The formal meeting discussing the effects of satellite debris in the atmosphere surrounding the Earth had concluded. The conference had been held in Russia, so Ivan was exhibiting a creepy chirpiness. This caused many of the nations great discomfort and weariness, not to mention the harsh Russian winter that many had to fight through to get to the meeting. However, it was the 10th of December, and every Western nation had one thing on their mind – Christmas. They could feel the excitement from their citizens, the warmth and the love, causing many of the countries to be in unusually high spirits. Everyone was preparing to leave their seats and head home when a jolly voice broke through the steady stream of chatter.
"Gather round everybody! Me and Eduard have a proposal for you all~" Finland called merrily, motioning his hand to where he was standing beside Estonia. The Baltic nation sat on his chair readily, his laptop open upon the polished wood of the wide meeting table.
Every other nation around the room began whispering sceptically among themselves, curious to see what the fuss was all about.
"Dude, isn't this exciting?" America whispered (whose whispering voice was barely a decibel lower than his regular voice) to England as he got up from his seat. "Tino and Eduard always come up with wacky-ass ideas - I bet they have an equally kickass party plan for this Christmas!" The American then started jumping up and down uncontrollably, much to Arthur's surprise.
"Bloody hell lad, control yourself! How many coffees did you have this morning?" the Englishman asked fearfully as he tried to hold Alfred down by his shoulders.
"12! But that's not important right now! Let's go see!" and with that, Alfred shot from Arthur and zoomed his way to claim a space behind Eduard's laptop. Tino's fellow Nordics (+ one Sealand) were already close by for support, as were Lithuania, Poland and Latvia. Eventually every nation was in close proximity to Tino and Eduard. The two countries gave each other a prompting nod before starting their presentation. Tino cleared his throat.
"Hello, everyone! As you are all probably aware, Christmas is almost upon us," he announced. Most of the Western nations gave small smiles at the thought of Christmas – Alfred was grinning like a madman – while others looked disinterested (namely the Arab nations), and some offended: China was glaring, his arms crossed.
Tino continued, "…And in the spirit of tradition, there will be a Christmas gathering! However, due to a string of complaints about the aftermath of our parties: property damage…" - his eyes flicked to Denmark - "…underage drinking…" - Sealand smiled sheepishly at this - "…and attempted murder…" - America glared at Russia, who smiled sweetly back at him - "Eduard and I have organised a more respectable affair this year". He gestured to the Estonian.
"Yes, thank you Tino. We have prepared a little competition for everyone to take part in," said the Baltic as he proceeded to click the mouse pad of his laptop. The rest of the nations leaned in; some having to crane their necks in order to see what was being displayed on Estonia's laptop. Everyone went quiet.
"What does it say?" Monaco asked no-one in particular, from somewhere at the back of the crowd.
"'The Grand Knitted Christmas Jumper Contest'," Austria read aloud.
There was silence in the room for a long time – probably the quietest a room full of nations has ever been. Assessing the unimpressed atmosphere from their audience, Eduard digressed.
"Y-yes. It's an opportunity for each nation to individually express their unique personality and subsequent cultures. There will be prizes for first, second and third pla-"
"Why can't we just, like, have a huge party like we always do?" Feliks pouted.
"Yeah, knitted jumpers aren't exactly exciting!" Gilbert exclaimed indignantly.
Eduard tried to reason: "We can't just do the same generic thing every single year, plus the complaints-"
"You always were quite the hipster, Estonia" Ivan said cheerfully from behind him, placing one giant hand on the Baltic nation's shoulder. Eduard shivered.
"I have better idea!" Yao proclaimed, "Why don't everybody celebrate Chinese New Year instead? Agreed? Ok good – meeting dismissed, you may all go home now!"
Korea put his hand around Yao's arm gently. "Come on Grandpa, It's time for your medicine-"
"How dare you! I am the People's Republic of China! Do not touch me- Aiyaaah!" the Chinaman was now attempting to behead Yong Soo with a Kung Fu chop. In response to this sudden outbreak of violence, Hong Kong grabbed Yao's other arm whilst Taiwan and Macau took up his legs. Taiwan – still holding China's thrashing leg - turned to the other nations and bowed.
"We apologise for the inconvenience. It seems that teacher forgot to take his pills today..." she said.
With that, the four Asian nations marched the raving Yao out of the meeting room.
