A/N Please note that the page/line break inside this chapter signifies a Point of View (POV) change. I tried to make it obvious that it was from another character's perspective, but just in case . . .
Step 6: Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo! Ta-da! (Part II) . . . Bollocks
"Quit staring at me like that, Gil!"
"CRASH!"
Arthur rolled over in bed and buried his head in his pillow. I'm beginning to regret inviting all these nations to my house, he moaned internally.
A door slammed. Sounds like Prussia has made Hungary angry at him again, Arthur thought as breathed in the smell of feather down.
He still felt hung-over from staying up past midnight the night before. He sat up and then grabbed his slippers and dressing gown. He needed to tell them to keep it down if only for the sake of his antique furniture (though it would be nice if he could rest a little longer).
He opened the door to find Prussia crumpled on the floor in front of the lavatory. "Prussia, what did you do this time?" he asked.
Prussia wiped the blood from his mouth and scowled. "That Fräulein is crazy," he said, standing up and pointing at the door. "I vas just going to use the toilet vhen she flashes me. She acted like it vas no big deal to be standing there half-naked, but then she suddenly punches my awesome face just for looking and being appreciative."
"Did you knock before entering?" Arthur asked.
Prussia blinked. Apparently, he had not.
"Then you deserved a punch in the mouth," Arthur concluded. "There are first-aid kits in all of the seven other lavatories in the house. Some ibuprofen and ice from the freezer will help reduce any swelling. Try to keep it down." He yawned and walked back into his bedroom, not caring if Prussia followed his advice or not.
Arthur shuffled back over to his bed and then snuggled back under the blankets, still in his dressing gown. He closed his eyes and tried to fall back to sleep, and probably would have, but his stomach wouldn't let him. He had caught a whiff of breakfast when he'd opened the door and was now feeling peckish. Because he didn't want to be troubled with all the work, Arthur had hired a chef for the whole day of the party, and the food smelled too tempting to resist. He threw back the covers with a groan and got dressed.
When he arrived in the dining room, several nations were already eating. He poured himself some tea from a teapot already on the table and looked around the room for an empty seat. Prussia emerged from the kitchen with an ice bag pressed against his mouth, followed by the hired chef.
"Good morning sir, what type of breakfast would you like today?" the chef said to Arthur.
Arthur could smell freshly baked bread, eggs, sausage, bacon, and many other delicious smells. He looked around and saw that the cook was preparing according to the nation's preference. Kiku even had a traditional Japanese breakfast. This guy's worth every penny, Arthur thought. "Full English breakfast, please* . . . um," Arthur said.
"Call me Gordon, yes?" the chef said, "Excellent choice: the tomatoes are especially fresh and ripe. What kind of juice?"
"Orange juice, please," Arthur replied.
The chef nodded and left for the kitchen.
Arthur sipped his tea and sat down in a vacant chair. Several nations were chatting happily with each other as they ate their breakfasts.
"I'm telling you Ludvig, this chick is ein Ungeheuer," Prussia complained loudly to Germany over the others' noise. "She punched me out of the bathroom, not pushed, punched. A hot blonde like her shouldn't be able to do that. She's hella strong whoever she is. "
"You've never been punched vhen you didn't deserve it, Bruderherz," Ludwig said, biting into some toast.
Prussia spouted a few German curse words at his little brother.
Chef Gordon brought Arthur his juice and set down another nation's breakfast.
"Thank you Gordon," he said as he sipped his juice and reached for a piece of fruit from the basket in the center of the table.
"I'll be out with your breakfast in about 10 minutes," Chef Gordon said, returning to the kitchen.
Arthur took another swallow of the juice.
"Um excuse me," a quiet voice said from Arthur's right.
He choked on his juice and turned toward the voice. An Alfred look-alike stood next to him. Arthur wiped his mouth with a napkin. "Hello . . . um . . ."
"I'm Matthew," the look-alike said.
Arthur laughed and scratched his head. "Of course you are. Sorry," he said.
"I'm insulted every time you forget who he is," France said from across the table. "He is my darling Canada, after all."
"Shut up, Frog! Can't you see I'm talking to . . . um . . .?"
"Matthew."
"Right. Matthew here?" Arthur said, crimsoning slightly about having forgotten his name again so quickly. "What did you need?"
"I was trying to order some pancakes with maple syrup for breakfast," Matthew said, "but your chef says that you don't have any in the house."
