Sorry for the spelling and grammar mistakes. Figures my Microsoft Word would conk out on me when I actually want to write.
"Good God," Matthew panted, his whole body spread flat on the grass, chest heaving. He'd been winded yet again and the culprit stood looming over him, chuckling and shaking his head.
"Ye may be the second largest country, lad, but yer as easy to knock over as a wheat stalk." Scotland said, holding out a thick hand.
Matthew took it, smiling good-naturedly as he replaced his glasses on his nose. "You know, I thought since I play hockey I'd be better at this." Looking down at his knees he could already see the darkening of bruises promising they'd be black and blue by tomorrow morning. Suddenly Matthew found himself sorely – no pun intended – missing his hockey pads.
"Och, it's a good thing ye handle your whiskey better than ye do yer caman, or else we'd be in a wee bit of trouble, aye?. Buck up, laddie. I've seen ye smash men's heads in playing tha game o' yours. Can't take wee bit of shinty, though. Tis a shame." The Scotsman teased. He knocked Matthew playfully in the back of his legs. Of course the poor Canadian, not expecting it, buckled slightly.
Scotland blinked and the laughed, turning back to his side of the field. "Cho corrach ri ugh air droll."
Matthew quirked his head to the side. His Gaelic was a right rusty, but that didn't stop Nova Scotia from breaking into a fit of giggles, which she tried desperately to hide in Prince Edward Island's shoulder.
He flushed with embarrassment, but felt the corner of his mouth tug up at the way she snorted and shook. The excitement in her face when he'd told her Scotland was coming for a visit, the same excitement most of the maritimes had actually, was a thrilling thing to watch.
Scotland, or Kenneth as some of the more familiar called him, jogged over to the side lines speaking something in that rough old Celtic language. Nova Scotia frowned for a second, remembering, than her face lit with a grin as she replied, eyes flashing with mirth. Her strawberry blond hair, though not quite as orange as her smaller brother's, still held a faint echo of the ancient man she conversed with.
"She looks happy," Alberta said, handing Matthew a cool bottle of water which he gratefully accepted. Sinking onto the grass between her, Saskatchewan and Manitoba, he hoped to catch his breath.
Glancing around he spotted Quebec bent over a book not far from Ontario or New Brunswick. Alberta snickered, pointing out her brother British Columbia who had passed out asleep in the heat of the sun, his dark hair moving to and fro with the light breeze. Matthew didn't blame him. The poor boy was exhausted. With all he had going on amidst planning for the Olympics and such it was nice to see him finally relaxing.
Further behind the western province under the shade of the trees even the territories had tagged along for the family outing. Nunavut and the Northwest Territories were content to talk quietly with one another while their sister Yukon watched Nova Scotia and Scotland interact, golden eyes smoldering with something Matthew had a hard time naming.
"Weel come on then," Scotland called. "Ye best be learning to score unless ye want to be payin' for the whiskey tonight."
Matthew waved an arm in the air in teasing surrender. "Fine, I'll pay. As long as my bones stay intact, thank you very much."
The other country snorted. "All right, ye wee bairns! Since your ol' man can't seem ta do nothing but get his arse kicked, I'll teach ye how to play proper shinty." Scotland said loudly, gesturing to the field where Nova Scotia already waited, scrutinizing the 3 ½ foot piece of hooked wood Kenneth had handed her in a way that made Matthew rather nervous.
Quebec closed her book with a quiet thump, setting it aside to join her maritime siblings. Ontario shrugged a half hearted why-not shrug, following after, Manitoba at his heels. Alberta quickly ran over and grabbed the Northwest Territories onto the field, excitedly babbling about how this will be so much cooler without the pads. Matthew frowned. Yukon chanced a try to, passing over a dead to the world British Columbia, and pulling a curious but cautious Nunavut.
The Scotsman looked suddenly flustered at being surrounded by twelve pairs of eyes. "Been awfully busy, haven't ye, lad?" he said, waggling his thick ruddy eyebrows at the Canadian.
"I've got more land than you, remember?" Matthew said, failing to hide his blush.
"Aye, aye," Scotland brushed, off. His eyes however stayed curiously amused. "Thirteen, though? Competing with your brother by chance?" And with that Scotland turned, his red highland hair no match for the red of Matthew's face.
Thirteen, Matthew suddenly realized. He'd only seen twelve on the field.
"I thought I'd sit out to keep the numbers even," Saskatchewan said airily, nearly sending the country out of his skin with a yelp.
"Oh," Matthew answered lamely. She nestled next to him, tucking her skirts around her ankles so she could watch her brothers and sisters attempt a game of shinty, though even with Scotland's best efforts was not fairing well. Every once in a while Matthew would have to reprimand one or another about not breaking their siblings kneecaps. That would always be followed by an eye roll and a sarcastic "Yes, Dad" or "Yes Papa."
