A/N: Happy belated holidays! :D Oh man, I'm sorry about author note spammage. x'D Author notes are pretty hard to avoid when it comes to FanFiction so it's probably best if I stop fretting about posting them and just do it, as Nike says. ;w; I'll try and stay to-the-point though so that I can at least stay semi-true to my earlier word.
So here we go: sorry. This is super late, gah. x'3 I've shed much blood and many tears over this for almost an entire week; I had started this in late October and then left it to rot until recently. While I still fear for its flaws, I'm happy with the results. C: Due to me being on vacation and my Beta Reader going to Candlelight (youluckyduck;o;), this probably has a slight increase in errors compared to usual. x'3
Please enjoy, all of you guys who favorite, review and even just read this. You are the absolute best!
"A-Ahh, hello, this is Yekaterina Braginskaya! Are you calling about questions on the recent-"
"Ukraine! Ukraine, this is Alfred Jones! America!" America hissed into his phone. He was currently huddled into himself and curled up on the cold tile of the bathroom floor. By speaking in a way akin to a melting snake, Alfred hoped to prevent his voice's change from being too obvious. "I have something like really really urgent that needs your help, it's an emergency!"
"America?" There was a pause on the other end. "… Fine, I, uhh, if it's an emergency…"
A certain Russian's voice was heard faintly through the receiver. "Ukraine? Is everything all right?"
Alfred also recognized Natalia's voice as it quietly added, "This is interrupting our lunch with big brother."
The American nation scowled. "Hey, get the ruski and the other one out of earshot, this is private!"
"You know, America, I am not very fond of your use of that word." Ivan's voice was suddenly very loud and very close. Alfred did a double take in a false belief that Ivan was not on the other end and was actually looming just over his shoulder. "Why don't you learn how to show a bit more respect before talking to my sister again?"
"L-Little brother, that isn't necessary!" Katyusha cried out, her voice now taking its turn as being a vague note in the background. "It's an emergency, isn't it?!"
An inhale. The deep, lengthy sound sent a chill down Alfred's spine. "… Yes, it is. I can smell the fear on America right now. Here, the phone."
"Thank you." Katyusha relinquished control of the phone. Alfred, meanwhile, sped to his hotel door and made certain that every lock and latch was in place. "America, what is the matter?"
"What is the matter?" Alfred laughed bitterly. "Oh, I'll tell you just 'what is the matter'. I think I caught some of your boob or something, man!"
"… I'm sorry?"
"Yeah, you better be! This isn't funny, I'm freakin' out! I mean, no, my boobs aren't as massive as yours, but like this is not normal and I don't know what to do and- oh my God please don't start to cry!- and there we go she hung up on me." Alfred's ramble fell to an abrupt halt.
Silence filled the hotel room almost immediately. Alfred slunk back into the shelter of the bathroom. "Okay, let's just… be logical. Have I always been a chick?"
Alfred paused to think.
"Wait, why did I even have to think about that? No, no! Definitely not! I still have a bruise from when I tried to do some totally epic parkour and got nailed in the balls! Well, I mean, I don't have the bruise anymore now that Florida is missing, but... Dude, don't get sidetracked!"
Alfred began to pace about the hotel room. He fidgeted with the furnishings, switching on and off the lamps and opening and closing the microwave door. "You need, you need burgers. Is it still too early to order lunch room service? I really need some burgers. What time is it?"
Alfred checked his phone. 9:53 a.m.
"Crap," Alfred spat, giving his phone a roll across the carpet. "I still have two more hours to kill." He doubted that he would be able to go out to WcDonalds in this state anyways.
A sensation began at the top of his head, a feeling very akin to stress and a tickle combined in some odd coexistence.
To Alfred, this was an all-too familiar sense: this was the signature feeling that he was afflicted with when something was being forgotten. Alfred pat his trusty cowlick; the gravity-defying curl had affectionately received the name Nantucket. "Oh man... What the crap could I possibly be forgetting? My manhood? Very funny, 'Tucket, but it's a bit late for that."
