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

XIV. A Strenuous Visit

Credit to Dreamzreader for the idea
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It wasn't uncommon for Shelby to spend the night at America's house. In fact, his guest bedroom was now referred to as Shelby's room. Some of her clothes stayed at his house. She had books, pencils, and sketch pads reserved there to quench any emergency needs to read or draw. It was basically her second home.

She had had some strange things happen to her while staying at Alfred's. One time, she felt something licking her face and weighing down her chest, only to find out America had an invisible pet unicorn. Another time, she had waken up only to discovered she had been abducted by an alien named Tony. Both of these were greatly disturbing, but more so in a mildly unsettling way. This, however, scared her almost as much as Debbie's little visit.

Everything seemed normal at first. She woke up, went on Wattpad for a few minutes, then slid on a sports bra and hoisted herself out of bed. She left the sanction of her bedroom and peered into Alfred's room. He was missing; most likely on a McDonalds run. She sighed, grabbing one of his hoodies and throwing it on over her pajamas. She liked wear his hoodies, but only when he wasn't home so he couldn't tease her.

She left and went to the living room to binge watch some Alone, when she stopped in her tracks.

There was a man in the living room.

And it wasn't Alfred.

This man was slightly shorter with longer, wavy blonde hair that reminded Shelby of Matthew, only this man's hair was longer and darker. He looked up in surprise and she could see his irises; a beautiful sort of indigo, a medium between America's bright blue eyes and Canada's gentle violet ones. His skin was pale and flawless, with a bit of stubble on his chin, and he wore a lightly colored pair of skinny jeans, white vans, a soft salmon sweater that came up and hugged his neck.

Shelby wished she had enough speed to run to her room and grab her hammer she kept in her bed. "Who are you?" She demanded, taking a step back in panic.

The man stood quickly and approached her briskly, his face instantly donning a charismatic smile. "Bonjour madame. I do not believe I have seen you before." He spoke in a thick French accent, taking Shelby's hand in his and placing a kiss on it. Her stomach flipped, her muscles straining to keep her arm from lashing out as his lips touched her hand. "I am Francis Bonnefoy, otherwise known as République Française." He explained, still holding her hand in his as he looked Shelby up and down.

France. One of Alfred's older brothers. One of the countries that absolutely could not know she existed, was not only in the room, but was examining her and was making physical contact. Shelby tried not to make it blatantly obvious that she might pass out.

She suddenly felt very self-conscious about the fact that she woke up 5 minutes ago. France looked fairly confused, his thin eyebrows furrowing as he looked her over. "Excusez-moi, miss, but... I can't recall ever seeing you before at world meetings. Or... Seeing you through the millennia I have existed." He ventured skeptically.

"Uh, ah, I'm Shelby Ferrell, otherwise known as Michigan- I'm one of America's states- er, both peninsulas of it." She rambled.

"Ahhh, one of America's. Sorry for the suspicious. Lithuania has expressed concern that Poland has been hanging out with a mortal girl, so England and I are on high alert." He explained. "But being an American state explains why you look like a European melting pot." Francis chuckled.

"What?" Shelby asked, shifting in her clothes.

"I can make out Italian, Slavic, English- wasn't Michigan mostly settled by German immigrants?"

"Um, yeah, but-"

"I suppose I expected you to either look more like Germany, or like a Middle Eastern country, given Michigan's high populations of Arabs and such." The nation rambled on.

Shelby was now becoming uncomfortable. She slowly took her hand out of Francis's, careful not to appear too aggressive. She didn't want to anger him. "Well, there are people of all different heritages in my state." She pointed out.

"Ah, yes, it's one of the great aspects of America; there is no such thing as a true American. Except, you know, the native people that were slaught-"

"Okay, I get it." She snapped.

"Oh, you are very feisty." He smiled. "You sounded much like Arthur right there."

Shelby shifted angrily. She didn't want to talk to Francis anymore. She found his presence far too friendly, and far too overbearing; sort of like Italy, but far more seductive. It made her nervous.

"Where is Alfred, anyhow? Surely you know of his whereabouts, since you two appear to be lovers."

Shelby choked on the air she was breathing.

France's eyes widened. "Mes excuses, Shelby. I did not mean to be so blunt. You'll have to forgive me."

"W-we, WE ARE NOT LOV- lo- THAT THING!" She yelled, wishing she could disappear into Alfred's hoodie entirely.

France laughed again, "My, there it is again. You must be very English, Miss Michigan. I think I've heard Arthur say that exact thing; of course, it is a lie." He almost sang.

Shelby's patience with France was waning severely now. "Francis, if you don't cut it out-"

"You do seem to have quite a temper. That must be the Detroit in you, non?"

"What the hell does that even mean?" Shelby challenged.

"You know, Michigan's famous city, Detroit? I believe it is deemed the most dangerous city in America, oui?"

That rubbed Shelby the wrong way. "Have you ever even been to Detroit? It's gorgeous!" She stated, no longer able to hide her anger. "Why does everybody pick on Detroit? Does Chicago not have high crime rates? Or Boston? You're telling me there ain't gang activity in Milwaukee or Philadelphia? Downtown Detroit is beaut-i-ful. It's damn beautiful and no where near as scary as people think."

As Shelby was going off on France, the front door swung open, revealing Alfred with not just a bag of McDonalds but a box of donuts as well.

The room became dead silent as everyone stared in surprise at one another.

Finally, France was the first to speak. "You're girlfriend is insane." He whispered hoarsely, as if Shelby couldn't hear him.

"She's not my girlfriend, dude. Just a state." Alfred explained, secretly hoping that France had not yet realized that Shelby was a mortal.

"Well, she's absolutely nuts." Francis urged, heading towards the door. "I am never going to Michigan; not if there's a chance that I'll run into her." The nation almost hissed. "I'll just speak with you over the phone about the issue I needed to address. Au Revoir, and good day." He stated in a hurry, sending a glare Shelby's way before escaping the house.

Alfred laughed. "Whatcha do to get him so worked up?"

Shelby crossed her arms defiantly. "Just defending my favorite city."

"So, you went all ghetto-fabulous on him?"

"I am not ghetto, Alfred."

"Okay, but you sound like you came off the streets when you get angry."

"Whatever, I'm going back to bed. I never wanna see anymore country again." Shelby huffed, storming off to her room.

"Ouch. That hurt." America fake-pouted, before smiling again. "Hey, are you wearing my hoodie? That's adorable!"

"I CAN'T HERE YOU. AMERICAT, DO YOU HEAR SOMEONE TALKING? NO? ME NEITHER!"