"Oh. Well, I don't get many requests for that stuff," Arthur said. He stood up and walked over to the cork-board above the phone. "There's a restaurant nearby that serves excellent pancakes. It's 30 minutes by foot, but only 15 minutes by Underground if you take it from the station nearest to my house. I think they even cater to American taste buds." He handed Matthew a card with the address on it.
"I'm Canadian," Matthew said, looking slightly upset.
Arthur stared for a moment and then laughed. "Sorry about that," he said, embarrassed, "but you both eat pancakes with maple syrup, right?"
"Sometimes Al doesn't," Matthew said. "Sometimes he eats them with fruit, jam, powdered sugar, whipped cream, peanut butter—"
"Speaking of which, where is your brother?" Arthur asked, glancing around the room. "You would think he'd be the first one down here."
"Sometimes he likes to shower before breakfast," Matthew said quietly, as he slipped on his light green hoodie. He patted his jeans pockets. "Wallet . . ." he said quietly.
"Does anyone know where America is?" Arthur asked the gathered group, ignoring Canada again.
The quiet nation scowled and left the dining room.
"It's, like, in the Western Hemisphere, right?" Hong Kong said, smirking.
Several nations snickered.
"Arsehole," Arthur said. "You know what I meant. Has anyone seen him?"
All the nations shook their heads.
Arthur stood up and looked in the other rooms where he heard some other nations talking. They were lounging around the den, sitting room, and lounge. The TV squawked the news in the lounge, but America wasn't among the nations watching.
"That's what I'm trying to tell you! She isn't anyone ve know!" Prussia yelled as Arthur walked back into the dining room. "Come upstairs vith me before she finishes, and I'll prove it to you!"
"Fine. I'll go see who this mysterious girl is, if only to be left alone so that I can finish my breakfast," Ludwig said.
"I'll come with you," Arthur said. "I am the host, after all, and may need to apologize for Prussia to whomever he ogled." As he led the two nations up the stairs, he heard a door open and close. They reached the top of the stairs just in time to see the door to the bathroom close. The group gathered around the door. Arthur hesitated for a moment and then knocked.
"Yes?" a female-sounding voice asked on the other side.
"May we disturb your privacy for a moment?" Arthur asked.
The door lock clicked, and a blond head poked out. "Like, what do you want?" the nation said.
Prussia pushed the door open.
Poland shrieked and covered his bare chest. "What the hell do you think you're doing? I totally didn't say come in!" He pushed Prussia out of the room and slammed the door shut, locking it again.
"So mystery solved," Ludwig said, turning to go back downstairs. "You mistook Poland for a girl. He fits your description of her perfectly."
"That isn't who I saw!" Gilbert protested as he watched his brother disappear down the stairs. He turned and smacked a hand on Arthur's shoulder. "Be honest vith me. You had your girlfriend over, ja?" He grinned.
"Are you insane?" Arthur said, pushing Prussia's hand off. "Having the chef and his assistant here is already a big national security risk. If they hadn't signed a privacy contract not to talk about whatever went on here, they wouldn't even be here."
"You don't have to hide it from me," Gilbert stated. "I have girlfriends stay overnight at my place all the time. Come on, you can tell me. It'll just be between us. You've got excellent taste by the vay. Ve like the same type of voman. That Fräulein had all the right curves in all the right places."
"You really do deserve those punches," Arthur said. "I'll say it again: I didn't have a girlfriend over. You probably walked in on Belgium, and you need to apologize to her."
"Fine Bro, keep saying that," Prussia said, shrugging and heading downstairs, "but I know for a fact Belgium vas already downstairs vhen I voke up this morning."
Arthur stopped at Alfred's door before heading downstairs to eat his breakfast. "Hurry up or the kitchen will be closed for the morning, you git!" he called through the door before heading down.
No one noticed as Canada slipped out the back door.
It had been almost 45 minutes since Arthur had called Alfred to breakfast, and even Poland managed to arrive and finish a breakfast. America never showed up. Arthur finished off the rest of the now-cold baked beans and tomato from his breakfast and left the plate for the chef's assistant to clear. He walked slowly upstairs, perplexed.
It's unusual for Alfred to skip a meal. Perhaps he's sick? Arthur wondered as he knocked on the door. "Alfred? Are you all right?" he asked through the door.
Silence answered.
He bit his lip. Did the spell from last night have some unfavorable consequences? Arthur wondered as he tried the doorknob. Hmm? It's locked? He pulled out his master key and unlocked the door.
He looked around the empty room. Clothes cluttered the floor, and the bed was haphazardly made up. Nothing I taught him has ever sunk in, Arthur thought as he picked up the clothes and put them in the open suitcase on the dressing table.
