Canada leaned over the fence, his eyes narrowing in concentration. The long legged bay horse gracefully leaped a tall fence and the rider smoothly turned and pointed the horse at another fence, this one wide. "He's good," Canada murmured thoughtfully.
"Put your tongue back in bro." America glared at his brother. "So he can ride. Most of us can."
"Not like that, Al." Canada gestured as the bay rocketed over the fence and then nimbly darted throughout a triple oxer. "And Arthur looks great. I never knew he did this."
"Hmmph." Alfred scowled as England eased the large horse to a canter and leaped another fence.
"I've seen better," France sniffed.
"I haven't," Canada replied and watched as England's horse began a light trot, neck arched and feet high. England circled the large field and then halted as he spotted the other three nations watching. He rode to them with a puzzled frown.
"Why are you here?"
"Nice moves," Canada said. "Gorgeous horse. Thoroughbred?"
"Trakehner. This is Easy." England stroked the horse's long neck. "What are you three doing here?"
"We have a meeting which you missed," France said. "An EU meeting."
"Bloody hell. Sorry." England lightly dismounted. "That doesn't explain Canada and America being here. And how did you find me?" He patted his mount's neck.
"Mattie found you." America glanced over at his brother and his lips tightened. Canada was actually eyeballing England? America looked at the former Empire and bit his lips. Clad in skin tight breeches and a turtleneck as well as tall boots, Arthur did look-enticing. America jerked his eyes up before they wandered too low. France glared at England.
"You smell like a barn, Angleterre. A bit of an improvement…"
"Shut up frog." England began leading the horse off to the barn. Canada followed with a grin, clearly enjoying the view and America growled deep in his throat. He jogged up to his brother.
"What are you doing?" he hissed.
"What?" Canada asked.
"You're looking at Arthur's butt!"
"In those breeches? Damn right I am." Matthew grinned at America's gaping mouth. "Oh, please, look!" He waved a hand. America's brow furrowed and he heard a mutter from France.
"I am not studying England's ass!"
"It is a decent view but not as good as mine," France said.
In the barn, England exchanged the horse's bridle for a halter and removed the saddle. The other three watched him as he cared for the horse, Canada shamelessly leering. "You're behaving worse than France," America snapped as England bent over to clean the horse's front hoof. His ass isn't that great! And I am not watching him!
"What are you babbling about Alfred?" England demanded as he put down the hoof. He began brushing the horse's neck.
"Mattie was ogling your ass."
Canada's face flushed and England gaped for a moment. "Oh," England quietly said. "All right then."
"What?"
France's and America's chorused yells made the horse toss his head and England glare. "Let me put him in his stall," England demanded. He led the horse to a roomy stall and removed his halter. After latching the stall door, he stared at the three. "Are you three hanging around for a reason? I still have to feed Easy as well as clean his tack."
"I can help," Canada offered. "You can take me back later."
"I took a cab here but we can share one back to my house. Perhaps you'd like to spend the night," England offered.
"Non!" France yelped. He inhaled as all three men looked at him. "I mean, we can all lend a hand. Besides, why waste the money on a cab when we have a car right here?"
"He's got a point," America agreed. "What's with all the sissy gear, Iggy?'
England snorted. "It's called English riding for a reason," he said. "And if you think you can ride like I do, you may certainly try. Although I'd pity any animal hauling your carcass around."
"Hey, I can outride you any day! Just because I use a real saddle and not a pancake…"
"Stop it," Canada elbowed his brother. "Where's the tack room, Arthur?"
Arthur led the way to a cozy tack room and Canada began cleaning Arthur's saddle. America trailed after England as the shorter nation poured a measure amount of grain into a bucket. "Can you grab some hay?" England asked. "And why are you pouting?"
"I'm not pouting. And unlike you, yes, I can carry hay." America grabbed a large bale of hay effortlessly and quickly the two fed the horse. "He's tall," America said, running a hand gently down the shining shoulder."