Alfred pursed his lips as the feeling didn't relent. He stared at his phone, wondering if something about the electronic had triggered the feeling of a misplaced thought. I feel like something important was going to happen… Did it have to do with the time?
Knock, knock, knock! "A-Amer… Alfred Jones?"
"Oh, hell—!" Alfred jumped. That's right, Lithuania is coming over at ten! His Nantucket shivered at the recollection. Don't I have some ten more minutes?! God, as punctual as ever, Lithuania! Alfred immediately sought out his shirt from where it had been earlier discarded on the bathroom floor and tugged it on. Okay, I just have to be presentable until he's satisfied and then he'll leave, right? How do I look?
Alfred paused in front of the bathroom mirror.
… Too much boob. He'd have to be blind to not notice it! Attention was the last thing Alfred needed right now; Britain would never drop it if he caught wind of this. Alfred glanced around wildly. Uh, okay, think… Right, my business suit!
Alfred pulled out the suit from where he had left it the night before, pulling it on sloppily over what he currently wore. He fidgeted with the buttons, smoothed out the wrinkles and straightened his back. He barely made the squeeze into the taut, dark fabric now that things had changed.
Oh, who was he kidding trying to avoid it? Alfred had somehow transitioned into a girl and was in serious need of help!
Alfred faced the mirror.
"… Still too obvious." Alfred growled his frustration through grit teeth. He swept his gaze over his surroundings, catching sight of his bomber jacket. "Ol' Reliable!" Despite this title to his jacket being impromptu and decidedly not permanent by Alfred's subconscious, he shrugged his leather companion on over his shoulders and skid back to the bathroom mirror. "… What the heck! This is still a problem!" Alfred gestured angrily at his breasts.
"… Mr. Jones?" Lithuania called again. "Are you here?"
"Y-Yeah!" Alfred lifted his voice to a shout. "Just give me a second!"
Why can't I ever open the door like a normal person instead of have to complete an entire freaking quest just to have guests come over?! Alfred's exasperation got the better of him. With a groan of resignation he grabbed the heavy blanket that lay in an un-made heap on the floor and threw it over his body, creating a cocoon for himself in the white folds and wrinkles that still smelled of an elder's home.
The American hobbled to the door, adjusting his 'clothing' and pulling it open. "Yo, Lithuania—" Shoot, my voice is still… feminine. Alfred dropped his voice a pitch, adding a raspy undertone to his words (to which his body automatically pitched in with a fit of coughs). "I-I mean, uhh, hey."
"Ame—" Toris failed to hide his alarm. "M-Mr. Jones! Are you okay?"
Alfred cast a glance down both ends of the hall before yanking Toris into the safety of his hotel room. "Yeah, yeah, I'm all sunshine and celery stalks. How is this supposed to go? I prove I'm alive and then you tell Britain I'm fine?"
"… Something like that." Toris was looking Alfred over carefully. "That is, err, quite the getup, Mr. Jones."
Alfred rolled his eyes, deftly moving to avoid the topic. "We're inside, no random passerby is going to hear if you call me America."
"Right." Toris smiled apologetically; the gesture was quite nostalgic to Alfred. Guilt immediately trickled down Alfred's spine and he sheepishly writhed within his armor of blankets and clothes.
"Okay… sorry for me behaving kind of an asshole. I've got one hell of a cold." He coughed once into his hand. "The sooner this checkup thing is over with, the sooner I can get back to sleep and rest and whatnot."
Toris nodded. "You're right. I'm most likely just interrupting your rest by being here, but Britain asked that I check up on you. You do seem sick, but... not as bad as Britain described you to be."
"The dude probably just over-exaggerated. I'm fine! He still treats me like a kid," Alfred huffed, tapping his foot irately. "All I need is some burgers and I'll hit the road. I have a flight tonight, too, so the sooner I can get some rest and recover for that the better." The American hoped that Toris would be able to take the hint.
Toris looked Alfred in the eye. "You're fine? Do you want me to get you anything? Medicine, food, anything?"