Wait a minute . . . The door was locked, but the room's empty? Arthur's heart jumped to his throat. The spell. What did it do to Alfred? Perhaps when Alfred interrupted the spell, it . . . he thought. "Alfred? Are you in here?" he called tentatively. "I can see spirits, so come out now!"
"What are you doing?" France said from behind him.
Arthur turned around and laughed. "Just trying to find Alfred," he said.
"Well he obviously isn't here, no?" France said. "Perhaps you should check somewhere else?"
Arthur sighed. "He's completely disappeared," Arthur said, tugging at his collar, "and for him that's quite a feat. He's not . . . um . . ."
"Canada?" France offered, looking slightly perturbed.
"Right," Arthur agreed.
France stroked his chin. "You are right. Amérique not garnering for ze center of attention is unusual," he said. "I shall ask ze other nations to look around zis house of yours for him, and zen we will spread out ze search to ze neighborhood, yes?"
"Yes, do that. Could you send some of them up here to help me check the bedrooms?" Arthur said, reaching for his cell phone. He dialed Madam Irfon's number again.
"I'm sorry I'm currently unavailable for the day," Ceridwen's voice said. "I'm celebrating Samhaon, and I'll be unavailable all day until tomorrow afternoon. Please leave your number and a message."
"Yes. Arthur Kirkland again," Arthur said. "If I don't finish reciting the entire spell or I'm interrupted, will that affect how it works on my target? I think I may have turned Alfred into a ghost or worse. Please call as soon as you get this; it's urgent." He marked the message urgent and hung up.
Australia, Wy, and New Zealand came up and helped search the bedrooms with Arthur. After 15 minutes of searching every bedroom, no one discovered the missing nation.
"Let's go down and see if France and the others have had any luck," Arthur said. The other nations headed downstairs. Arthur's stomach felt like it was in knots as he followed them.
"Mon ami, no one has found Amérique," France said as Arthur entered the den downstairs. France spoke to the three nations who came down with Arthur, and they grabbed their coats and left.
France walked over to Arthur. "I have dispatched groups to the closest McDonald's restaurants to your house and to other places he might go to," he said. "Four of us are staying here with you as team leaders . . . I'm sure we'll find Amérique soon."
"Thank you France," Arthur said quietly.
"What was zat? Pourriez-vous ce répéter?" A big grin spread across France's face as he leaned in closer to Arthur to hear better.
"Sod off, you barmy wanker!" Arthur said, pushing him away.
"Ah that's the Angleterre I know," France said, smiling as he answered his cell phone.
Arthur sank into a nearby chair. He loosened his tie and sighed. If Alfred really is a ghost right now, no one will be able to "find" him, he thought gloomily. Although, it is highly possible that he'd be haunting a McDonald's right now. Arthur rubbed his chin as he considered the thought.
"Hey France," Arthur asked when France got off his phone. "Has anyone noticed any poltergeist-like hauntings around the house? Or at any of those restaurants?"
"Que dites-vous? Not that I know of," France said. "Why do you ask?"
"Well . . . um . . . no reason," Arthur said, looking away nervously. "The United Kingdom is known for haunted buildings and ghosts, so just tell everyone not to panic . . . but could you also have them report to me if they do see a poltergeist or strange things."
"I will, mon ami," France said, as another call on his cell came through. "I'll be in ze lounge, and Russia is in ze sitting room if you need either of us." He took the call and walked out of the room.
Arthur rubbed the back of his neck. You already told yourself you weren't going to feel guilty, he told himself. Too late to start now. What's done is done. He glanced around the den. The only nations in the room were Hungary, Japan, and himself. He could hear Russia and France talking on their cell phones in the other rooms.
Arthur started watching Kiku because the Japanese man was going through a myriad of expressions while he read and sent texts on his cell phone: confusion, amusement, frustration, amusement again. Kiku squinted at the screen of his phone and then got a surprised look on his face; he blushed immediately afterward and texted something, then got a sly, mischievous look and typed something again into his cell phone while still blushing. Kiku then looked guilty as he read the next reply.
Another text came through, and Kiku's brow furrowed in a worried expression. He texted a reply and looked relieved when he read the other person's reply after it came in.
Who could possibly be generating all those emotions out of someone as usually stoic as Kiku? Arthur wondered.
Kiku looked at him with a mischievous and (this time) amused expression."Asa-san, will you answer a question without asking the reason why I'm asking?" he asked Arthur.