"16.3 hands. " England rubbed the starred forehead. "He's ten years old and truly a spectacular jumper. You should see him cross country."
"He's an eventer?"
England smiled in surprised delight. "You know eventing?" America rolled his eyes.
"My people ride, too, Arthur. I'm not an idiot."
"Well, then, yes, Easy is an event horse. I was merely giving him a light tune up today."
America nodded. The two made their way to the tack room where France shouted at an unperturbed Canada. "What in bloody blazes are you howling about, frog?" England snapped.
"You have no part in this, Angleterre! You, prancing around like some hootchie momma!"
England and Canada stared at him. "What in the world is a hootchie mama?" England asked.
"It is an American word." All gazes turned to America.
"Not everywhere, geez, Francis!" America shifted his feet. "It means, ah, tramp."
"As in slut?" England demanded. "How in the world am I a hootchie mama, Francis?"
"In your skin tight breeches and tight shirt," France said.
"Breeches are not slutty, you jackass. And furthermore, you are the last one to be lecturing anyone on sexual propriety, you two cent whore."
"At least I can get laid!"
"ENOUGH!"
America grabbed England as the older nation edged closer to France. "Relax," he ordered. "Jesus, France, what's the problem? It's not as if Mattie and Arthur here are gonna do anything."
"What?" Canada blurted. France looked at England and then Canada and shrugged.
"Oui, Alfred. You are correct."
"Hold it, are you saying i can't get laid, brother?" Canada stood up.
"Not with England," America said. Both England and Canada glared at him. "Come on! No one can screw England with that stick up his ass and you, you're you! You're all quiet and shy."
"I can still get laid," Canada argued.
"Not by England," America said.
Why not?" England said calmly. His previous enraged look had faded to thoughtful. America whirled. "Come now, there's nothing stopping Matthew and I from pursuing a relationship, sexual or otherwise."
"What?" France's yell nearly shook windows.
"Matthew is charming, kind, strong, and well mannered. He's good tempered, extremely handsome, and would be a fantastic catch for anyone." England studied Canada closely, smiling as a flush arose on the younger nation's face. "I can find many reasons we'd be well suited to each other. He's well educated, brave, tough as nails, and yet extremely modest and incredibly gentle. True he does have some ugly french elements but no one is perfect."
America's jaw had opened and France's lips had thinned to near invisibility. "Add in he's sexy than hell," England continued. "With those gorgeous violet eyes and sweet smile and tight arse…"
Canada grabbed England and kissed him.
England's green eyes widened. Not just any kiss. Canada pushed England against the wall, burying his fingers in England's hair. England clutched Canada's shoulder's tightly as flames seemed to erupt between them and closed his eyes. Oh, gods, the boy could kiss. Unknown to him, a shaky whine erupted from his throat and he opened his mouth, grinding his hips against Canada. As Matthew's tongue gently slid inside, England's cock made him keenly aware A. it had been a damn long time since he'd had any action and B. his breeches were way too snug. He pressed closer, harder, angling for any purchase, the rich scent of leather filling his nostrils along with the smell of Canada's shampoo.
The all too encompassing heat suddenly vanish and England sagged against a saddle. He touched his lips with shaking fingers, gazing blurrily at two furious blue eyed nations and a smug although startled violet eyed one. Breathe, Arthur. "Dinner?" he croaked.
"I'm not hungry," America said. "Not with your cooking."
"I meant Matthew."
"Mathieu has a previous engagement," France said, slinging an arm over Canada's shoulders.
"I do?'
"Come on." America grabbed England's arm. "Let's go."
At the car, there was a small squabble over who was driving (England won as they were going to his house first and it was his country) and who rode up front with him. (America insisted Canada ride in the back with France so he, the hero could navigate and besides, England would kill them all if Canada so much as looked at him as obviously England was some old pervert who couldn't control himself.) "We kissed, Alfred," England snapped. "That hardly means I was going to have Matthew bend me over a saddle and shag me unconscious." He inwardly winced at the startled but now contemplative look in all three mens' eyes. "Never mind."
