The Tinkering Trio (an APH fanfic)

Day 1

Poland woke up to the sound of his alarm screaming into his ear. He rolled over, and tapped his phone until his alarm turned off. Poland got up and got ready for the day.

Poland left the apartment wearing a pink sweatshirt with the brand name of some polish clothing store and grey jeans. The blonde made his way up to America's room a few doors down. Poland knocked on the door and he heard a distant, "Hold on!"

About 30 seconds later the door opened up to reveal America. He let Poland inside.

"Have you checked your emails today? England postponed the meeting because I guess a few countries are running late. Losers, that's what they get for using Delta," America snickered. Poland chuckled,

"I haven't. What's so bad about Delta?"

"Oh buddy," America warned, about to go on a rant that belongs on YouTube, "The one time I use Delta airlines, the one time!" America was standing now, "So first they lose my suitcase. The people had put it on the wrong plane and the plane left with my suitcase. Never saw the thing again. It had my favorite tie in it! So then I'm heading to Chicago with no clothing and a briefcase," he huffed, "I was salty and I'm still salty. I tried complaining it to president Obama but he never flew Delta airlines," America paused his thought, "Or maybe just didn't care, now that I think about it..." America made an awkward 'heh' noise and sat down crossing his arms, "Not to mention my flight was also delayed by 5 hours because of some crazy thunderstorm," America finished.

"Wow...I'm sorry?" Poland said not really knowing what to do with this information.

"Nah, its fine," America leaped from the couch, "Well, lets go fetch Italy and go get Starbucks. Washington is Starbucks' hometown anyway, might as well!"

"Right, but get a sweater or something. Jesus, its not really warm and sunny out," Poland said, gesturing to the dark and rainy sky out the window.

"Okay, mom," America said and searched through and nearby suitcase for a sweater. America pulled out a hoodie that had Alexander Hamilton holding a beatbox.

"America..." Poland exasperated.

"What?" America asked, slipping on the hoodie.

"...Nevermind."

America shrugged, "Okay."

They left the room and headed down to Italy's. Once they made it, America knocked on the door, "Yo, Italy! Are you sleeping? Wake up!"

Italy opened the door with an expression that said he was so done with America's shit.

"You know just as well as I do that I have insomnia. I was up since, I don't know...five?"

Poland sighed even louder than the last time. Being the "Mom Friend," (as America had described it), He flicked Italy's forehead, "Well, did you take the pills?"

"No, I left it at home," Italy shifted, "I took NyQuil."

"NyQuil doesn't do shit and you know that."

Italy shrugged, "Well are you coming inside or are you going to stand outside and scold me like a bad child?"

Italy let Poland and America inside. Italy started to pack a small backpack, full of small things like his wallet and a his phone and such.

"Right, so, game plan?" America asked and sat on the bed.

"Not really, I just thought that we would ask around, see if someone--- that's not a country obviously---took it. Maybe some odd burglar or something. I don't exactly know how they would get in but maybe the security cameras can capture the thief," Poland said and shrugged.