I don't own. (Do I really need to write that every time?)

'Now?'

Of course England would ask that first.

'Yeah, I got it.' He muttered, morose and regretted it immediately when a proud grin spread over England's face.

'HEY! Did yer' hear that? America here found his animal form!' The other raised his voice, announcing it to the whole conference hall. He cringed.

'No, I didn't.'

'What?!' The other gave him an confused look. 'But didn't you just said-'

'YEAH, I KNOW!' He roared; too feed up with all that damn magic-crap to hold his usual absolutely flawless act up. Yes, he was proud of it.

'It's a human! My animagus form is a human, all right!?' And with that he stormed out of the room, seething, before he did something he would regret later - OK, maybe not regret, but - be embarrassed about. Yeah.

England shook his head. 'Honestly. That's not something to get so upset about. I mean, New Zealand's a human too, so-'

Aforementioned shrugged at him. 'I don't really think it's that.'

'Mhm.' England hummed, his mind already elsewhere. With that, his theory was proven. Every nation was able to change (and in the end, able to use magic.) So, now all he had to do was...

A bear. He was a fucking bear. There was no way in hell he'd ever admit that to England, or anyone of that bunch.

What did they say about bears again?

Ah, right. Slow, foolish, nice.

Why, thank you. As if he needed that, they already believed he was a fat-assed idiot anyway he thought, bitterly.

And the worst part, he was not fat!

No, really, the military doc said he wasn't and those weren't so nice to beat around the bush to begin with. Actually the guy'd told him -not exactly friendly- meal times were there for eating, not for graphing a coffee and whatnot before going back to the X-box.

Sometimes he wondered if those guys had the sight England was always babbling about or something. He let out a weary sigh, putting the game controller down and the earphones off. Tony was right. Call Of Duty really was a life-safer. Maybe he should be concerned that the old chopping woods method wasn't enough as Anger Management anymore, but on the other side…Nah.

Outside, the sun had long set and he went to close the curtains, but the sight of the nightly forest that started behind his garden fence stopped him.

Why a bear.

The fact struck him as odd. A bear was more Russia's department, right?

Russia.

Now that was awkward. He scowled at the vegetation outside and shut the curtains with a resolute thug. Let's just hope that little stunt was enough to let the others drop the matter. For good.

And thanks to his consequent ignoring of the topic it was indeed several days later until he was forcefully reminded of that issue when he opened his house door to find a massive polar bear staring back at him.

'ARRRGGG!'

He slammed the door shut, out of reflex. But before he remembered that his old riffle was still hanging above the fireplace, someone knocked on the door.

There had been someone outside? And he had possibly denied the guy help against the beast!

Right, why would a polar bear ring his door bell, anyway?

So he opened the door again, carefully, with his revolver in hand. And outside stood - his brother, who was tapping his foot on the floor, clearly put-off. All he could say was a dump 'Where's the bear?'

His brother rolled his eyes. 'Right here, Al.'

'What, you mean Kumajiro? No I was talking about-' He started to say, sleepily.

'About that?'

And before his very eyes, his brother morphed into that overgrown Polar bear from before. He could have slapped himself. Of course, how could he have forgotten about that? His brother resumed his old form again, now just looking annoyed. 'Are you gonna let me in or do I have to stand her all day long?'

Later, he found that he shouldn't have, it wasn't worth the trouble.

'...and then that riffle was just, like butter you know? You should have seen that hunters face! If I wouldn't have-'

'Mattie.' He interrupted his brother's exited stories about what horrors he had unlashed on the wood's inhabitants of his nation. 'You know, I-'

'Ah, right.' His brother interrupted him. 'Did you really tell England yours were a human?'

'Why're you asking, you were there, weren't you?' He shoot back, a tad too sharp, he thought but his brother didn't even registered his harsh tone.

'You saw me?' Mattie echoed, disbelieving. 'You knew I was there?'

'Yeah?' He asked, slowly. Did he stepped on some kind of land mine, or so? But now, his brother looked close to tears.

'I- I was on the podium, you know? Right in front and wanted to hold my presentation. And-'

Ah, so that's why you show up at three in the morning, he though absently while his brother tried to get the words out without losing it.

'And they didn't even registered I was there! When I tried that with the megaphone India asked me who I was! Can you believe these hosers!?'

He felt a headache rising up at the horizon while he watched his brother taking jet another gulp out of one of these bottles without label. He never felt daring enough to actually ask what was in there.

'Well, they are a bunch of idiots, little bro.'

'Right you are!' His brother agreed furious. 'Fucking Bastards! I don't even know why I waste my time with them...' He took another long gulp, with a quite sniffle. Seeing as the other was leaning against him on the couch, he couldn't do much against the stench of moonshine attacking his nose, but he could - and would - ignore the fact that his little brother was a closet drinker, as always. If he hadn't he would have to admit that he was probably the reason the other was stoned before noon on a regular basis. Bad example and all that shite.

'...Prussia's not so bad though...'

'Ah?' He asked, a tad displeased. 'Is he now?'

'Mhm.' Mattie hummed, hugging his moonshine bottle. 'He's nice. Said I'm awesome - and he knows if I'm in the room or not, you know?'