"When did you get a horse Arthur?" Canada asked, ignoring France's arm snaking across his shoulders.
"Easy belongs to a friend. She needed someone to keep him in shape as she broke her arm a few weeks ago." England smiled at Canada in the rearview mirror.
"That horse's name is Easy?" France inquired.
"Easy Does It," England said as he merged into traffic. "Why?"
"Easy Does It, the Olympic horse?" Canada blurted. "You're riding an Olympic mount?"
"I'm just keeping him in shape for a friend," England stated.
"We're not allowed to compete!" America argued. "And you're training her horses!"
America was correct. None of the nations could compete in any Olympic event-after all, they were faster, stronger, and far more resilient than humans. England glared at his annoyed allies. "Please!" he scoffed. "I know for a fact Canada plays hockey with his Olympic team and America likes to ski and cycle with his teams and France fences with his team. The only reason France doesn't practice with the gymnastics teams anymore is he kept hitting on both the men and women. I am simply keeping Easy in shape until his rider is fit again. I'm not competing with him!"
The other nations looked at each other. "You fence?" Canada asked France.
"Mais oui, cher! I am excellent."
"You're going for the women gymnasts?" America suddenly asked. "Dude, they're like 11!"
"They must be at least 16," France argued.
"Like that's much better," England muttered.
"I have never seduced a child," France snapped. "And I much prefer nations, as you well know, Angleterre."
"Perv," England muttered.
"How are Olympics preparations coming?" Canada asked.
"Good," England said. "Although you have left me much to live up to, Matthew! Thank you again for letting me meet K.D. Lang."
"My pleasure."
"Who?" France asked.
"The lesbian singer," America snapped at France. "Short dark hair? Great voice. She sang for Canada's games-which I totally ruled at, by the way!"
"Just wait," England said.
"Ha! Throw it at me, old man! My people will rule these Olympics just like all the others!"
"I hear China is going to be hard to beat," Canada said casually.
The nations chatted actually civilly until England drove into his long driveway. As he stopped, he glanced again at Canada and smiled. "You're quite welcome to come in, Matthew."
"Matthew," America hotly said, "has plans. France, we'll see you and Matthew tomorrow. Come on, Artie." America scrambled out of the car and practically dragged England into his own living room as France drove off with a complaining Canada.
"What are you doing, you bloody git?" England spat. "You've been a complete prat!"
"What am I doing? Who was playing tonsil hockey with Canada?"
"It was a kiss, America, lord."
"You know he's with Francis!"
"Bullocks. Francis is never with anyone-or, rather, he's with everyone. Matthew can do much better."
"Matthew, is it?" America's eyes blazed.
"He was my colony, too, you know. And he's turned out marvelous, despite my mistakes and France's tendency to meddle."
"He was France's first before you!"
"And you were mine, what does it matter," England snapped. "And if I chose to become involved with Matthew-and he agrees-you have no say in it."
"The hell I don't!"
"What is your issue?" England demanded. "Why are you so pissy? You are seeing Mexico, remember? As well as being China's bitch. Or maybe you're dating Pakistan again."
"Mexico and I get together for fun once in a while. And I am no one's bitch, Arthur!"
"Hah!"
America grabbed England's shoulders. "I am not China's bitch, anymore than you are. He's helped your economy too." England jerked backwards. "And I have every right to be pissy!"
England's lip curled. "Why, pray tell?"
America bent his head, his breath heavy against England's face. Fingers yanked England's face back. "Because you're mine," America gritted out and kissed England hard.
Oh.
A small part of England wondered if Canada and America had practiced kissing each other because, like his brother, America could kiss. England's dick, barely back to sleep after the Canada incident, woke up immediately. America's mouth moved and England's mouth responded, opening so America could plunder it with his tongue.
When they finally broke apart, England again knew his breeches were far too tight and America wore a smug smile. Shakily, England touched his mouth. "I don't belong to anyone, America."
