So this is my first publish Hetalia fic (but not first-ever fic). I got the idea from my text book...I just love the cold war so much (and Gorbachev!) and thought that the Summit Meetings would make for an adorable (and hilarious) fanfic. I hope that you like's kind of a lame idea. haha anywho, please R&R

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.
Warnings: language (maybe), yaoi in later chapters.

Alfred loved his new boss. He liked him much more than the previous American president, that Jimmy Carter guy, who left his position in office in disgrace. Ronald Regan was chill. He shared the young Nation's optimism and larger-than-life ideas, whereas some of his earlier presidents shunned them for their impracticality. He was a movie-star, a dreamer and the young Nation regarded him as a heroic figure, the way a child might to an astronaut. He was a role model and he treated his country like a son, instead of regarding the Nation as a precious jewel, an old relic meant to be locked up and protected as many of his past presidents had. Regan had always respected Alfred's opinions until that one day…

That one day Alfred sat in the Oval Office. His shoed feet rested upon the ancient mahogany desk top as he watched the steam drift from his mug of coffee with azure eyes, lids drooping with boredom. He had sat there for over an hour, waiting for his Boss and was getting annoyed. America was never known for his patience. He shifted in the leather chair uncomfortably for what must have been the hundredth time and stood to pace around the room to fight off the nervous anxiety that grew more and more the longer he was made to wait. Regan had summoned him early that morning to discuss some break-through idea regarding foreign policy. He came upon the request but honestly didn't have the slightest interest in the topic. He was still anxious however boring he figured the meeting would be, for it at least gave him something to do. The young Nation had always had issues with being unoccupied. It left room for disturbing thoughts to invade and the thick silences swallowed him like a wave, reminding him of death and small, tight spaces and other unpleasant things.

After two more minutes of meaningless wondering about the room, fiddling and re-fiddling with the books and old relics from previous ages and bosses, Alfred returned to his seat and picked up the coffee cup, holding it to his lips to drink the rejuvenating bitter liquid. He did not hear the opening of the large oak doors, and was startled when his boss greeted him loudly from behind, causing his hand to jerk and the still-hot contents of the mug to spill all over his lap.

"Ga!" Alfred leapt from the chair, swatting wildly at his crotch and the burning coffee that soaked his jeans, muttering a string of profanities. Clearly his Boss couldn't have picked a better moment to spontaneously appear.

After the coffee had cooled down, leaving a suspicious moist area on the front of his pants, Alfred gave up trying to wipe it off and acknowledged Ronald Regan's raised eyebrow with a bashful smile. "Hey Boss!" He said, shuffling awkwardly around the chair in a failing attempt to hide the glaringly obvious stain on his crotch. "Did you get all that…er, paperwork done?"

"Yeah, got everything all good n' ready." The ex-movie-star smiled warmly at his country, tanned skin crinkling around the corners of his eyes. "In fact that paperwork is the thing I wanted to talk to you about."

Oh boy… Alfred thought. The boredom was coming. No matter how awesome a guy his boss was, all politicians were dull and boring creatures. Though for his boss's sake, Alfred gave the President an interested look. "Talk away, Boss." He said. He could feel his brain already beginning to shut down.

"Well, I've been talking a little bit with the USSR's new…uh…President, Mikhail Gorbachev, and he made us a deal." Seeing the hardened gaze America gave him at the mention of the Nation's rival Super Power, the president's next words came out in a rush. "He announced that the Soviet Union would stop displaying INFs to Western Europe as long as we agree to disarm our missiles too. This…uh, proposal will have to be talked about by both Gorbachev and I and you and Russia so we decided to have four meetings to discuss this and maybe even better relations."

Alfred's face became livid, soft blue eyes hardening to ice, lips pressing into a tight line. The surprised president could actually see the muscles along the Nation's jaw harden as they gnashed together. Contrary to his normal happy-go-lucky aurora, an angry America was actually quite terrifying. Regan resisted the urge to take a nervous step backward to distance himself from the furious Alfred.

"What?" Alfred spat. "Meeting? Talking? With Russia?" The president opened his mouth to speak but America quickly cut him off. "What the hell! I hate Russia! You call him the focus of evil! How could you– why…what…how-"

Regan could hear Alfred's breath catch up and the anger leave his tone as his speech slowed. Since he seemed to be cooling off, the president took this as a moment to speak. "Alfred," He said. His tone was hard, eyes serious, "I need you to be a good sport about all of this. Believe me; I don't like it any more than you do but Gorbachev is a new type of communist. Some of the legislation he's passing is leaning more toward capitalism and I think that if we could establish good relations with a guy like him in office now, then maybe we could have a shot at ending this whole damn thing."

