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

XXVIII: Chardonnay

Shelby: So... We have evil twins.

Hope: Yeah, I guess all the countries have them.

Dreamz: And so all mortals do too? Or do we just have really shitty luck?

Shelby: Probs just shitty luck.

As Shelby was texting Dreamz and Hope, when a knock sounded at the door. She groaned obnoxiously, and instead of getting up, she simply just rolled off the couch and crawled towards the door. She stood and unlocked the door, opening it to reveal a certain blonde country that shouldn't really know that she even exists.

"Ahh, we meet again, Michigan." France offered a charismatic smile. "Why is it that you and I always seem to cross paths when I visit America?"

"Probably because I'm almost always here." Shelby muttered awkwardly, "Well, Alfred is here, but he's still sleeping. I can wake him up if you want."

"Ahh, nonsense, let him sleep. I do not mind waiting." France exclaimed, before pausing, his lip twitching in a slight frown. "Um, that is, of course, if you do not mind."

"Uh, come on in, I guess." Shelby stated, stepping aside to let the country in.

"Merci." He said as he stepped in, walking into the living room and taking a seat on the couch. "So, you're here often, I presume?"

"Oh, yeah. Pretty much everyday. Alfred and I are almost never apart." She almost laughed. "You'd think we would get sick of one another, but-"

"Non, it is romantic. And you are not official, correct?" France continued.

"Yes, that it correct." Shelby stated awkwardly.

After that, the room fell silent. Shelby stared up at the ceiling, praying to God that Alfred didn't sleep in until noon like he usually did, while France stared at Shelby, twirling his finger absentmindedly through his hair.

"Can I help you?" She asked as kindly as she could manage, not taking her eyes away from the ceiling.

"I just feel as though we should acknowledge the elephant in the room, Miss Michigan." Francis stated. "I know when we first met, we did not quite get along. And I know that the last time we encountered each other, we accidentally kissed. But I really think that we should start over, a clean slate, yes?"

Shelby broke her gaze from the ceiling, glancing at him in surprise. "Um... Really?"

"Of course!" France exclaimed. He got up, shuffling over to Shelby's couch and sitting down next her. "After all, you were once a part of Canada, which makes you like my own sister."

"I'm not sure that's how that works." The brunette whispered.

"Here, let us start from the beginning." He took Shelby's hand, kissing her knuckles like he had when they first met. "I am Francis Bonnefoy, or France. You are?"

Shelby rolled her eyes, although a small smile played on her lips. "I'm Shelby Ferrell, or Michigan."

"See? Now everything is like water under a bridge! We should celebrate with some wine or champagne-"

"I'm only 17." Shelby cut in.

"Ahh, yes, you are physically 17, but you're probably older than America, no? I think you are allowed to have a drink." France laughed. Shelby felt her heart being to race. What was she supposed to say? 'Hey France, sorry, I really am only 17 because I'm a mortal.'

Yeah, that would not go over well.

"Here, I should have a bottle or two of wine in my car." The country stated, getting up and heading towards the door.