"Kiku, what colors look good on me?" Alfred texted to Japan.
Kiku's brow furrowed. Why would Alfred-kun be asking such a thing? Especially after he's worried everyone this morning? he thought. "Everyone is looking for you. Where are you?" he texted back. "And why are you asking such a question?" A couple of minutes passed while Kiku waited for the answer.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to worry anyone. I went costume shopping, and I thought I'd be back before anyone noticed . . . and I don't know which colors look good on me, that's why," came the reply.
Kiku smiled. Alfred-kun is being evasive now, probably trying to hide what his costume is, he mused. "I've always thought you looked good in royal blue, warm browns, and black," Kiku texted to Alfred, "but I have to say, this is the weirdest thing you've ever asked me."
A minute later, the next text buzzed in. "Those colors aren't very exciting," Alfred replied.
Kiku furrowed his brow again. "Why do you need 'exciting' colors? What are you going to use them for?" he texted back quickly.
"Nothing special," came the quick reply.
Kiku laughed to himself and shook his head. Silly Alfred-kun. "Then how do you expect me to help you?" he quickly tapped into his phone.
A couple more minutes passed after the message had been sent before a reply came back. "Do you promise not to freak out or tell anyone if I tell you a secret?" Alfred texted. "You can't tell anyone what I'm about to text you."
Kiku smiled. "Why?" he texted back to him.
"Because," came the quick reply.
"All right. I promise," Kiku texted, smiling. Both you and Arthur-san make too much of this Halloween business, he thought.
After a minute, Alfred sent a picture text. Kiku waited for it to download and then opened it. A cute blonde with shoulder-length hair, clear blue eyes, and a winning smile appeared on the screen.
"This is how I look right now," the text message with the picture said. "Arthur accidentally cast some spell on me that turned me into a woman. Great costume, huh?"
Is doing such a thing even possible? Kiku thought as he read the message. He stared again at the picture. Wait. What is Alfred-kun wearing? The now male-turned-female nation had on what looked like a light blue bikini top.
Kiku squinted to examine the picture more closely and saw that it also had dark blue ribbons and lace on it. That's no bikini top. He felt the heat rise in his face.
He quickly hit the reply button. "What are you showing me?" he texted. "You aren't dressed!"
"What! ? Delete that right now!" Alfred texted back. "I didn't check the pic before sending. I thought I'd held the camera high enough so that the bra I was trying on wouldn't show."
Kiku hesitated. He wanted to respect his friend's wishes, but this was also a fantasy he'd had once or twice (even if he was unwilling to admit it). He quickly sent the picture to one of his secure email accounts, then deleted it from the phone's memory. "It's no longer on my cell phone," he texted Alfred.
"What a relief! Thanks buddy," Alfred texted back.
Kiku felt a small pang of guilt but decided to deal with it when he got home and checked his email. Maybe he'd delete it completely then.
Another text buzzed in. "So if you were my boyfriend, what colors and styles of underwear would you want me to wear?" Alfred had written.
Kiku's brow furrowed. Was this Alfred-kun's idea of being subtle? "When you ask that question, you aren't really thinking of me, are you?" he wrote back.
A minute passed before he got a reply. "No, sorry," Alfred texted, "I don't see you that way."
"It's all right," Kiku wrote back, sighing a breath of relief. MeiMei came into his mind. "I like someone else already anyway."
Kiku suddenly knew the best place to get the answer to Alfred's question. He smiled mischievously and looked over at Arthur. "Asa-san, will you answer a question without asking the reason why I'm asking?" Kiku asked him.
Arthur nodded, looking confused.
"What are your favorite colors?" he asked Arthur.
What a weird question to ask at a time like this, Arthur thought, but he kept his promise to Kiku not to ask why. He thought about it for a minute. "I've always liked a leafy or forest green, royal plum, red, and blue," he said finally.
Kiku started tapping the answer into his cell phone.
"I'm dying of curiosity now," Arthur said. "You're sure that you can't tell me why you asked me that?"
Kiku shook his head, hitting the send button. "I'm sworn to secrecy," he said.
Arthur scowled. He knew he'd get nothing out of the nation. Kiku prided himself on being the king of keeping secrets. Arthur brooded for a few minutes when some of the other nations walked through the den's entrance. It had been about 20 minutes since they'd all left.
"Has anyone found Alfred yet?" China asked as he sat down in a chair. "The Asia team failed to locate him."
Arthur noted that the nations who'd returned were Hong Kong, Taiwan, and China. That simpleton France divided them up by region? he thought, laughing to himself. Well, perhaps they are the ones who have been texting Kiku.
