What is... "Home?" (Hetalia Fanfic, W.A. '13 Finalist)

Chapter 12~!

I awoke to a pair of sky-blue eyes right above my own, and nearly jumped out of my own skin in surprise.

"Morning, dudette!" he exclaimed, and I slapped a hand over his mouth quickly.

"Please don't go announcing that to the world," I pleaded in a sleepy voice.

"Oh, sorry!" he yanked my covers off, exposing my T-shirt-and-boxer-clad self. "Get UP get UP get UP we've gotta get gooooing!!"

"Huh?" I said. "Where are we going?"

"Today's the day we're going to go into town and shop for costume supplies! Duh!"

I stuck a finger in both ears. "Who spiked your morning coffee?" I all but yelled.

"England!" America yelled. "And it was soooo good!"

I rolled my eyes and stood, putting my hands on his back and escorting him out the door. "I gotta get dressed, and if you're gonna be screaming in my ear then I'm gonna whack you and England with a shoe."

He skipped (skipped?!) away and I shut the door as Canada came out of the bathroom, drying his hair with a towel and dressed in street clothes. "He's gone?"

I nodded. "My god, what was England thinking? Spiking that spaz's coffee? We're screwed..."

Canada laughed at that, and so did I after a second or two of hearing him laugh. Not that his laugh was funny-sounding, but people's emotions are so contagious to me sometimes.

"You know, it really could have been just about anyone," Canada said as he finished drying. "I wonder what America did to warrant that."

"I think I could take a few guesses," I shot back wittily as I shoved clothes in my closet aside, looking for some non-girly street clothes. "Uhm, Mattie?"

"Yes, Melina?" He came over and stood next to me, looking over my shoulder into the closet.

"I, uh, don't have any masculine street clothes..."

His mouth formed a silent "O". "Well, that's a problem..."

"No kidding! Argh... All I've got are a pair of skinny jeans and flares, both of which have girly decals on the back pockets, a green T-shirt with a tear and bloodstain, and a purple one that has a smiley face with sunglasses. And my tennis shoes, which are fine."

"What to do about that..." Canada wondered, a hand to his chin. "Well, you don't exactly fit my clothes," he said, his gaze dropping to the hem of the T-shirt he'd lent me to sleep in; it easily covered my bottom and had a little length left over from that.

"And I don't fit America, either," I added. "Hmmm..."

~~~

We were on our way 20 minutes later, me dressed in some clothing borrowed from one of the only friends I had that was my size: England. And trust me, the pants and sweater weren't exactly my style, but I was glad to have clothes just the same.

"Aw-right!" America hooted when the store finally came into view. It was very big, with tons of scary decorations and mannequins in the windows alone. The store was called "The Imposter's Convention".

A terrified girl's scream echoed in place of a normal bell when we opened the door, and I almost jumped out of my skin at the unexpectedness of it. America laughed at my expression and I shot him a "Not funny" look, but he ignored me.

"This store's known to have little surprises hidden everywhere," Canada explained, setting my fears both at ease and sending them haywire at the same time.