Surprise!
It was another G8 Conference, but unlike all the other ones, this one was unusually productive. Not because the Nations had finally pulled their act together, but because they had no clue what to do except stare at the speaker. Or at one of the other new additions replacing the missing countries of the world. You see, a week or so ago, several of the world's countries disappeared. Everyone panicked, of course, but nothing in the global economic atmosphere had changed. So the missing Nations couldn't possibly have died...right? Either way, in place of the missing Nations were people that claimed to represent the missing Nations' capitals. (Except for Venice, who had claimed to be the last Northern Italian representative's favorite city, but whatever.)
In any case, these new international representatives would not have bothered the others had it not been for the fact that they were female. Not that the other countries (most of them being male) were sexist or chauvinist or anything. It's just that they were all so used to being surrounded by their own gender that they were all overwhelmed by the sudden resurgence of estrogen. And such intelligent estrogen too. The only experience any of them had had were things like Hungary's temper. Liechtenstein's naïveté. Ukraine's sensitivity. Belarus's assertiveness. Not an intelligent being who could talk about economics like this one. She had called herself London.
"...and so in conclusion, I believe that this new trade route would be an excellent way to create new jobs as well as a new outlet for our exports. Any questions?"
Silence in the room, then suddenly, America stood up. All the other males braced themselves for something completely ridiculous to come out of his mouth. What actually came out of his mouth was (debatably) worse.
"I agree with you, but I think we can make this whole thing even more efficient if we put some money up front towards a canal. 'Cuz if you look back at that map, if we built a canal through it instead, we'd be saving money, time, and fuel instead of just sailing all the way around. So it would kinda suck at the beginning, but it'd pay off in the long run."
London stared at him, but she eventually agreed, and the room was silent except for the sounds of America and London discussing further details. The other countries were still stunned. Since when was America smart?!
Either way, the awkwardness in the G8 room was broken by the pounding of running footsteps, a door crashing open, and shouting from out in the hallway.
"Hey guys, wait for me!"
"No, wait, I have to go first!"
America had been speaking with the new English representative (London) when he stopped mid-sentence, recognition flashing in his eyes. He looked at London, then locked eyes with the new Canadian representative. Not wanting to attract any more attention to the commotion outside, he tried the cryptic route.
"Could you…?" he asked the Canadian girl, gesturing with his head towards the door. He hoped to the God his one nation was under that his theory was right and Ottawa would understand what he was asking.
Thankfully, she nodded, quietly standing up and slipped silently out the door. Breathing a sigh of relief, America tried to reclaim the room's attention.
"Okay, so, as I was saying," he began, but when he looked up from the notes he was carrying, he saw France and Russia pressing their ears against the door.
America blanched. "Wh-what are you-?"
France shushed him fiercely. "Non, I want know what's going on!"
America blinked, then glanced at Germany, hoping that just this once that the hardworking Nation would back him up and recall the meeting to order. But no, apparently the German was busy being red-faced and staring at the Northern Italian girl's notes. Venezia was standing over him and quietly explaining the notes she had taken on the meeting, because unlike the previous Northern Italian representative, this one seemed to be a determined worker but apparently took her notes diligently in the form of flowcharts and diagrams. (Now, it was quite out of character for him, but Germany hadn't actually been paying attention to what anyone had been saying during the meeting. He couldn't exactly process anything this girl was saying either, but it would be impolite to tell her that he still wasn't paying attention.)
America gave a hopeless look to London. Japan was probably too polite to say anything, and besides, he was busy watching (with a knowing smile on his face) his German friend be less than perfectly composed. As such, there was no recalling the G8 meeting now. America could only now hope that the others wouldn't freak out when they found out who was making the noise.
Just then, America's phone vibrated in his pocket. Seeing as no one was going to yell at him for it, he pulled it out. He had received a text from…well…his wife.
I hope the kids aren't causing too much trouble, the message said. But we're kidnapping your sister for her birthday. You're free to join us whenever you feel like it. Maybe I can finally meet your supposed friends for once. Give London and Venezia my regards! Oh and, happy birthday. I guess we can celebrate yours too...