MeiMei took off a shoe and rubbed her foot. "I hope we find him in time for the party," she said.
Kiku looked guilty, and noticing that reaction, Arthur raised an eyebrow.
"Well, we struck out," Spain said as his group—Germany, North and South Italy, and Seychelles—came into the room.
"Why don't all of you check in with . . . France?" Arthur guessed.
Germany nodded.
In the next 15 minutes, the next two groups filed in and reported to the leaders assigned to them—Russia and Hungary: Nothing.
"We were supposed to report to you sooner, mate," Australia said, as he, Wy, and New Zealand walked into the den, "but I forgot to get your cell number. Doesn't matter though: No success finding the Yank."
"So what does this mean?" China asked. "We spread out farther?"
MeiMei groaned and sat back in her chair.
Kiku turned ashen when he saw this.
"Asa-san, please look at my text messages inbox," he said, handing his phone over to Arthur, "but don't look at any of the messages' contents." All of the most recent messages were from "Alfred-kun".
"Why didn't you bloody tell us about this earlier?" Arthur asked.
Kiku snatched back his phone and looked down. "He made me promise to keep our conversation secret," he said. "I've been trying to think of a loophole to the promise for the last 15 minutes."
Arthur whipped out his cell phone and called Alfred. He heard the phone connect after three rings. "Where the bloody hell are you, Alfred?" Arthur loudly yelled before Alfred could say "hello".
There was a pregnant pause on the other end.
"M-m-my brother is unavailable right now," a soft voice said finally.
What the hell? That's not Alfred, Arthur thought. "Oh, sorry . . . um . . ."
"I'm Canada," the voice said.
That's right: he's the only nation missing besides Alfred, Arthur noted. Why hadn't anyone noticed?
"Of course. Matthew, right?" Arthur said. "I thought you were only going out for breakfast by yourself. Where did you two go? Everyone's been looking all over for your brother."
"We're costume shopping right now," Matthew said. "We forgot to bring some. We'll be back as soon as we can."
"When will that be?" he asked.
"I don't know. Soon, I hope," Matthew replied.
So "we" means that Matthew can see his brother, right? Arthur thought. "Um, Matthew, Alfred isn't acting strangely, is he?" he asked hesitantly.
Another pause came through the phone, this time a little longer than the first. "No more than usual," Matthew said, his voice rising slightly. "Why do you ask?"
"So he isn't acting freaked out like he's seeing something spooky?" Arthur continued, hoping the spell had kicked in correctly. "Things haven't been flying at you or anything mysterious like that?"
"No," Matthew said, sounding confused. "What are you talking about?"
"Oh it's nothing," Arthur said quickly. "See you tonight." With that, he hung up the phone before Matthew could ask any more questions.
"Did you find them?" France said.
"Yes. Everyone, thank you; you can relax now," Arthur said. "That idiot left without telling anyone. He's with his brother, Matthew. They said they'd be home in time for the party."
Everyone left the room to go eat, relax, or get his or her costume ready. Arthur carefully tried to recall his and Seren's conversation. She'd asked him when how long he'd wanted the spell to last, and he remembered that he'd specifically said he needed it only for Halloween night.
So that must mean the ghost will appear once the sun sets, which means he'll see it at the party, Arthur thought. He smiled to himself. Perfect.
"America needs punishing when he gets back, da?" Russia said.
Arthur jumped. "That won't be necessary, Russia," he said, laughing nervously. "I have a feeling he'll be punished tonight anyway."
Russia looked disappointed but then left the room quickly when he heard Belarus looking for him.
Lunchtime passed, and the two North American nations didn't return. Arthur hoped he was right about the ghost appearing that evening. He didn't want to miss any of the expressions or reactions Alfred had to it.
Did those two get lost in London? Arthur thought as he laid out his costume to air it out. He hadn't worn this outfit in a while. I don't know about Matthew, but I don't think Alfred likes shopping that much unless it's for some gadget, movie, or something like that. What kind of costume could take this much time to put together? No amount of bargaining could get any information out of Kiku about the texting conversation he'd had with Alfred either, not even after Arthur offered to fix it so that MeiMei would be paired up with Kiku for any games they played.
"I will trust Benten-sama to reward me for my efforts of remaining as true to my promise to Alfred as possible," Kiku had said.§
Arthur decided it would be best to hang up the coat to his costume in his private bathroom and steam it a little to get out some of the wrinkles. He turned on his garment steamer/cleaner and started working out the wrinkles. The steam caused the smell of gunpowder to waft up from the garment.
