Spain knocked on the closed door, laughing at the grumbling he heard from the other side. "Oh, come on Canada!"

"I'm not leaving this room!" Canada yelled back, his voice muffled by the door.

"Why not?" Spain was pouting, and though Canada couldn't see it, he could hear it in the other's voice.

"Spain…I know you're doing that fake pout. It never worked when my brother used it on me, and it won't work with you now. I am not coming out and that's that. I look ridiculous!" Absently, Canada played with a thread on his sleeve. The outfit was just not him, and there was no way in hell he was letting Spain see him like this.

"But Canada~ you always look so adorable! I'm sure it looks fine on you. Besides, it's just me! I won't laugh. Promise. Please let me see?"

Canada frowned, feeling his resolve weaken. It was just Spain, after all. America was visiting England, France was off pestering the Italians, China and Korea were both with their families in Asia for a festival of some sort, so there was no chance of anyone else dropping in. "…No camera, right?"

"No camera."

Sighing, Canada closed his eyes and counted to ten, working up the courage. It was now or never. In a brief surge of bravery, Canada threw the door open, eyes closed, not wanting to see Spain's reaction. "See? I look ridiculous."

Spain gasped, taking in the sight of Canada before him. He was wearing a white shirt, a white jacket elegantly decorated in gold, pants so tight they were having a mirroring effect on Spain, and, clutched tightly in his hand, a bright red flag that was customary of matadors. "Canada…trust me, you don't look ridiculous. Come." Spain grabbed the younger Nation's hand and dragged him into a bedroom, placing him in front of the mirror. "Open your eyes. Look."

And look, Canada did, though his eyes went straight to Spain's reflection. Tan hat, check. Boots, check. Dark pants, check. That iconic red jacket of the Mounties? Check. Bright green eyes and brilliant smile pulling the look together? Check.

"I…guess you're idea wasn't so bad. It doesn't look as stupid as I thought…" Canada muttered, moving his gaze away from the mirror in order to avoid staring. While he still felt he looked ridiculous, Spain looked nothing of the sort, and that image was all he needed to make the clothing switch worth it.

"Told you so," Spain laughed, throwing an arm around Canada's shoulder. "Tell me…do you need help taking it off?"

Canada turned bright red, throwing Spain's arm off his shoulder. "Spain! I swear you spend too much time with France!"

Spain simply laughed harder, moving his arms around Canada's waist instead. "That wasn't an answer."

Giving up on his anger with a resigned sigh, Canada moved to lean against Spain. "No, it wasn't. If I say yes, I do need help, will you promise to stop hanging out with France?"

"Maybe," Spain laughed, leaning forward to give Canada a kiss on his still-red cheek.