A/N: Well, everyone, looks like this is the last chapter. Thanks so much for reading, and I'd still love it if you were to review. :)
"How should I know?" Mexico started slowly, raising an eyebrow. "I don't even know what you guys were doing."
"Searching for clues," replied Japan evenly, lowering his hand. "And, as you can see, we found one. One that points straight to you."
Mexico scoffed. "Yeah. You found my hair on his clothes. Big deal. I hang around here all the time, you know."
There was a pause, and Germany slowly started to grin. "We never told you we found it on his clothes."
Mexico's eyes widened, but she blinked them back to normal in a heartbeat. "Well, where else would you be looking? There's not much in there except the closet and the bed. Unless you count all the junk he has lying around." She met Germany's gaze evenly.
"Even if you are here as often as you say—which I do not doubt—what exactly were you doing in the closet?" asked Japan.
"Uh... Hanging around."
"In a closet?" Japan persisted.
"Well, it's easy to hide in there when he starts looking for me," Mexico added.
"I don't believe 'hanging out' and 'hiding' are the same thing, Mexico," Japan responded.
Mexico sighed exaggeratedly. "Canada, tell him he's being ridiculous." She glared at Japan. "Whatever you're accusing me of, I didn't do it. Right, Canada?"
"U-Um..." Canada stammered nervously. For what was probably the first time in his life, all eyes were on him. "I... don't know?"
"All right, Mexico," growled Germany, "we know you did it. Are you going to confess, or am I going to have to drag a confession out of you?"
Mexico frowned, finding the latter option not the best prospect. "All right, all right, fine, I shrunk his clothes in the wash. It's not like the whole thing was my idea, anyway." She turned to Canada. "And I'm guessing it wasn't all your brainchild, either."
Canada shook his head.
"It was my idea," conceded Germany, "but it was only supposed to be a joke. You've taken it too fa—"
"Aha! You admit it!" Germany flinched at the voice interrupting him, while Mexico took flight, vanishing in a matter of seconds as a loud set of footsteps came toward the bedroom.
Canada backed away shakily as the now-awake America charged into the area.
"So it was you!" America announced, like he had suspected it the whole time—he hadn't—and pointed an accusatory finger at the blonde. "I should've known!"
"You knew about the 'prank'?" Japan started quizzically. "With the way you reacted, I was sure you didn't..."
"You guys just told me about it."
America crossed his arms threateningly. "So. Who all was in on this?" he asked, glaring at the area's occupants.
"All of us," replied Japan. "But Canada, Germany, and I intended for it to last one day. The prolonging of the incident is completely Mexico's fault."
"Mexico," America growled, clenching a fist. "Of course."
"But," Canada started, "it's all over now. You just need to get a new set of outfits, and get the scale fixed—"
"I already covered the scale," Germany assured.
"You messed with the scale, too?" America asked, sounding less threatening and more confused. "That explains a lot..." He walked over, the two Axis nations getting out of his way, and stepped onto the scale, sliding the bars across.
"Uh..." he started, staring at the readout, "I don't think you fixed it all the way."
"I did," Germany responded. "I corrected all twenty pounds I had put on it."
With a groan, America slumped over. "So I still actually gained weight..." He stayed drooped over, his back to the other three nations.
With a quickly exchanged glance, they realized it was the perfect time to get away; America didn't seem to be showing signs of his earlier breakdown, but that didn't mean he wouldn't.
So, the three slipped out of the room, leaving him alone to contemplate what all the chaos had brought on.
A few days later, Germany awoke, pleasantly surprised Italy hadn't snuck onto the other side of his mattress while he'd been asleep.
The blonde still thought it odd, though, that America hadn't exacted any form of revenge. Even during yesterday's meeting, America—who seemed about back to as normal as he ever would be—hadn't so much as glared at him or any of the other conspirators.
With a hardly stifled yawn, Germany rose from his bed and went to get ready for today's meeting. While it was rare for the meetings to occur more than once a week, every once in a while, a subject was dire enough to require it.
Germany brushed his hair, and on his way to the tube of hair gel on the counter, almost tripped over his small scale.
Come to think of it, he hadn't checked in a while...
"Why don't you step on?"
With a startled grunt, Germany turned to see America half-hidden behind his shower curtains.
"What are you doing in my house?" the blonde barked.
"Nothing," America replied slowly, sounding anything but nonchalant.
Germany glanced down at the scale suspiciously, then turned back toward America.
"It already reads fifty pounds, you idiot! You think I would fall for something like that?" America opened his mouth, but decided not to reply.
"Get out of my house," Germany grumbled, turning around to step on the scale. He waited for it to settle.
"...minus fifty..." He stared at the readout. "Wait... That... can't be right..."
"Oho! Is someone getting a beer belly?" chirped America.
"I said, get out of my house!" Germany roared. America scuttled away, leaving the blonde to stare over the unexpectedly high readout.
"Haha! Good job! He didn't suspect a thing," America congratulated, handing the promised cash over. "Adding the fifty pounds in the beginning totally tricked him out of figuring out the extra fifteen on there!"
"Yeah, yeah." Switzerland fingered through the few bills. "And the cost of shrinking the waistbands?"
"Oh, yeah. Here you go."