Author's Note: My apologies for the super late update folks!

Chapter 10 was going to be different & it was going to be updated last week, but then I was all "Hey, it's almost Thanksgiving. Might as well have another crappy holiday themed extra." I was gonna update a few hours ago, but then my dad was all "If we're going to the movies, we better go one hour earlier!" 'cuz, you know, Black Friday & all.

...

Also, I haz Hetalia movie! :D

On that subject, I despise the lyrics that Funimation used for the ending song. It's filled with puns. & not funny puns like the ones Jafar uses in "Aladdin." Terrible puns.

Happy Thanksgiving~!

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or any of its official characters.

The day before Thanksgiving…

"You estadounidenses have such a morbidly fascinating culture," Mexico commented. He watched Alfred make his way over to the kitchen table with a medium sized box.

Alfred set the heavy box down on the tabletop before straightening up. "Huh?"

"I was just saying how this 'Thanksgiving' of yours is a strange holiday, though I'm not really one to fault it," he continued with an overly dramatic sigh. "I suppose there's nothing quite like decimating a population of poultry to celebrate the anniversary of the start of the genocide of the indigenous people of your land, eh Alfred?"

Alfred cocked his head to the side. "What?"

Mexico gave a little wave of his hand. "Nothing, nothing." Sometimes it was really worth it to have a more advanced vocabulary than Alfred. It really brought out his…blondeness, so to speak.

Alfred shrugged off Mexico's words and turned his attention back to the box. "You're gonna finally see how awesome my holidays are!"

"I'd rather not," he mumbled, giving the box a disdainful look. "What is that?"

"It's the turkey," Alfred responded with a grin. "You better get started on it!"

Mexico sputtered. "Me? Why do I have to cook your turkey?"

"Well, you know how to cook it, don't you?"

"Yes, but that's not the point! It's your holiday, not mine!"

Alfred smirked. "Do you really want me to cook it?"

"…No." He'd rather not get food poisoning on top of his daily bouts of nausea.

"Then it's settled!" Alfred grabbed his trademark jacket off the back of a chair and turned to leave.

"Wait! Where the hell are you going?"

"Gonna visit Texas really quick," he called back while tugging on his jacket.

"Don't just leave me alone!" The door slamming shut was his only response. He frowned. Leaving him to cook his meal? What a dick.

Mexico approached the box and pulled it open. He let his gaze linger on the bird for a moment before a thought occurred to him.

This could be a lot of fun…

"Hey, alien-guy-thing! Do you know where I can get some quail at this time?"

Thanksgiving Day…

"Mornin'!" Alfred called out. He approached Mexico and looked over his shoulder to watch him work. "How long ya' been up?"

"A while," Mexico sighed. He'd felt too giddy to sleep peacefully, so he got up early to start on the preparations on the turkey.

Alfred rocked back and forth on his heels. "Watcha' doin'?"

Mexico suppressed a groan. "Stuff."

"…Thanksgiving stuff?"

"Yes!"

Alfred just smiled back. "Want me to help?"

"No! Just leave! Don't you have other things to do besides bothering me?"

"Not really."

Mexico gave him a skeptical look. "Aren't your kids coming over? Shouldn't you be getting ready for their arrival or something?"

Alfred puffed his cheeks out. "No. They think they're too old to come celebrate the holidays with their dad now." He elbowed Mexico in the ribs. "You know how kids are."

No, he didn't know. Thanks to Alfred.

"Well, I need silence to work and I don't think I'll be getting that as long as you're around."

"You're no fun!" Alfred whined. He wandered out of the kitchen. Mexico relaxed until he heard Alfred walk back inside. "Look at what your owner's cooking. That's practically your cousin right there!"

Mexico turned to see Alfred hold Paolo up in view of the turkey in the metal pan. "Put him down!" He quickly wiped his hands clean on the nearest hand towel before pulling the poor rooster away from Alfred's grip. "Don't look, Paolo. Evil gringo, trying to corrupt your innocent mind," he cooed. He set the fowl down, watching him scurry away with frantic clucks.

"Aw, why do you have to be such a killjoy?"

"My rooster is not a toy for your amusement!" He looked down at the half-stuffed bird on the counter. "Do you know if Texas kept any white wine in here?"