After a while, Saskatchewan leaned on her father's shoulder. "Dad?"
"Mhm?" Matthew hummed.
"Do you think that… that maybe Mom can come next time?" she asked softly.
There was an automatic pang in Canada's heart that was there whenever he remembered Saskatchewan's mother. Gazing down he could identify in a heartbeat every feature on her prairie face she'd inherited from her mother. Her hair was the same wispy blond, slightly longer- to her shoulders now-, her face heart-shaped and pale with a constant dusting of pink, and her eyes a mysterious mix between his purple and her blue.
The world was so busy right now, bad economies, wars, disasters, political dislikes. It gave Matthew a headache just thinking about it. But the idea of seeing Ukraine again filled him with a comforting warmth that put the sun to shame. To hold her in his hands… The possibility took his breath away.
"That's a good idea," he said. "A very good idea." Pausing, he added conspiratorially. "But when she does, we won't tell her about this part, okay?" He gestured to the more and more violent shinty game.
"Which part? The part where you let us play, or the part where you lost worse than the Alberta's hockey teams?" she asked dryly.
"I heard that!" her sister cried indignantly, stomping a foot. "Come here that and say that to my face!"
"Now you've done it," Matthew chuckled. Dropping his voice he said, "Both. Now go humour your sister."
Saskatchewan beamed, climbing to her feet but hesitating at the last second.
"I'll call her tonight, I promise."
Her smile brightened a tenfold. Turning she loped gracefully to her prairie sister who by then had lost most of her anger to depressed acceptance.
Matthew lay back down on the grass. Closing his eyes he could see Ukraine and the smile she would have when she saw her daughter and how she'd grown. Maybe they could visit the prairies, spend the day picnicking in the wheat fields. Then after everyone else had fallen asleep, he and Ukraine could spend some much-wanted time alone. Yes, he quite liked that idea. Stargazing together, wrapped up together in a blanket, sharing kisses until it led to other actions. And then after, they'd simply just hold each other, merely happy to be with one another after so long a drought of loneliness.
"Whoever yer thinking about, they're one lucky bugger."
Matthew's eyes opened. "What?"
Scotland sat with a grunt. The provinces and territories had ended their game of shinty, instead wrapped in a deep discussion of top Canadian hockey teams. The noise had finally woken B.C.; he blinked slowly, still in half comatose.
"Weel," Scotland mused, scratching the ginger startings of his afternoon scruff. "If that silly grin be meanin' anything, it's a good thing you've got lots of land then."
Matthew grew pink and rolled his eyes. He looked out at the people who made up the puzzle that was Canada. British Columbia's diplomacy, Alberta's resourcefulness, Saskatchewan's simple contentedness, Manitoba's integrity, Ontario's audacity, Quebec's pride, Newfoundland's unmovable willpower, Prince Edward Island's sense of community, New Brunswick's folksiness, Nova Scotia's hardiness, and the Territory's grand magnificence. Each brought something to the whole, something so individual and special that when added to everyone else it left not one part of the land and it's people dull or insignificant.
Really, if he thought about it, despite all the connotations that went with it, thirteen was a rather perfect number.
Though, maybe Ukraine wouldn't mind another province…?
He could only hope.
Okay, so this was my first Hetalia fic. Sorry if it sucks, it took me, like, twenty minutes or something. Started with Scotland turned into some Provincal lovin'. And some Canada/Ukraine wishful fluff.
*Scotland said: "As unsteady as an egg on a stick."It's a Gaelic proverb. Mmmm Gaelic...
Surprising little tid-bits I thought would be fun:
~Totally didn't know this until I looked it up, but Nova Scotia is actually Latin for New Scotland. Yeah, go figure.
~Also go figure, according to the 2001 Canadian census 21.9% of the Yukon's population is ethnically Scottish. Why don't they teach us this in school?!
~Alberta and Saskatchewan were created from land from the Northwest Territories. Dude, province/territory bff's forevers.
~Yes that was a jab at Alberta's hockey teams. I don't know how it is in Calgary but here in Edmonton we have come to terms with our suckage, though some of us are still in the denial stage. Being told your worse than the Leaf's is quite a shock.
~Shinty scares the hell outta me, especially the Irish caman. They put metal on those things. Metal. Chya! It's like the Chuck Norris of field games! Quick bit to: Shinty was like a precursor to ice hockey. One would think our Matty would be good at it *le sigh*
~Point to anyone who can guess where Scotland's name came from. Really, it's easy.
~I made Yukon's eyes gold because.... well duuuuh.
~The Territories don't get enough love!
Oh! And before I forget, I don't own Hetalia, only the shame of being an Oiler's fan.