…well, that explained something at least. And America sighed in resignation, shaking his head. That was his wife for you.
Meanwhile, outside in the hallway, three teenagers were arguing. Now at first glance, none of them looked alike, other than the fact that all three of them wore glasses, and all of them looked and half-white, half-Native American. But if one looked more closely, all three of them carried themselves like they had conquered world and now carried it on their backs. Like they were all far older than they looked but still managed to carry the teenage spirit of defiance in their gaits and their eyes. And I suppose, in some way or another, that much is true…
"Why should you get to go first?" grumbled the teenager dressed oddly like Indiana Jones. (Funnily enough, that was his name. He still swears the books and movies stole it…)
"Because I'm a lady. That's why," another teenager sassed back primly. She was dressed like a high school rebel and had a green stripe in her hair that would occasionally fall in front of her face.
Indiana snorted at her. "You're not a lady."
"Yeah," the last teenager agreed, this one in a Green Bay Packers jersey. "You're nothing but a sister!" He grabbed the girl's green stripe and began tugging on it repeatedly.
The girl had closed eyes, a raised eyebrow and an irritated frown. "Will you please stop pulling on the Chicago River?"
Her brother smirked. "Make me, little sister."
"I'm older than you!" She opened her eyes and glared up at him. And then she did what any refined lady her age would have done: she stuck her tongue out at her brother. Bad move, apparently. Because her brother tugged her hair again. Much harder this time.
"Ow!" she yelped. "Now that one actually hurt..."
At this point, Ottawa had reached them. "Now Illinois, you must stop that. It really isn't ladylike. And Wisconsin? Let go of your sister's hair, s'il vous plait? Merci. "
Wisconsin huffed. "And what about Indiana?"
"Indiana knows what he did wrong," Ottawa replied patiently. She turned to Indiana. "Don't you, mon neveu?"
"Oui, Tante," Indiana replied. He had the grace to look bashful. "I'm supposed to keep my siblings from fighting, not make it worse."
"And you two," Ottawa said, turning to Illinois and Wisconsin. "Such behaviour is most unbecoming of such a lovely, charming lady and gentleman."
Wisconsin glared at his sister. "Yeah well," he grumbled. "She started it…"
Illinois closed her eyes, turned up her nose primly, and straightened up her posture to perfection. "Ladies do not start fights," she began. Then whirling on her brother, she glared back at him. "But they can finish them." Wisconsin stuck his tongue out at her.
"How now, Wisconsin, don't be rude," Ottawa chided. This whole time, she had been chiding them with a soft voice and a gentle smile. And somehow, that could bring any of America's children to order and guilty apologies faster than any amount of yelling ever could. Possibly because that was how their mother spoke to them…
I'm not angry, their mother had always said. Only disappointed...
"Now then," Ottawa continued. "All of you better behave now, d'accord? I mean, your father's in the meeting room stressing out right now…"
Now all three of them really looked remorseful. "Désolé, Tante," they apologised.
Ottawa smiled her forgiveness. "Now then, why are you here?" The three teenagers immediately brightened. But before any of them could say anything, a voice answered her question.
"Well, Little Birdie, we're here to bring you to your own birthday party." Ottawa turned to see none other than The Great Awesome Prussia himself, looking right at Ottawa. (Though, he looked kind of nervous.) She blushed and looked away shyly. Almost sensing her embarrassment, Prussia's cute little bird flew over to her. She stretched her hand, and the bird snuggled happily into her fingers. Ottawa smiled and began to pet the little yellow fluffball.
Meanwhile, Illinois grinned. "Onkel Preußen!" she exclaimed, running to hug him. Prussia grinned back and scooped her up, easily swinging her in a circle despite her age. Setting Illinois down, he turned to the Canadian girl.
"Now come on," he coaxed in a surprisingly gentle voice, and Ottawa could have sworn his cheeks were slightly red. "Your sister-in-law will have my awesome head if we're super late."