"What if I don't want to end it?" America shot back. "I don't care if I have to nuke half the fucking globe! I wanna kill that commie bastard!"

Ivan sat in his favorite chair, sighing happily as he felt his body sink into the cushy leather seat. A steaming cup of tea was nestled between his cold hands. The eastern nation closed his violet eyes as he sank back into the chair, enjoying in the warmth of the tea against his frigid skin. A skinny brown-haired Nation burst in the room at that moment, disrupting Ivan from his peace.

"M-Mr. Russia, s-sir!" The smaller Nation cried, stuttering and trembling in Ivan's intimidating aurora. "B-b-boss G-Gorbach-chev wants t-to see you, sir!"

Ivan gave an exasperated sigh and set his tea cup and saucer on a beautifully crafted stand. His violet eyes regarded the Lithuanian coldly. "Does he now?" His tone was flat. Then, the tall Nation suddenly stood. "Well, if I must, I must I suppose. The Boss's wish is my command, nyet?"

"I guess, sir" Lithuania's form relaxed slightly at Ivan's change in tone, yet he tensed again when he passed him, his wide shoulders making their arms brush.

Ivan didn't bother knocking at the president's office door. Instead, he barged into the room as if he owned the place – which he technically did. The sudden commotion startled his boss, causing him to jump and his hands to flutter momentarily before he calmed slightly, seeing who had entered.

"Russia," Mikhail Gorbachev acknowledged the white haired Nation. Like Lithuania, his posture was tense and he looked on to the Soviet power with caution and a trace of fear. "I would like to speak with you if you don't mind, of course."

"Da, Mikhail. I am aware."

Ivan had mixed feelings about his current Boss. Most of his bosses as of late had been cruel and selfish beings. Often times they thought themselves above Ivan, using him as a vehicle of which they could gain more power, abusing him and forcing him to satisfy their every desire. Gorbachev however, was different. He seemed afraid of Russia. When he spoke to the personified Nation, he never yelled. He treated Ivan with reverence, as if he were some sort of precious creature and Ivan distrusted him because of it. He also didn't understand Gorbachev's policies. He distrusted Glasnost and Perestroika. He regarded both ideas as capitalist, for they closely resembled the ideals of his most hated enemy; The United States of America and it angered him. Yet his people seemed happy and that was one thing he liked. For the first time in centuries, his people praised their leader, and it wasn't out of fear as it was under Stalin and Khrushchev, but because he allotted them freedoms that his people had never known. They were even allowed to denounce him in public if they so chose. It upset Ivan terribly that his children should be allowed to act so carelessly without the respect for power they ought to have, but at least they were happy. That was the only thing he wanted for his people, for his country; happiness.

"I have made a deal with the American president." Gorbachev began, watching Russia carefully. The silver haired Nation tensed, eyes blazing with a mad light.

"Простите?" Ivan asked, a calm child-like tone crept into his words, a tone he was known to use when extremely angry or agitated. "We do not speak that name, da?"

The Russian president was all but quivering in his seat, but he continued to speak. "Y-yes Russia. I know that you dislike America- "


"в порядке. But I need you to cooperate and listen." Gorbachev regained his composure, and his eyes even held a little irritation as he overcame Russia's unsettling air to control the situation and say what he had to. It worked and Russia fell quiet. "спасибо. Anyway, Mr. Regan and I agreed to limit the production of INFs and we set four meetings set in four different locations to do so. You and America must also be present and I must insist that you keep your composure and refrain from fighting with him while the meetings are in session. Would you do that?"

Russia thought for a moment before speaking; putting his forefinger to his lips as he considered the request. He then sighed. "Da," He said, "but I do not promise to like it."

A relieved expression washed over Gorbachev's face. "Спасибо Иван."

Russia gave his Boss a small smile, violet eyes sparkling oddly as he left. When the door closed behind him, the Russian president slumped back into his chair, shaking his head. "Иисус…" he muttered.

"…and so that's about it." Alfred concluded his summary of the meeting with his boss to his twin brother. He sat at Mathew's kitchen table with a messy plate of syrup sitting in front of him, watching with impatient eyes as the Canadian bent busily over a mixing bowl. "Hurry up, Mattie! I'm hungry!"

"Why don't you help then?" Canada grumbled quietly. He didn't dare voice his protest any louder than a whisper, for his brother wouldn't hesitate to box his ears.

