I Turned America Into A Teenage Girl

Okay. Let me start off by saying I AM SO SORRY FOR MAKING YOU ALL WAIT THIS LONG. D: I'm sure you have all been very patient for this update, and thanks so much for waiting. ^^

I'm now on summer vacation, and guess what? This Saturday I have a job watching the farm I ride at all day long. And there's no internet up there, so web-surfing won't distract me from my writing, and I'll probably finish yet another chapter of this fic! :D Maybe even two chapters, but let's not get our hopes up. xD

Quick reminder to those who have read all my other fics, Cat and Mouse, and With My LIfe will NOT be updating until THIS fic here is finished (which will hopefully be soon, guys!), so bear with me, please.

I'm boring y'all, aren't I? Thought so. Enjoy this long awaited chapter of I Turned America Into A Teenage Girl! :D

Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN HETALIA OR ANY OF THE CHARACTERS!

If one word could be used to describe America and England's "first date", it would definitely be "awkward". Actually, it was a difficult date to define with one word. But nevertheless, it ended on a bad note...or a horrible one.

You could practically see the waves of tension floating around in the car.

"Seriously, Iggy," America muttered after a long and awkward silence. He was sitting in the passenger seat, arms folded and not looking at all happy, like he usually was. "What is wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with me?" England scoffed. "You mean what's wrong with bloody American food service?"

"Dude, you totally embarrassed me back there! I thought that was my job to be the childish one!"

"I was not acting childishly, and I'm still not! How dare you accuse me of such a thing!"

America snorted and rolled his eyes. "Whatever, dude," he mumbled, shaking his head. He crossed his arms and shrunk down into the seat a little. "You're acting like a total dick and I'm not talking to you if you're gonna keep acting like this."

"Like you could actually keep silent that long," England retorted, smirking.

Surprisingly, America didn't say anything back in response. He actually kept silent and stared out the window as they drove on. The silence was beginning to kill the Brit until America finally had to open his mouth. However, he didn't particularly like what he heard...

"Pull over, England." The American was using a very serious tone, one that was very rarely used. "Pull over now. I can walk the rest of the way back home."

England blinked and tried to process this. "Are you daft? It's an hour walk from here!"

"Like I care. Walking for an hour is so much less painful than driving in this car with you."

He opened his mouth to say something back, but decided not to. Frowning, England did what America asked, and let the boy-turned-female off on the side of the road. There wasn't another word spoken as America exited the car and England drove off once the passenger door had slammed shut.

And thus, America began his long, silent walk home.

By the time America had finally reached his own house, dark had fallen and it was past dinner time. His stomach had been growling the past half hour and his feet were killing him. Honestly, how did girls do it? Walking around in seriously uncomfortable heels all day was insane.

"Note to self," he grumbled to himself as he winced with each and every step he took. "Never wear heels again. Ever." He flinched and wrapped his arms around his stomach as it gave another loud roar of hunger. "Damn, I wish I had at least taken a bite of something back at the diner. I'm so hungry, I can almost smell pancakes coming from my house-Wait a second..."

His heart nearly stopped when America finally approached his house and the lights inside were on. That was odd...cause he had been at England's place the past few days until today. He couldn't have possibly forgotten to turn off his own lights, could he..?

Oh god. Someone was inside his house.

Forgetting his bleeding feet and crying stomach, the American sprinted into his house, bursting through the door-which had been unlocked somehow-and stopped in the entrance. He glanced around, sniffing the air. Why would anyone come into his house and just...cook? That was so weird!

"Who the hell is here?" he demanded, narrowing his eyes. He reached for the coat rack hanging on the wall by the front door and picked up the umbrella that he always left there, holding it like a baseball bat. "I know someone's in here. Show yourself!"

"A-Al?" came a quiet whisper from the kitchen. America blinked and lowered his "weapon", realizing who it was. Only one person he knew called him by his human name. "That you, eh?"

America let out a relieved sigh and put back his umbrella before going into the kitchen to see Canada, making pancakes. Thank god, cause he was seriously starving. "Mattie," he greeted, going over to hug him. "What are you doing here?"

"France called me and told me about your, uh..." Canada eyed his brother, gesturing to him with his free hand. "Situation. So I came over to see how you were doing."

"Oh, I'm fantastic," America snorted, taking a seat at the table and immediately pulling off the ankle-breaking boots and tossing them aside. "I totally love being a girl. It's so awesome."

The Canadian rolled his eyes, taking the pan off the stove and slipping the freshly made pancakes onto a plate before setting it in front of America. He sat down across from his twin and watched as he dug in. "I can tell, eh..." he muttered, catching onto his brother's heavy sarcasm. "I have to admit that you look pretty good though-" He flinched and bowed his head, receiving a nasty and deadly glare from the American. "Sorry."

"Don't ever say that again," America scowled, going back to his pancakes.

"I won't, I promise." Canada sighed. Just as he thought, America wasn't pleased with his new "look". He couldn't really blame him, though. He would've felt the exact same about the situation if it had been him instead of America. It was time for a different topic. "So, France also told me you and England finally went on a date..."

Oh man, did he make another mistake? As soon as the words were out, America dropped his silverware on the table and stared at the last half-eaten pancake on his plate. His face was...angry? Upset? Disappointed? Canada couldn't tell. But it wasn't happy or thrilled. Oh god, what happened?

"Don't mention that either, please," America said, almost whispering. "I'd really rather not talk about it."

His brother hesitated before nodding in understanding. "All right, sure," he replied. "A-are you done eating?" When America nodded, he stood up and took the plate off the table, dumped the last bit of pancake, and left the dish and silverware in the sink. That stuff could be taken care of later. "So what do we do no-what the..?"

Canada didn't know what to do. One second, he was putting the stuff in the sink...and the next, America had come up behind him and wrapped him in a giant hug. And was he...crying? Because Canada definitely felt something wet dripping onto the back of his tee-shirt.

"Uhh, Alfred? Are...are you okay..?"

"I'm fine," America sniffled.

"B-but...you're crying..."

"Sh-shut the fuck up, Mattie! I am not! God, I hate these stupid hormones, they make me feel like such a pansy!"

After America had calmed down and gotten his emotions back in check, the two blondes decided to sit together on the couch and watch some TV. Good old brotherly bonding time.

"Would you feel better if I stayed here with you for a few days?" Canada asked him during a commercial of Wipeout. It was one of their favorite shows that they enjoyed watching. "Just to keep you company and help you out through this, eh?"

America nodded. "Yeah, that'd be awesome," he replied. "I'd love that. Just for a little while, anyway."

"I thought you would. How about some ice cream, eh? I brought some with me."

"Yes, please?"

Canada gave a little smile and nodded, getting up off the couch and going into the kitchen. As he was scooping some chocolate fudge ice cream into a bowl, another question came to mind. He put the container of ice cream away and brought the bowl and a spoon out to his brother. "Hey, Al?"

"Yes, Mattie? Thanks," he said, taking the bowl from him and putting a large spoonful of ice cream into his mouth.

"I just thought of something..."

"What is it?"

Canada sighed. "Well, what are you gonna do about the meeting coming up next week?"

There was a long pause, and Canada really had to try his hardest not to laugh at America. His twin had pretty frozen in place, spoon still in his mouth and blue eyes wide. It was a pretty funny picture.

"Well...shit..."

Okay, that's all I've got for today. ^^ And my writer's block is finally going away! I hope! :D I'm hoping to get more written on this this weekend, maybe even finished. :3 Thanks again for being so patient with me~! x3

Please read and review! Reviewers get free pasta~! :3