"Oh!" she exclaimed softly. She was slightly torn between returning to the meeting (where she was supposed to be) and the party with her family (where she wanted to be. And it didn't hurt that it was such a handsome man asking her to go…) And besides, "I didn't think anyone remembered my birthday…"
"Of course we did, ma petite soeur," America's voice cut in suddenly. Ottawa was a little startled as she turned to face him.
"But…what about the meeting?" she tried to protest.
America waved her off. "Nah. You deserve this. Besides, we got quite a bit done today, and I think it's about time the others met my family." At this point, the other Nations had filtered onto the scene, just in time to hear that there was a birthday party and that they were all invited.
America turned to the three States and tossed Indiana- car keys? "Now show us where the party is? You guys lead the way in my Mustang. I'll hitch a ride with one of these guys. I trust you guys will take good care of Shining Sea?" And for a moment, the three teens were stunned, staring silently at the keys. No one ever got to touch their dad's car, let alone drive her. But they quickly remembered their manners and recomposed themselves.
"Sir yes sir!" All three straightened to attention and saluted him in perfect sync. And when their father straightened and saluted them back, they dropped their hands and scurried towards the exit, now arguing who got to sit where in the car. America smiled fondly after them.
"Come on, Signor Germany!" Venezia exclaimed all of a sudden. "It's time for you to have some fun for a change!" And with that, the Northern Italian grabbed her captain by the hand and dragged him after the three States. (He was too red-faced and flustered to offer any real protest. I mean: Mein Gott, a pretty girl was touching his hand.) "You too Japan!" she called over her shoulder, and an amused Japan silently followed his friends.
Now, in the meantime, (no one's really sure what happened, but) London's arms were crossed over her chest. With her eyes closed and her nose in the air, she was walking briskly towards the door like she was subtly trying to get away from someone. And perhaps she was, because scurrying behind her was France. And wait. Why-? Was he pleading with her?!
"But chériiiiiiieeeee…!" he called after her. No answer.
"Why not, chérie?" he called again. London was still ignoring him completely.
"Please, chérie?" Wow, she's got a strong will; you can practically hear the puppy dog eyes in his voice.
"Please?" Sacrebleu, is he persistent. And the two of them walked out the door like that: France still complaining and London still giving him the cold shoulder.
America gave a smile to Russia. "Come on, big guy. I think it would be nice for you to see Alaska again."
Russia nodded, giving a rare genuine smile back. "Yes. Thank you, America."
"You're welcome," America replied. And together, they left the room, leaving just Prussia and Ottawa. Ottawa, at this point, was hoping to escape all the attention she was getting. Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately), Prussia grabbed her and picked her up bridal style.
"What are you doing?!" Ottawa yelped in surprise. She could feel the blood rushing to her face.
To his credit, Prussia's face was just as red. "I'm not really sure," he admitted. "But your nieces and nephews said that you're the birthday princess. And isn't this how princesses are carried?"
"Well...um...only by those who love her..." She didn't think it was possible, but she was pretty sure there was even more blood rushing to her face. Oh Maple. Why did she just say that? And for a moment, our two favourite red-faced socially awkward dorks just stared at each other.
After some silence, Prussia cleared his throat. "But before we get going, which should probably be soon before we're late..." He laughed nervously, then looked shy all over again. "Um...Alles Gute zum Geburtstag," he whispered. Into her ear.
Her face was still burning, but perhaps Papa France had taught her something after all. Because she somehow managed to smile and lean towards his ear.
"Merci beaucoup, Monsieur Prusse," she whispered smoothly, and Ottawa swore she heard him swallow.
Looking back, Prussia isn't exactly sure how he didn't drop her.
A/N: Yeah, I know. It's late.
But I dedicate this fic to the North American brothers. Or maybe not exactly, because I'm giving Fem!Canada lots of love in this one. But it is for their birthday. On a sidenote, this fic is a oneshot previewing an idea I had. If you want, I can expand upon it for you. (Also, I kinda overdid it with the foreign languages, so if anyone feels the need to correct my French or German, go ahead.)
Also, if there's anything you don't understand, feel free to message me.