Where Thou Art, That Is Home (Hetalia Fanfic)

Chapter 35~!

Sorry, guys, but there's a little mention of pretend FrUk in this chapter. It's not serious, you'll laugh at it too. I'm positive you will. Happy reading!

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Ten o' clock the next morning~

"Right on time," England said happily when he opened the front door for me. I'd rung the doorbell and stood on the steps for only a little while before hearing footsteps approaching.

I smiled at him and stepped inside, shrugging off my coat. "What's Evan doing?"

"He's at school, seeing as how it's a Monday," England replied with a funny look directed at me.

"Oh... I wasn't really sure what day it was," I admitted with a cheeky grin. "Okay, that makes sense. So! We have some things to discuss, right?"

"Indeed we do," my uncle answered as he led me back to the living room. I could smell delicious food cooking in the kitchen and floated over to stand in the doorway and watch Francis cook. I couldn't name what he was making off the top of my head, but it sure smelled like heaven.

"Bonjour~" I sang in greeting, and Francis glanced over his shoulder at me.

"Bonjour, Alice. 'ungry?" he inquired.

"Of course!" I replied matter-of-factly. "It's your cooking, and I'm always hungry for that."

He looked very pleased by that statement and eventually gave me a slightly larger portion of the delicious victuals. Then we retired to the living room to eat on our laps and idly chat about meaningless things we'd experienced recently. It wasn't until I finished my story about nearly trashing my hotel room just by stubbing my toe on the edge of the bed and then ripping the curtains on my way down to the ground that the three of us got down to the serious things.

 "So... A secretary, right?" I began, and England nodded while setting down his cup of water.

"Yes, you will pretend to take notes while listening to what the other countries are talking about. Maybe we can get there a bit early so you can see how they've physically changed as well." He adopted a thinking face while France sat back and sighed.

"Zhe ozher countries make my 'ead 'urt more zhan usual," he complained. "I really don't want to go."

"You know you don't have much of a choice," England chided him. "Not like we used to, anyway."

I chuckled, thinking of all the meetings America had skipped because he'd overslept or wasn't prepared for them. Back then, he would have mainly gotten a slap on the wrist or a scolding from Germany. Now... I wonder what the penalty was.

"How're we going to disguise me so I'm not recognized?" I asked curiously, steering the topic back to other things.

"It's been zhirty years, for starters," France pointed out. "No one will suspect to see you zhere."

"I was thinking a blond wig would help," England added, examining my face professionally. "And makeup would add to the disguise well, I would say."

I deadpanned. "Aw, man... The things I do for you guys, seriously."

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"Are you finished in there?" England called through the door of the bathroom, where I was just finishing the final touches to my eyeliner.

"Yeah!" I called back in a higher-pitched voice, throwing in a dash of a London accent. Opening the door, I giggled at their shocked faces. "What, you've never heard me talk before? I'm Ms. Andrews, the plucky young girl who helps out Mr. Kirkland."