There is a little house on a cold street, in a town no one much cares what the name of it is. The snow is blowing fiercely against the windows, making shutters bang and window panes rattle. It is a freezing, chillingly dark night. A night where no one, not even a snow rabbit, would dare to be outside, for fear of freezing solid until spring thawed them out. The darkness was because of the time of year, Christmas Eve, and everything had seemed dim and gray, even in the daylight hours.
But inside the little house, a fire was burning. A warmth spread through all the rooms of the house, carrying the scent of cinnamon and ginger with it. The smell was smooth and carrying, with just a hint of a bite to it, unlike the sharp cutting chill of the outdoors. And where outside it was empty and abandoned, the inside of this little house was alive and busy. Moving in and out of the main room, carrying boxes and unpacking things and someone was baking in the kitchen, the whole house felt about twice as crowded as it really was.
Matthew thought this was a very nice feeling. It was bright, and loud and joyful, unlike the Canadian himself, but he still felt perfectly comfortable. It was so rare that any of his friends got together for the holidays that today he couldn't help but be giddy. He set another box down next to Arthur and cheerfully said, "Here's the last one! I don't have that many Christmas ornaments so there aren't a lot to unwrap."
Arthur took the last of the boxes and pulled it open, a little annoyed at being banned from the kitchen earlier, "It's alright. I'd say you have the perfect amount of ornaments for the tree." Even ticked off, he was still a gentleman. He fished out a string of tangled white lights and sighed. Matthew was certainly polite, but sometimes he could be something of a slob. "Alfred! I've found another string for you!"
Having just finished putting up mistletoe over every available doorway, Alfred descended the ladder with a candy cane in his mouth. "M'Kay!" He grabbed the tangle of lights from Arthur and rushed to the half-decorated Christmas tree. Arthur and Matthew had to hide smiles as the gung-ho American had to stop and untangle to thing when he realized he couldn't immediately begin decorating the tree. Alfred was a little slow with these things but, he had a good heart.
From the kitchen, Francis called, "Mattieu? Where is ze cocoa? I don't see it!" Being one of the few who could cook well, and to keep him away from Arthur, Matthew had put the Frenchman on kitchen duty. There were upwards of four dozen cookies now on the dining room table and more were occasionally brought out and added to the pile, along with the occasional non-cookie dessert or treat.
Leaning out the living room door, Matthew called in, "It's next to the maple syrup on the top shelf!" And after a minute of listening to his adoptive father search, he went into the kitchen to see what the matter was. "I'm sorry. I should have specified. It's in the pantry, not the refrigerator." Francis closed the fridge door looking rather annoyed and opened the pantry. On the shelf right in front of his face, a thin red cylinder marked 'Baking Cocoa' stared him down. "Oh."
Walking out of the kitchen, Matthew returned to the living room to find that Alfred had succeeded in getting the tree lit up. And he'd also succeeded in starting a small argument with Arthur on which strings of garland would go on the tree and which ones would go on the fireplace mantle. Matthew settled the quarrel by handing Alfred a set of evergreen wreaths and sending him out the door.
With no one left to argue with, Arthur sighed, "Well how would you like this to go? It is your home and your tree after all." Matthew looked up at the tree. It was wrapped in white lights and looked almost like a hundred tiny stars had fallen into the branches. Matthew liked the simple things, so he only had a few strings of gold beads and silver tinsel. Finally, he said, "I think I have an idea."
In a few seconds, he'd taken a single piece of each and twisted them together, creating a single string of beads and tinsel. "Ah, I see. What a charming idea." Arthur muttered as he watched the younger boy continue decorating the half-done tree. Soon, though, he got up and started helping Matthew, wondering, in the back of his mind, why he and the others had been invited to spend Christmas here. After all, they never seemed to get along with each other.
A knock on the door came just as they finished and started putting ornaments up. Matthew hurried to open the door, politely stepping aside to let his boyfriend Ivan come through, carrying a ticked Alfred over his shoulder. "Ivan! I'm so glad you came! I thought you wouldn't be able to make it because of the weather."
The big Russian stooped to place a kiss on Matthew's forehead. "This is nothing. Back home, it is much worse than that little flurry." Dropping Alfred on the floor, he added, "I found this thing hanging from the roof so I brought him in."
Alfred jumped up, about to snap when Matthew stepped between the two. "Now guys, its Christmas time, so let's not start any fights ok?" It took a second, but the tension left both of them. "For you, I will try not to kill him, da?" Ivan said cheerfully, meaning every word. Alfred retorted, "Yeah right dude! You'd never lay a hand on me, even if we were fighting tonight!"
Rather than listen to them throw insults back and forth, Matthew steered Alfred back to the front door, "Don't you still have wreaths to put up?" And back out Alfred went.
When he turned back to Ivan, Matthew smiled as Ivan raised a bottle of vodka. It had become something of a tradition for one of them to bring a really crappy brand of liquor whenever they went to each other's house. Not anything terribly expensive, but something that was enough to get drunk on. Well, enough for Matthew anyways. Ivan never seemed too bothered by it.
