Hello all! So, I think this is my first real story! All you need to know is that the N.H.L. Lockout means no Hockey. That pisses me off. And Little Mattie.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, all rights go to the rightful owners. All I own is a swank new bedroom.
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"G-get away from me." The little Canadian tried to sink in his char, farther away from the piercing looks of all the other nations.
"Come on, Bro! You haven't been feeling well for a couple weeks now, and you look ready to die now!" Why, America, Why must you do this to me? He pondered, and glanced over at Russia him being the only one who knows, and the only one who was able to understand.
Germany reached over the table and gently put his hand on the other nations head, taking care to miss his curl. ( Living with Italy has its befits-you know things.) "Yes, *Kleiner Vogel, all we want to do is help." Germany couldn't help but to use the nick-name, a habit his brother got him into.
Canada did NOT to do this right now, or ever, really. He has been feeling like a pile of… of old coffee grinds for months now, ever since his boss gave him the news. This was like cancer for the nation, there was nothing he could do to ease the pain, the headaches, the nausea, the dizziness, being mad ALL the time, and wanting to start a fight with everyone he passed, or hit them with a long object.
He tried to calm himself down, before he exploded all over the people that he secretly hated. "I-it's ok, really, g-guys. I'm fine. Now, p-please let me l-leave…" With America on your left, Hungry on your right, and Sweden standing tall and proud behind you, you don't have many options besides sit down and talk.
This was a very private and personal matter. And to be honest, a little embarrassing. To let the others know that something so… small, can affect him so much, that he knows he will be sick for a couple of years.
The other Countries have no idea of how bad the riots are. Whole streets are demolished by the puny little hands of furious humans. Cars set on fire, store windows smashed (then robed), graffiti on every last inch of wall. And the hate crimes. People have been killed for supporting the other team. KILLED. His boss won't even let him enter his home right now, for fear he would killed. The only reason Ivan knows is because I'm staying with him Intel this whole thing blows over.
Canada choked down a whimper, as pain shot threw his left lung, letting him know a new riot has started in Toronto.
"Oh, my **belle tourterelle triste," France sat on the table and leaned over to look Canada right in the eyes. "We all know you are in pain, so let us help you! Tell us what we can do, to help you. I know I, would do ANYTHING… to 'help' you~." France was leaning far too close to his sons face. He had to try, right?
"Out of the way, Frog!" England pulled the French man off the table, effetely cock-blocking him.
England tried to calm the former colony down. He knows how he gets when he has a hissy-fit. "Listen," He turned the char he was in to face him, knelt down to the balls of his feet, and tock the Canadian's hands in his own, rubbing calming circles with his thumbs. " I sent Prussia to that coffee place you have all over to get you your favourite, and he should be back at any moment, ok?" The Brit still had no idea what was going on, but he wanted to help.
"T-thank you, Papa." Canada could feel the rage threaten to spill over, and he didn't think even the great god Tim Horton could fix this. If Prussia didn't get his coffee order right (Medium Double-Double), he didn't know what he would do…
The narcissi barged in, but there was a problem. He was holding a White Cup." Hey, Birdie! I got your coffee! Large Pumpkin Spice Latte, right? GOOD! Because I drank, like, half of it…" he trailed off, looking inside the cup. All the nations looked at him with annoyance. All excluding England, and Mother Russia.
They all turned to look at Canada, only to freeze in shock, and pure, unfiltered fear. No one dared to speak, no one could move there mouths to do so.
Little Mattie had his head bowed, bangs covering his eyes. He was trembling, and holding his bear so tight that Kumajirou started to cry out. There was a black wave in the air around him, as if it was food colouring in water.
He slowly got up, and every one scrambled to get out of the way. When the Canadian started to walk forward, it looked as if he didn't belong. Like he shouldn't be walking, but gliding. On ice.
Prussia felt like he had looked at the Basilisk, staring wide eyed in fear at the small man not two inches from him now. His arms were folded across his chest, fire-hot glare aimed at him.
And then, out of nowhere, a right hook to the jaw.
Prussia was knocked to the ground completely stunned at what just happened. Canada leaped down to put his legs on either side of the 'dead' German. He grabbed the front of the man's shirt and jerked him forward, making them lock eyes, and whispered two words:
"N.H.L. Lockout." Then all hell broke loose.
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*Kleiner Vogel= Little Bird
**belle tourterelle triste= beautiful mourning dove
A/N: Well, That's it. My first finished real story! I'll probley do a part 2, about the after math, and such.
All the things about the Riots? Ya, all of those things have happened in the past 2 years. Don't come to Canada in Hockey season.
P.S. Happy Birthday, Naruto!