Arthur frowned. I could have sworn I'd cleaned it thoroughly the last time I used it, he thought. Well, maybe if it aired out well enough . . . no, better take some other precautionary measures.
When the wrinkles finally were gone, Arthur grabbed a fabric freshener spray and lightly sprayed it over the coat and then the rest of the clothes. He decided he would also wear his favorite cologne just to be on the safe side. He didn't want anyone to speculate about when he last used this outfit; it had just been two years ago and only for show. He hadn't used it for its original purpose in many, many years, but no one would believe him if they smelled those traces of the past.
He dug through his walk-in wardrobe until he found the hatbox he was looking for. He carefully pulled out the hat inside. It still looked as good as new despite the many years he'd owned it. Now all I have to do is find the shoe polish, and I can finish the final touches, Arthur thought, smiling. Even if this might get some comments from France and Spain, it's one of my favorite outfits all the same.
Around afternoon tea, Canada came in the front door with his arms loaded with what looked like a dozen large bags and half a dozen smaller ones. None of the nations eating or talking offered to help, but it seemed like Canada wasn't expecting any assistance.
Arthur only noticed him because he'd been sitting in the front room waiting for the two brothers to return. He raised an eyebrow when he looked at the bags. He didn't recognize some of the names of the stores printed on them. "Where's Alfred?" Arthur asked.
Matthew turned with a look of surprise on his face.
Arthur guessed that the nation had been hoping no one would notice him come in.
"He climbed up the ladder he used this morning to leave out the window," Matthew replied. "He's already in his 'costume' and didn't want anyone to see him."
That's odd, Arthur thought as he got up from his chair and grabbed a few of the bags out of the other nation's hands. Why would he be in his costume already? "I'll help you carry these to your room," he said.
"These aren't all mine," Canada said, indignant.
"Then I'll help you take them to Alfred's room," Arthur countered.
"Eh? That will actually kill two birds with one stone since he wanted your opinion anyway," Matthew said. "Al purchased several costumes and can't decide which one is the best."
Arthur chuckled and rolled his eyes. That's just like him to overdo it a little, he mused.
"Who is it?" Alfred called when Canada knocked on the door.
Arthur furrowed his brow. Alfred's voice sounded a little higher-pitched than usual. His normal tenor tones were gone and had been replaced with a strange, softer, higher lilt.
"It's Matthew and Arthur," Canada said.
"Oh!" Alfred said, his voice dropping an octave. "One second." Alfred's voice sounded lower but those lower tones also sounded forced.
The door clicked. "Don't come in for 45 seconds," Alfred commanded, his voice squeaking slightly. "I want your true first reaction when I reveal the first outfit."
Arthur saw Matthew roll his eyes and start silently counting to 45. After the time was up, both nations walked in the door. All the curtains around the bed had been drawn.
"I've already given my opinion on everything," Matthew said, setting down all of the bags except for one. "Is it all right if I don't stay?"
"Sure Bro. Thanks again for today," Alfred called from behind the curtains. "I'll have to treat you to ice cream and whatever you want later."
Matthew patted Arthur on the shoulder. "You may want to sit down," he said quietly. "It's gonna take a while." Canada walked out, closing the door behind him.
Arthur found a chair and sat down.
"Artie?"
"Yes?"
"Before I start, could you promise not to take back the 'costume'?" Alfred asked in a tenor that was starting to sound falsetto. "I know you thought of it first, but I've worked really hard on it, and I don't want to have wasted my day if you want it back. Just returning the clothes alone would be a headache."
What on earth is he talking about? Arthur thought. "I promise you can keep your costume. I've already prepared mine in my room anyway," he said.
"Great! Here goes," Alfred said, allowing his voice to slip back up to the softer, higher octave that Arthur had heard earlier. A petite hand reached out and pulled the curtains open. A blond young woman knelt on the bed in a flattering, one-piece, royal blue swimsuit.
Who the hell? Arthur thought, standing up.
She stepped off the bed, and Arthur could see she was wearing red court shoes. If she hadn't been wearing the 5 centimeters-high shoes, she'd be about 8 centimeters shorter than he was†. Her hair was brushed so that golden waves flowed away from her face, and a diamond tiara sparkled on top of her head. The strangest part of the outfit was a satin sash that looped across her front diagonally.
"What do you think Artie? Mattie thinks it's groan-worthy, but I think it's funny," the young lady said, playing with the sash and smiling as she looked down at it. "I even was willing to have my leg hair taken care of so that I'd look good in this outfit." She looked up and put one of her long and shapely legs forward for Arthur to inspect.
"Of course, I plan to write something on this sash," she continued, looking down again and running a finger down the sash as if writing on it, "but I haven't decided whether I like 'Miss America' or 'Miss USA' since we have both contests. Of course, if you say this one sucks, I have a few others to show you as well, but they all kinda have a similar theme. Y'see I wanted to make it easy for the other nations to know who I was . . . " The young woman looked up. Her eyes were a familiar clear blue.
Arthur froze. Suddenly everything clicked into place.
"Artie what's wrong?" Alfred asked. "Why haven't you at least made a snide remark? You okay?" She took a step towards him.
Arthur opened his mouth to say something, anything, but nothing came out. What the bloody hell is going on? he thought, stumbling backwards and knocking over the chair in the process.
"Artie, you're seriously freaking me out," Alfred said, taking another step towards him. "What's with that reaction?"
"Alfred, y-y-you're a woman!" Arthur finally managed to get out.
Alfred got an incredulous look on her face. "Duh," she said. "Wasn't that what you were going for in the spell you cast last night? What's the matter? You shocked that your magic actually worked? And call me Amelia; Alfred sounds weird when I'm like this."
"Amelia, then," Arthur said, raising an eyebrow. He . . . She thinks that spell . . . wait, that actually makes sense, or it would if I didn't know the original purpose of the spell, he thought. Until I figure this out, I'll just go along with this idiot's conclusion. "Of course it worked," Arthur said with a laugh. "I just didn't realize it was you at first."
"That's what I'm hoping will happen at the party," Alfred/Amelia said. "They'll all be like 'Who are you?' and then when they realized it's me, they'll be like 'Holy crap!'." She clapped a hand over her mouth to demonstrate the other nations' reaction and then laughed at her joke.
To Arthur, the sound that escaped her mouth sounded more like the tinkling of bells than the usual obnoxious hyena. It sent a tingle all over his body. Good, she bought it . . . Wait . . . What the hell was that reaction just now? he wondered.
Alfred/Amelia walked over to where Arthur was standing and stood in front of him. "But seriously Artie," she said. "What do you think of this costume? Too cliché? Too revealing? Mattie said . . . what was it . . . oh yeah, he didn't think that some of the other nations will be able to handle it." She looked down at Arthur's overturned chair and she bent over to pick it up.
Arthur was left to look at her rear. He felt heat flow into his face and proceed down from there. "I can see why he said that," he said quietly.
She righted the chair, stood up to face Arthur again, and placed a hand on her hip. "I'd understand if this was a bikini, but it's a modest suit, for crying out loud," Alfred/Amelia said, gesturing toward the swimsuit.
As if commanded by her hand, Arthur looked at the suit. It was modest. The style and cut of the suit was similar to one from the 1940s. The legs were low-cut, and the suit's back had covered her entire bottom when she'd bent over. The deep blue material wrapped around her body in a way that flattered her waist and showed off her curves at the same time. Arthur felt his eyes involuntarily stop at her chest where the suit came down in a modest V-neck. Gilbert's comments this morning came back to Arthur immediately.
Alfred/Amelia noticed Arthur's gaze. "They are pretty awesome, huh?" she said, grinning. "Wanna know my cup size?"
Arthur crimsoned. "I most certainly do not!" he protested, stepping back a little.
Alfred/Amelia laughed, and her smile got wider. "Sure you do," she said. "Not only that, you probably want to touch them." She reached up and cupped her chest with both hands. "This suit is lined and has a built-in shelf bra, so I not only look great, but everything feels great too," she said as she took a step closer to Arthur.
Arthur took another step backwards.
She released her chest, which bounced slightly when gravity took over. "Come on," Alfred/Amelia said, moving closer to Arthur, a crooked smile on her face. She was close enough to Arthur that she could almost reach out and touch him.
She gestured towards her chest. "You know you wanna," she said, taking another step forward.
"Stop this instant, young lady!" Arthur said, looking away while closing his eyes. Without thinking, he put up his right hand to stop Alfred/Amelia's advance. His hand met something soft, round, and plump. Arthur opened his eyes and turned back to look. He was touching her left breast.
She looked down at Arthur's hand and then up at Arthur. "Kyaaaa!" she screamed.