"…I would gladly celebrate Chinese New Year if it means I can get pissed and not have to bother with knitted cardies!" Australia vented, although he'd never say such a thing in front of Yao. Almost everyone in the room nodded and cheered in agreement. Eduard glanced nervously to Tino for support. The Finn pulled out a chair, planted his foot on the seat and climbed boldly on the meeting table, hands on his hips.
"Listen to me!" the Finn thundered. His face was calm, yet the fire in his violet eyes said 'I'll snipe your Grandma and feed her innards to Hanatamago'. The room immediately silenced. "The competition will be held at our place, 9pm sharp. I expect you all to be there." With a final glare at the gathered party, Finland skipped down from the table cheerfully and turned to Sweden. "Come on, Swe; we have lots of preparations to make." Berwald hitched Peter onto his shoulders and the trio flounced out of the room, followed by Mathias, Lukas and Emil. The room was quiet for some time before anyone was brave enough to speak.
"Well, I'd rather not get on his bad side," Francis admitted. "What are the rules of this contest, Eduard?"
Said Baltic adjusted his glasses and began to read from the laptop screen. "Each nation must exhibit a homemade jumper. It should represent something about yourself, yet still follow the theme of Christmas. Of course if you do not particularly celebrate Christmas, you will not be ruled out of the proceedings," - Turkey and Egypt perked up – "…you may follow the theme of any major festival you celebrate".
"Well, that doesn't sound too difficult." Arthur acknowledged.
"Ja, sounds gut." agreed Ludwig.
Everyone seemed to be more accepting of Tino and Eduard's proposal now that they had been threatened into doing so. They began chatting among themselves about what they should incorporate onto their sweaters.
Eduard shut his laptop and stood up. "If everyone is clear on the proceedings, then I'll be going-"
"Ooh, but Estonia, I could really use your help knitting my entry~" Ivan whined as he grabbed Estonia from behind and wrapped his thick arms around the other nation's chest. Eduard gave a nervous laugh as he gingerly tried to lift the Russian's arms off of him. They didn't budge.
"I'm sorry buddy-friend, but I have my own preparations I need to-" Eduard was cut off by Ivan's grip tightening - only slightly, but Eduard knew a warning when he saw/felt one. Especially one from Russia.
"Ah! I'm so glad I have my Estonia to help me," Ivan concluded happily, marching Eduard from the meeting room, arms still enveloping him.
Feliciano waved Ludwig goodbye (not before lots of hugging and cheek kissing) and then threaded his arm around Lovino's. South Italy turned to his brother, angry with embarrassment. However, upon seeing Feli smiling sweetly back at him, his own face softened. Romano sighed and started towards the exit with his little brother in tow. "Let's go, Veneziano"
"Yay!" Feliciano cheered, "Grande fratello Romano never lets me hold his arm! Ve~, it really must be Christmas!"
"Shut up! You're ruining the momento!" Lovino roared back at him.
Ludwig watched the two Italian's walk together until they had left the meeting room, a gentle smile on his strong face.
"Would you like to link arms too, Bruder?" Gilbert sneered in his ear.
"Ack! Why must you always spoil a lovely moment?" Ludwig reprimanded.
"Kesesese, don't tell me you're going all soft on me, West!"
Ludwig sighed. "Let's just leave already," He said irritably.
The two nations exited the meeting room via one of its many doors, walking side by side.
"So, what do you think of this whole 'Knitted Jumper Competition'?" inquired Ludwig.
"I don't know, I think it could be interesting…" Gilbert pondered.
Ludwig raised an eyebrow. "Really? Honestly I thought you would find it tedious."
"Well, obviously the party will need a little kick-starting…" the former nation replied with a smirk.
"What are you plotting this time, Bruder?" warned Ludwig.
Gilbert winked.
12th of December
Arthur had finally got back to England; back to his home. He had made a special effort to walk from the train station to his lodgings rather than hailing a taxi, as he was trying to gain inspiration for his Christmas jumper. He walked past H&M and Topshop and then came upon a mannequin display in the window of Primark. A certain jumper that decorated one of the mannequins had caught his eye.
"'Bah, Humbug'," Arthur read from the jumper. "Hmm, that could do the trick-" he caught himself when he remembered that the jumper had to be homemade. "Blast," he muttered as he turned on his heel, heading towards The Village Haberdashery. At least now he had an excuse to stock up on some yarn.