"Because I'm the hero!" Alfred piped. By now he had crept over to the counter and was irritating his brother by sticking a lithe finger into the mixing bowl to steal some of the rich batter Mathew was silently mixing.

"Hey…don't…" Mathew gave up the protest when America withdrew his finger from the bowl, laden with batter, and stuck it into the gaping hole that was his mouth.

"So, Mattie I think I need some good ol' brotherly advice." Alfred said as he watched the unnaturally passive Nation pour scoup-fulls of batter onto a sizzling frying pan. "What should I do? I really really really don't wanna go to these stupid Summit Meetings. There's like a million of them! And besides, Russia's a total creep! I don't talk to him, he doesn't talk to me. We flip each other off in the hallways and put missiles in each other's yards as pranks but that's it! I don't fucking care if freaking Gorbackoff or whatever is 'slightly capitalist' or whatever! I just really don't wanna do this, Mattie."

"Well, you could at least try going to the first one." Mathew kept his focus on the stove as he spoke, absentmindedly pushing the cooking pancakes around the pan with his spatula. "Russia's boss is making an effort to be civil for the first time since he gave you Alaska. It would be horribly rude to refuse."

"Well yeah, but I'm sure ol' Braginski didn't have much of a say either. He'll probably like stab me with an icicle or something."

"I'm sure the first meeting will be a little awkward." Mathew then grumbled quietly as Alfred snatched the pancakes he had just taken off the grill before he could butter them. "Don't you want butter or syrup?" he asked. The slightest hint of irritation colored his tone.

"Oh yeah…" Alfred shoved the plate into his brother's chest. "Here ya go. Anyway, I guess I kinda have to go to the damn meetings…but I'm not promising that I'll play nice or anything." He then grimaced as he remembered a request his boss made at the end of their meeting.

"What?" Canada asked, leaving the kitchen to place the plate of now-buttered and syruped pancakes on the table. His American brother followed the steaming trial like a bloodhound and Mattie quickly took his stack before the entire plate disappeared down his brother's great maw.

America sat, blushing furiously as he took the left over pancakes. "Regan's making me…I-I have to dress…nicely."

The maple leaf Nation gave a quiet laugh. His brother really did need a reality check at times, or a re-sorting of his priorities. "So?" He said, stabbing into one of the fluffy pancakes with a fork. "We'll just have to make you a suit."

Ivan lay on a sofa. His violet eyes stared straight forward at the ceiling above him as he lay on his back, hugging a snowflake pillow fiercely against his chest.

"What do you think of it, Leit?" He asked, voice barely audible. "What do you think of Boss's decision?" His voice had a slightly unstable ring to it.

"I find Mr. Gorbachev's decision very interesting." The Baltic state chose his words with care, making sure to not upset the powerful and already unstable nation. "But perhaps it is for the best, ne? You and America were close once. Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to ease tensions." Lithuania realized then that his hands were trembling, jostling the clipboard he held. He held his breath as he waited for Russia's reaction. He prayed that he Communist nation wouldn't be angry with him…

To his immense relief, Russia sighed. "Da, Leit. I suppose." He said, shutting his violet eyes. "But I wonder what America's intentions are. Surely he is much too dense to suggest cooperation…and I am much to stubborn to comply. I suppose that is one thing he and I have in common…stubbornness. Still, I am weary dear Leit. I wonder what that child is planning…"

"Uhh…Mr. Russia?" Lithuania asked nervously, "this is just a suggestion but maybe he – er – America actually wants to work things out. What if, I could be wrong of course, but what if America wants to make peace?"

The Russian looked thoroughly confused by this idea. "But what could he gain from that, Leit?" He asked. "My economy has never been healthier. Both our factories make way more profit by making missiles than commercial items."

"I have no idea why he's doing this. But you are accompanying the Boss to the meetings, ne?"

"Da." Ivan replied. His voice sounded distant as he watched his large fingers play with the tassel on the edge of the pillow he held. "What choice do I have, dear Leit?"

Well there you are. I hope it's not terrible...
I love seeing the relationship between the nations and their bosses. I've always thought Regan and America would be BFFs. They're so alike!
I also love the brotherly relationships between the characters. Canada is probably closest to America and seems to me the one he would turn to for advice (and pancakes) and it seems like Lithuania is the same for Russia. Soo cute! 3

Простите? (excuse me?)

в порядке (alright)

спасибо (thankyou)

Иван (Ivan)

Иисус (Jesus)

These may be wrong (I got them off google translate haha) but hopefully they're close to accurate. Corrections are welcome.

Please review!