A/N
My goodness! I never expected this chapter to become this long. I admit that some of the dialog was repeated from previous chapters but that was strictly to give this chapter continuity (yes, I even calculated the minutes carefully so that they matched the amount of time the North American brothers spent eating and shopping). Different POVs of the same incident offer fun insight to the characters' reactions to that same situation as well as information the other character wasn't privy to. I hope, despite the length, it was still a fun read. ^_^
Yes that was a reference to Chef Gordon Ramsay from Kitchen Nightmares/Hell's Kitchen (why wouldn't Arthur hire the best in his country?). I tried my best to pick up on his speech patterns, but I'm sorry if I failed.
*A full English breakfast could include many things. It starts with fruit juice and some fruit. Then you're served cereal (sometimes). Then the main course, which includes any combination of bacon, eggs, fried or grilled tomatoes, fried mushrooms, fried bread or toast and sausages usually served with tea with milk, toast, and marmalade. Sometimes black pudding, hash browns, or baked beans are also included depending on the region. This breakfast is referred to as a "Full Monty" LOL ^_^ W. Somerset Maugham once said, "To eat well in England, you should have breakfast three times a day", and he was right. A full English breakfast was one of my favorite meals during my trip through the United Kingdom, and I ordered it every time I had a chance.
§Benten is the goddess of luck in love, so Japan is trusting things will work in his favor in that aspect.
†5 centimeters = 2 inches (Alfred couldn't handle heels any higher than that; he'd break his ankle). 8 centimeters = approx. 3 inches, which makes America 167.6 centimeters or 5 foot, 6 inches now (still tall for a girl). I didn't want to shave too much height off of America but I needed to take off enough that clothes for a 5'9" guy wouldn't fit properly (I've tried on my brother's clothes, and the 3 inches makes enough difference).
Translations:
Please forgive me for the German accents. I was taking my lead from the dub. -_-;
Bollocks = sometimes used as expression of dismay or surprise. This was the closest thing I could find to "oops", b/c it's used when something breaks or does not go your way (there was also "Whoopsy Daisy", but I really didn't like the way that one sounded).
ein Ungeheuer = a monster or ogress
Bruderherz = Brother. According to FFN author Waliro, who is German (but also speaks/writes pretty decent English) this word literally translates as "brother heart" and means "dear brother"; it's the way Germans refer to their brothers when they want to be personal and show their brotherly feelings. According to Waliro, to just use "Bruder" distances you from your brother and feels awkward to the German speaker.
Samhaon = Gaelic harvest festival held on October 31–November 1. Ceridwen is just using the old-fashioned reference for Halloween here because that's how she's used to referring to it.
Mon ami = my friend
Amérique = America
Pourriez-vous ce répéter? = Could you repeat that?
Angleterre = England
Que dites-vous? = What are you saying?
English slang:
Sod off, you barmy wanker = Get lost, you idiotic jerk (or moron).
court shoes (British English) = high heel shoes (American English)
FYI I didn't misspell the word Prussia used to describe America. "Blond" refers to color, whether wood, hair or whatever. "Blonde" is specifically used when referring to a woman or girl with blond hair. Blond is when referring to a man. Yes, I'm an English nerd . . . I might change them all to "blond" eventually since "blonde" is sometimes considered sexist.
I never said that I'd reveal Arthur's costume this chapter, but anyone who voted should already know what it is. Plus, I think I made the final result almost too obvious with the description in this chapter. I'm going to be a tease and not say what the costume is at this time, but I'll give you a hint: The top four winners (in no particular order to hide the winner) were Police Officer, Mad Hatter, Pirate, and Punk Rock Guitarist.
Because of pacing, I will have to show the rest of America's costumes next chapter as well.
For anyone interested, the following list is how France divided up the nations (he selected the leader based on who he thought would be the best nation for the job)—Asia: Japan (leader), China, Hong Kong, and Taiwan; Eastern Europe: Russia (there was no choice who the leader was), Belarus, Finland, Lithuania, Poland, Sweden, Sealand, and Ukraine; Northern Europe: France (don't be surprised even though the next nation listed would be a better choice), Germany, North Italy and South Italy (I know they're technically more S. Europe but I'd challenge anyone to try separating these two from Germany and Spain), Spain, and Seychelles; Southern Europe: Hungary (leader), Austria, Belgium, Prussia (the Bad Touch Trio was broken up b/c Hungary insisted on having an equal number of nations in each group), Switzerland and Liechtenstein. English-speaking nations: England (leader), Australia, New Zealand, and Wy (Canada would have been part of this group, but he was already gone). Yes, France can't count . . . or maybe his counting skills are arbitrary. XD