point. Being a politician, losing a debate due to a lack of counterarguments deeply frustrated her.

But now was not the time to think like a politician.

Alfred smiled and shook his head. “It’s okay. It doesn’t matter, anyway. I’m fine with what they have me doing.” He looked down at his half-finished plate. “I’m glad I was able to help you. Sometimes I feel like that’s the only worthwhile thing I’ve done since I became a country.”

“All you did was let me interview you for a final,” ____ blurted out, and she immediately regretted it. She regretted risking extinguishing the hope she had inadvertently given him six years ago. If he no longer saw worth in what he did for her, he would likely no longer see any worth in himself as well.

America propped his chin in his hand. “Yeah. But even that—even that seems a hell of a lot more meaningful than the other useless dreck I’ve done all these years.”

_____ looked down at her fidgeting hands. “Alfred,” she said. “You still had my phone number after our interview.” Her statement was more of a question, but she took his silence as a confirmation. “Why didn’t you ever try to contact me?”

America blinked, then chuckled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his head. “I don’t know, really. I guess I just assumed that you’d already deleted mine and weren’t interested in staying in touch.”

“I still have it.” _____ smiled. “Let’s agree to keep in touch this time.”

Alfred smiled back. “Agreed.”



America and _____ stood by _____’s car in an uncomfortable silence, both waiting for the other to say goodbye. Pulling her keys from her purse, _____ cleared her throat. “Well, I guess I should be going.”

“Right,” America replied. Pursing his lips, he held out his hand. “It was really nice to see you again after all this time.”

_____ smiled and took his hand—only to be pulled into his arms. She froze, shock and bewilderment rendering her speechless.

“Thank you, _____,” he said, slightly tightening his hold on her. “It may not’ve seemed like much, but those little things are what make immortal life a little easier. At that time,”—a low chuckle escaped his throat—“just for that moment, I felt human again.”

_____ finally relaxed, slowly returning the embrace. “There’s no need to thank me,” she said. “I want you to know that, no matter how dark it seems sometimes, no matter how low you fall, there’s always hope.”

America finally released her and squeezed her shoulder. “I’m glad I met you, _____. Take good care of yourself, you hear?”

_____ grinned. “But of course, Mr. America!” She flashed him a warm smile before climbing into her car and pulling out of the parking spot. As she headed out of the lot, she glanced back at the figure in her rear-view mirror. She smiled sadly when he was out of sight, muttering, “See you later, Alfred.”



“The goal is not to live forever, but to create something that will.”
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Since y'all asked, I delivered. Enjoy.

Part 1: ravens-of-rome.deviantart.com/…

Story (c) Me
Picture (c) Not Me
Hetalia (c) Himeruya Hidekazu
© 2015 - 2024 Ravens-of-Rome
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Aircakes's avatar
I was like "hey, I need to be happy, oh look there's an America fic! Hope it's not one of those sadish ones!" Sigh I was wrong but I really like your fic!