This is based off of a headcanon I saw on Tumblr, therefore, the general idea of this story does not belong to me. Hetalia doesn't belong to me either, but you've probably figured that much out on your own.
Parka? Check. Snowshoes? Check. Thermal underwear? Check. Canada smiled to himself as he finished packing his duffel bag, humming slightly as he zipped it up and placed it carefully in the corner of his hockey-poster decorated room. Tomorrow was the day he was waiting for almost all year, the only day he looked forward to as much as July 1st. The square representing January 15th on his NHL calendar was circled about a thousand times in blue pen, the writing inside the box reading 'Annual Northern Camping Trip' in messy scrawl. For a whole week starting tomorrow, seven countries would travel to Siberia, where they would build igloos, ice fish, hunt and generally just have a good time. For most people, January in Siberia didn't sound like too great of an idea, but to Canada, it was paradise. For a whole week, the country wouldn't have to worry about politics, the economy or…
"Hey broseph, whatcha doing?" An obnoxiously loud voice called from the doorway to his bedroom.
"Oh, hi America, Just finishing up some packing," Canada responded cheerfully. Even his annoying brother couldn't dampen his mood.
"Where're you going?"
Canada sighed, "I've been telling you every day for about two weeks straight now. I'm going camping in Siberia,"
"Siberia? Didn't they start World War 1 or some shit?"
"No America, that was Serbia," Sometimes, Canada couldn't believe how stupid his brother could be.
"Oh, alright," America paused briefly, "Wait, you're going to leave me here all alone?"
"My god America, I do this every year. Besides, you'll have Kumatora to hang out with. And Tony. And your whale. To be honest, it's not like you ever notice me anyways,"
America frowned, "Alright, you made your point. Who're you going camping with? It's not Cuba is it? It better not be Cuba,"
Canada chuckled a bit, "Cuba wouldn't survive ten minutes in Siberia. I'll be with the Nordics and Russia, the same people I always go with. Are you done asking questions yet?"
"No," America responded, completely ignoring the sarcasm in his brother's voice. "Just one more question, actually. Can I come too?"
"No," Canada answered simply.
"Why not?" America whined.
"This camping trip is only for northern countries. Therefore, you can't come."
"What about Alaska?" America retorted, a smug grin on his face.
Canada opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, completely unsure of how to respond. For once in his life, the idiot actually had a point.
Much thanks for reading, the second chapter should be up soon. Also, ten internet cookies to the person who can tell me where the name 'Kumatora' comes from.