15th of December
"Canada! Bro! You need to teach me how to knit!" Alfred demanded, bursting into his brother's log cabin with terrifying velocity. Mathew had been enjoying a warm hot chocolate whilst being snuggled on the sofa in front of an open fire. He was wrapped in his favourite red & black plaid blanket with Kumajiro curled up on his lap.
"Maple!" Mathew screamed, thrusting his mug towards the intruder. The steaming hot chocolate doused Alfred, who squealed as the scolding liquid making contact with his skin.
"Fuck, Matt! You are so paying for my dry cleaning-" Alfred shouted as he started to peel off his sodden bomber jacket and pants.
"Oh Al, it's just you," Mathew gasped in relief. "You really should knock, eh?" the Canadian giggled as he watched his brother struggle out of his trousers.
"Not funny!" the American whined. He now stood awkwardly in his U.S. flag boxers and Captain America vest, hugging himself for warmth now that his extra layer was scattered all over the floor.
"Alfred, if you're cold then you're welcome to sit in front of the fire. What is it you wanted?" Mathew asked.
Alfred stalked towards the fireplace, snatched Mathew's blanket from him –earning a growl from Kumajiro – and wrapped it around his own shoulders. Mathew sighed.
"I need you to teach me how to knit," Alfred muttered grumpily as he sat himself down cross-legged on the rug, his back to the fire.
"I'm guessing this is for the Christmas contest… didn't Arthur teach you how when you were little? He taught me…" Mathew gestured to the half-finished jumper that rested on a stall beside the couch. Balls of red, white and black yarn leaned at the stall's base.
"No he did not, and even if he did, why should I remember anything that damn limey has to say?" Alfred replied heatedly.
Mathew chuckled at this. "True, you have done a pretty bad job at remembering his language, his bad taste in food…"
"Wow, that was a low-blow dude," Alfred responded, burying his face in the plaid blanket in an attempt to hide the redness that was rising in his cheeks. Seeing his brother so self-conscious on the subject of their former guardian made Mathew feel a little sorry for him. Only a little, though.
"Sorry, Al. Of course I'll teach you," he reached out from his position on the couch and put a hand on his brother's shoulder.
Alfred's face lifted from the blanket, lit up brighter than the fifty stars that decorated his underwear. "Really? Thanks man! This is gonna be awe-sooome!" the American hollered, proceeding to pump his fists in the air repeatedly.
I little voice from the back of the Canadian's mind knew already that this was a bad idea.
17th of December
Much to Wy's displeasure, she had (once again) been lumped together with two other micro nations: Ladonia and KugelMugel. Ladonia had insisted that they work on their jumpers together, as apparently they were the 'Artistic Nation Trio'. Moreover, he had insisted that the meeting be held at KugelMugel's weird sphere house, as it was too cold to work at his place as it was outside. Now all three of them sat cross-legged on the floor of the strange building; surrounded by scattered yarn, needles and paint.
"Don't ya think this is fun?" Ladonia asked cheerfully, tongue squeezed between his lips as he concentrated on loop stitching.
"It's alright, I guess. Rather be painting though," replied Wy. They waited for KugelMugel to answer too, however they were not surprised or offended when he didn't. The Austrian micro nation was focussed so intensely on his knitting that Wy was certain she could see a vain protruding from under his red beret.
Ladonia leaned over to see Kugel's fine work, before peering down at his own clumsy creation. He was much more accustomed to making sculptures. "Hey, Kugel – what do you think of Christmas?" he inquired.
KugelMugel seemed to exit his trance, blinking rapidly. "Christmas... Christmas is…" he hesitated.
Wy and Ladonia leaned towards him curiously.
Kugel's head suddenly snapped up. "ART!" he squawked, grabbing Ladonia's unfinished jumper from him and getting to work on it at high-speed.
"Hey! No, stop! I have to make it!" cried Ladonia, who attempted to tear his jumper back from the other boys grasp.
"You lot are worse than a couple of bities!" Wy yelled.
18th of December
Vietnam was relaxing on a narrow strip of sand on a small island in Ha Long Bay. She sat quietly, watching the Indochina Junk cruisers gently float across the water. One small fishing boat caught her eye as it sailed closer and closer to the shore where she was sat.
"Hey there, Vietnam!" Thailand called from the fishing boat, waving his hands frantically in the air.
Vietnam jolted from her seat in surprise. "What are you doing here, Thailand?" she demanded.
"I have something for you!" he replied, steering the boat ever closer to the shore. He arrived after a few minutes, stepping gracefully from the below deck and onto the sand not far from where Vietnam was still sitting. She could see that he had one hand behind his back as he walked exuberantly towards her.