"Yeah, I think he keeps the drinks in the basement."

"Great! Go get them!" He waited until Alfred's footsteps became inaudible before turning back to the turkey. He only had a few moments until Alfred returned. Mexico hurried over to the refrigerator and pulled out a small container. He'd prepared it the previous night while Alfred was visiting his kid. He opened the dish and pulled out its contents. He tugged at the seams on the lower portion of the turkey until he was satisfied that the opening was large enough. Using a fork, he proceeded to empty the poultry of its stuffing and replace it with the makeshift filling. Hearing Alfred stomp back up the stairs, he re-tightened the thread on the turkey and threw the container with the stuffing back into the refrigerator.

Alfred entered the room looking down at the bottle in his hands. "Is this all right?" He held out the bottle.

Mexico smiled. "It's perfect."

Alfred was practically jumping in place. "See? I knew you could cook it!"

Mexico just shrugged, trying to maintain an indifferent expression on his face. On the inside, he was laughing. So very much.

Alfred's strange friend (Tony, was it?) was looking over the edge of the table at the dish in the center. He let out a strange, high-pitched noise and gave Alfred a questioning look.

"That's a turkey, man! We eat them every year! Don't you remember?"

Tony let out another strange noise before turning his gaze towards Mexico and giving something akin to a growl.

"Nah, Mexico wouldn't do anything to mess up the food!" Alfred laughed.

Another whining noise. "You're so weird sometimes, Tony," Alfred said with a grin. "Look! His chicken isn't afraid to get near it." He motioned towards the rooster, who had proceeded to hop onto the table in the midst of their observation of the meal.

"It's a rooster, not a chicken." Mexico's comment was ignored.

Tony grumbled in his strange language before pulling himself up onto the table. He grabbed a knife next to the turkey and proceeded to cut the turkey open.

"That's the spirit, Tony!" Alfred cheered. He was seemingly unaware that the alien's movements were becoming more aggressive with each passing moment. When he finally stopped, the turkey was little more than a shredded mess of white meat with only the stuffing left intact. Tony poked the insides with the tip of the knife before turning back to Alfred with a curious look on his face.

"What's that you have there, Tony?" Alfred leaned to look over the creature's shoulder. "Looks like a small bird…"

"You cooked a pregnant turkey!" Mexico screamed.

Alfred spun around at the exclamation. "What?"

"Holy crap! You killed a baby turkey! Murderer!" He pointed at Alfred while backing away from him.

"I…I didn't-"

"YOU MONSTER!"

He could see the blood drain from Alfred's face as the accusation made its way into his head. A horrified expression set on his face. "No!" Alfred shrieked as he ran from the dining room and scrambled up towards his bedroom.

Mexico nearly broke down in laughter at Alfred's reaction. "You're such a fucking blonde!" he called out after him. Oh god, that was priceless. He leaned heavily on the chair in front of him until his barking laughter had quieted down to nearly breathless giggles. He looked up to see Tony and Paolo glaring down at him from their places on the table. "What?"

Paolo tilted his head to the side before launching himself toward his owner.

Mexico screamed and raised his hands in an attempt to protect himself from the bird's vicious pecking. "Oh god, stop! It was just a joke!" The rooster proceeded to flap his wings to beat them against Mexico's arms. "I used a quail, not a chicken! You're supposed to be on my side! Malinchista!"

Author's Note: Mexico just loves having fun at America's expense, don't he? :D

"Estadounidenses" is a term used in some (or all?) Latin American countries to describe a citizen of the United States. It literally means something along the lines of "Unitedstatesian." This brings up a moot point for the Latin countries as the term "American" technically applies to anyone born in this continent (South America, Central America, etc.); however, it would be increasingly difficult for citizens from the U.S. to find an easy to use term like that to describe ourselves by this point, so we seem to be stuck referring to ourselves as "Americans" for the moment. I can't find it in me to call myself "American" without trying to use correct terminology anymore.

"Malinchista" is a term used to describe someone who prefers foreign ways over their own or someone who sells out their kin (so to speak) to foreigners. The term is derived from La Malinche, an infamous woman in Latin history. She was Cortes' translator & mistress, & helped the Spaniards in the conquest of the Aztec Empire.

Next chapter should be up in a week or so.

Happy Thanksgiving, ya'll~!