"Can you put it in the kitchen? I'm a little afraid that Alfred's going to hurt himself out there." Matthew asked, looking wryly over his shoulder to the front door. Ivan nodded and gave the Canadian a quick hug before heading off to the kitchen. As Matthew opened the front door though, he heard a crash and a scream of terror from the direction the big Russian had just gone.
Ivan was in the kitchen doorway, looking mildly confused. Peeking around the man's impressive frame, Matthew saw that Francis was standing, terrified, on a chair, looking at the Russian like he'd just seen a rat or a German with a rifle. If he hadn't been quite so concerned, Matthew would have thought it was rather funny. As it was, he figured Francis had not been expecting to share his family's Christmas with Ivan.
Looking down at Matthew, Ivan curiously asked, "I thought you told them I was coming?" Matthew blushed, embarrassed. He really had meant to say something but none of the others had known that they were dating. The thought of huge, terrifying Ivan, with small, innocent Matthew, was a little stranger than they were willing to imagine. Patting Ivan's coat-covered chest, he muttered, "I guess it slipped my mind. I'll get him down."
Scurrying over to Francis, who hadn't moved on the chair, Matthew tugged gently on his apron to get his attention, much like he had when he was younger. "Umm, Francis? Could you please maybe get down? He's not going to hurt you I promise!" Francis, predictably, was more inclined to listen to his fear than to his son. "You don't know zat! 'E might be waiting to strangle me until my beautiful face turns blue! It is not a good color for me!"
Sighing, Matthew tugged harder, forcing Francis off the chair, if only so he wouldn't fall. "He's not going to hurt you! He's my boyfriend!" If anything, the Frenchman's eyes grew even wider. He said nothing. Sighing, Matthew left his father in the kitchen, taking Ivan towards the living room. "He'll be fine in a while."
And sure enough, there was soon a fragrance close to mint wafting out the open door, though Matthew couldn't see what Francis was doing. In the living room, Arthur was visibly disturbed by the presence of Ivan, but either he warmed to the idea of their relationship better than Francis had, or he was saving his thoughts on it until later. The Englishman kept a smile on his face and asked, "Could you help with the tree, Ivan? Alfred's got the ladder and I don't seem to be tall enough to reach the top."
Ivan twitched, feeling a little out of place here. He'd agreed to spend the holiday with Matthew and his make-shift family, but there was almost a barrier between himself and the festive spirit of things. Once again, it seemed, he didn't belong. He desperately wished it had just been him and his little Canadian, but that would not happen. Not this year at least.
Still smiling innocently, he reached up and dropped a gold colored star on the tip of the treetop. "Like this, da?" He asked, looking back at Matthew instead of Arthur. Matthew, caught a little off guard, sputtered, "A-ah! Yes, it's perfect!"
Ivan smiled back, a warm and genuine smile instead of the blank one he usually presented. Ever since the thin boy had given back his heart, Ivan had been using this smile much more often. But he would only ever do it for Matthew. Now that he had the love of his life, he most certainly did not want to show that smile to anyone else.
The tension seemed to seep out of the room right then, and somewhere outside, a jingling sound, the sound of many small silver bells being shaken joyfully. The front door burst open and Alfred rushed in, a holly wreath hanging around his neck. "I'm done!" Arthur, more amused than annoyed, pointed out the spare wreath.
Before Alfred started talking, or in his case shouting, again, Ivan walked over and took the holly circle from around the American's neck. Without speaking, he went over to the fireplace and hung the holly over the fireplace. "Spasiba, Fredka. You saved this one from the cold." There was a dead silence as the two enemies stared at each other across the fireplace.
Then Alfred grinned, "You're totally welcome dude!" Matthew sighed, relaxing into a smile as well. He'd been sure Alfred was going to start another fight. But it seemed even Christmas could make friends out of enemies. Ivan walked over to Matthew, who was seated on the couch, and folded himself down next to his lover. Oblivious to the meaning of it, Alfred dropped into a chair beside Arthur, who looked almost sorrowfully at his empty teacup.
As if on cue, the door swung open for the second time in almost as many minutes. Francis, recovered from his earlier shock, swept in with a large tray, which was then set gracefully on the coffee table. On the tray were five mugs of gently steaming cocoa, and a large plate of cookies. "Mint chocolate, and all my specialties. Please enjoy!"
Matthew noticed that, although Francis' eyes seemed to pass right over him, there was a large cup painted with matryoshka set where Ivan could reach it. Taking his own mug, Matthew looked out the window to where the moon was peeking through the heavy clouds. Christmas was a time for joy, not fighting. And this time, he would be spending the joy and cheer with all of his favorite people.
Maybe miracles DID happen on Christmas.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, nor do I own Hetalia itself. I only own this story.
Author's Note: A very late Christmas (or Hannukah or Kwanza or whatever has you celebrating the winter season) gift to all my readers. I was running around like mad trying to get everything ready for the 25th and this just slipped through the cracks. Sorry! But I managed to finish it! (two weeks late but hey, who's judging?) Once again I apologize if any of the characters are OOC. It's really very hard to write Russia in a fluff setting without putting him out of character. Once again, I ask one small favor in return for reading my work; please leave me a review!