Summary: Thanks to a certain cat, England finds an old shirt.
(A/N): Nekotalia (Americat) and UsUk if you squint.
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or any of its characters. They belong to Hidekaz Himaruya.
"Hey, England what'd ya-" America cut himself off, pausing midway through the doorway. In front of the closet sat England, clutching a white shirt, mouth open in shock and staring at it in horror. "Dude. What are you doing?"
England looked at America. "Ah! America. I just- The shirt-" His gaze returned to the shirt in question. "What?" asked America. England was too fixated on the shirt to answer.
Frowning at the lack of response, America walked over to the Brit. He stopped in front of England and bent down to take the shirt from his hands. It was a loose shirt with slight ruffles that was soft to the touch. The embroidery was minimal but was definitely there. The shirt was also torn.
America looked from the shirt to England. "Seriously? A ripped shirt? That's why you're late?" He rolled his eyes. Of course, it'd be something like this that would make the punctual Brit late.
"Dude, relax! Just buy another one."
"Relax? Relax?! Do you have any idea how hard it'll be to replace that shirt?! They don't make shirts like that anymore! It's specially tailored! And-"
"Woah! Chill. Just order that stuff online!"
"You dolt! Did you not hear a single word I said?! The material for the shirt is incredibly hard to come by! It's not just any fabric! It's a special blend made with a specific breed of flax for the linen and other very specific fabrics! Don't even get me started on the thread for the embroidery! It's near impossible to replace it!-"
"Sheesh, what's the big deal anyway? It's just a shirt."
England got up and snatched the shirt from America. The distraught look he gave the shirt was almost comical. As quickly as he had gotten up, England shifted his gaze to America and glared at the taller nation.
"Just a shirt?! Just a bloody shirt?! You prat! You wouldn't understand! I've had this shirt for a very long time! And, I've kept it in perfect condition till this very day! Now it's torn and it's all your bloody cat's fault!"
America held his hands up, hoping the Brit didn't attack him. Thankfully, he didn't. England was holding the shirt to his chest as if it was going to disappear at any moment if he didn't keep it close. He ignored America in favor of the shirt.
Using this as his chance to escape before the Brit could yell at him again, America made his way out of the room, leaving the Brit to mourn the loss of his shirt in peace. America checked the reminders on his phone. He'd have to cancel those reservations.
He shrugged. Maybe next time. Entering the living room, America walked pass his misbehaving cat. He'll also have to make sure the cat didn't mess with anything else.
end~
(A/N): Just in case ya didn't know, flax is a plant used to make linen, a type of fabric. Sorry if there are any mistakes, I'm not entirely sure of the terminology in this. Personally, I don't pay much attention to that stuff.