Canada stretched as he woke. He knew it was late from the sunlight streaming across the bed and the fact that he vaguely remembered America getting up at some point. Canada snuggled into the sheets for a moment before getting up and pulling on some sweats, a hoodie, and a pair of warm slippers. He stretched once more before he decided to go and see where America had gone off too.
He quickly ruled out the den and the lounge because the house was almost dead quite. If America had been in either room, he would have been making some level of noise. Honestly, the boisterous nation almost never shut up. Canada wandered through the kitchen and though he didn't find America, he did find a pot of warm coffee waiting for him and his favorite mug sitting next to it. Canada felt a smile pull at his lips as he poured himself some of the wonderfully warm liquid. He leaned against the counter, letting the mug warm his hands, and looked out the kitchen window at the snow drifts that had built up over night. It was easily a half a meter higher then when he had arrived yesterday. As his gaze trailed across the mounds of snow, he noticed that there was light on in the small work shop America had attached to the house.
"Found you," Canada murmured to himself.
He navigated his way around the ranch house until he was standing in the workroom door. The first thing he noticed was that it was quite warm. America had an old iron stove lit to heat the space. The next thing he noticed was America, sitting hunched over towards the end of his work bench carefully working. Canada ghosted closer so that he could see what the other was working on. He had to smile when he saw what it was. America was slowly carving out the last details for the head of the rocking horse he was making for Canada's youngest, Nunavut. It was a surprise for the little girl. America had designed the rocking horse as a replica of the Icelandic pony, which was Nunavut's favorite.
As Canada watched America work, he reflected that this was one side of his brother that he really liked. That when America put his mind to it and shut his mouth, he could create something meaningful for someone else. It also was just nice to see the hard working side of his brother that had pushed him through the Great Depression and the part of him so focused and attentive to detail that had helped so much in the early days. Canada quietly sipped his coffee as America picked up his reference pictures and held them next to the section he was carving. After several seconds of intense scrutiny, he picked up a fine rasp and made a few gentle passes around the nostrils and eyes. He dusted off the section and looked between it and the pictures once or twice before grinning and sitting up.
"And that's that. Let's get 'er on the rockers and see what we got," America said to himself as he stretched his back, getting a few loud pops. Canada winced at the sound; his brother had to have sat like that for hours.
America stood up and moved the pony to a different part of the work bench where he had the rockers set up and waiting for a final fit before painting. He carefully tapped in the dowels that would temporarily hold the pony to the rockers before stepping back to check his work. Canada moved up next to his brother to admire the work as well. He had to admit that his brother had done a pretty nice job.
"That looks great, Al. Nunavut is going to love it."
America jumped a little at the words.
"Geez Mattie, don't sneak up on me like that! You'll give me a heart attack," America whined.
Canada rolled his eyes. "Somehow I doubt that Alfie."
America stuck his tongue out before throwing an arm around Canada's shoulders. "So you like so far?"
"Yeah, but where did you get the hair for the mane and tail? Is it real?"
"I have a friend around here that breeds Icelandic ponies. I told him about the rocker and he's spent a few weeks collecting them for me," America said with a grin.
Canada laughed softly, "Why am I not surprised, eh?" before glancing at his brother.
"Thanks for making her this, Al."
America smiled his crooked, honest smile. "Come on, you know I have a weakness for kids."
"Because you practically are one yourself," Canada finished, leaning against his brother. It always felt right to just stand like that. Sides pressed comfortably together with America's arm wrapped around his shoulder. He always just chalked it up to geography.
"At heart," America said firmly, trying to pretend he acted like an adult most of the time, "but yeah, every little princess, prince, knight, and cowboy needs a rocking horse."