Chapter 1 - Do You Hear What I Hear?

Disclaimer: I own neither Hetalia nor A Christmas Carol. Or anything else exciting for that matter.

"Uncle!" pleaded the nephew.

"Nephew!" returned the uncle sternly, "keep Christmas in your own way, and let me keep it in mine."

"Keep it!" repeated Scrooge's nephew. "But you don't keep it."

"Let me leave it alone, then," said Scrooge. "Much good may it do you! Much good it has ever done you!"

- A Christmas Carol

*ヘタ リア*

England opened the door to his hotel room and took off his coat, draping it over a chair near the doorway. He rubbed his hands together, trying to warm up a bit. It was cold outside, and the walk to his room from the lobby hadn't been enough to shake it.
As he did so, a blinking light on the side table next to said chair caught his eyes. Curious, he pressed the flashing button on the base of the phone

"You have six new messages." A mechanical voice intoned, followed by a rather obnoxious "BEEP!"

England sighed heavily. Six messages? On a hotel phone? Three guesses what they were all about - and the first two didn't bloody count. He shut the door as the first started to play.

"Hey, dude, it's me Ameri-"

"-ahem... public phone..."

"-Alfred! And er...Matt's here too! We were just checking in to make sure you know about the Christmas Eve party tonight. It's gonna be totally awesome and since we know you're in town and all, you better come! Later, dude!"

"BEEP!"

"Hey, I know just called like an hour ago, but in case you didn't check your messages... Christmas party! You better not have forgotten, but I know that's not likely since we're all spending Christmas in the totally awesome city of New York. Best place for it! Best place for pretty much everything actually, but you know... Remember: Christmas Eve party. Conference room. 6:00. See ya there!"

England glanced at the clock 6:12. What a shame. He was late already. That should be enough to inform America of his intentions. Should, of course, being the key phrase there. One of the more mature nations would probably have to figure it out first.

"BEEP!"

"Hey, Iggy, dude, it's getting kinda late and we all totally don't want you to miss this! It's not every year all of us are in the same place around Christmas, so you better not be the only one who doesn't make it. There's kinda a lot of food and - OH MY GOSH ITALY, WHAT IS THAT!?

"Panettone!"

"It looks freakin' delicious! Can you...? ...oops. Sorry, I forgot the message was still running. Um... wish Iggy a Merry Christmas, dude!"

"~Ve! Buon Natale!"

"BEEP!"

England sank into the armchair next to the phone. What was he supposed to do? Calling America would probably result in someone's feelings being hurt. Not exactly ideal on Christmas.

"Hey, Iggster... um... yeah. I guess you'll probably hear the other messages, but in case something went wrong... have you forgotten about the Christmas party? And... um... are you coming? I'll try your cell..."

"BEEP!"

England glanced at his cellphone, lying abandoned on a nearby table. He had turned it off after his ex-colony's 12th text. That was around 5:00. He didn't even want to know how many messages there were on it now.

"Hey, um, is this on? Okay, good. Alfred's kinda busy right now, dealing with Tino's reindeer - don't ask - but he asked me to check in with you. Oh, um, it's Matthew, by the way. So, we think your cell must be off or something, because you haven't, um, seen our messages or anything. Are you okay? Anyway... call us, eh?"

"BEEP!"

England felt mildly worse ignoring Canada's message, but he still couldn't bring himself to actually call and explain to everyone else that they annoyed him so much that you couldn't pay him enough to show up to the party. Was there even a good way to do that? Silence still seemed like a better policy.

"Alright, what is this?! There is literally no way you could have missed every single one of our messages. Or texts. And I swear, I'm not misusing 'literally' this time. Literally. Well... unless you're dead. In that case I'm really sorry. Because being dead on Christmas would suck. But guess what - I know you're not dead! So... dude. WHAT IS GOING ON?! You better explain yourself. It's Christmas Eve! I know you're here in New York! You were even at the meeting yesterday! Why aren't you at the conference room?"

"BEEP!"

Sinking still deeper into his chair, England put a hand up to his forehead and shook his head. He knew this was going to happen! He knew it! And for some time, too. He'd known it as soon as he checked the world conference schedule and saw that the nations' next meeting was scheduled for December 23. And in New York City, no less. A wiser nation might have realized other countries had plans for Christmas, traditions and the like, and might like to spend some time alone - but not America. No, of course the younger nation had decided it was the perfect opportunity to hold a massive Christmas Eve party. The conference yesterday had been bothersome enough. Why couldn't everyone just leave him in peace?

His thoughts were interrupted as his phone rang yet again and the answering machine crackled to life.

"Okay, what the heck is going on?! I-"

As America's voice flooded the room again, England finally snapped. So much for silence - at the rate this was going, he was going to spend the evening annoyed by his former colony and the other nations even if he didn't go to the christmas party. He angrily picked up the phone, pressed the green talk button and shouted into the receiver.

"What is wrong with you, you bloody imbecile?!"

"England! You're there! Fantastic!" America's voice grew fainter for a second, "He picked up guys!"

England heard a faint "Finally...", "Really?", and "Aha!" in the background. It appeared the other nations had been waiting as well.

