The next morning, Mexico was sitting down and eating breakfast. He couldn't remember much from the night before, and hoped that meant he held his tongue regarding his crush on America. However, when America walked in the room silently, grabbing a coffee and sitting across from Mexico, he felt intense tension in the air.
"G-good morning," Mexico said softly. America mustered a smile, but Mexico could tell America was conflicted on something.
"Good morning... you feelin' ok? You seem to have blacked out last night...," America said. Mexico cleared his throat casually, hoping this meant he didn't confess anything.
"Yeah... I'm alright...," Mexico said. America nodded, obviously wanting to say more. "Um... so... what happened last night?" Mexico asked. America sighed.
"You... um... you told me you were in love with me... then you just... kinda spaced out. I called Greenland to pick us up, and you passed out in the car...," America said. Mexico felt the blood rush to his face, but he tried to be casual.
"W-well... hah... um...," Mexico stuttered. Mexico was desperately looking around the room for anything to change the topic of conversation, but suddenly he felt America's hand in his.
"Mex... the guy you had a crush on... is it me...?" America asked cautiously. Mexico gazed into his eyes, his answer caught in his throat. America felt bad that Mexico seemed devastated, so he pulled him closer. Mexico decided if he couldn't answer in words, he could answer some other way...
Mexico and America slowly drew closer into a kiss.
"Hey guys what are ya- OH," Canada exclaimed, catching the couple's attention.
"UM," Mexico exclaimed.
"Me and Mex have now achieved gay couple status," America said. "I mean... if you're ok with it... I would love being your boyfriend," America said. Mexico once again felt the words catch in his throat, but he nodded profusely.
"Oh cool, so do you guys get like a t-shirt or something?" Canada asked.
"No, but we do get granted the possibility of being called f*gs in the street, so that's.... bad," America said.
"We already were... damn, it's like we were already dating... except with the 'no homos'," Mexico said.
"They were a bit redundant, weren't they?" America said.
"Soooo..... now what?" Canada asked.
"We work on your musical! We don't have to dwell on this relationship, let's get to work!" America exclaimed. And so, the trio went to Hollywood.
"A musical?!" Hollywood exclaimed.
"Ok, hear us out-," Canada started.
"No it's a wonderful idea!! Time to call up my old pal!" Hollywood exclaimed, taking out his phone. "Broadway, I need you here faster than you can say-,"
"Lights, camera, action?!" Broadway exclaimed, bursting into the room.
"Perfect! Let's get this show started! Broadway, help these beauties get their story together, and call some musicians!" Hollywood exclaimed.
"Two steps ahead of you!" Broadway exclaimed, getting out his phone.
"..... are you guys telepathic or something?" America asked.
"Oh my dear, all showmen are," Hollywood said.
"I'm like, a grandpa to you, don't call me dear," America said.
"Ok gramps, I'll have LA get you some prune juice, just go back to the studio and put together your Musical," Hollywood said. The trio went to the writing studio with Broadway and started brainstorming.
"So, the main character doesn't have anything to do with the murder, nor is he a detective, but he gets thrown around in all these funny shenanigans with the mystery plot?" Broadway asked.
"Yeah, he'll be kinda like... the anti-hero, and he'll ultimately help the detective uncover the murder, completely on accident," Canada explained.
"Ohhh interesting, I like it," Broadway said. And so, they started the script writing process.
And if you think I'm writing everything that goes into making a musical then whAt?
Do you realize how long and boring this chapter would be?
Anyway, a long time later, it was casting time. To their pleasant surprise, many people wanted to be a part of the production, either in the backstage crew, the lighting, the makeup, the set design... theater nerd words...
"Ok, we need to host auditions for the detective-,"
"Me," Mexico said.
"Really?" Broadway said.
"It's a Chicano detective. I think I'm pretty fit for the role," Mexico said.
"But It's Mexican American," Broadway said.
"I'm dating America, I'll figure it out," Mexico said.
"Ok... Ame! I want you to be the main character," Canada said.
"HECK YEAH!" America exclaimed.
"Now, as your casting director I'll go figure out the rest and then come back to you with the results," Broadway said.
"Thanks BW!" Canada exclaimed. Broadway nodded and walked away.
"Canada, isn't cool being a director?" America asked. Canada smiled.
"Yep! It's like being a dictator!" Canada exclaimed.
"Weird takeaway, but I'm glad you're having fun," America said. Suddenly, a reader hopped through a portal with a puppy.
"Good job Takeo! Now let's go to the communism dimension!" Cajun_Yankee exclaimed, teleporting away.
"Y'know, at first those people scared me... now they still scare me, but in an endearing way," America said.
A long time later, it was the show's first ever performance. Backstage was absolute chaos, and everyone was having a breakdown. France was frantically make-uping everyone, Paris was making last second costume changes, and the actors and actresses were getting terrified and excited all at once. Canada thought he'd crack under the pressure, but his mom did his makeup and gave him a beret, and he had Pablo on his shoulder, so he felt powerful.
Soon, it was time.
I think it may be a bit weird if I wrote an entire musical into a book that has nothing to do with that musical
So just trust me when I say it was a banger.
A bop.
Whatever words you kids use.
And when it was all wrapping up, America was in the center stage performing the last musical bit of the show. But during this, a sudden crash sent silence across the room. The stage shook and cracked under the weight of a sandbag falling from above America's head, and right next to him.
"Huh, maybe singing just isn't my calling," America said, not wanting to ruin the show by freaking out. Besides, who would really be concerned over an attempted murder?
The answer; apparently everyone.
The audience was going crazy, and people rushed out from backstage.
"This was an attempt of murder! I just know it!" Mexico exclaimed.
"What are we going to do then? Should we call the police?" Italy asked.
"No! I'm not a detective, but I did play one onstage, so I feel I'm qualified enough to figure this out myself. And, I believe it must have been someone in this very production...," Mexico exclaimed. Everyone wanted to question his credentials, but he had a monocle as a prop so people were very drawn to him and what he said.
That night, everyone went home, the people who worked on the play were planning to return the next day for the investigation.
"Are you sure you can solve this?" America asked. Mexico had a look of determination on his face.
"Without a doubt,"
