You are Welcome. There is another chapter here! It Has to be a Trend is no longer a oneshot. YAY!
I don't own Hetalia.
Previously on It Has to be a Trend.
"'You won't have any time to sail back with him.' Hungary pointed out, knowing full well that England was far too busy to sail all the way to the New World and back.
'I'm afraid I won't. Thank you for reminding me Hungary.'"
America didn't want to sail back alone. That much was clear from a single glance in the lad's eyes. And England didn't like seeing America sad.
But it had to be done. He was an empire, and he really didn't have time to sail to America and back. But he was so small. America hadn't grown very much from when he'd chosen England over France.
And the journey was surprisingly enjoyable. America was enthusiastic, joyous to be going back home. It was infectious. England couldn't help the smile on his face as he watched the little colony try to find sea monsters.
They landed and England stayed just long enough to witness America's next growth spurt. At least it was easier leaving behind an eight-year-old than a two-year-old.
But it was with a heavy heart that England waved to the little boy standing on the shore as he sailed back to his own.
...ooooOOOOoooo...
Back to after the meeting
...ooooOOOOoooo...
"Hiding awesomely in Eyebrow's un-awesome house~~~" Prussia sang from his position under the table in the dining room.
"You are a total idiot. Get up," Hungary came out from behind a chair and muscled him to his feet, pushing him forward.
"Hi," America nodded to them, walking into the room and greeting them completely naturally as if she knew they'd be there.
Their mouths fell open in surprise. "How did you-?"
America gave a smirk that, even if Prussia hadn't known the girl for long, could tell was rarely seen. "I'm a bit smarter than England you know."
Hungary swept her into a hug. "You're so adorable!" She squealed.
America sent a "help me" look towards Prussia.
"Kesesesesesese," Prussia laughed. "You're on your own."
"How un-awesome." America said, toddling over to Prussia and attaching herself to his boot after Hungary put her down. "I have a new favorite spot. You can carry me."
It was Hungary's turn to laugh. "Oh, have fun." She giggled.
Prussia moved his foot. America was heavier than expected, but not too heavy for the awesomeness that was himself.
"Hang on." Prussia lifted the girl up normally, not by her head like last time. "Stand for a moment." He instructed.
America looked confused, but did as told.
"Yep, you grew a little," Prussia confirmed.
Indeed, America's face looked a little older, and she was a bit taller already.
"How fast do you grow?" Hungary asked in amazement.
"It depends," America shrugged. "I can feel a growth spurt coming though! Then I'll be big and strong like England and I can be the hewo!"
"Awwww!" Squealed Hungary.
And even if America was technically a girl, the look she exchanged with Prussia was equally as confused. What is wrong with Hungary?
...ooooOOOOoooo...
Back to after England totally just got up and left
...ooooOOOOoooo...
America was sick and tired of being small. She could feel the land that should be hers. Stupid France and Spain. The land is mine. Mine, not yours.
But there was an intsy weensy problem. Growth Spurts. She'd really been looking forward to being tall, but she had forgotten something rather important. The fact that girls were different than boys. Which meant that she had a chest. Do not want. It was just too big. Poke. Poke. Poke. Alright she was done.
Should she write a letter to Hungary? No, probably not a good plan. It would take too long.
I am America. I'm way effing smarter than all of you, and I can figure this out by my effing myself.
Options. Maybe like, bandages or something?
The general store would definitely have some, but she couldn't go dressed as she was. One, her hair wasn't cut, and two, she'd grown quite a bit since yesterday. Hang on, hadn't there been an indentured servant here? Her face crumpled in concentration. Yeah, from Ireland. That'd been from many years ago, even longer than England had been gone.
Chapped lips pursed as America wondered if there was a chance the nice woman had left a dress somewhere.
Worth a shot.
If one had been a small mouse up in the attic of one Alfred Kirkland, one would have been in a prime position to view the "America" on it's hunt for clothing.
Note the pretty eyes, blue as the cloudless sky. A head turns back and forth, and the hair seems to change colors. Don't become too transfixed, but don't miss the action. Gold. Amber. Gold. Amber. Gold. Amber. Stop staring at her head.
Eyebrows narrow at a box in the corner, and the wild America stalks toward it, a satisfied smirk appearing on the pink lips.
"Aha!" And the America is triumphant.
...
What. The. Mothering. Fuck. Is. This.
