Eight Mortal Secrets [Hetalia Drabbles] (Completed, to be Edited)

V. How They Met: Shelbmerica

"What do you mean, you aren't gonna make it 'til tomorrow?" Alfred demanded into his cell.

"I'm sorry! I-I could've sworn your message said the 30th, not the 29th!" Canada gushed apologetically into the phone.

"Dude, no!" America exclaimed, clicking out of the call screen, before pressing on his messages. "I totally told you the..." As he reread the original message, he let out a short, entertained chuckle. "Never mind bro, I did say the 30th."

"You always do this..." Canada's voice trembled. Alfred snorted- he could perfectly picture his brother on the verge of tears at the other end of the line. He could be so sensitive sometimes.

"Well, I guess I'll just have find a hotel here or something. But this'll be pretty boring, Matt- I mean, what the hell is even in MetroDetroit?" Alfred explained, plopping down on the grass just off from the sidewalk.

"I'm sure you'll find some way to entertain yourself." Canada reassured him in a soft voice. "I gotta go though. I'll be in Windsor by tomorrow. Goodbye."

"Bye, bud." Alfred sighed as the phone call dropped. He shoved the cellphone back in the pocket of his jacket, pursing his lips slightly in frustration. Being bored was the worse thing ever. He had managed to free five days for his and Matt's birthday, and now he was alone with nothing to do in the middle of the Detroit suburbs.

Alfred glanced around curiously, adjusting his glasses slightly. He had no idea where he even was within the suburbs- the cities blended together all too easily for him. He was fairly sure he was in either Inkster, Wayne, Westland, or Garden City, but he figured it wasn't important if he was leaving for Canada tomorrow.

He was sitting on the green grass, which was thick from constant watering, near a walking track, that encircled about five different sized soccer fields, each one filled with kids playing and laughing. A bit away, there was a water park and a space-themed, giant play structure that little kids scurried through, on, and under. Alfred smiled slightly, finding some peace in being among the humans that called America home. He closed his eyes, leaning back and soaking up the warm light of the sun. Rarely did he ever feel as relaxed as this. It was blissful. Peaceful.

But his peace was short-lived.

"LOOK OUT!" A voice pierced the air, but Alfred only had time to open his eyes before something smacked against his back and bounced away. He turned in surprise, blinking a couple times as he saw it was a soccer ball that had struck him.

"I'm so sorry, sir. My sister doesn't know how to keep the ball in bounds." Said a feminine voice, which sounded strange to him- the tones seemed to almost conflict, as if the voice couldn't decide whether it wanted to be high pitched or deep. Alfred looked up from his spot in the grass at the source of the voice. It was a thicker set girl who was dressed in jersey shorts and a grey T-shirt. She had on shin-guards, thin stockings to keep them in place, and bright blue cleats. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, but that did absolutely nothing to tame it. Fly-aways stuck out like a lion's man, framing her face, which was becoming tan from the sun. The rest of her hair sat on her neck and the very top of her back, and it was a mess of dark brown curls and waves. Her eyes stuck out against her tanned skin and dark hair- a pale blue filled with an apologetic and concerned light.

"Awe, it's all good, dude." He smiled, rolling the ball to her. She trapped it under her cleats, ready to take back off to the field. "Although I don't like that it was a soccer ball. So unAmerican." He laughed. Soccer was for Europeans and South Americans, after all.