"What do you have there?" she asked in a weary tone.
"Here," he brought his hidden hand out from behind his back. In his grasp was a flat, square parcel. "Don't open it until the 25th…" he said, holding the gift out to her.
"You got this… for me?" she uttered quietly, taking the gift in between her own two hands.
"Of course – we are friends after all!" Thailand assured. "I have to go now, I must feed Toto," with that, the nation waved Vietnam farewell and jogged back to the fishing boat. She watched him go, still a little dumbfounded, squeezing the present to her chest. She smiled.
19th of December
Ukraine ducked down and removed the lid of her garden cloche, reaching her hand inside and tugging at the carrots that grew in the soil. She had other things rather than gardening on her mind however.
"How am I supposed to make a Christmas jumper when I can't afford to buy any knitting needles? I only have sewing needles…" she prattled mournfully to herself. She heard the sound of her garden door being scraped open, so she turned to meet the visitor. "Ah, hello Bela," she greeted, her tone still woeful.
"Why are you making such an annoying whiny voice, sister?" Belarus asked irritably. Katyusha ran to her sister – still holding the carrots – and pulled her into a bear hug.
"Oh Natalya!" Katyusha bawled. "I don't have any money to make my jumper! What will I do?" she continued to squeeze Natalya, crying into her platinum blonde hair. The Belarusian groaned.
"I will make you a jumper, but only if you stop this unnecessary whinging," Natalya growled, her voice muffled by her sister's ginormous breasts. Said sister now pulled away, but still held onto Natalya's arms.
"You would that for me? Katyusha sniffled. Belarus looked down at the carrots in her sister's hands.
"…Yes. I'll use these…" Natalya took the carrots from her sister and turned to leave the garden.
Katyusha was perplexed. "I don't think she understands the concept of knitting…" she whispered to herself.
20th of December
"Eduard has been gone for a while, huh?" Lithuania noted to Poland. The two had been invited to Latvia's house, and were walking up to the front door of his home. With Eduard still missing, Raivis was paranoid that a certain Russian was going to claim him as a Christmas gift to mother Russia. Toris and Feliks rang the doorbell, which in turn exerted the tune of 'God, Bless Latvia!' They listened to the clinking sounds of several latches and padlocks being unbolted, before Raivis finally opened the door a crack.
Feliks waved. "Yo Raivis, what's the haps-" the Pole's greeting was cut short as the little Baltic nation yanked them into his home by their collars, slamming the door immediately behind them and redoing the locks rapidly.
"So not cool man! I totally have whiplash now," Feliks exclaimed, rubbing the back of his neck.
"I-I'm sorry," Raivis whimpered as he finished the last deadbolt. "But Ivan has already broken in once this week, making these insane demands…" Raivis turned to them now, bashful and fiddling with his hands. "I need your help with something," he said.
"What is it?" Toris urged him.
"I, uh… please don't laugh at me," he begged, then started towards the stairs. "It's just that, I…"
Toris and Feliks followed him up the steps, Toris giving Feliks a bemused look and the Pole shrugging in response. They reached the second floor hall where Raivis was standing directly underneath a door on the ceiling, pointing up at it.
"I…I can't reach the loft!" the smaller nation finally admitted.
"Is… that it?" Feliks asked sceptically. "There's no need to be so, like, dramatic."
Raivis nodded frantically. Toris and Feliks glanced at each other and then looked back to the door of the loft.
The Lithuanian stepped up. "It looks like somebody will have to sit on my shoulders…"
Feliks' pea green eyes sparkled. "I'll do it Liet! I can-"
"NO – you're wearing a skirt. I don't need that kind of trauma so close to Christmas," Toris asserted. Feliks scowled, crossed his arms and stuck his out his bottom lip.
Toris sighed and crouched down. "Come on, Raivis," he motioned to his shoulders. Little Latvia climbed easily onto the Lithuanian, who then gently stood up whilst holding Raivis' shins.
"Don't you dare push me," Toris warned Feliks.
"What? I'm just standing here, totally minding my own business…" the Pole teased sarcastically.
Ignoring him, Toris stretched a little higher so Raivis could pull the handle of the loft door.
"So Raivis, did you, like, try standing on a chair to reach the door before we arrived? How come you still couldn't reach it?" Feliks asked distractedly.
