Just a short story I wrote for Canada's Hoodie. Hope you enjoy!
Canada was pissed. He was usually pissed at something anyway, but this was different. The bastard Ludwig had actually dared to shush him when he had tried to speak! Sure, America had already been speaking, but who cares what he says. Canada muttered to himself, sulking, until the meeting ended. As he left, he had to pass by Germany. He smiled to himself before he pushed past Germany, purposefully hitting his shoulder against his.
"Hey!" Someone yelled. Sensing danger, Canada turned and brought up his hockey stick just in time for three small knives to embed themselves in the wood. He looked on as Italy stalked over to him, his eyes gleaming. Once he was in front of Canada, he poked him in the chest.
"No one touches my Germany." Canada smirked and bent over so his face was close to Italy's.
"Oh? And what are you going to do about it, pasta freak?" He watched in amusement as Italy's eyes widened and he began to tremble with rage. The smaller man whipped out a knife, pressing it against Canada's throat.
"Don't push me." Canada's smirk grew wider as he shoved Italy away.
"Too late, runt." Italy growled and ran toward him, throwing a knife. Canada brought his hockey stick up to catch the knife and tried to bring it down on Italy's head, but Italy caught it with both hands. He tried to pull it out of Canada's hands, but he was not strong enough. Canada grinned as he pulled Italy in using the stick and kicked him in the stomach, making him drop the stick and fall to the floor. Italy jumped right back, his eyes glowing with hatred as he brought out a knive. He tried to stab Canada in the wrist, but Canada raised his arm back before hitting Italy's arm and side with his hockey stick, sending him flying. Once he got back up, he howled with rage and began to throw a large number of knives at Canada. Canada tried to avoid them all but one made a gash in his arm, tearing his favorite top, and another nicked his cheek.
"You are paying for the shirt, asshole," he said before attacking again, jumping in the air while bringing his stick down on Italy's head. Italy dodged and, crouching down, side-sweeped Canada as soon as his feet touched the ground, Canada falling to the ground. Before he could get up, Italy straddled him as he once again held a knife to his throat.
"Die!" Canada merely smirked.
"I like where you're sitting there." Italy looked down to see he was sitting directly on Canada's crotch. He instantly jumped up and backed away, a look of disgust on his face.
"Pervert!" Canada smiled as he got back up, throwing the hockey stick from one hand to the other before finally gripping it.'
"Whatever. Are you ready"?" They both nodded before they raced towards each other for the final strike. Suddenly, England popped up in between them, holding a cupcake in each hand. They both quickly stopped.
"Now gents, you shouldn't fight. It's quite rude."
"But that bastard started it, touching my-" In an act of great speed, England shoved a cupcake into his mouth. Almost instantly, he was on the ground. England turned to Canada, smiling sweetly.
"Would you like a cupcake as well?" Canada, shaking as memories of the time he spent with England as a child resurfaced, shook his head.
"Um, no thanks, I'm full, some other time." Instantly, England's face darkened.
"Are you saying no beacause you think my food is bad?" Canada's eyes widened.
"No! I'm just full, that's all." England smiled again.
"Well, you can still have a bite at least." And with that, he shoved the cupcake into Canada's mouth. He joined Italy on the ground. England chuckled again, brushin off his hands.
"I suppose I win in the end."