Hello~ Sorry for the incredebly long delay, there was an epoch battle between midterms and schoolwork that distracted me from everything else, but I'll try my best to update faster from now on. Well, so here is the part that we have all been waiting for (well, at least I have), The Switch.

The morning light streamed through the windows. America groaned as it hit his eyelids, he didn't want to wake up, not yet. He was having such a wonderful dream. Hamburgers were falling from the sky while he was playing video games, and even Japan was there, showing off his new skills at Smash Brothers. Perhaps he could sleep for just a little while longer.

Alfred pulled the blankets closer to him and rolled over to try to get more comfortable. He did feel a little disproportionate regarding his weight, but shrugged it off as it was still early in the morning. After some nice coffee all will be fine.

But the light was still there.

Alfred usually kept the blinds closed as he slept, so this was a little odd. He must have just forgotten to close them last night. America admits that he is rather forgetful, like how he is always forgetting the name of that nation above him. What was his name… oh, Canada! Ha, that's him! Just wait until I tell him! Wait… who?

Alfred tried to block out the light with his sheets, but it was no use. He finally realized that if he wanted the light gone he might as well just close the blinds himself.

Alfred slowly opened his eyes to the early morning air, only to realize that he wasn't nearly as tired as he usually was. Weird. Mornings really weren't his thing, it usually took at least a few cups of coffee to wake him up. Then his eyes landed on his hair.

It was a pale, whitish blond color that was much longer than his hair usually was. This was not his hair.

He was shocked for a second until he realized that somebody must have pulled a prank on him and bleached his hair while he was sleeping. It can happen!

The second thing that America noticed was that it was cold. Maybe he left the air conditioning running too high last night. He pulled the sheets close to his body as he slowly sat up and squinted around the room.

This wasn't his room.

This room was full of old; worn out, cabin style furniture, with a dark wood floor and pale beige walls. There were a few photographs of people that Alfred couldn't yet see, and some medium sized windows that were letting light in.

To Alfred's first disappointment, the windows didn't have blinds to cover them with. Then he resolved that whoever bleached his hair probably put him here as well. Outside there was snow on the ground, with the sun gleaming off of the top layer of ice. A far call from his current residence in San Francisco.

As his eyesight got better Alfred got a better look at the photographs, noticing that a certain Russian seemed to be in quite a few of them. Of course! Russia must have kidnapped him and brought him to this desolate land as a prisoner. It's the only answer! Who knows what that commie is up to?

That still didn't make up for the fact that Alfred felt different. Something was off, but he just couldn't put a finger on it.

Alfred was about to throw off his sheets and heroically dash out of the front door before he noticed something else. The hand that was in front of him wasn't his. This hand was thick, muscular, and had heavy calluses from strenuous work. Not to say that America's hand didn't have muscle, but the calluses and overall largeness of it was new.

While he still held the blanket, Alfred observed his arm, which was much thicker than it usually was, and his shoulder, being broader and sturdier.

This caused panic.

America stared at the wall as he dashed out of bed and tried to find a mirror. Luckily, there was one next to the door of the bedroom. He rushed up to it to see what he looked like, although when he got there, it wasn't his reflection that he saw.

He saw a pair of dark violet eyes, round cheeks, and pale blonde hair. It seemed as though he had run upon a terrified Russia, which was an oxymoron in itself.

America stood there gaping for a few seconds until finally he brought his shaking hand up to his face. He touched his nose and forehead and watched as the hand in the reflection did the same. He pinched himself in the cheek, and it hurt.

"Oh, shit." Eyes wide Alfred stepped away from the mirror, as the voice that came out of his mouth wasn't his.

He looked down on himself to notice that the ground was much lower than usual. He was clothed in dark blue flannel pajamas with a light shaded scarf around his neck and dark brown slippers on his feet. Alfred felt like he was going to have a heart attack, until he took a few deep breathes and closed his eyes for a few seconds.

He sat down on the bed after a bit with his eyes closed and the refusal to acknowledge that anything out of the ordinary had happened. He opened them quickly in hope that things would be different, but it was just a useless action.

Alfred looked down again at his lap and noticed the thickness of his new legs. He put both hands on one of his thighs and felt around, noticing the stronger build and the bulk that wasn't evident on his own body. Then he realized that, in fact, he had never been this close to the commie before. He usually tried to keep his distance from him, so touching was out of the question.

Still tense, Alfred brought his hands away from his legs and folded them. Then suddenly, his chest started really hurting. Alfred assumed it was the adrenaline, but he tightly wrapped his arms around himself and bend over to suppress the pain.

Then the pain just stopped all of a sudden and Alfred started feeling woozy as a cold feel came over him. He opened his eyes to confront a giant, bloody mess laying on the floor and an opening in his chest. His eyes rolled back and suddenly the heart wasn't the only thing lying on the floor.

~oO~Oo~

Matthew wasn't a lazy person. He had gotten up at exactly 7 am that morning, as per usual, and started making himself a fulfilling breakfast of pancakes with maple syrup and Canadian bacon, which despite everything that his brother had said is definitely not ham.

Then he followed his routine by feeding Kumijamero, his pet polar bear, a nutritious breakfast of seal and krill. Kimujerano was such a well behaved bear, it made Matthew feel so proud.

Seeing that his breakfast was ready, he brought the food over to his table, washed the dishes, and then finally sat down to eat. He always needed a full meal before he could begin the next stage of his plan.

Matthew ate alongside his beloved Kumumero and gazed out of the window and into the nice day that was starting to unfold. There was a great blue sky that reflected off of the thin layer of snow that coated the ground, an unusual sight for this time of year, and he stayed there staring until after he had finished his breakfast, thinking about how great the day will be.

He was suddenly caught out of his revere by a soft "who are you" coming from his side.

"I'm Canada of course, your owner, the one who feeds you."

"Oh yeah…" the bear got bored of the conversation and fell asleep on the window sill.

Canada grabbed his cell phone that he left charging overnight on his living room outlet and hastily began to turn it on. Noticing a message from Gilbert, he ignored it and decided to complete his morning ritual first.

Shuffling through his contacts list for about two seconds, Matthew quickly found the "a" section and then pressed down on the first contact on the list. He then clicked the dialer button and then waited until he started hearing ringing…

Ring…

And ring…

And ring…

And nobody picked up.

He quickly pressed the "end" button once the obnoxious voice message machine started talking and then tried again…

Ring...

"Hello?" a tired voice sounded from the other side.

"Hey, it's Matthew. It's morning, wake up."

"…Canada? Chto? Why are you calling… we don't have a meeting today?"

And that's that. The next chapter I am partially done with, but I thought that this would be a good stopping place. Let's see what Canada has to say.

I am going to be truthful here, I really want a scene with Alfred taking a shower, and I kinda want something a little smutty later on, so the rating is probably opt to change at this point. And for those of you who were wondering, this is going to become a Russia x America pairing so I'm giving you a heads up that there is going to be some romantic interest later on.

Also, I've been really wanting to start a review goal for my chapters. Perhaps for this one I will set it for a 5? Let's see what happens.

And lastly, if you remove the "f" from the word scarf then it spells "scar," a mistake that I almost made while writing this chapter.