"Bullshit. You've always been mine." America's fingers tightened on England's shoulders. "Mine." He nuzzled England's neck, swiped a path with his tongue. "All mine."
It wasn't a particularly gentle loving making. Frantic, fierce and ferocious would be more like it. England didn't know where America had found lube-it was lube, right?-nor did he know how he ended up on the bottom. Yet, as he panted in America's arms and wondered just how ripped his breeches were, America kissed his neck and bit his shoulder.
"Watch it, dolt."
"Mine, mine, mine," America said in a sing song voice.
"Stop it, you sound like a child," England said. He struggled to get up. "Ow."
"Where are you going?"
"Upstairs to the bedroom, Alfred. I love hard wood floors but they're not the best for sex."
America laughed, tossing back his hair and gracefully rising to his feet. England muttered and then stood up, wincing at ache of pulled muscles. "I can carry you," America offered.
"Don't you dare," England snapped. "I'm fine." He grabbed the scattered clothes. He walked slowly upstairs, glancing at America from the corner of his eye. The taller nation followed, unabashed at his nudity. England opened his bedroom door and America pushed past him, throwing himself on the bed.
"Oh, yeah," he moaned. "This is better. Come on, Artie, drop those things and hop into bed. There's loads more I want to try."
"It's Arthur, not Artie. And what about dinner?"
"Later, later. Come on. " Alfred reached out and yanked Arthur onto the kiss, burying his lips in Arthur's neck.
Much later, as Arthur fuzzily wondered just what was above his head (ceiling, Arthur, get hold of yourself), Alfred yawned and rolled over, pulling England tight against him. "We'll have lots more fun on my bed, it's bigger," he mumbled.
Arthur's heart beat faster. "So we'll be doing this again?" he asked softly. Alfred lifted his head, staring at him through sweaty blond bangs.
"Duh. What part of mine don't you understand?"
"Don't play that game with me," Arthur shot back. "You never showed the slightest bit of interest in me before sexually, so how am I supposed to know? And what is this mine business? I'm hardly an american commonwealth!"
Alfred gazed at him. "This has nothing to do with that." He sat up. "While I'd love to tattoo an American flag on your scrumptious ass, Arthur, this isn't about England and America. This is us-Arthur and Alfred. You're mine. You've always been mine."
"You barely spoke to me for decades!"
"But you've always been there for me. No matter what, you were there. Bitchy but there. It's us, Arthur. It's always been us."
"And when did I become sexy?"
Alfred blushed. "Before World War I," he muttered.
"You could have asked me out, you know!"
"I could say the same thing! Instead you lust after Mattie. And what was that kiss about?"
"Matthew is all those things, Alfred," Arthur said. "I adore him. He's very special to me." He drew his fingers over Alfred's lips. "If you weren't interested in me, I could find happiness with him. You, lunkhead, acted like a complete arse and dragged me inside." He kissed Alfred. "For which I am glad. You still could have asked me out."
"I've asked you out lots of time!"
"McDonalds doesn't count, git."
"I tried taking you places and doing things but you hate what I like. Now at least I know we can go riding together."
"I like a lot of things. I'm sure we'll find shared interests." England looked at America. "Where did you get lube anyway?"
"France gave it to me," America yawned.
"What? What does that pervert mean, handing you lube? Does he think I'm easy? I'll kill that frog!"
"Relax, Iggy, France gives to lube to everyone. Now go to sleep, okay?"
Arthur muttered but settled down beside Alfred. Alfred lazily drew a finger over one of Arthur's butt cheeks. "Alfred…" Arthur warningly said.
"Just imagining the tattoo…"
33
France looked at Canada and crossed his arms. "So, will you explain now?" he asked.
"Explain what?" The younger nation glanced at France in bemusement.
"You and Angleterre mouth raping each other!"
"We kissed, Francis so? Isn't that what Gilbert and you were doing?"
France paled. "How-Mattieu, it is not what you think…"
"So explain." Canada's voice was ice. France swallowed hard. The geniel, shy Canada was never as weak as many thought. In fact, he was just as strong as his bother. And right now, he was pissed.