The Latvian struggled with the door. "Yes, but I still wasn't tall enough to pull the ladder down…" he divulged, voice rife with embarrassment. The attic door then swung open, casting a rain of dust particles onto the two nations – Poland quickly sidestepped away, conscious of getting his adorable skirt dirty.
"Can you reach the ladder?" Toris choked through the cloud.
Raivis cast his arms blindly around the entrance of the loft. "Almost – here, got it!" he exclaimed triumphantly. He yanked the loft ladder down harshly, making a thump as it landed on the carpeted hallway. He stepped down from Toris' shoulders and swiftly climbed the ladder.
Toris brushed the dust from his brunette hair. "What exactly did you want from the loft anyway…?" he asked.
"Oh, just something Mr Russia want- I mean, uh, never mind!" he called from deep within the attic.
21st of December
Greece was resting on a stone bench that overlooked the ruins of his mother's city. The weather had gotten considerably colder; however he was swathed in a thick blanket of ten-or-so stray cats. He exhaled a content sigh.
"…I feel as if I am forgetting something…" he murmured absentmindedly to himself. "Hmm…" He casually reached for his trouser pocket, tugging at his mobile phone. He softly pressed several keys and called.
"Moshimoshi. Is that you, Heracles-san?" asked the ever-alert Japan from the other end of the receiver.
"Hey, Kiku… I just wanted to ask you something. I feel like I have forgotten something very important…" Greece's airy voice floated into the mobile.
"Have you ventured to create your Christmas jumper yet, Heracles-san?" Japan asked worriedly. Greece deliberated this.
"…no." Heracles finally answered.
"Would you like me to help you with it?" offered Kiku.
"Japan… helping Greece… yes, that sounds nice. Don't tell Turkey though…"
"Just leave it to me." assured Japan. "Sayonara."
22nd of December
"Yo, Egypt!" Turkey hollered from the base of the Great Pyramid of Giza. "What the holy hell do you think you're doing up there?"
Gupta sat cross-legged on the very tip of the pyramid. He glanced over the side to peer at the tiny speck in the sand that was Sadik.
Said Turk now cupped his mouth with his hands. "Hellooo! Can you hear me, Gupta? What are you doing?" he hollered.
"…knitting."
23rd of December
Switzerland was bushed. He was bushed at the end of every day, as one would be if they patrolled their boarders 24/7 like he did. He trudged down the hall, his bedroom the destination. When he did eventually reach out to grab the door knob, he froze. There was a rustling sound coming from inside, followed by quick, light footsteps. Still in his military uniform, Vash pulled the strap of his rifle over his shoulder and held the gun firmly in his hands, pointing forward.
"Get off of my property!" he yelled, charging through the bedroom door gun-first. The door snapped back, revealing a very small and very alarmed Liechtenstein standing in the centre of the room. Her arms were raised above her head in surrender and her turquoise eyes were ample with terror.
"B-big b-brother," she managed to stammer. Vash sighed with relief and cast the gun to the ground.
"Oh Lili, it's just you! What are you doing in here? I thought you were one of those damn EU countries," He advanced towards her and placed a comforting hand on her narrow shoulder.
"I-I know, I was - I was just giving you a gift, it's on the bed there," she responded, still shaken.
Vash scanned the bed, but before he could go and retrieve the gift, Lili grabbed his wrist with her own tiny hand.
"But you can't open it until Christmas day! It's something special for you to wear at the party…" she urged. "I hope you like it!" at this, she let go of her brother's wrist, ducked her head and walked hastily from the room.
24th of December
"… Yes, he has been bugging me about it for fourteen days." Sweden said into the telephone. He was sitting on his living room couch, watching Sealand. The micro nation had his back to the Swede as he sat cross-legged on the floor, passive aggressively watching Frozen. Peter had been trying for forteen days to knit a jumper, however he always ended up hurting himself. Hanatamago had gotten caught up in all of the yarn, and one time Peter somehow managed to knit a sock rather than a sweater. Yet still the micro nation would not accept help from Berwald or Tino - "The rules said that it had to be homemade by ourselves!" he had insisted.
"I can get you one from my place and give it to him on the day," Norway offered from the other end of the telephone.
"Sure. That should be fine," Berwald accepted.
"How do you know that he's going to like it?" Lukas asked. The Swede glanced at the television. The movie had gotten up to the part where Olaf gets impaled, which made Peter break out into a fit of giggles despite his foul mood.
"He'll like it," Berwald quietly reassured him.