Food sounds nice, but... Alfred put on a smile. "I'm fine."
The Lithuanian was quiet for a moment before his blue eyes softened. "I believe you. Please recover soon, America."
"Will do, captain." Alfred grabbed the knob of the hotel door, opening it for the brunette. The Lithuanian bid him farewell and exited. Alfred immediately shut the door.
This is bad. I don't think he actually believed me. Alfred pressed his back to the door and exhaled slowly. But I don't think he'll tell Britain that.
Alfred shed his fabric skin and tugged off his suit.
Where had he left off before Toris had arrived?
"Why do I have boobs?" Alfred groaned in a cross between skepticism and anguish, making his way back into the bathroom so that he could stare wistfully at the mirror.
What were his remaining options at this point? Alfred leaned against the sink and began to brood.
Well, one option was that he could run away and live as a hermit under a bridge somewhere, his only friend a metal cup by the name of Daniel that he would clasp firmly in a hand as he sauntered along the side of a highway, calling, 'Please, please spare a dime! I've only got the clothes on my back to aid me!' Oh, yes, this most certainly was the only fate that awaited Alfred now. He let out a tiny whimper.
His phone began rolling out the intro to Booty Man, startling the American out of his skin.
"Who's calling me at a time like this?!" He snapped, stomping back into the bedroom of the hotel and swiping his phone off of the ground.
The second he hit 'accept' on the phone his demeanor completed a three-sixty.
"Hello~?" He drawled sweetly into the phone. He continued attempting to mask his pitch shift as best as possible.
"America," Alfred easily identified Elizabeta, "Are you available? I'm sorry if I'm disrupting you but this is urgent."
Alfred felt his breath hitch. "Y-You lost your boobs, right?"
A pause enunciated by a snicker in the background.
"Err, no. I did lose something though; you wouldn't by any chance have meant to say that I'd lost my passport, would you?"
"Your passport?" An eyebrow shot up despite the woman being unable to see it. "Uhh, no. Why would I know? And... are you sure your boobs are still there?"
"Well, you were in the elevator with me so I was kind of hoping…" The Hungarian trailed off. "Excuse me?"
The snicker in the background escalated into an uproar of laughter.
"Prussia!" Elizabeta's scolded.
A grunt from the female was followed quickly by the sound of something breaking and then a shout of pain. "We have to show respect to the mentally unstable, too, you know!"
"Hey! Mentally unstable my Florida! Just hear me out, would you?"
Hushed murmurs were shared between the two.
"What do you have to say, American?" Gilbert was speaking now.
"Prussia?" Not my preferred helper-of-choice, but... "Uhh, okay. This'll sound really weird, but… metaphorically speaking, if a guy were to… kind of… you know, turn into a girl overnight, how would he go about turning back? Into a dude?"
There was a silence before Elizabeta let out a giggle. "Why, America, where do you come up with such things? That is so silly!"
"Listen, you—!" Alfred cut himself off lest he had the chance to anger the Hungarian a second time that week. He paraded through his hotel room, peeling open his curtains just slightly so that he could stare out at the quaint scenery that Britain had to offer. "I-I didn't make it up, it… it happened! Like, it literally and legitimately happened!"
Elizabeta's laugh died down. "It happened? Oh, it most certainly did! You see, Prussian Mooseknuckle? I present to you the mentally unstable."
"... 'Prussian Mooseknuckle'?"
"I'm telling you, I am not mentally unstable!" Alfred hissed, curtly whisking the curtains shut, "And take me off of speaker, I just want to speak with Hungary."
"America, I'm occupied at the moment." The amusement left Elizabeta's tone. "I'll have time for your stupidity later. I already have one buta to deal with and don't need another."
"Hungary! This isn't a joke, I really need your help!"
"I can prove it!" Alfred yelped. "Just give me five seconds!"
Alfred nearly hurled his phone across the room in frustration, only stopping himself upon realizing he hadn't actually been hung up on.
He returned his phone to his ear.
A few shared and incomprehensible noises that were punctuated by sharp cries of 'no!' were all that he could distinguish.