"Cher, we are not humans. You are young and.." France stumbled over words.
"Enough," Matthew said coldly. "I know you've cheated on me France and I know we're not humans. But we're human enough. At least I am. So it ends. Now. If you aren't with me, then you can leave."
"What? But I love you!"
"And I love you. But I don't need you, Francis. I have more than enough people interested in me who would treat me better."
"Who? England? He barely remembers your name! Besides, America is probably fucking him as we speak!"
"England and I are very close. We chat and email several times a week. And maybe he is fond of America but he likes me too. And there are more besides him." Canada reached out, touched France's cheek. "Just hear me out. I love you, Francis. But you need to make a decision. I want you. I love you. But if you're mine, you're mine. And that's it. Nothing to discuss. Now make your choice."
France stared at Canada, eyes wide. "I am the nation of love, cher…"
"This is not about France or Canada. It's Matthew and Frances and Frances, this is your only warning. I will walk out right now and you and I will be through. No arguments, no fussing. We'll be polite to each other but I will have someone in my life who cherishes me."
France stood up, walked to Canada with emotion filled blue eyes. "I have been yours a very long time," he said in a low voice. "It has always been you. Did you ever think I did not care?"
"You had others."
"My love is yours."
"I want your heart."
France shook. "I am very old, cher, as is my heart. You are asking a lot from me."
Canada's violet eyes softened. "No more than I ask of myself."
France kissed him, a questioning kiss that made Canada clutch him close. "Than it is yours, petit."
Canada's smile rivaled the sun.
England woke first, heart thumping. A soft giggle and he turned his head. Amber, a fairy, and Silverswift, one of his unicorn friends, leered at him from the door. "Go away," he mouthed. Silverswift tossed her horn in a totally vulgar manner (Why does everyone think they're all about virgins? Lord, they're all about horny!) and trotted off while Amber laughed again and flew away.
Arthur stood up and his muscles shrieked. It had been a very long time since he'd indulged his carnal appetites and his body intently reminded him of that. His room reeked of sex and sweat and he stumbled into his shower, muttered as he limped. 20 minutes later, clean and muscles somewhat relaxed (although part of him really wanted to wrestle with Alfred again), he dressed in jeans and an old shirt and went to his kitchen for tea. As he puttered around, he made coffee for Alfred and ignored lewd comments from Silverswift who now stood outside, her head through the window. "It isn't your business," he finally said. "Heavens, Silver, aren't unicorns supposed to be bastions of goodness?"
"Nothing more good than a good mating!" Arthur flushed and Silverswift winked. "He's good for you Arthur. How long has it been since you had a mate? Or even just mated? You're too alone."
"I have no idea what this is, Silver." He reached out and stroked Silver's cheek. "One day at a time."
"Artie! Artie, where are you? Don't cook …" Alfred, buck naked, skidded around the corner into the kitchen, dripping water and smelling of soap.
"What are you doing?" Arthur blurted. "Bloody, hell, Alfred, put on some clothes!"
"There's no one here but us," Alfred said, rolling his eyes.
"Mmm hmm, he is cute," Silverswift purred. "And built. Say, he has an awfully large…"
"Silver!"
"pair of eyes," Silver finished, tossing her horn. "Have a good day Arthur!" She pulled her head from the window and trotted away, laughter spilling out behind her.
"Blasted beast," Arthur muttered.
Alfred wore the blank I see nothing, I hear nothing look on his face. "Fairies?" he carefully asked.
"One was here. That, however, was a unicorn commenting on your-eyes." Arthur stood, suppressing a wince. Alfred laughed and grabbed him.
"Unicorns? They only come to virgins Arthur. Which you are not. Not anymore."
"I haven't been a virgin for centuries," England shot back. "And virginity has nothing to do with unicorns."
