A/N: All inaccuracies have been thrown out the window for the sake of awesome. Julienne, you might not want to read this.

To anyone reading Assassins: It is being worked on feverishly, don't worry. Most of it is done. It's just chapter three that is giving me shit. I iz sowwy :'(

Disclaimer: *takes deep breath* I do not own Hetalia, the Twelve Days of Christmas, Bob and Doug Mackenzie's parody of the Twelve Days of Christmas, the laws of physics, Berlin, White Christmas, Macy's, Merlot, Elvis, Tupperware, Fullmetal Alchemist, E.T., Chuck Norris, LOTR, Angry Birds, Jeopardy, Do you Hear What I Hear, Rocks And Trees, or Lady Gaga. But can we pretend? :3

"On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me a beer~"

Of course, because it was Prussia and just one beer would never do, he had somehow procured a glass six feet tall and two feet wide and managed to fill it with beer.

(Later, a bartender in Berlin told stories of the albino with hearts in his eyes who had held him at gunpoint until he filled the giant glass, and the drunken masses agreed that she was a lucky girl.)

Because awesomeness defies all laws of physics, Prussia got the beer to Canada's house without any difficulty.

TO BE CONTINUED…

"On the second day of Christmas, my true love gave to me two turtlenecks~"

Ukraine hummed White Christmas along with the mall radio, weaving through the throngs of holiday shoppers. Hopefully she'd be able to find a gift for Canada this year~ Although she'd had a shy crush on her friend for a few years, she'd never been able to work up the courage to ask him out~ But if she found a nice gift, it could set the mood to~ ooh, there!

(Apologies for undue amounts of squigglies. If it were anybody else, it'd be because they were drunk, but since it's Ukraine, it's because she's Ukraine.)

Ukraine darted into Macy's and picked out the two turtlenecks she'd spotted from the window~ red and white, his favorite colors! And they'd help keep him warm in the cold Canadian winters, the poor darling~

She wrapped them in brown paper packaging and set off for the Great White North.

TO BE CONTINUED…

"On the third day of Christmas, my true love gave to me three French toast~"

Anything French was amazing, breakfast for dinner was amazing, and Christmas Eve sex was the most amazing of all. France chuckled long and low as he twirled around his amply-stocked kitchen in a Santa hat and poinsettia apron, gathering up eggs, cinnamon, vanilla, milk, bread, and two bottles of Merlot. Ohnhonhon~ This was the perfect plan!

He could see it already~ Little Mathieu would smile and clap his hands in that adorably surprised manner he had, they would make French toast together (and yes, that is a metaphor for something) and eat it in front of the fire, they'd share the wine~ Canada's French side would show and they would make wild, passionate amour on the couch!

And somewhere in there would be a declaration of love. Yeah. T-that too.

France packed the French toast makings into a bag and drove off to Canada's.

TO BE CONTINUED…

"On the fourth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me four pounds of back bacon~"

Well, Kumajirou had seen his owner naked often enough, and he had some serious muscles from hockey, and who really cared about the species difference when all the hottest girls dug bestiality?

And Canada loved bacon, like any sensible creature.

Now, how to wrap it without opposable thumbs…

TO BE CONTINUED…

"On the fifth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me five golden tuques~"

Dude, he's Canada! He loves tuques! So what's better than five of 'em? And they're golden! That's Matt's favorite color, right? It has to be, cause it's his hair color, and he has great hair! Almost as great as mine!

Besides, Canada's my hat! Hats are totally a symbol of our love! Daaaaamn, that was deep! Maybe if I tell Mattie about it, I can fuck him! (And yes, I would fuck him, despite the locations of that-peninsula-that-Toronto's-on and Florida! Mind your own damn business!)

Duuuude, he's gonna love this! Oh, look, it's seven o'clock, better leave for his house now!

TO BE CONTINUED…

"On the sixth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me six packs of two-four~"

Russia and Canada's relationship consisted of drinking, hockey, drinking, drunkenly cursing America, and the occasional drunken fuck.

As anxious as Ivan was to move in on the Canadian, he really didn't know where to start if not with alcohol.

At least it was romantic that he could speak Canadian, da? Toofers, toofers, toofers, kolkolkol~ Now he just had to drive across the Pacific Ocean.

TO BE CONTINUED…

"On the seventh day of Christmas, my true love gave to me seven packs of smokes~"

Canada Elvis Tupperware shuffleboard albino squirrel alligator tarantula huff puff huff luff beer beer puking Minnesota twine baby baby baby ohhhh phallus museum thrown out QUIET MUMBLINGS!

That is stoner for "Netherlands was hoping to get baked with Canada on Christmas Eve and fuck him."

Stoner-to-English translations are available from your friendly neighborhood pot dealer.

TO BE CONTINUED…

"On the eighth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me eight comic books~"

Japan and Canada had an odd relationship consisting mainly of the time they had tried to force Tim Horton's to serve sushi.

However, Japan had been topped by America, England, Italy, Germany, China, Russia, France, Hungary, Prussia, Ukraine, Belarus, Taiwan, Hong Kong, Iceland, Sealand, Denmark, Norway, Sweden, Finland, Switzerland, Estonia, Kumajirou, Lithuania, and even Latvia and Liechtenstein. Japan had, in fact, been topped by every single country that he knew of, except Romano who couldn't top a dead worm. His man card has finally made its feeble voice heard as it was dragged away by pink glitter fairies, and he had firmly decided that if he was going to top someone, that mild-mannered new nation, Canadia or something, fit the bill of his anime ukes perfectly.