"... Fine, fine." Elizabeta sounded very wary when she finally spoke. "You've got five seconds."
"Send a picture!" Much to Alfred's annoyance, Gilbert was still quite audibly choking on laughter.
"I said no! Prussia, that's ridiculous, why would he ever-"
"Sent!" Alfred cried with slightly shaking hands, fidgeting with his shirt. He eyed the picture message he'd just sent to the pair of Europeans. Please help me, please help me...!
Yet another silence. If Alfred got a dime for every prolonged silence that had and would soon reach his end, he would have... one, two... err... a lot of money. He would probably be able to pay off his debt at this rate! Alfred imagined the pair leaning curiously around Elizabeta's phone while waiting for the picture to load, though he wasn't sure what was holding their tongues. Was the concept of a guy getting boobs that ridiculous?! Certainly not!
The Prussian suddenly exploded into laughter, howling with mirth. "Oh my God, just look at his rack!"
"Goodbye." Elizabeta huffed.
Alfred's cry was drowned out by the dial tone.
"- I need your help...!"
Alfred felt faint with distress. He teetered on buckling knees and slumped to the ground.
A dry sob escaped from his throat.
What did this mean? That there was no hope? How could things have gotten to this point?!
Staring at his phone as though expecting something to happen, the nation began to bite his lip.
He couldn't state it any simpler than he already was and had been since the moment he'd awoken: he just couldn't be a girl! He couldn't! Did he even need to explain it? Alfred was a male and was more than willing to prove it!
Alfred ran his fingers through his hair, anxiously attempting to keep himself calm.
And there, with frustration threatening to boil over and drown the American, came a ray of hope. A single, tiny ray of glorious, glorious possibility that reached Alfred's ears in the tune of Booty Man.
Alfred picked up his phone in a state of disbelief and answered the call. He didn't even bother to try and conceal his voice. "Y-Yes?"
"What did you use to do that, by the way? Kesesese! Photoshop? Watermelons? Balloons?"
His hope was shot down in a great show of flames and fire.
"I didn't use anything!" Alfred clenched his jaw. "I really just woke up like this, dude!"
The Prussian snorted. "And I woke up unawesome."
"Please, Prussia, you've got to listen to me! I'm not lying about this! I know it's the last thing to believe and the most unlikely thing like ever but... try and help me out, I'll even hook you up with burgers, money- wait, no, not money... more burgers! Come on, dude, you've got to-"
"Woah, woah, America! Calm your panties!"
Alfred hissed into the phone.
"Oh, yeah. Bad timing for that word choice." The albino nation coughed. "Calm your tits- Wait, no, just forget I said anything!"
"One step ahead of you," Alfred muttered.
"I need you to listen to your wise and awesome role model."
The U.S. decided not to comment.
"I also need you to set down the beer bottle-"
"So you don't believe me!" Alfred accused, jabbing a finger at nothing in particular. He began to restlessly pace again. "I see how it is! Then don't even bother, I don't need your hot air! I get enough of that from Britain alone! You can just go and shove it up your-"
"Gott, American! Chillax a bit, would you?" Gilbert groaned.
Alfred halted his pacing with a disdained frown.
"Let me be completely honest with you, kid. Do I believe you? No. Are you under the influence of something right now? Most likely."
Alfred's attempts to object were ignored.
"But... If getting Hungary's help really means this much to you or whatever... Well, it does mean a lot to you, ja?"
"Yes!" Alfred cried, finding himself somehow in front of the bathroom mirror again. He glared at his curves. "And as soon as possible."
"I see, and that's what I thought." Gilbert puffed out a ball of air. "In that case, just for you, I'll have a word with Hungary. Feel special, you little fuck. And what will you do while I do this? You, on the other hand, need to book yourself a flight to Hungary and march up to that woman's door and have a word with her face-to-face. It can't possibly fail; I personally use this tactic on Hungary myself, who quite often does the same thing to Austria. It's fool- and American-proof, luckily for you."
