Title: Girly

Disclaimer: I do not own

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: genderbending

Characters/Pairings: Russia/fem!America

Summary: Alfred's always kept her secret from everyone but on one winter afternoon Russia finds out.

America stretched as she stepped out of the airport and glanced around for a taxi to hail. She had made sure to bring her heaviest coat so the winter chill, while really, really bad wasn't going to kill her, especially if she could find a taxi quick enough. Instead she saw a man in a suit holding a sign that said ALFRED JONES on it. Uncertain that it was really for her she walked up and asked, "Did Ivan send you?"

The man gave a curt nod, "Yes, Mr. Braginski ordered me to drive you to his house."

Well the whole robot act was kind of creeping her out, what was with Russia and England and their show no emotion people? Though she guessed that her own people could be a bit too serious too. Whenever she had the time she did enjoy going to their offices and trying to make them smile. She got in the car, the man got in the front and they drove off. Alfred hadn't brought anything but her carry on backpack that had a DS and some games, her ipod, plus a hairbrush and some pins in it. She wasn't quite sure what she could do with her hair but it'd be weird to use someone else's hairbrush. They rolled up the driveway and Alfred got out to see Ivan standing there, not bothered in the least by the cold. She hurried inside and he followed her, shutting the door behind him, resisting the urge to lock it, it would be too easy, but not yet, patience. "I'm pleased to see that you made it."

She smiled and pulled off her coat, she had to admit it was nice not to have to wear it or have it discovered she was a girl. "Yeah I almost didn't because the one guy at the front desk gave me a hard time when I didn't want to be searched. But I called someone to get him to back off." That someone just happened to be her Boss but she didn't need to go into that.

He returned her smile as he said, "Ah, poor America, hassled by her own citizens." Whenever he went out no one gave him any problems, they knew who he was and kept their distance, even when he didn't want them too.

Not really interested in starting any arguments that could be avoided, she had to spend the entire evening with the guy. "Anyway... about this Ball thing." It was so weird to talk about anything so fancy sounding.

"Of course. I laid out your clothes in the first guest room, please come this way." They walked through the halls which were gaining back some of their old luster, right after the fall of the Soviet Union it had been a real mess. Ivan was glad to show her something better than that, he wanted to impress her and knew that this could do it, her own house was so simple, big, but simple.

Wanting to do something besides stare at the portraits as they passed them by she asked, "So how're you?"

He shrugged, "Busy, but when am I not? And you?"

"Anytime I'm not working I've kinda got sucked into this video game called Persona 4, it's really great and you're the hero and fight these Shadows to rescue you friends." She honestly had been slacking off at work occasionally to sneak in a half hour of playing, but he didn't need to know that.

Ivan didn't play anything besides the occasional game of Tetris and could never quite understand her fascination with complex games that weren't real. "Of course you would play any game that made you the hero."

She didn't like the tone in his voice. "Hey, Japan's the one who made it."

The stopped at a door and Russia turned to her with a smile, "Well here we are, I will send someone to you soon to assist you."

He opened the door and America walked in rolling her eyes as she said, "Whatever, I manage to put on my own clothes every other day of the week." That was one thing she had never been able to figure out, it seemed once a person had money they suddenly forgot how to dress themselves.

On the bed was the dress she assumed she'd be wearing and she picked it up to look at it. But her attention was drawn away from it because beneath the dress were several different sized strapless bras and she had to blush at them. She would be wearing an undergarment that Ivan had bought for her or had ordered someone to buy for her. At least it wasn't underwear.

Ivan came across one of the maids of his house, "You."

She stopped dusting and turned around and bowed as she said, "Yes sir?" Her eyes never met his; instead they focused on his feet.

"Do you know how to do hair and makeup?"

"Yes sir." After living through three daughters and doing her own every morning she hoped that was enough to satisfy whatever he was going to require of her. Though she knew that he was not nearly as crazy as back in the days when the communist party was in control she could sometimes see glimpses of it and didn't want to be the target of it.

"Good, go into the first guest room and attend to the lady." He wasn't going to say she was America if he could help it; walls had always had ears in his country.

"Yes sir." She bowed again and began to move, but his next words made her pause.

"Oh and make sure to treat her with respect, I would not want her to be upset." He gave his biggest smile at and loved the way she shivered a bit as she glanced up at his face.

"Yes sir." She hurried off and Russia continued on to his rooms to prepare himself.

