Okay, so, this is my first fanfiction ever. Please be nice. Its kind of short and maybe a little fluffy but if it seems OOC then I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to do that. I just love Canada and feel like him and England should have had a better relationship. So this is my attempt to fix it.
No I do not own the Characters or the countries or anything having to do with anything in this other than the family love.
And maybe I'll write more (even though I'd have no idea what to write) so this is mainly staying a one-shot.
And yes, there is fem!England. Any romance you might find is completely unintentional. Now, on to the story!
Matthew limped forward, fists shaking angrily. Bruises ached and his left eye stung, probably turning black as he walked. A few old scars began to bleed and a bump on his head rattled his brain. It had happened again. Cuba freaked upon seeing him and mistaked him for America. Again.
"This time. This time I'm gonna give him a piece of my mind. I'm so sick of this!" the young country thought. "They always do this to me. Always! But this time, I'm really gonna do it-" he could see Alfred's door right down the sidewalk when all of a sudden, something small and forceful slammed into him.
Stumbling, Matthew turned and stood up to see a girl sitting up too. She had an irritated look in her bright green eyes, as if he was the one that ran into her. Her eyes seemed really familiar, though. Her long blonde hair was up in two high pigtails. A hair color he he'd seen, but just couldn't place on who. She wore a green plaid skirt with a matching tie, a grey v-neck sweater, tall white socks, and black flats. She also wore a pair of glasses that matched his own.
He offered his hand saying, "I'm so so s-sorry, are you okay?" Ignoring the hand though, she stood up and her eyes widened as if in recognition before narrowing into a scowl.
"YOU! Where have you been? I've been looking for you everywhere!" she shouted at me. His previous anger simmered into a dull throbbing in the back of his head as he recognized something. A slight British accent. And suddenly everything clicked.
"Arthur...?"
She (he? Matthew wasn't sure) was surprised that he recognized her (him?) for a moment before she (he?) scowled again and continued shouting. "Yes, it's me. A spell backfired and sent me to this wretched continent, turning me into a female. Now will you help me or not?! I need to get home, Alfred!"
Hearing that name again, turned the throbbing back into anger and the young country remembered why he was there and stormed back towards Alfred's door with a glare.
"Hey! Alfred! ALFRED! Don't walk away from me when I'm talking to you, I still need your help!"
The female Arthur chased after him, grabbing his arm and whirling him around. "I forgot how strong England still was compared to me," he thought for a moment.
Blood boiling, he wrenched his arm out of her (his?) grasp and began to yell. "Its Matthew! Matthew! NOT Alfred! I'm Canada! Not bloody freaking America!"
His voice started cracking as England's cheeks burned red in embarrassment before staring at him, worried. He (she?) finally noticed all the bruises and the blood.
"Canada...? I'm so sorry, Matthew, I-I didn't mean to-"
"Please! No one remembers me...they wouldn't even care if I disappeared..." His vision grew blurry.
Sitting down on the sidewalk, Canada buried his head in his hands. Female Arthur sat next to him and hesitated in what to do.
"All anyone ever sees is America. Everyone always thinks I'm Alfred." England winced, thinking back to how poor Canada always had the worst end of the stick.
If you looked close enough, you'd see the differences between the two. He had deep violet eyes, unlike Alfred's blue ones. And longer, sandy hair with the one curly piece on the top. But no one ever did. And his brother did tend to be a massive pain to some people. Predominantly, to Arthur. So of course, poor Matthew had to pay for it.
"I love my brother, I really do, but people always think I'm him and he pisses a lot of people off. So when they see me, they get mad and take it out on me. And I'm so sick of it! Today I was going to finally tell him off and try and get him to stop being such an asshole to the world, but I-I know it'll never work. And I know that I won't ever have the courage..."
Female Arthur watched as he began to cry openly. He (she?) began to rub his arm and back soothingly, slowly being reminded of when he took care of both Matthew and Alfred as children.
"It's okay, I mean, I know that I'm useless anyway...I know you always had a special place for Alfred and I was just taken out of spite to France, but even he stopped talking to me months later. I know that I'm just a waste of space."
Matthew didn't know why he kept saying all these things. Things he'd always felt but never said out loud, because no one was there to listen. Or really, no one was actually paying attention, because people always seemed to be there. But never seemed to see HIM there.
England widened his (her?) eyes in shock as he (she?) prepared to object to those statements. But he (she?) couldn't. They were true. She (he?) never really wanted Canada, he (she?) just wanted to one-up the bloody Frog. But after he (she? I must figure this out! Im just going to stick with "he" from now on...) did have Matthew, Alfred always came first. He DID have a special place for America. That's why it hurt so much when he left. But Matthew was still there. Matthew was always there. And Arthur had missed it; he had forgotten him. The poor thing had been ignored and forgotten by the ones who were supposed to love him.
Closing his eyes to calm himself down, he pulled the young country down and placed his head in his lap. Matthew tensed at first, but relaxed once he felt comforting hands rubbing his side and brushing through his hair.
He was nostalgically reminded of times when he was very little and would wake up crying from a nightmare. How warm, rough hands were always there to hug him tight and wipe the tears away. Soothing hands always there to help him whenever Alfred did something reckless or stupid. Soft hands whenever helping him clean up. Heavy hands as they collided with his head or his arm or his face when in trouble. Or accused of being guilty, when really innocent. Bloody hands after wars being fought. And eventually, fists. Out of drunken or confused anger.
Sitting up, suddenly, Matthew turned to say something more to female Arthur before seeing the look in his eyes. The regretful, broken hurt in the brilliant green orbs of his. In that unspoken moment, Matthew and female Arthur forgave each other for their broken relationship that needed mending.
England reached out and pulled Canada into a firm hug, tears spilling out of his eyes. "I'm so incredibly sorry, Matthew. I never meant to do those awful things to you. I was a terrible father and don't deserve your forgiveness."
Canada shook his head that was resting against England's shoulder and cried as well. "No, I forgive you.."
"But why?! What have I done to earn your forgiveness? I never treated you like how you should have been treated and I know it's too late to fix it now..." he cried.
"No it's not. It's never too late," Matthew pulled back and smiled at him. Female Arthur's heart leapt and he kissed his forehead lightly. "I love you Mattie, I always will." And it was a promise he was determined to keep this time.
Matthew smiled and leaned into his father's embrace again. "I love you too, Papa," he whispered, calling him Papa for the first time in years.
"Hey Bro! What are you doing here?" Alfred called as he ran up the sidewalk to see the badly beat up Matthew and a strange girl hugging him. "And who's this?"
Wiping the tears out of their eyes before America could see, they both stood up and female Arthur scowled at him.
"Al, this is, um, well, you see the thing is-" Matthew began before getting cut off.
"There you are! I've been looking for you everywhere! I need to get out of this bloody country and get back home!" Female Arthur shouted at him.
Taken aback, Alfred didn't quite recognize England as fast as Canada did. "Whoa! Hey lady! I don't even know you and this awesome country's not bloody! It awesome! Why would you WANT to leave?"
"Are you really that dumb? I thought i raise you better than that, you fool! I'm England!"
America began to laugh as he slapped Matthew on the back, like he was the one who was the cause of his laughter. "You're crazy, lady, I know England, and you don't look anything like him."
Rolling his eyes, female Arthur continued to yell at an amused Alfred as Matthew watched from the side. They would never be a "Perfect Family," or even a family at all, really. But it was Matthew's Family, or what could be called a family in his mind. And it was perfect to him. And now, he had got his Papa back, even though he still ached from the beating earlier.