He would have to talk with Ludwig and that soon.

'He even came searching, you know, after that. He's a sparrow, did you know that, all fuzzy.' Mattie laughed a slightly drunken but mostly resigned laugh.

Yeah, very, very soon, he though while the other seemed to give in to the alcohol, letting his eyes flutter shut with a sigh. Somehow, the idea of morphing to the form of a nearly two-ton bear didn't seem that bad, now that he thought about it. He would most likely be able to grind Prussia in the ground without even trying. And they all though he was a human, anyway... Right, he had to do something about that, since when New Zealand had changed - because nobody believed him - the form he had resumed to had not resembled him in the least.

Well, simulating another form was actually easy, he realized hours later in the kitchen while he fixed breakfast - when was the last time he eaten something in the morning, or eaten anything at all, for that matter - and a hangover cure for his little brother who was sprawled out on the sofa, groaning about the few specters of light that managed to get past the shutters. Nobody knew how they had looked like before the Europeans had invaded the continent and drawing lines after such a long time...not fucking likely.

If they wanted, they could be as daft as a rock.

And he'd found out, they wanted that indeed, very much so. Pleased to have found a solution for that little problem he concentrated back on nursing his brother back from the gloomy form on the couch to a more presentable state. Let's not imagine how that went.

'Close the damn curtains already!'

There he was. He hesitated, dusting an nonexistent particle of dust of his tweet blazer before approaching his target.

'Russia.'

Addressed turned, slowly, to him with a smile he knew was supposed to express pleased surprise, and it would've done so on everyone else but on him in only seemed menacing - and artificial.

'Da?' Russia said in his usual heavy accented English, putting a folder with something - he didn't wanted to know what - down. 'Is there something I can help you with, England?'

'There is, indeed.' He said slowly, a tad unsettled since it only now registered that they were alone in the conference room, currently. Japan had excused himself to get something for lunch a minute ago. 'It is purely curiosity, but it occurred to me that you had no part in our little project. And I thought -'

'That I already know how to?' Russia interrupted him, airy. 'Then your correct, England.'

'Ah. Yes, something like that.' He said, relived. 'Well, thank you then. That was what I wanted to know.'

The other only nodded and he took that as a cue to leave the room, and that awkward situation. If he had bothered to take a look back, he would've seen the little frown between Russia's eyebrows and the suspicion the nation eyed him would've left him uneasy, but as the only thing on his mind was what he wanted for lunch, he was fortunately spared that freight.

'So, it's really a human?'

He looked up from his game, exasperated. Again with that bullshit.

Couldn't they just leave the matter alone already? But this was his brother who looked somewhat hopeful at him, for a bit of conversation - and besides that lately, he worried about the other, more than he'd liked to show. If someone as obvious as America is worried, the apocalypse must be standing in front of the door, after all.

'No Mattie. It's not. I just didn't want to show it to them, that's all.'

His brother tilted his head, a strange smile on his lips. 'Why? It's a bunny or what?' He slowly lowered the controller, face void of any emotion.

'A bunny.'

His voice must have been more deadpan as he'd intended for the other flinched, grimacing. 'Well, Prussia said somewhat in that way...'

Again with that fucker. Why couldn't the other see that that idiot was only playing with him, that he would hurt him in the end? Another word with Ludwig was in order and that as soon as possible. Trying to hold the annoyance out of his voice he abandoned the game, if his brother wanted to talk, well, who was he to deny him that? Maybe getting him to go out more often would help, like getting some drinking buddies or a lover or something - as long as it wasn't Prussia!

'So, and what did red-eye said, eh?' His brother laughed, uneasy. 'Ah, he thinks you're embarrassed, and so... well, he don't believe it. Said, it's probably a mouse, like China or a cow or so.'

'Buffoon.' He corrected him, absently. 'None of the others had a form that was alien, didn't they?'

'So it's a buffoon?'

'NO!' He grunted. 'If it was I'd long speared that idiot up!' His brother looked at him wide-eyed. Then his bottom lip started trembling.

Oh shit.

'No, don't - you can't, Prussia's my - my-.'

That simply was not his day. But now that he thought about it; none of the other's forms were alien - which ruled mustangs out, of course. But still, why a bear? He didn't even know which subspecies it was; he only had a short glimpse at himself in the mirror before changing back, out of reflex.

The thought didn't leave him alone, the whole day long, not when he put things right with Mattie, not when he drove the other to the airport, not while he did his paperwork, not even when he watched the evening news, and now, he couldn't even sleep!

...Maybe learning Magic wasn't such a bad idea, he only needed to find the most vicious curse in existence and cast it correctly, after all. And then England would feel his wrath!

He turned, tossed, crawled out of his bed, got himself a bottle from his secret stack, then another one and another.

Still no sleep.

'Okay. OKAY.' He shouted at the empty room. It was half past three in the morning. He fell back onto his bed, exasperated. 'Okay, I got it.'

And so, he found himself sitting in front of his laptop in the middle of the night, researching the numerous sub-species of the North American brown bear. Ignoring the general creepiness of the situation was rather hard at the moment. '…the fuck.' He reached for his most trusted friend, Jack the bottle. He'd never failed him until now, after all.