America finished putting on her shoes and stood. After fussing with the dress, trying to make it sit right she looked into the full-length mirror hanging on the wall to take what she was wearing in. The fabric of the dress was a deep blue and flowed almost all the way to the floor and the bottom was lined with black fur, soft as air, almost hiding the black slippers that were on her feet. More black fur went over her right shoulder and then wrapped under her other arm. In the front, over each of her hipbones, an end of a sheer black scarf was fastened and it looped around the back, when she tried to stride forward it restricted her movement and she had to take smaller steps. That would help her not give herself away with her normal big, swinging strides but it was a pain.

There was a knock on the door and she called, "Come in." Was Ivan back already, or had he sent someone to help her? Well that would show him, she was already done.

An elderly woman entered and said, "Master Ivan sent me to assist you." Alfred found it disconcerting how she didn't meet her eyes as she spoke but smiled at her anyway.

"That's fine, I already got dressed."

With another bow she said, "I'm to help with your hair and makeup." She glanced up to see how short her hair was and decided that was where she wanted to start. "If it's okay I'll begin on your hair first."

Alfred laughed and fingered the short strands that were barely longer than England's, "There's nothing to be done with it." She had occasionally wanted to grow it out as long as France's but had always been too afraid of the fact she was a girl being recognized. It had always been a close shave whenever someone noticed that even when they had been at a meeting for days with little rest there was no stubble of her face. She blamed slow growing hair and cleanliness, after all Germany, the neat freak, always managed to not have facial hair either.

She remember his warning about making sure the lady was happy so she said in her most calming voice. "Don't worry, it'll look very pretty, in already does." Honestly she didn't know what possessed any woman so that they cut their hair like a man's.

"Whatever, I'm sure you know best." She remembered something and went to her bag that she had just dropped on the floor and pulled her hairbrush out. "Here's my hair brush."

She took it and noticed how old it seemed to be; half off the little plastic nibs had been broken off. "Please sit down so I can begin."

America sat down, not exactly sure what to expect but the woman's hands were strong and steady as they fixed her hair and it felt good so she closed her eyes and just relaxed. It was nice to be like this, not having to be stressed with work, not having to be troubled by how young she was compared to everyone else. Tonight no one would know who she was and she'd be free to just smile without anyone chastising her, telling her that there was nothing to smile about when she could almost always find some small reason. During the brushing the woman's hands had brushed over Nantucket several times but Alfred just ignored it until she begins to fuss with it, trying to make it behave. With a red face she opened her eyes and batted the hand away as she said, "J-just leave that, it'll never behave." Actually it might with more work but it was too embarrassing to sit through that kind of stimulation.

She bowed as she apologized, "I'm sorry." The woman's reaction was weird but she didn't dare question it.

Alfred shrugged, "Nothing to be sorry for just leave it alone." before she closed her eyes again, waiting for the older woman to finish what she had been doing. Soon enough the feeling of her brush making its way through her hair returned.

The maid finished and asked, "Does it suit your approval?"

She opened her eyes and saw that the hair in front did look longer, almost like some of the other girls in her country that kept their hair short. "It looks really nice, I won't thought it possible. Thanks!"

The huge smile made her flinch back until she realized it was a real, unthreatening version of Master Ivan's. For the first time she wondered who this woman was but all she said was, "It was no trouble. We could start on your makeup now."

"Sure, there's a case of it on the bed." Alfred had honestly just planned on ignoring it and going as she was. She'd never put the stuff on before.

She closed her eyes again, letting the old woman do whatever she wanted. It wasn't like she could help at all anyway. After a long bit where the woman seemed to do something to every part of her face and did something to her arms she said, "I'll need you to open your eyes for this part." Alfred did so and flinched as the woman brought a pencil to her eye, she thought it might be eyeliner but wasn't too sure and what sane person let people put pencils right next to their eyes? The maid drew the pencil back as she said, "Please don't fidget or I'll end up poking you in the eye Miss."

"But it's weird." Now she was starting to see why the women at the office always complained about getting ready in the morning.

A small smile quirked her mouth as she said, "You don't wear makeup a lot do you?" This woman reminded her of her second daughter, especially those bright blue eyes.

"No Ma'm."

"Don't worry, you'll look so stunning that even Master Ivan will be star struck." She couldn't actually imagine what that would be like and didn't think that it would be safe for the blonde if he was. Whenever Russia was interested in something or someone he was as bad as Belarus, if not worse because he was bigger and wielded his pipe with frightening control compared his sister's wild swinging.

She crossed her arms, "I don't care if he is or not." Well actually she might just a little but that didn't matter.

"Of course not." But the older woman could see the little pout on her lips that said differently. With the final flick of the mascara brush she said, "There we go, look in the mirror and tell me what you think."

