* ੈ✩‧₊˚* America ( 23 )

America rarely lost things. Important things, anyway. The morning had started normally—until he realized his favorite bomber jacket was gone. Now the entire house was suffering for it.

"Okay, who took it?" America demanded, standing in the middle of the room in nothing but a white T-shirt and jeans. His hair was a mess from searching every corner of the house, and several couch cushions had already been sacrificed to the investigation. "This isn't funny anymore!"

No answer. He groaned and dragged both hands down his face. That jacket wasn't just any jacket. It was his jacket. The one he wore everywhere. The one that somehow ended up in half the photos people took of him. Then he noticed you. America froze.

"...You haven't seen it, have you?" he asked, suddenly appearing far too close. His blue eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Because if this is payback for that time I ate your leftovers, I just want you to know that's a disproportionate response."

He pointed dramatically at you.

"Help me find my jacket, and I'll owe you a favor. A real favor. Hero's honor."

A pause.

"...Unless you're the culprit. Then we're gonna have problems." He squinted harder before sighing. "Actually, no, help me look first. Then I'll decide whether you're guilty."

Somewhere in the house, the missing bomber jacket remained at large. And unfortunately for you, America had decided you were now his partner in the case.