West Italy (HETALIA)

Chapter 4

At the sound of a doorbell, Canada glanced at the clock. I wonder who that could be at this time of night... Only 3 people remember I exist anyway, and one of them's the mailman. Though I'm pretty sure he remembers the house more than me...

Getting up from the sofa, Canada made his way to the door, whose bell was being abused. "I'm coming," he whispered. Finally arriving, he opened the door.

"Al? What are you doing here?" He paused. "...And what are you wearing?"

"Mattie!" America cried, throwing himself onto his brother. "Mattie, you gotta help me! I thought Artie would've but then he turned on me...I have no one else to turn to!" He looked up from his brother's chest, tears glistening in his eyes.

"Uh...sure Al. But you still haven't told me what's wrong." Or why you're in drag. Canada wrinkled his nose in confusion. "...Do you smell roses?"

"It's the Italies! They've gone crazy! They think I'm one of them. And that I'm a girl. And then they made me wear this dress and put on make-up...Please Mattie, help me! They'll never think to look here!"

Mattie sighed, used to the strange conundrums his brother often got caught up in. "Sure, Al. You know your way around the house."

"Thank you thank you thank you!" America shouted, bolting past the doorway.

"You're welcome," the Canadian smiled. "I have the hockey game on; please don't switch the channel."

"You don't have to worry about that," America sighed, flopping on the couch. "I think I'd rather just lie here a little and relax."

Did I hear correctly? Al just wants to relax? He's not all hyper and doesn't want to accidentally hit me in the face with a baseball? Canada could feel tears of joy rising to the surface. I don't know what the Italies are doing, but I'm not complaining!

"Hey, Mattie?"

"Yes, Al?" Canada asked, sitting down in the recliner to continue watching the game.

"Can I borrow some clothes? I'd really rather not keep wearing this frilly thing."

Canada thought for a moment after the initial shock of his brother being considerate was over. While he understood why his brother wanted a change of clothes (honestly, who wouldn't?), he couldn't help but enjoy the fact that nobody would be able to confuse the two of them if America kept cross dressing. He knew he was supposed to be the nicer of the two, but the opportunity to humiliate his brother was just sitting on a silver platter. Besides, since when had Alfred ever not taken advantage of his brother?

"Well, I-" Canada was cut off at the sound of his phone ringing. "Hold on a minute, eh?" Canada pulled his phone out of his pocket and glanced at the screen before bringing it up to his ear. "Bonjour, Papa."

"Matthieu! I was just at America's house and he was in a dress! It was simply adorable!" Canada smirked. It was always fun seeing his brother suffer a little. "Since he looked so good, England and I are coming to your house next! You're going to be so cute!"

France continued speaking, but Canada tuned him out, slowly lowering the phone and hitting the "end call" button.

"Alfred?" he asked dazedly.