Alfred merely nodded and kissed him. Arthur let him slid his tongue between his lips and suddenly found himself grinding against Alfred in a desperate teenage humping kind of way as Alfred sucked his tongue and caused all his blood to race south. Alfred lifted his head finally, gasped, and said "We gotta hurry 'cause Mattie ,god,I'llfuckyouon thetable…"
"Wait a minute, who is coming over? And on the table? I eat here!"
"Matthew and Frances. To eat breakfast. Before the EU meeting. It lasts more than a day, you know."
"My place is a mess! I haven't cooked! And you need clothes!"
Alred grabbed the Brit before Arthur could explode. "It's all right, babe," he soothed. "We're eating out. I'll get some clothes on."
He kissed Arthur again and scurried upstairs. Arthur frantically began cleaning, relieved to see fairies straightening his front room. As Alfred clumped down the stairs, Arthur opened the door to a beaming Matthew.
"Hello, Matthew."
"Good morning, Arthur. Come on, we better hurry. We're running late as it is."
"Why in the world are you and Alfred coming to an EU meeting?"
"To make sure no one molests you," Alfred said as he closed Arthur's door. "Come on, we'll go through a Tim Hortons or something."
"Those are Canadian," Arthur said. "We don't have Tim Hortons in Britain."
"Yes, you do," Matt said, as he opened the car door. "In some of the grocery stores, you sell Tim Horton's coffee and doughnuts."
"Are you well, Angleterre?" France purred from the driver's seat. "You appear to be limping."
"I'm fine, frog!"
The four made their way to the meeting, hastily diverting for doughnuts, scones, tea, and coffee. America kept a hand on England's thigh, squeezing occasionally just to watch the older nation glare. Once inside, America dragged Canada aside, leaving England to narrow his eyes at France.
Alfred quickly eyeballed his brother. "Are you all right?"
"I'm great," Matthew answered.
Alfred crossed his arms. "Did Francis persuade you or did you finally kick him out?"
"I gave him the choice of being with me or not. " Canada lightly punched America's shoulder. "It's good, Alfred. He made the right choice."
"He better not hurt you," Alfred snarled. "I'm sick of his games."
"You love him too," Matthew replied, unruffled.
"I do care for him," Alfred said. "I just hate his straying. He doesn't mean to hurt people Mattie but he does!"
"We'll be OK." Matthew grinned. "And Arthur?"
Alfred flushed. "He's mine," he said simply. "I just finally, ah, claimed him. Or showed him."
"About time," Matthew sighed. "He's pined over you forever." Alfred flushed darker. "Be good to him," Matthew said. "Please, Alfred. I know he's a crusty old bastard at times but really, he is completely besotted with you and he doesn't love easy."
"I know." America looked at his brother. "Just you keep your hands off him."
"Hey, you kissed Francis! And more!"
"In the 40s, Matt, get over it!"
" I see you crept back inside his heart," England growled. "Hurt him again, Francis, and I will tear you apart."
"You keep your lips to yourself! Matthew is my responsibility."
"Whatever." England took a step closer, looked up at the slightly taller nation. "He's dear to me, Frances, as dear as Alfred. I'm just giving you fair warning."
France's face softened. "You love him so much, Arthur?"
Arthur flushed and looked away. "He's been my support for a long time. Despite my screw ups, I do love Matthew."
France nodded. "As I do Alfred." England looked at him with surprise. "I understand your feelings, mon ami. I love Mathieu and will cherish him."
England studied him then nodded. Both looked at their respective lovers.
"Frightened?" France softly asked.
"More than in the Blitz." England gave France a bittersweet smile. "Germany could only hurt my body. Alfred can destroy my soul."
France gently embraced his old rival and England leaned against him. "Hey, paws off!" Alfred bellowed, He bounded over. "He's mine, pervert!" He grabbed England and held him close.
"Lord, America, he wasn't molesting me!"
Canada came over with a wicked grin playing over his lips. He touched England's cheek with one finger, then dodged the swat America threw at him. "Enough!" England said, wriggling out of America's grasp.