(Keep in mind that Japan had never seen Canada drunk.)

Anyway, Japan needed an excuse to go over to Canadia's place and top the hell out of that motherfucker (though exactly how he would go about doing that, he was rather unsure), and what better reason than sharing the joy of Fullmetal Alchemist?

He grabbed the first eight albums and hopped into his car.

TO BE CONTINUED…

"On the ninth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me nine bottles of maple syrup~"

It was kinky.

Belarus was kinky.

The outcome was obvious.

Simply the thought of that cute, utterly fuckable Canadian, nearly crying, blushing and stuttering, panting as she licked the syrup off him, her tongue tracing slow, torturous circles – ah, it was a beautiful picture. Belarus cackled under her breath, sending a deathglare to the cashier when he raised his eyebrows.

Oh, yes, mister Hi-my-name-is-Derpington-how-may-I-help-you, be jealous of my nine bottles of maple syrup and box of XL condoms, kekeke…

TO BE CONTINUED…

"On the tenth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me ten hair ribbons~"

Liechtenstein was no xenophobe.

On the contrary, she'd become a friend to nearly every nation. Prussia taught her to drive. Hungary took her shopping. Austria brought her to concerts. England brought her little gifts and snapped at her in embarrassment when she clapped her hands in delight. She went shopping with Ukraine, out to eat with Italy, camping with Denmark… Liechtenstein might've been small and quiet, but she was wonderful at being a friend.

And whenever she visited Canada, somehow those big, imploring green eyes as she clung onto his arm convinced him to let her give him a makeover.

He always emerged with pink nails, an excessively frilly dress, lipstick, eyeshadow, mascara, eyeliner, and long ringlets of hair. Liechtenstein had taken blackmail pictures every time, and so Canada would have no escape from the pink ribbons she wanted to weave through his hair next.

Christmas Eve was a great time to visit~!

TO BE CONTINUED…

"On the eleventh day of Christmas, my true love gave to me eleven jelly donuts~"

Ahaha~ well, it started with a dozen, but… I got hungry. What? I'm Spanish! I eat whenever I like!

Well, there were still plenty to share with Canada! Maybe he would be feeling lonely and I'd even get to kiss him again! I kissed him once, but he started blushing madly and stuttering so I thought I shouldn't do it again. But it felt nice! I hope it happens again!

TO BE CONTINUED…

"On the twelfth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me…"

Good day, eh, and welcome to day twelve!

On Canada's lawn, ten nations, an ex-nation, and a polar bear were very, very confused.

(England was there too. Nobody really knew why.)

After a great deal of arguments had been had, a minor war broke out, a few stray empires rose and fell, E.T. phoned home, Chuck Norris simply walked into Mordor, and America finally beat the new level of Angry Birds, it became clear to the suitors that each and every one of them was there for the same purpose: to woo Canada.

It was also clear that the quiet blonde was, in fact, nowhere to be found.

Canada kept a key under the mat, but the mat also read "MATT'S MAN CAVE", and nobody wanted to touch it for fear of being flooded by images of Canada roaring, flexing his muscles, and chopping the shit out of a tree with his axe. Also, no lights were on inside, and it was only seven thirty. Where was the Canadian?

After some hubbub, it was decided that they would simply wait. After all, none of them had thought to make other plans. They crowded onto the nation's porch, confused and none-too-happy.

The Bad Friends Trio commandeered the corner to sit and talk quietly. Russia, Ukraine, and Belarus huddled together for warmth, Ukraine a safe DMZ between her siblings. Netherlands sat as far as possible from Spain, and summoned a joint from nowhere because he has that much swag. America, Japan, and England joined Liechtenstein in petting Kumajirou.

Minutes ticked by, then hours. Nations fidgeted. Several Jeopardy theme song repetitions passed. Atlas shrugged. Around eleven o'clock, Liechtenstein fell asleep on the polar bear.

Kumajirou heard it first, perking up and peering towards the street. "Do you hear what I hear?" he asked Japan.

Immediately France, Spain, and Prussia started humming the carol, ceasing only when England whapped them. "I want to hear too," the blonde snapped.

Breath was bated.

"Aha!" America crowed. "Mattie's truck!" Sure enough, a few moments later the rumble of the red pickup was heard. The ensemble of suitors watched as the pair of headlights bounced crazily around the road, illuminating rocks, trees, trees, rocks, water, and a couple stray lumberjacks.

"He's drunk," the mostly-stoned Netherlands observed brilliantly as the red truck careened into the drive.

The driver's door slammed open, and Canada emerged.

With Lady Gaga's tongue shoved down his throat.

The… singer(?) was wrapped around him like some freaky tentacle monster, her legs twined around his waist, her arms wound around his shoulders, her mouth practically superglued to his. Canada, radiating smugness, stumbled past the crowd on the porch without so much as glancing at them, kicked the front door open, staggered through, and slammed it shut behind him.

"…Whut," said the world in general.

There was a profound silence.

"Angleterre, vhy are you 'ere ennyvey?" France finally asked.

England startled and held up his gift: three small ornaments, shaped like hens. "It's three French hens," he explained. "Like the song. You know, on the third day of Christmas my true love gave to me three French hens…"

France tilted his head. "Why…?"

England dropped the ornaments in the Frenchman's hand and turned to walk away. "Because," he called over his shoulder, "the French don't have a decent cock."

FIN.

I assume everyone has as little of a life as me and is reading fanfiction on Christmas Eve… though to be fair, the only alternative I have is spending time with my family, and that would require talking to actual humans…

Review?