America was so confused. "The hell?" She asked herself. America studied the article of clothing for a bit longer before realizing.
Oh God Save the Queen these are stays!
"Alright stays. A battle of wills will now commence!" America announced. She knew enough about dressing herself to figure out that the shift went under the stays, but the main problem was tying the stays. They wouldn't tighten properly.
With a face screwed up in concentration, America pulled. Hard. The ribbon snapped.
"Dammit!"
Grabbing another ribbon from England's hair accessory bin, America set to work, controlling her strength a bit better.
"Suck it losers! The hero does it again."
Oh great. Let it be written in all the great history books that the first thing America conquered was women's underclothes.
Slipping the dress on over her head, America pulled her hair back into a ponytail with a small piece of ribbon and fixed a cap on her head. A cloak went around her shoulders and the young woman stepped confidently into the street.
How should I speak? Softly? Probably.
The bell dinged as America stepped into the shop.
"Can I help you?" The storekeeper's apprentice was at the counter writing in a ledger, but he put it down at the sight of a customer.
"I need some bandages." America said, concentrating on keeping my voice softer and higher than usual.
"How much?" He smiled pleasantly. He was kinda cute. Wait! WHAT? Where the hell did that come from? No boys America. Not when you yourself are posing as one. Wow that thought had whammed her harder than a horse's hind legs!
Paying for the large amount of bandages quickly, America left the store, sprinting home and gaining horrible dirty looks.
Well fuck you too.
"Alright Alfred," America said to herself, taking a deep breath. Somehow the whole thing seemed so much more real now that she was actively hiding.
Why was she even bothering?
Her mother. Blood. Screams. Smoke "Go! Go! Leave! I'll be fine!"
But her Unitsi wasn't fine, or she would have found her. Native America would have come back. But the lands Native America used to stand for now were her's and Canada's. Their very existence had ended her mother's. The only comfort America could get from that was that her Unitsi wouldn't have made a different choice if she had been given one in the first place.
Unitsi was glad to die for her children. And I am proud to be her daughter. She didn't fade just so that her children could be controlled.
And America pulled off the dress, binding her chest tightly.
Now for the hair. Glaring into the looking glass, America was pleased to note that she really did look masculine. Hair pulled into a ponytail was how some men kept their hair, but she would need to cut it off at the risk of being too feminine.
Snip. Snip. Snip. Snip. Snip.
A man looked back at her.
"Wow," She breathed, turning her head this way and that.
~One month later~
"America, I've come back just like I promised!" England knew that he'd been gone for a long while, but it wasn't his fault. He'd worked hard to become an Empire, but the amount of work it would take once he had it was rather unexpected.
A fifteen-year-old boy glomped him. "England Dude!" He exclaimed.
It was America. England froze. America had somehow grown into a tall and muscly young man. America's grin was maniacal and bright blue eyes smiled mischievously at him. "I missed you so much," America said in a slightly softer voice. England didn't think he'd ever heard such a strange voice. It was annoying and something was slightly weird about it. It must just be the accent.
...
England managed to stay for a year before he had to leave. America was sad to see him go, but very glad at the same time. England had been acting kinda weird, and had been very controlling. The amount of tax he was imposing was making her physically ill. She took a last look around the Virginia Plantation she'd lived in her whole colony life and patted the door. It was time to head to Boston.
March 5th, 1770
America was pissed as she cleaned up the cut on her shoulder blade. This was unacceptable. It had been horrible. A chill went down her spine. It had been a massacre.
...
June 9th, 1772
That had one a bit overboard. America looked disapprovingly at the men who had looted and burned Her Majesty's ship the Gaspee. She may not approve, but Alfred knew that she wouldn't give them up to England. She would protect them.
...
December 16, 1773
"Throw it in boys!" America yelled, rubbing her hands for warmth in Boston's snappy winter air.
"I'm older than you Alfred," A man called back, but he listened nonetheless, tossing a large box of tea overboard.
America cheered. This was awesome! She'd never felt so, so, so FREE! She would be free, and she would be her own country, no longer a colony. Sorry Britain, but you can't control me forever.
….ooooOOOOoooo….
TADA! I wrote another bit. Sorry, it's kinda choppy and short but hey, it's an update. It seemed to be popular opinion that I should continue this, so I come bearing words put in an appealing order (I hope). I had more, but it wasn't in anything remotely close to chronological order, and was written like it was. Oops.