"Mattie, why aren't you picking up? Call me ASAP."

beep

"Dude, c'mon. Pick uuuppppp"

beep

"MATTTIIIEEEEEE"

beep

"Bro, this is really important. Pick up"

beep

"Matthew, you dick. Get off your maple guzzling ass and pick up the damn phone!"

beep

"I'm freaking out here, man! Call me back!"

beep

The Canadian stared down dumbly at his answering machine, the red number seventeen flickering repeatedly on the display screen, each one having been left by his somewhat hysteric brother. He'd paused, one arm partially out of the sleeve of his favorite jacket when by the third message he'd stopped all movement, trying to figure out wether or not the messages were to be taken seriously. With an indulgent exhale, Matthew moved away from the machine, tossing his jacket over the back of one kitchen chair before sitting down heavily into it. The dumbass probably just got scared watching some horror movie again...

With this thought in mind, Matthew leaned forward in his seat, one elbow on the mahogany table as he fished around in his back pocket for his cellphone. He'd been out at an important meeting since early morning and hadn't bothered to turn his cellphone back on after it had been opened. Sure enough when he turned it on, after waiting for the loading screen to finish, his phone began to vibrate as if caught in the middle of an earthquake, becoming bombarded with missed call after missed call and plenty of voicemails.

"Damnit, Al..."

Deciding to get this over with and attempt getting in contact with his irksome sibling, Matthew pressed the 'callback' button and raised the phone to his ear, settling back into his seat as the ringing began.

"Hey! You've reached the hero! I'm busy at the moment, so call back later~!"

The blonde Canadian growled softly as he ran his free hand up through his hair, gripping it slightly as he hung up, not bothing to leave a message to the answering machine. Tossing his phone onto the table, Matthew stood before exiting the kitchen, turning the light off as he did. It was time he get some shut eye after this long day. Deciding he'd take the time to call his brother in the morning, the blonde retired to his bedroom for some much needed sleep.

One hand stuffed into the front pocket of his red hoodie, Matthew knocked for a third time on the front door of the residence of the personification of the United States of America. Silence, same as the first few times.

Earlier that morning, the Canadian had attempted to call his brother numerous times before a bit of worry began to settle in. If Alfred wasn't in some amount of perilous danger, he swore he'd punch him in the face.

Giving up on knocking, Matthew reached up and ran his hand over the top of the doorframe, fingers wrapping around the key that was kept there. Jamming it into the lock, the blonde soon passed over the treshhold, leaving the door open behind him. "Alfred...?" He called out into the house, proceeding past the entryway and into the kitchen. He could faintly hear the television blaring from the livingroom, but there was something louder than that, nearly drowned out by the obnoxious pop channel playing, but not quite. Fearing the worse, Matthew nearly ran into the livingroom, skidding to a halt just before his sneakers reached the carpeted area. It then became clear just what the sound had been.

Paling considerably, the Canadian slowly went over to the bundle of clothes near the middle of the room, spotting America's bomber jacket almost immediately. Kneeling down, Matthew emitted a shaky exhale as he looked into the pink, wailing face of a child that couldn't have been more than 8 months old. Tuffs of wheat blonde hair covered the baby's head, it's eyes screwed tightly shut and its small hands clenched into just as tight fists.

"Oh god, Al..." Matthew groaned, feeling his heart drop down low into his stomach, "What have you done...?"

"Shh...c'mon. You don't need to fuss..." Matthew murmured softly to the still faintly wailing bundle. After his initial few minutes of panic, the Canadian had managed to wrap the child firmly in one of the articles of clothing from the pile, a white shirt to be specific.

Cradling the child a little closer to himself in hopes of giving off some sense of comfort, Matthew racked his mind for possibilities as to how this could have possibly happened.

All ended with a completely implausible notion.

Exhaling, the Canadian smiled faintly at the wriggling bundle in his arms, hoping the boy would hopefully feed off of his calming aura...or some desperate thinking process like that. Bless the gods of all things maple, the baby began to settle down, staring up at the other with large eyes so blue that Matthew swore he'd recognize them nearly anywhere. "Alright, Al...wanna tell me what happened..?" He murmured as he leaned close enough to almost touch the tip of the baby's small button nose with his own. Of course, he only received a gurgle in reply as the baby's face split into a pleased, one-toothed grin.

"Thought so..." Slowly standing from the couch once more, Matthew carried the tiny American into the kitchen, trying to keep his thoughts as calm and collective as possible. He would definitely need to get supplies while figuring all of this out...but how was he supposed to get to a store whilst Alfred was in this condition? He didn't have any clothes, or even diapers to put on the newly regressed nation.

Ah, maple...How was the government going to respond to this?

It would take a bit of time for them to notice, to be sure, but even then they would demand something be done about this. But surely they would be alright without the personification of their nation for a bit of time...right..?

Probably not.