"Ha-ha." Alfred laughed with great sarcasm. "You're the wurst, lemme tell ya'."
"... Did you just say what I think you did?"
"Well, thanks a butt-load for your help, dude! To Hungary's house, I go!"
Alfred zipped his jacket shut to block out the slight chill of Hungary's climate, uneasily adjusting his clothes before turning to the taxi driver. Hopefully the man wouldn't mind accepting American cash.
The American had held a major debate on what the best disguise would be for travel. It wasn't as though being seen as a girl was the oddest getup that Alfred had ever donned, but the attention it would spark was unwanted on the nation's end. After grueling for almost an hour between the disguises of a librarian, nurse or transvestite, Alfred concluded that simply acting as though he was female with nothing to hide would be easier for travel than to try to hide under many layers of clothing and vocal strain.
This wasn't to say that Alfred was comfortable with his decision in the least.
"Here." Alfred cleared his throat. He refused to believe he would ever grow used to this feminine voice.
The Hungarian chauffer stared at the twenty that had been placed in his palm.
"Hey... do I know you?" Alfred squinted at the chauffer. There was something about his face- was it the beard?- that was strangely familiar.
The driver was still eyeing the bill handed to him.
"You wouldn't happen to be the tupyye Amerikanskiye, would you?" The man sounded very pained, almost horrified at the prospect of his suspicions being confirmed.
"Hey, hey! It is you!" Alfred broke into a wide grin. "Russian chauffer!"
"Nnn, no. If you hadn't noticed, we are in Hungary. I'm... a cousin of the son." The man obviously didn't want to speak to Alfred more than necessary. "But... from their stories, I don't recall you being a girl-"
Alfred slammed the car door shut and turned on a heel with a twitchy smile.
An empty driveway stretched to the side of the house, where a door could be found snugly hidden in the wall. It was an odd design choice, Alfred noted, though maybe it was something of the norm in Hungary.
Alfred straightened his back. It was time to, as Gilbert had worded it, march up to Hungary's house.
The nation adjusted his clothing and cleared his throat.
Alfred flounced madly up the driveway and practically threw himself at the door, knocking furiously before stepping back in a blur of blonde.
This house must have been something akin to a vacation or travel house as judged by its size; it was the size of an average family home, nothing massive yet nothing small. Or maybe Alfred was just used to everything being large? He shrugged that thought off with a laugh.
The simple white paint of the house was slightly yellowed from age, though it wasn't as though the house was falling apart from being too old. The grass surrounding the house was well kempt and there was a small patch of flowers lining the front side of the house. Even if not her permanent residence, this house was definitely Elizabeta's.
Alfred prepared to knock again ("What kind of a house doesn't have a doorbell?!") when a lock clicked and the door opened just a crack. "... America?"
"No, it's the pizza man. Yeah it's me!" Alfred eyed her cautiously. "... Woah, you can put the skillet down! I was joking!"
After a moment more of poising her weapon in the air Elizabeta lowered it, opening her door fully. "How did you get this house's address?"
"I've got my connections," Alfred shrugged before shaking his head. "But that's not important; I really need your help with something!"
"Oh, this again? The great United States of America actually needs my help? How flattering." The Hungarian's tone was dripping with sarcasm. She rolled her eyes. "This isn't about that girl thing, is it?"
Alfred tapped the toe of a shoe to the concrete behind him.
"... Yeah," He drawled, quickly lifting his hands and adding, "Wait, wait, don't close the door! Just hear me out, Hungary!"
The Hungarian now glared at him, though Alfred quickly unzipped his jacket before her attention was lost.
"T-These aren't fake, okay? I woke up like this." Alfred gestured to the space in front of his chest to emphasize his point. "And I need your help uhmm... You know, not being female."
Elizabeta's nose scrunched up. "... I'm still having trouble believing you."
"Well how am I supposed to prove it to you and keep things rated PG?!" Alfred snapped. He began to wring his hands. "Uhh..."
His phone vibrated.
Alfred glanced at his pocket, habitually snapping his hand to his pants to fish out his phone. He squinted at the screen.