"Come here Frenchy." America crooked a finger and France and he retreated to the corner. Francis looked at his old friend with a seductive smile.
"Oui, Alfred?"
"I know you love Matthew and he you. Treat him well, Francis. Don't blow this chance."
Francis nodded. "I know that, Alfred. Matthew has made it painfully clear what he will do if I touch someone else." A mischievous look entered his eyes. "He did say I could flirt."
"Don't you dare!" America retorted, eyes widening with alarm. "England would kill both of us."
"So you do understand," France said. "Bonne. While Angleterre and I are not the best of friends all the time, we are friends. I understand him." His gaze softened. "I can not remember the last time he was in love, if ever he was."
America froze, both internally and out. "Really?" he squeaked.
"Really."
America's gaze dropped and France wrapped an arm around him. "It will be fine," France soothed.
"He's mine, Francis, that's all I know."
As France and America talked, Canada sidled close to England. "How are you?"
"Good," England said, flicking a gaze to Canada. "And you? Did you threaten his balls?"
Canada laughed. "We talked, Arthur. Francis and I will be fine."
"Huh. You could do better."
"Like you?" Canada teased, startled as England's face flooded with color. "Oh, shit."
"Stop. It's just-well, if you and Francis didn't work out, and Alfred and I blew up, you and I, I mean..I mean what I said yesterday." England stumbled.
"My god, you think I'm cute!"
England turned brick red and Canada took his hand. "If it means anything," he shyly said. "I think you're sexy too."
He felt the grateful press of fingers. They watched America and France for a moment before Canada asked "Do you have it?"
"What?"
"Come on, Arthur, no playing old fogey with me. Pay up."
"You have to be kidding."
Canada smiled. "Uh uh."
England muttered and pulled money out of his pocket. "Here," he muttered. "50 quid, like we said."
"We said 100," Canada reminded.
"We said 50," England argued.
"No, 50 was if Alfred responded to our flirting with each other. I won that. The other 50 was if Alfred topped. And judging by you walk.."
"Shut up! Here, you wanker!" England showed money into Canada's hand.
"Thank you."
"No wonder your economy is stronger than anyone else's," England groused.
Whatever Canada was going to say was interrupted by the arrival of Germany, Italy, and Prussia, followed by Greece and Spain. Kumajirou padded in and absently went to his master. England sighed and handed the polar bear a doughnut. "No wonder he likes you," Canada snorted and picked up his pet.
"Where was he?" England rubbed the polar bear's ears.
"I had Gilbert watch him for a night."
"I wouldn't let Prussia watch a stuffed sock much less my pet," England said.
"You're just mad because you're not the awesome me," Prussia sneered.
"Why are Canada and America here?" Germany demanded. "And where were you, Britain?"
"I had business," England said. "And Canada and America are here as my guests."
"They're not in the EU, England."
"Neither's Prussia but he keeps showing up," England shot back. "At least Canada and America are breathing."
"Hey!" Prussia exclaimed.
"Be still, the dead don't talk," England said. He felt a soothing hand rub his back.
"It's ok, Iggy. Mattie and I aren't growing anywhere," America said. "Relax, Germany, it's all good." He wrapped his arms around England's waist from behind, ignoring England's stiffening. "See, England and I have something to tell everyone and we couldn't wait to the world meeting."
"And what is that?" Germany said.
"Duh, bro," Prussia said, pouring coffee. "Congrats, America. It's about time you got to tap that ass."
"Hey!"
The chorus of yells made Prussia grin and Germany wince. "It's not that," America said heatedly, tightening his embrace around a furiously struggling England. "England and I are together, yeah, and so are France and Canada."
"And?" Germany asked, rubbing his temples.
"So we're all getting married," Canada chirped, winking at his brother.
Dead silence greeted his announcement. Canada grinned internally as England stared at him, France, France blushed, and America bit his lip as if to stop himself from laughing. Canada strolled to the coffeepot, shoving aside a stunned Prussia. There. He'd finally gotten the last word.