"Trés mignons, are they not, Angleterre?"
"…I suppose they are."
Of course, there was no "suppose" about it. But he wasn't about to agree with France that easily.
The two elder nations attentively watched the pair of colonies on the ice. America seemed quite at home while skating around to the best of his childish ability, though he kept whining about how cold it was. Canada, however, seemed reluctant to let go of the wall as he shuffled along in a circle around the rink. It took a fair amount of coaxing from his brother before Canada stopped hugging the wall and actually began to skate.
England watched as the wavy-haired boy began to pick up speed, eyes wide in pleasant surprise. Why on Earth was Canada so frightened if he had that much of a natural talent for it?
France seemed quite amused with America's balking at his brother's skills, and was quick to point this out to England ("Why, Angleterre, I thought you said he was athletic!"), but the other European nation was more concerned with the safety of the boys than France's badgering.
Suddenly, he saw why the farther north of the two territories had been so scared when Canada lost his balance and hit the ice hard. Faster than England could go for his skates, France was already out in the rink without regard for the proper footwear, slipping his way over to the fallen colony.
"Mon cheri, it is alright! Please do not cry, you are okay!" France collapsed to his knees, whether by loss or balance or on purpose, when he was by Canada's side, stroking the young colony's hair and trying to help the child away from the verge of tears. "See, pas de sang! No harm, no foul."
France's efforts seemed to calm Canada enough that the child did not cry, but the look on his face was quite a dejected one even as his caretaker attempted to get him to laugh it off. England was still struggling with trying to get his skates on and America had paused in his activities, quietly watching the scene unfold.
Along the sidelines, England ceased his fight with the laces for a moment to watch America slowly begin to approach the Francophone pair. The Briton narrowed his eyes slightly, trying to figure out what his boy was up to.
America purposefully skated into Canada's line of sight, clumsily picking up as much speed as he could and laughing all the while. He went back and forth a few times until he was sure his twin was watching, and when he had sufficiently captured Canada's attention, America hooked the toe of one skate on the heel of another and sent himself tumbling.
England was on his feet in an instant, until he saw America begin to laugh even harder from his sprawled-out position on the ice. "See, Canada? I fell too! It's okay!"
The louder of the colonies started to stand in order to approach Canada and France, only for his feet to slip out from under him once more and land him on his front. If the quizzical turn of France's head was anything to go by, Canada had started to laugh too. America continued to stumble and fall until Canada was laughing loud enough for even England to hear from his position on the outskirts of the rink; after a while of this, France saw it fit to stand and slowly part from his giggling charge while the child was distracted.
By the time the stubbly man was off the ice and at England's side again, his pants were pretty damp from sitting on the frozen floor. "As I said," he started smugly, though England wasn't paying him much mind. "Trés mignons."
An affectionate smile touched the island's lips as the laughing territories helped one another to their feet. "Right. Of course."
Translation notes: "trés mignons" - very cute (plural form)
"pas de sang" - no blood
A/N: another one inspired by a story on givesmehope dot com. i think i just really, really like writing the colonies being nice siblings to each other. and, as i foresee it, it is because of this tiny bit of encouragement that Canada grows up to be an epic, vicious hockey player. you never know what your little gestures will inspire! hope you enjoyed. c: