"I've got it, France. The secret to finally teaching that stupid git that childish behaviour never pays off."
"And what, Monsieur Angleterre, is it?"
"This spell. This simple little spell will turn America briefly into a child."
"Why?"
"Dumb as a dog, aren't you? Now he'll see what childish behaviour really means you are."
"Why?"
"To maybe make him act a little more his age."
"OKAY, DUDES! LISTEN UP! I HAVE A SUPER AWESOME NEW PLAN TO CONQUER OUR NEWEST ISSUE! LISTEN UP OVER THERE, FRENCHY!"
And that's how the meeting of the G8 began that day. America climbed up onto the table and was shrieking about some new 'awesome' plan. England smiled devilishly at the boy before peering into his spell book.
He brought one hand up to his face and slapped France away.
"I can't concentrate with you breathing on me." He snapped. France leaned down again.
"And why is that?" He whispered. England shoved his face away.
"Sheesh, Iggy! I'm talking! Can you hold your fighting until the end if my amazing plan?!" America queried, turning a disdainful face to England, who smiled at him.
"Just like a child, you know."
"Wha-what? What do you-"
"Angry I stole your spotlight? Just like when you were a child."
"Iggy, why are you-"
"Medio igne, ferro incautum . Nunc revelatum est minor latere!" England chanted, swiping his hand towards the stunned American.
Blue flames engulfed the boy immediately. America dropped to the table, head in his hands.
"This... This is... weird." He said, looking at his hands, eyes almost missing in the bluish flames that coated him. "Hey, Iggy. What'd you do, bro?" His voice steadily grew quieter. England could see his body shrinking slowly.
He'd turn America back to himself after the shock wore off, England decided.
"Hey, dude? Help me out here?" An America seemingly in his early teens reached out towards England.
"No! Don't touch me, you burger-eating buffoon!" England squeaked, voice uncharacteristically shrill. America reached out.
"Please?" He asked quietly, and his hand made contact with England's.
Immediately both cried out sharply. America recoiled from England and crumpled onto the table, screaming in pain. England fell back against the wall and cried out.
"Angleterre, you said it would be painless! What is happening?" France yelled loudly.
"The spell is not supposed to be transmitted." England snapped shortly. He cringed violently and clutched at this hair. "It causes- NGYAH!" His sentence was cut off abruptly by a loud screech that America echoed a second later.
A great explosion.
Then-
"Where- where are they?"
*LineBreak*
Canada hid an overwhelming urge to fling his stupid alarm clock across the room. It failed to go off again and he missed the G8 meeting. He got up, scratched Kumajirou behind the ears and put on some day clothes.
"Who are you?" Kumajirou asked, pawing his owner down the hall to the kitchen. Canada opened the blinds to his kitchen and pulled some maple bacon out of the fridge.
"Canada. Kumajirou, how many times do I have to... Huh?" Canada had started on his pet irritably when he'd spotted a big smoking crater in the snow outside his winter cabin. " Kuma can you... wait a second for breakfast?" He asked distractedly, putting the bacon back into the fridge.
"I'm hungry, Canada." Kumajirou pouted. "Feed me now!"
"No, Kuma, just... stay." Canada demanded, tugging on his coat and boots. He rushed outside and ran to inspect the smoking dip in the snow. It was empty, but it made a trail of skidded snow that lead deeper into the trees.
Swallowing the fear of what would be at the end of this trail, Canada followed it into the forest, ignoring the nagging doubt that tugged at him.
What if it was a crashed satellite that exploded when it came into contact with a heated surface? Oh, God, was he stupid? Of course it wasn't a satellite.
It was a killer space beaver.
Canada stopped abruptly as he realised he walked past the end of the trail. Backtracking, he stopped at a giant snowbank. He gasped in horror as the sight below registered in his mind.
Two little boys dressed in oversized clothes, scraped up and bleeding from the icy snow.
*LineBreak*
Canada brought the children back to his house, wrapped up in their gigantic clothes and still smouldering. He pressed them onto his bed and unwrapped them from their clothes. He slowly turned up the heat in his room as he set to work folding the giant clothing.
Canada removed a small, leather bound book from the green suit, and then folded it. He made to move on to the brown suit, and then noticed something.
It was his brother's beloved bomber jacket.
Canada jumped up quickly and scrambled to take a look at the boys on the bed. One had short blonde hair and ridiculous eyebrows.
Oh, no. No, it can't be.
The other had silky, dirty blonde hair. Canada pulled open one of his eyes. Vibrant blue.
Canada stepped back from his bed in horror.
Lying on his bed were two small children. America and England had gone back in time.
Canada sat down with his head in his hands. How... How? The two boys were dressed in some of Canada's old outfits from the colonial days and tucked under his blanket in his stuffy hot room.
England and America. Children? How? Canada picked up the spell book in England's jacket and flipped through it.
Age Reverse
WARNING: THE RECIPIENT OF THIS SPELL SHOULD NOT MAKE CONTACT WITH ANY OTHER HUMAN BEING AT THE TIME OF THE REVERSAL. MAY CAUSE SEVERE BURNING, PERMANENT AGE REVERSE OR DEATH.
That was all Canada needed to see to leap up and rush over to his bed. He had never once thought to check their vital signs and was checking their pulses shakily when America's eyes fluttered open.
"My... my head hurts." He mumbled thickly. Canada looked up from checking England's seemingly okay vital signs to rush over to his brother.
"Are you okay, America!?" Canada yelped, pleased to see that his brother was okay.
"Amewica? Is that... Me?" America asked hazily. His eyes were empty and hard. Canada's eyes widened.
"Who... Are you?" He asked America slowly.
"I don't know. Who am I?" America asked brightly, sitting up and smiling.
"You're my brother, Ameri- Alfred."
To be a country was too much weight on a memory-blank little boy.
"And... Who are you?" America asked, clearly enjoying this game.
"Matthew. I'm your big brother Matthew."
"Aaaaaannnnd... Who's that?" He asked, pointing at England..
"That's Arthur."
"Is he my bwofer too?"
"I... Yeah."
"Awesome! Where am I?"
"You're in my house, in Canada."
America leapt up and smiled brighter at him.
"Now what in the name of something or other is going on here?" A weak voice laced with a British accent pulled America's attention.
"Arfur!" He cried, throwing his arms around him happily.
"Get off me, that hurts!" England said, shoving America backwards. England glared at him and clutched his injured side.
Each child looked about five years old, with puffy cheeks and messier hair. Wearing old colonial outfits, they looked like babies.
"Who do you think you are, attacking me like that, anyways? Where the hell am I?"
"Language, Arthur." Canada commanded before he could stop himself. England looked at him, green eyes wide with shock.
"I didn't see you there! Well, then. Who are you?"
"Dat's our big bwofer, Mafew!" America explained proudly.
"I'm.. your brother?" England asked, looking around him. "Okay, what's going on here?"
Canada sighed.
"How about I make you some breakfast and we discuss it then, hm?" Canada asked, trying to smile and be open. America leapt up.
"Yeah, awight, food!"
*LineBreak*
Canada had mangaed to convince the boys that their names were Alfred and Arthur Williams and that they were his litlle brothers who lost parts of their memories falling down the stairs.
"There's no stairs in this house." Said England – Arthur- disdainfully. Matthew sighed.
"We were... out somewhere."
"I'm still confused!" said Alfred, around a huge mouthful of his maple bacon. "Why am I dwessed like a girl?"
"That's a colonial gown!" Matthew said, rather loudly as he defended the comfortable silk that reminded him of childhood. "All little boys had to wear them back in time!"
"But this is now." Arthur reminded him.
"Fine. If you want, we can go buy you some new clothes and then go do something fun, okay?" Matthew reasoned. Alfred nodded rapidly.
"Yes, okay!"
*The next day*
Being awesome like that, Matthew, like the other nations, owned a special mechanism of transport to other countries: A jet. It was parked wherever the hell you park a jet in the middle of the woods by a cabin.
"Okay, you two. We have to make it to Ontario if you want to get some good clothes, so we need to take this." Matthew said, smiling at the awed looks on the boys' faces when they saw the large jet.
"Cool, Mafew, dat's cool! Can I dwive it?" Alfred asked. He stretched out his arms and ran around in a circle. "See, I'll dwive it like dat, so can I?" He asked, beaming up at Matthew with wide blue eyes. Arthur narrowed his eyes as though daring Matthew to let Alfred drive.
"No, no, Al. Sorry. You can sit in the best seat, okay?"
"Hey, what about me? Why don't I get a good seat?" Arthur pouted. Matthew gulped at the danger this posed but proposed,
"Why don't you sit together?"
"YEAH!"
"Alright."
*LineBreak*
As was to be predicted, the plane ride was pretty much a three hour nightmare.
"Move over, Alfred!"
"Make me! HEY, NO PUSHING!"
"Well, move over!"
"I WILL PUT THIS PLANE RIGHT BACK ON THE GROUND."
"Tell Alfred to move over!"
"Tell Arthur to quit shoving!"
Matthew wanted to kill the two by the time he landed the jet wherever the hell you land a jet in Toronto without getting arrested. He unbuckled them and scooped Arthur up in his arms and lead Alfred out of the plane by his hand.
He called up a taxi and pressed the boys into the backseat, and ordered him to the Scarborough Town Center.
"Would you two like to ride in a stroller..."
"No! I'm a big boy!" Alfred said, puffing out his chest. Matthew rolled his eyes.
"Arthur?"
"Of course not."
*LineBreak*
Matthew had the boys safely back in the cabin late that same night, and they were exploring the new clothes they bought.
"I wike this one!" Alfred cried, holding up a bright blue hoodie patterned with several superhero symbols. Arthur was dressed in a hoodie patterned with an English flag and a pair of jeans.
"I think my clothes are alot better than your tacky rags." He said superiorly. Alfred turned a glare his way.
"Oh, pwease. Mine is SUPEWHEWOES. Supewhewoes are way coower dan cowours!" he squeaked out. "What do you think, big bwofer?" Matthew jumped and blushed. No one ever really asked his opinion.
"You... You wanna know what I think? Really?" He asked, not even trying to stop the tear of joy from leaking down his cheek.
"Hey.. Why are you cwying, bro?" Alfred asked. He put his hand on Matthew's knee. "If you wike Arfur's better, you can say so, I won't be mad!"
"N-no, it's not that, it's just... I'm glad I have you two here." He finished lamely. Alfred put down his sweater and requested an 'up.' Once Matthew lifted him he wrapped his arms around Matthew's neck. Arthur put his hand on Matthew's knee like Alfred had.
"I'm gwad you're hewe, too. So don't cwy, okay, Mafew?"
"Okay. Okay."
*The next day...*
"So. What do you say I take you out and we do something else today?"
"Okay! Sounds fun! What're we gonna do, Mafew?"
"Ow! My hair!"
"Sorry, Arthur."
Matthew was dressing the boys in their clothes the next day, and attempting to pull a zipper hoodie over Arthur's head. Arthur rubbed the bases of the assaulted strands as Matthew undid the zipper and pulled it over his shoulders.
"We could go ice- skating." He suggested, smiling at the prospect of taking the boys skating as he tied up Arthur's scarf and took Alfred's sweater from him so he could put it on him.
"Cool! I get to slip and slide like, weeeeeee! Right?"
"Once you get the hang of it."
"Okay!"
So Matthew finished dressing the boys and decided it would be easier to walk the boys to the nearest town and rent them some skates at the rink. About halfway there Alfred began to complain, so Matthew let him ride on his back. Arthur doted on unfairness, so Matthew picked him up frontwards and trudged through the snow. When he finally arrived into the warm rink reception area, he put the boys on a bench and rented them some skates.
"Let go, twit! That's mine!"
"No, no! I want one of these too!" Matthew sighed and took the skates from the woman in the reception desk and turned to the boys. Alfred looked as though he was attempting to strangle Arthur by tugging on his scarf.
"A-Alfred! Stop!" Matthew cried, dropping the skates and shoving Alfred away.
'Look, look, take my scarf!" He said, tugging it off and tying it 'round Alfred's neck.
"Yippie!"
"Arthur? Y'okay?" Matthew asked, looking at the red marks on the boy's neck. Arthur sniffed.
"Of course. I'm just angry at my stupid brother." He said, and Matthew could hear the tears choking his voice. Matthew took a deep breath and put Arthur in his lap.
"Al."
Alfred looked up from his skates and looked at Matthew guiltily.
"Y-yes?"
"Why?"
"I wanted a scawf too!" He snapped defiantly. Matthew pulled back Arthur's hair to reveal the friction marks in the skin.
"You hurt Arthur."
"I'm not hurt!"
"Ask next time, okay, Al? You could have seriously hurt Arthur, or killed him."
Alfred's eyes widened. "No, no, no! I don't wanna kill him!" He squealed, leaping onto Arthur and hugging him. "I'm sowwy, Arfur! I'm da hewo, and hewoes don't kill so don't be mad!"
'I-I'm not." Arthur said. Matthew took both of the boys into his arms.
"Do you wanna skate now?"
"Yeah, yeah!" Alfred cried, jumping away from Arthur to attempt to put his skates on for himself. Once Matthew had the boys all laced up, he ignored Alfred's protests (I can walk, Mafew, see? Ow! Sorry Arfur.) and carried them onto the ice rink.
"Cool! Do I go wike dis?" Alfred asked, taking a rather normal step on to the ice. Matthew rescued him before he fell onto his face.
"No. You don't." Matthew laughed as Alfred picked himself up and harrumphed.
"Genius, Alfred."
"Shut up, Artie."
"OKAY." Matthew interjected; they turned towards him, faces shining in innocence. Matthew slowly untangled the scarf from Alfred's neck and tied it around his waist.
"We're gonna do it like this." He said, using Arthur's hand to guide him around a shaky woman to the guide rail.