Alfred turned and stood to see how she looked. What she saw made her stare at her reflection, the woman in the mirror looked elegant and beautiful like she had never looked before. When England had made her dress up before it had been in men's clothes and the times she had actually worn a dress she had never done anything to her face and hair. But the makeup really did help bring out her more beautiful points. There was a knock on the door and she said, "Come in." as they turned to see who else was coming in.

Russia entered and his eyes fixed on Alfred. She wasn't overly busty but out of her jacket and in a tight dress she made a very pleasing figure. He bowed to her and walked closer, barely noticing the maid hurrying out. "You look better than expected."

"Thanks- hey wait a minute!"

"Calm down Sunflower, I'm just teasing you." When she looked less like she was going to shout at him he asked, "Was the maid well behaved?"

She nodded, "Yes she was very nice, whatever she said was really calming, unlike you." Alfred didn't resist the urge to tease him since he had no compunctions about doing the same to her.

"Really? I've never been able to get more than 'yes sir' or 'no sir' out of her. I wonder why?" He gave his best innocent smile and watched America roll her eyes at him. "Anyway, how do you like the dress?"

She tried to take a step towards him and found her movement halted halfway through her normal stride and replied, "I can barely move."

"I know, that's part of its beauty." He said that with such a look on his face that America wanted to punch him right in the jaw.

"I swear you'll never convince me to wear a dress again in my life." Damn him for being able to do it this once, but never again, not even if she was drunk would anyone get her into a dress.

"That's a shame, you're so cute when you're just a little helpless." It made him want to not go to the Ball and just keep her here, one day, for now he would show her off to the world. "But something's missing." He walked to the place behind her and thought they looked very pleasing together in the mirror. In his left hand was something wrapped in cloth.

"What?" She swore that if anyone tried poking around her eyes again she'd shoot them, she had her pistol strapped to one thigh, hidden just in case.

"Close your eyes." She scowled, not sure if she should trust him before doing so, if anything odd happened she could just open them again. Large hands ran through her hair, pushing down Nantucket, she hid her squirm well, before placing something heavy on her head that kept it down. "You can open them now."

A tiara of silver shaped like a pair of wings wrapped around her head with a diamond in the center and a small sphere of sapphire on top of that. Though it was uncomfortable having Nantucket being restrained by constant pressure it did make her look even less like her normal self. She touched it with gentle fingers, not used to having something so precious on her head.

Then she focused on Ivan whose reflection was behind her's. He looked... different in his suit. America had never seen him in a tailcoat and lacy cravat before, though the cream fabric was so high all the way around there was no more of his neck showing than normal. His hair was better groomed than usual too. He caught her eye and asked, "So my dear, may I have your opinion?"

That was even worse than Sunflower. "Don't call me 'my dear'. But you look passable I suppose, too stuffy though." She wasn't about to tell him how good he looked; he might get ideas or laugh at her.

"This is the attire of a gentleman." He had thought the same thing at first though when Peter had insisted on him wearing it.

"You're wearing more lace than me." Not that she had any lace on but that wasn't the point.

"But at least I can walk." Not giving her a chance to say anything back he wrapped one arm around her waist and whispered in her ear, "Together we make a fetching pair. One day everyone will see how beautiful we are together." One day everyone would fear their combined power that would exceed anything the world had ever seen.

The implications went right over her head and she asked, "Won't they see us tonight at the Ball?" She let one hand rest on the arm encircling her.

He looked down and saw that her hand was callused and there were scars marking it. An especially prominent one that stretched from the middle of her ring finger to her wrist caught his eyes and he asked, "What happened there?"

She didn't look down, knowing which one he must be referring to and not wanting to see it, "Oh that, that's just a mistake I made, I'm pretty clumsy." That was just one of the many small marks that added together to form the loss of her native people, though at least there were still some left.

"Maybe I should get you some gloves." He himself was going to put on a pair soon.

"No it's fine, I usually wear gloves so no one has ever noticed these." The way she said it made him brush his fingers lightly down her arm and he could feel scars that she or the maid had spent time covering up with makeup on her arms. They reminded him of his own scars, all covered by layers for warmth, and wondered how many more were covered by the dress. But she pushed his hands away and laughed as she said, "You're being weirder than usual."

He felt a thrill go through him as he realized she wasn't ashamed of her scars. She only covered them so other people didn't pry, like him, the scars on his neck were signs that he had survived what he had but not just anyone could see them. One day he would have her and he'd memorize every single one on her and she would know his as well but for now he just said, "Shall we go?"