But until they could get this all figured out, Matthew refused to even consider leaving Alfred in the care of the regressed nation's government officials. It just didn't feel right. Besides, who knew what risky procedures they'd go through in an attempt to return the American to his rightful age? With a small shake of his head, Canada used one finger to gently stroke the smooth, cherub cheek, taking all of this surprisingly well. It wouldn't be the first time that something bizarre had occurred to his brother, but this definitely took the cake. Vaguely, he wondered if perhaps Tony had been the cause of this, having not seen hide nor hair of the alien creature since entering the dwelling.

Should he call England, or possibly France? Countries would be expected to arrive as early as tomorrow to book hotels and whatnot before eventually attending one of the scheduled world meetings...this one hosted by America. Thankfully, the meeting was still a few days away. Maybe he should find out which hotel one of them was staying at and approach them...as carefully as possible, lest one have a possible heart attack. Abruptly, Matthew was pulled out of his thoughts as he heard a faint sound, like the coo of a dove, as his finger was firmly taken hostage in the baby's tiny hand. The baby then seemed to attempt nomming on the side of the captive finger, making a few almost frustrated sounds in the process.

Smiling faintly, Matthew slowly stood, making his way where he knew Alfred's bedroom to be. Promptly, he began to use his best judgement to swaddle the baby in a blanket in an attempt to stifle his movements. Desperately, he hoped that all went well as he returned his babified brother to the living room, setting him down on his back where he'd originally found him. The smile had left him at this point, overtaken by a worried furrow of brows and faint frown, "I'll be right back, Alfie..." As he stood, he watched as the baby's face seemed to take on the closest thing to confusion it could muster before his lower lip began to quiver. With a few, loud whimpers, Alfie had set to wriggling about in his confines, large blue eyes starting to quickly well up with tears.

Already, Matthew could feel a slight pang in his chest as he fought the extremely strong urge to pick up the child once more and cradle him close until the whimpers faded away. But he had to go and procure much needed supplies that would help pass the day until he could seek help from his two parental figures. Quickly, the Canadian turned and left the American home, walking briskly to his car. From his fairly frequent visits he knew that there was a decently sized shopping center not too far from the house that hopefully had a store in which he could find the needed items.

Too long. He'd spent way too much time away from the house. Admittedly, it was only 20 minutes, but Canada felt that was far too long to leave his baby brother unattended. Knuckles tinting white from the tight grip he had on the steering wheel, Matthew jerked said wheel to the right slightly as he pulled up into the driveway. Exhaling, he left the car and removed the ten plastic bags from the backseat, determined to take them all in one trip. Which wasn't difficult considering he was one of the largest nations in the world. Sliding the handles down so that nearly every bag hung off his right arm, Matthew hurried up the walkway and steps, curl bouncing slightly with each step.

Getting the door open, he made his way through the kitchen, hastily setting the bags on the table before continuing into the living room. It had become obvious the moment that he'd opened the front door that Alfie was shrieking up a storm, sobs echoing around the otherwise quiet house. Emitting a sigh of relief that the child appeared otherwise unharmed, he carefully picked up the still swaddled baby boy. "Shhh~" he murmured, careful to support the American's head as he cradled him close, bringing him into the kitchen as he waited for the crying to subside. Alfie's face had tinted a light red, although it was slowly fading even as his small hands remained in two, tense fists. "There, There..." Matthew murmured, slowly setting the baby down in the center of the kitchen table, surrounded by the white, semi-see through plastic bags.

Tears shined faintly on the American's faintly pink cheeks, an occasional hiccup echoing from the boy's tiny mouth. However, his large, bright blue eyes seemed to now be completely focused on the bags around him, one curled up fist relaxing as he reached up, babbling softly as he grasped onto it. With a faint smile, Matthew rummaged through one of the bags until he retrieved a diaper from one of the plastic cases, making quick work of unwrapping Alfred from his blanket cocoon and fitting the diaper onto him. The Canadian couldn't fathom how in some comedy shows, men were usually portrayed as unable to secure a simple diaper onto a child. With the two pieces of tape on each side, he figured it was fairly self explanatory.

Next came the clothing. After a few more seconds of rummaging, Matthew pulled out a white onesie with grey sleeves and border. In the center there was an equally grey anchor, above that was the word 'Captain' and below the anchor was the word 'Cutie'. Both words in blue. Of course, the moment he began to attempt dressing the boy, Alfred began to flail his legs slightly, making a series of noises that seemed fairly excited. "C'mon, Al..." Matthew muttered, gently pinning the baby's legs in place as he pressed the three buttons into place with a satisfying 'snap' sound.

Satisfied, the Canadian smiled gently as he carefully picked up the child once more, holding him against his left shoulder so that Alfred's face rested against it. He'd once again set to babbling, most likely transferring a good bit of drool in the process onto Matthew's shirt.

"Let's get you something to eat, eh?"

A/N: Ah, please leave a review if you'd like for me to continue~ I'm fairly open to suggestions :)