Lovely.

"So England, you're a little late, but you're totally still coming, right? Are you okay? Dude, did you get sick on Christmas Eve? That sucks! I can -"

"-I'm not sick, idiot! Now if you'll just let me explain."

"If you're not sick, why aren't you here? You're missing the party. Hey, Canada, come on, tell England he's totally missing the party."

The elder nation snapped. "I am NOT missing the bloody party!"

"Well you're not here..."

England could just picture the look of confusion on America's face.

"No, you don't understand, git. I am not missing anything, as I never intended to participate."

"Huh?"

"I shall use small words to get through your thick skull... I. AM. NOT. COMING. Got it?!"

"Why not?"

"Because I have better things to do with my time than wasting my Christmas Eve with idiotic former colonies who don't even celebrate it correctly!"

England took a deep breath. Hm. That was... more than a tad blunter than he'd wanted, but in his defense, in was nearly impossible for anyone rationally-minded to engage in a decent-length conversation with America and not have some lapse in sanity.

"What's wrong with they way I celebrate Christmas?" America' said indignantly. Again, England could just picture his face.

"What isn't? Now, if you'll excuse me, I would like to go about observing my Christmas the way I planned. Tea, perhaps a good book, and quiet - alone. As is I've had to put some of my own traditions aside - have your people never heard of a pantomime, for God's sake? Or at least Christmas crackers..."

"Crackers...? What do crackers have to do with - never mind. Um... Merry Christmas to you too England. I... uh... hope you have a good time. And..."

"And what?"

"Er... I'm assuming that you... uh...tomorrow... you won't be, uh... gah, never mind."

"Are you quite finished?"

"Yeah. Um... bye. Again, Merry Christmas."

"It's Happy Christmas, you git."

"Uh...Right. Sorry."

There was a click, leaving England in an awkward silence.

"Well, I suppose that could've gone worse," England said to himself, ignoring the little part of his brain that whispered "It could have gone a lot better, too."

"Anyway, now that all that's over..." England trailed off, looking about the room for the book he had been trying to read earlier, before deciding to go out and get dinner. And conveniently avoid the telephone for a bit.

Aha! There it was, on the side table by the armchair. Next to the phone... He thought, before he pushing it out of his mind rather quickly.

Guiltily, actually, though he wouldn't admit that.

He picked up the weathered-looking novel and ran his finger along the side, feeling the indents of the gold patterns on the faded, reddish-orange cover. A Christmas Carol, by Charles Dickens. He smiled to himself. Not many people possessed one of the original 1843 copies, but he was pretty sure there was only one who remembered stepping into a London bookstore to buy it one snowy afternoon. And enjoying it immensely. How many times had he read it that year? At least once on Christmas Eve alone...

A very different evening, he thought to himself, trying to remember the world conference that had preceded those memories. It was earlier that year, that was for sure; he vaguely remembered something about Natal and... Gambia? And his older brother had been having some trouble with the church - not that he'd really cared, to be honest. Oh, and America blathering on about Westward Expansion. He'd been telling anyone who would listen (which was a much smaller number of nations then, the boy wasn't even a hundred years old - ha!) about the Oregon Territory. Or something like that - he'd been too busy being the British Empire, and not listening.

Blast! Can't I even reminisce without being annoyed by that brat?!

…

Okay, maybe it wasn't so different, even in the 19th century.

Attempting to shake thoughts of everything bothering him from his mind, England cracked open the book gently, smiling at the comforting, musty smell from it's pages. In times of turmoil... alright, "annoyance" was more fitting here than actual "turmoil", he'd admit that... In times of serious annoyance, he found familiarity to be rather comforting. And the book was nothing if not familiar. Soon enough, he was immersed in the story, and his mind was not full of his real life troubles with the other nations, but of the well-accustomed fictional struggles of Ebenezer Scrooge, Tiny Tim, and the rest of the Cratchits.

Of course, he never would have predicted how familiar he'd become with them before the end of the night.

A/N: Yes, I honestly think that England would be one of those people who has traditions like reading the same exact book every year (for hundreds of years, no less... xD). A British book, of course.

I know this chapter's a little short, but I liked it better as a stand-alone chapter and not part of the second one, so it'll just serve as exposition.
I was inspired by the fact the Dickens modeled his novel after real Christmas carols, calling the chapters staves, and that sort of thing. So along with putting quotes from the book in (Huzzah for free domain novels!), I've decided all my chapter titles will be real carols - and I'll put the lyrics that inspired me in the author's notes. (Just a warning though, you might not recognize them - I'm not typically choosing from the first verse!) Here's this chapter's:

"Said the little lamb to the shepherd boy:
'Do you hear what I hear?
Ringing through the sky shepherd boy?
Do you hear what I hear?
A song, a song
High above the tree
With a voice as big as the sea
With a voice as big as the sea'"

Ooh... look at me getting all symbolic. Song? Carol? A Christmas Carol?
…don't shoot me, please. xD
Anyway, reviews would be very much appreciated, since this is my first fic. I'd love to know what you think of it. I hope to have the next chapter up really soon. Thanks everybody!