This is a bit late, but oh well. It's still Christmas for some people in the world.

Christmas Eve, 1914:

England was sick of fighting. He was sick of shooting at others, and he was sick of being shot at. It was hard to keep track of the days without having someone constantly reminding him of meetings and such, but he still knew on that day. Christmas Eve.

He had never wanted more to be back in his country, celebrating the holidays with his bothers. Even spending the day with America was preferable to sitting in the cold, wet trenches, waiting for the Germans to shoot.

England and his men had been waiting for a good few hours. The nation could tell a few of them were starting to become rather anxious. Silence like this wasn't good. Who knew what Germany could be planning this time?

"Do you here that?" A voice asked from beside England. He turned to look at the young man who spoke. He was young, couldn't have been much older than 18, with light red hair and big green eyes. "It sounds like singing."

More voices rang out from further down the trenches.

"It's the Germans!"

"They're singing Christmas songs!"

England listened and sure enough, the sound of many voices singing in German could be heard from the other side of no-man's-land.

Slowly, some of the British soldiers joined in. They carried on for hours, as the moon rose and fell in the sky.

As daylight approached, a few German soldiers left their trench. "Merry Christmas!" One of them called out in heavily accented English.

"Do you think it's a trick?" The young soldier who had first heard the singing asked wearily.

England shook his head. "They're unarmed."

None of the soldiers moved. After a few seconds, the soldier beside England stood up. Under the gaze of dozens of men, he walked out to the centre of no-man's-land, and stuck his hand out. "Merry Christmas."

Slowly, more soldiers from both sides followed his lead, England included. He carefully made his way through the crowd, towards a tall blond man standing towards the back.

"Hello, Ludwig," England said, doing his best to stay completely professional.

"Hello, Arthur." Germany nodded in greeting.

"You realise our bosses are never going to approve of this, right?" England asked, watching as the soldiers traded small things like cigarettes and buttons.

The German nodded. "It's Christmas. Even on the battle field we need to have small moments of peace."

England nodded silently. He'd pay for this later, but might as well enjoy the peace while it lasted.

Meanwhile, a small game of soccer had started between a few of the men. There wasn't much of a competitive spirit; it was all just lighthearted fun.

Of to the side, some of the soldiers, both German and British, gathered the bodies of the fallen men. They helped each other give the men a proper burial.

England turned back to Germany. "Merry Christmas, Ludwig."

"Merry Christmas, Arthur.

So this is centred around the Christmas Truce of 1914. I think it was explained well enough in this story, but you'd probably find out much more about it by looking it up than by me trying to explain it.

Im actually really surprised I've never found a Hetalia fanfic about this. Anyway, I hope you liked this and didn't find it to be too terribly written. If you find any horrible grammar issues, please let me know.

Thanks for reading and happy holidays!

-GS