And of course he found absolutely nothing. Nada.

'What the hell.' He said to the empty room. Would he really let a damn bear rob him off his precious night rest? Well, fine, he had a camera somewhere, there was no harm changing and having some kind of picture for comparison would make more sense than blindly poking around in the mud. So, he did that.

His other form trashed half the room - since when was the ceiling so low, he couldn't even stand up - but fortunately, he had put the camera on the fireplace's sill so it stayed unharmed.

Well.

Now he had something, as embarrassing as not being able to turn around in his own living room was. Why though, he hadn't really- His thoughts trailed of when he watched himself trying to move in the room's narrow space on the tape. His back brushed against the ceiling, his ...paws were as big as a snow shovel. He couldn't believe for a moment that that small mammoth on the screen was indeed him. No bear was that massive!

He played the sequence again; the bear had his eye color. So it had to be him.

He felt himself sit down where he stood, stunned, and then he just played the tape over and over again until he felt calm enough to move again. The ceiling of his room was 220 high, at least. Still, the bear's shoulder reached up there, even touched it - the bump on the back of his head still hurt - and he hadn't even been on his feet, he'd kneeled!

...Maybe it was a prehistorically species, like, the pre-bear or something. He chuckled, a bit helpless. What the fuck was that, anyway? A bear, all right, he could deal with that somewhat, if only he himself know, but a mammoth of a bear? What was the use of that, he wouldn't even be able to do anything in that form, if a hunter saw him that'd be the hunt of the century!

'My living room...' He muttered dazed, the words were slurred.

Did he really drank that much? He looked up - the whiskey on his table was empty, as were the other four bottles scattered around him. He tried to get back on his feet, with little successes. The room was spinning.

'Aw...fuck.'

He slumbered back down, now sleepier than anything else. Best he simply stayed where he was, the couch was still better than nothing. To get there, though, he had to move which caused a pondering headache, as if someone would dance polka up there. And then, his soused mind remembered the thick fur of his other form and how well that had cushioned the hard floor before. A moment later, a mass of dark fur and muscles that took up three quarters of the space had rolled up into a slowly breathing ball. The last thing that went through his sluggish brain was that being some kind of overgrown fur ball had its merits, before sleep claimed him.

A horrified scream woke him. He blinked owlishly. Then shook his head to rid himself of his usual morning hangover, and then blinked again, disordered because of his strange point of view; until he remembered where he was - and what he was, currently.

A bear. A mammoth of a bear.

Why in all blasted hells did he fall asleep in that form? And why was he in the living room? He moved to uncurl himself but stopped when another scream tormented his ears and hangover-ridden brain.

Fuck.

'OMG! ALFRED! ALFRED WHERE ARE YOU!' His little brother screamed panicked, before he heard hurried footsteps down the corridor, probably searching for what Mattie though was his mangled corpse.

...Why was it always him, he questioned nobody in particular, why did he always woke up to such situations?

He changed back, heading out to the corridor to stop his brother before he went into rooms that... were better left alone behind closed doors.

'Mattie!' He yelled. 'I'm here! Stop it! It's all right, damnit!' The ruckus at the upper level stopped and then, he heard his brother tip-toe down the stairs, slowly, before the other's pale face peeked around the corner.

'...Al?'

'Yeah?' He responded, calmly.

'Be careful.' His brother said, whispered more. 'Get - get away from there, there's-.'

'Nothing.' He said, turning back towards the living room as he spoke. 'See?'

'But there's a beast!' Mattie hissed. 'Get away from there, hurry!'

He sighed. Now he really had no way out of it anymore. Curse him and his stupide. 'There's no beast. That was me, Mattie.'

His brother blinked, standing there in the corridor stunned, for a second. 'Alfred?'

'Yeah?'

'...You're such an asshole sometimes.'

He sighed again, massaging his temples. 'I know, Mattie. Now, let's - let's get us some breakfast or so, how about it?' The other huffed, flustered still but followed him into the kitchen regardless. He heard one of the chairs creaking and grimaced on the noise but went on fixing something for the other. He wouldn't be able to eat until some hours later, probably.

'What did you drunk yesterday?' Mattie asked minutes later while terminating the bowl of oatmeal he had put in front of him while he sipped on his coffee. 'Stuff.'

The other stared at him, spoon half way between mouth and bowl. 'Stuff.' He said eventually. 'Aha.'

He shrugged unconcerned, taking another sip of his coffee, the bitter liquid burning a hot trail down his throat. It didn't matter.

'Do you know that the floor sunk in?' He blinked; halting in what he was doing - washing the dishes - to turn to Mattie who was leaning in the doorframe, a frown on his face. 'It did?' The other nodded.

'Fuck.'

'Maybe you shouldn't change into a mammoth while being inside then.'

'It's not a mammoth!' He replied, hotly. 'It's a bear!' That got him a raised eyebrow. 'It's true!' He shouted, angrily now. Mattie looked at him, disbelieving for some seconds longer before-.

'WHY ARE YOU LAUGHING!?

Soooo...