Blue HairDye is NOT the Answer

A great sigh escaped the lips of the representation of Canada (aka Matthew Williams). Or… as large a sigh that his meager voice would allow. The meeting of the Nations had just been let out and he'd been ignored… Again. "I'm so sick of this Kumataro!" the blonde Canadian whined, messing up the name of his forgetful companion.
"Who?" said Kumajiro, blinking blearily at the Canadian youth.
"Arg! IT'S CANADA!!!" the nation fumed as they entered the lobby. "Hey, Birdy!" A loud voice called, making the blonde jump.
"Oh! Prussia! Hello!" Said albino smirked and shook his head. "Come on, Birdy!" the albino called, ruffling the youth's hair. "We're outta the meeting! Call me Gil. Or Gilbert, or something. Or… I guess The Awesome Me works too…"
Matthew gave the Prussian a deadpanned look to which the albino chuckled in response. The smaller blonde smiled as well.
The pair stood, talking for a while as nations left for their hotels, almost all regarding Gilbert (not Matthew) in one way or another. Matthew watched as Gilbert took in the attention and waved at the others.
"How do you do it?" Matthew whispered, not intending for the Prussian to hear. The ex-nation turned and looked at the blonde questioningly. "Do what?" The Canadian shifted uneasily. "You know, eh… B-be noticed! By everyone! " He blushed while speaking, his words sounded so odd!
"Kesesese! Birdy, its simple!" He clapped a hand on the smaller's shoulder. "You gotta make a name for yourself! Be outrageous! Like the awesome me!" He laughed again.
Matthew blushed as the hand remained around his shoulders, but Prussia's answer had sparked an idea in him. As the albino babbled, the young blonde began forming an idea.
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The next day was a Friday, always a favorite day with the nations.  Casual Friday was their agreement not to fight for at least one day, and while usually, nothing political was actually discussed, the nations were at least not bickering… as much. Francis always was in designer clothes, mocking the distressed Englishman to his left. Said Englishman didn't usually stand out in his wardrobe choices, preferring his sweater vests to tight tee's. But occasionally he whipped out a t-shirt or hoodie from his punk days, and pleasing France a bit more. Alfred, or America, usually switched his suit and jacket for a t-shirt, jeans and jacket. No matter what, jacket always remained. The Italies were stylish as usual and even Germany wearing a t-shirt or some sharp looking blazer. Prussia himself was always decked out in dark jeans and some "rock music" shirt or something German (Or "more epic version of Prussia", he would call it). Today, he was bouncing in his seat, unable to sit still.
"What is it with you today, East?" A confused Germany asked his brother.
"Canada isn't here yet!" The Prussian sighed. "He's usually on time, but we 'started', " he air-quoted, "ten minutes ago!"
The German merely shook his head. "Your friend…. Um… Canada! Yes, Canada, is probably just minorly detained." He stated and turned to N. Italy, who was crying about pasta sauce on his Armani something.
Prussia puffed his cheeks indignantly, and returned to taping the table whilst staring at the door.
A moment later, said door opened and the room went dead silent.
"S-sorry I'm late, everyone!" said a timid voice, once belonging to a blonde Canadian… but it now belonged to an electric blue haired Canadian! Not only that, but Matthew had changed his outfit. Usually decked in jeans and red hoodie, this new Canada came into the room with tight, white washed skinny jeans that clung to his legs, with red Converse. His torso was adorned with a "Billy Talent" t-shirt and a leather jacket, and from his neck hung a thin chain with a bird on it.
All at one, the nations stormed the blo- …blue haired boy. "Wow, Mattie! Didn't know ya had it in ya!" Alfred beamed at  his brother. "Gee . Thanks, Al." Matt deadpanned. Arthur and Francis were next.
"Matthieu! How could you! To the hair that you inherited from MOI!!!" France sobbed.
"Oh stuff it, you bloody wanker." England replied, smacking the other on his head before turning to Canada. "It's not permanent… is it?" He ventured, worry creasing in his brow.
"No, it's not. Why? Is it bad?" The Canadian asked. And the room was in an uproar.
"It looks good, Matthew-san."
"It's so good, I bet it originated in me! Da ze!"
"N't bad, M'tt." "It's like, totally cool. Liet, I should, like, dye mine pink!"
"It would look better red, aru."
All the nations put in their two cents, before finally, a break was called and they dispersed to talk of others and new things to try themselves.
The Canadian sighed. "Well, that was certainly new…" he thought to himself, extracting his music player and shoving the ear buds in. As the music played, he set the player on the table in front of him, eyes closing and relaxing. He felt movement next to him, but disregarded it. Then the song changed in the middle of a guitar solo. "Hey!" Matt shouted, or… said as loud as he could with his voice.
"This is a better song," Prussia deadpanned. He looked up to Canada with his red eyes and Canada squirmed under the scrutiny.  Then, abruptly, the albino nation leaned back with a self-satisfying smirk.
"Yep! I was right! Kesesese~"
The Canadian cocked a –still blonde- eyebrow. "Right about what?"
Prussia leaned over and pulled the once-blonde into his lap (the younger yelping in surprise). He gave his cocky grin and gave a chaste kiss to the blonde.
"No matter how you think you need to change yourself, whatever people say or some other shit…" His eyes softened.
"You're still the same, Matt." He gave a feral grin.
"And you're mine."
Matthew could only squeak as he was pushed flat on the bench they were sitting on.
Needless to say, they both missed the end of break and the others had no idea what had befallen the two odd haired countries for the next several hours.