"Your turn next, okay, Arthur?" Matthew asked; Arthur nodded.
"Okay, Al. Hold that scarf real tight with all your hero strength. Got it?"
"Yeah, big bwofer! It'll never escape!" Alfred's face shone with pride as he clasped the scarf between his little hands. Matthew nodded.
"Okay. Lean back and hold on tight."
And they were off. Matthew sped off through the rink rapidly, keeping a tight hold on the taut scarf as it swiped this way and that. When Matthew saw the area where he'd left Arthur, he slowed, turned, and a speeding child on skates crashed into him.
"Was that fun, Alfred?" He asked. Alfred, however, grabbed his shirt and didn't let go.
"I fought I was gonna go fwyin' Mafew, I was scweamin', didn'cha hear?" Alfred whined. Matthew's eyes widened as he picked Alfred up and carried him to the guide bar, which he grabbed and looked up at him from.
"W-where's Artie?" He asked suddenly, fear forgotten from his tone as interest clawed its way through.
"Right here." Said Arthur's voice, and Matthew was surprised to see him lying on the ice, skirted by skaters. Matthew chuckled and reached for him.
"And it's Arthur." He added to Alfred. Matthew scooped him up.
"Arthur, I told you to stay there, on the guide bar." Matthew chided lightly, brushing shaved ice from Arthur's cheeks.
"But everyone else could do it. I just didn't try hard enough." He responded determinedly, pushing away Matthew's hands with fire in his eyes. He wriggled until he was put down and then shifted forwards on his skates; his legs shot out to either side and he sprawled on his face.
"HAHAHA! Artie, you fail at dis!"
"Why you insolent little-"
Insolent? He's what? Five?
"How about" Matthew said, interrupting whatever Arthur was going to yell at his brother, "We try going all together? Hold my hand, Arthur."
Arthur looked upset at the prospect of being helped, but allowed Matthew to pull him to his feet and take his hand. Matthew turned to grb Alfred's hand and moved forward slowly, esaily, until Al requesteed they go faster.
"Wheeee! I'm skatin'! Wook, Arfur, I'm doin' it! An' you too!"
"Yes, I see, this is really fun!" Arthur cried, putting his other arm in the air and shifting his feet every now and then to stay upright.
Matthew felt warmth spread through him as the boys' happy yells filled the arena while they zipped along. Other skaters pulled out cellphones and Matthew could see them flashing and going off in their direction; people were snapping photos of them.
"Ready, you two, we're gonna spin, okay?" Matthew yelled, or to others, spoke in a normal voice.
"Okay!"
"ALRIGHT!"
So Matthew bent his knees and scooped up the boys as they skated, and jumped up into the air, performing a spin before landing on the ice. A few cheers rang up, and Matthew blushed at being noticed; he never was, normally.
"AWESOME!"
"Amazing!"
Arthur and Alfred cheered along with the crowd and threw their arms around him, burrowing their heads into his neck. Alfred awved to the crowd enthusiastically as Matthew sakted off the rink and carried them into the reception area. When he set them down on the benches to undo their skates, he saw their eyes gleaming, and Arthur had a beam on his face that Matthew'd never seen before.
"That was exceptional!" he cried as Matthew undid his skated and pulled his snowboots back on. "I mean, I don't remember ever moving like that, it was like floating!"
"Yeah, Arfur's wight! I was fwyin' Mafew, I'm sure I was! D'ja see me?"
"You weren't flying!"
"Was too!"
"Was not!"
"MAFEW!"
*Later*
A snowstorm had kicked up during dinner that night, and loud wind blew around the cabin as Matthew tucked the boys into the bed in his spare room. Arthur appeared to already be asleep.
"Goodnight boys." Matthew said, turning out the light and returning to his own room. He could hear the wind whistling around the cabin and snow smashing his windows when he pulled his blankets around his head.
Alone with his thoughts, Matthew began to wonder exactly why England had turned he and Alfred into children. And how they ended up in front of his house. And what would happen to their nation if the representative was again a child.
That was as far as he got before his door slammed open and Alfred launced his little body into the bed, followed by Arthur, who climbed over Alfred and cuddled into Matthew.
"B-boys? What's wrong? Is the snowstorm scaring you?"
"I'm not scared! Arthur is! I just brought him here and I wanna stay!"
"I'm not scared... I'm cold..." Slurred Arthur drowsily. Matthew pulled the blankets over the chidren and tucked them close to him.
And wished with all his might that this spell didn't wear off. Ever.
*LineBreak*
A/N: Lame story is lame! Hooray for my failiure. But if you made it here without clawing out your eyes, first if all, thank you and secondly, the rest is more intriguing and interesting! I promise!