((A/N: I wrote this as a Christmas present for my America! Did a bit of research on the various customs of France and England for it. It's a little AU, but... there you have it! Enjoy!)
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. I only wish that I did. :'-(
Christmas-Time Memories
Alfred's favorite thing about growing up in a house where both parents were from a different country was that he got to have all sorts of traditions that his friends didn't have. While Alfred enjoyed all of the English traditions that Daddy brought to Christmas, his twin, Matthew, was more partial to the French ones that Papa gave them. Either way, their Christmas was a unique experience, even to the French and the English, simply because of the way that Daddy and Papa interacted with each other.
Everything started the night before Christmas. Daddy and Papa would get into a massive argument over what should be placed by the fireplace - stockings or shoes. Usually, Matthew sat over on the couch, playing with his stuffed bear, while Alfred watched their parents yell back and forth, like it was a tennis match.
Eventually, they would agree to put both out, only to find that Matthew and Alfred had already figured out how the argument would end, and had placed both their shoes and their stockings by the fire. It always seemed to amaze them - well, Daddy, at least; Papa just found it very amusing - even though it happened every single year once the twins were old enough to put their own decorations up.
In the morning, Alfred was always the first one awake. And within instants, he pounced upon his brother and dragged the groggy, grumbling child after him to their parents' room. By the time they reached the bed, Matthew would be wide awake and just as excited as his brother. They both would pounce upon one parent, then the other, and then back again, just to make sure that they were both well and truly awake.
Daddy usually grumbled, saying that it was pointless to wake up this early and that presents shouldn't be opened until the afternoon. But the puppy eyes of his sons (and his husband, oddly enough) always won him over, and he was stumble out of bed, make a hot cup of tea, and then sit to watch the ripping open of presents.
And Papa would always coo at them to go find all the candies left on the tree for them, which they did gladly after opening everything and dumping out their stockings and their shoes. Squeals of delight rang through the house as the two little boys played with their new toys as another argument broke out in the kitchen over who was going to make Christmas dinner this year.
Always, it turned out the same - they both made Christmas dinner.
Mostly because Daddy wanted to have it in the middle of the day, and Papa wanted to have a massive meal later on, when it was dark out. So they would compromise by having two meals. The first of English food, the second of French.
Every year, Alfred and Matthew wound up falling asleep on the couch between the meals, which allowed Daddy and Papa their alone time to exchange their own Christmas gifts (which Alfred had once heard Daddy yelling about, saying that he wasn't going to wait until New Year's day to get his present from Francis because he was horny right now, God damn it, and he wanted to have sex already).
And when all was said and done, they would all finally go to bed that night, full to bursting from so much food (and candy for the children) and completely content with the world. That was, until Boxing Day came around and Alfred and Matthew were busy smashing boxes to collect the money that Daddy had left inside for them.
Alfred still remembered each of those Christmases vividly. Even now, when he had grown too old to live with his parents anymore. He and Matthew were out on their own now, but they still went to visit Arthur and Francis (as they called Daddy and Papa nowadays) every Christmas.
And during that brief time that they spent together, Alfred felt like a child again, in the most wonderful way possible. Especially when he and Matthew curled up on the couch together to nap between meals and he would hear the bed from Arthur and Francis' room creaking with "adult time".