Repeat after my awesomeness: If this getup was fake, would I have traveled all this way and shown up at your door to ask for help?
Alfred stared in shock at his phone before blinking up at the house. He just caught sight of a curtain swishing with a tad too much aggravation to be natural behind an arching window.
Maybe he isn't such an asshole after all, Alfred decided before pocketing his phone.
Elizabeta was staring at him expectantly.
"Okay, listen, dude. If this was a prank or something that I did just for fun, do you think that I, the independent America, would show up to you for help? You said it yourself! Would I even show up to anyone for help unless the situation was that bad?" Alfred snorted softly. "And trust me, this is pretty bad. Florida is gone... but, err, you're just going to have to take my word on that one."
Elizabeta was clutching the side of the door firmly in thought. Alfred could practically see the cogs working behind her eyes.
"I..." The Hungarian released the door in favor of folding her arms. Alfred tensed in anticipation. "I... suppose you have a point."
"So you believe me?" Alfred rolled onto his tiptoes and back.
"..." Elizabeta sighed. "Well, I mean, I suppose. That would be the best explanation for you gaining female traits, such as your voice and, ahem, curves, next to plastic surgery... Which I highly doubt you'd do. Nn. I'll try to help where I can."
Finally! Alfred's face lit.
"If this does end up being a prank, America..." Elizabeta cut into his thoughts. Her voice held a foreboding undertone.
"You don't need to finish that sentence." Alfred assured. "I thought we just established that this want fake! But... could you say it?"
"America, say what?" Elizabeta was clearly exasperated now.
"Say that I'm a girl! C'mon, dude, I need to know you won't bail on a bro in need, and also that you won't tell anyone about... Err, you know."
"My goodness, America, you're so demanding! Are you a man or a little kid? Well, I mean, I suppose you're a girl, but..."
"Wait! No, woah, dude, stop. No. Just... Don't ever say that again. Calling me a girl just sounds wrong."
"But you just told me-!" Elizabeta cut herself off and pressed her palm to her face. "Idiota. Just... come in already, I guess."
She immediately turned and walked down a skinny hall enclosed by a pair of closets before entering the actual area of her house. Alfred prepared to follow her but was stopped as a platinum blonde stepped into the narrow hall.
"Woah, Prussia! Dude, thanks a crap-ton for your help!" Alfred gushed, overcome by gratitude for the albino's undoubtedly useful help. "I really do owe you, my man!"
The albino rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well, don't grow used to it. You definitely do owe me and don't you forget it, kid. I've seen plenty of pretty freakin' weird things from you in my day, from overdoses of glitter to that one time with the dog head to roasting marshmallows on your muskets, but... this definitely steals the cake. And oi, what's this 'my man' stuff? I'm my own awesome man! Kehe!"
Alfred stepped back with a laugh so that Gilbert had room to exit the house. The albino delivered a good-natured shove to the nation's arm as he departed from the Hungarian's house.
The door clicked shut behind him.
It was time to find Elizabeta and sort out this gender mess.
Hue, shameless reference to SAARH in there, as well as to Ezza. C: I tried not to get too mushy there at the end but I needed to add extra sugar so that the mini conflict later will seem that much more prominent. Oho, nothing serious though! If it were important, I'd not warn you at all so that I could heighten the chance of spurring feels in someone somewhere. Huehyehfghfjsgdfh. :3
Gah, typing on a phone is hard. ;;
FanFiction also is being weird in that every time I'd typed a double dash, as in a character getting interrupted or something, the double dash would become singular. It really irks me. x'3 I tried to go through and fix them all but I don't doubt that FanFiction will remove them again when I hit save. ;;
Just to make this clear, I had typed 'kehe' at the end on purpose. c: Plural would be 'kesesese', so according the subs the singular is 'kehe'. Or something like that. x'D
Thanks to LHPride for your helping me figure out how to sort my thoughts into actual writingg. xD
Remember, for every review you leave, a smile is put on a certain Hazel's face! C: Once again happy holidays, I hope to update again for you guys soon!