AN: Well hi! This is a little idea that's been floating around in my brain for a few months now, ever since I found out that I used to live a few hours away from the town this story takes place in. (No, this couldn't take place just anywhere, and you'll see why very soon.) I'm borrowing the personifications of Canada's provinces and territories from the iammatthewian project for this. If you aren't very familiar with the project, I highly recommend that you pause for a moment, go to YouTube, look up 'iammathewian' (one "T" this time), watch the awesome videos, and then [very important!] come back and read my fic.

I also want to give a shoutout to my friend and Beta, the astounding and marvelous Pink-Kitty-Kela from DeviantArt, for pestering me enough to finally post something. You rock!

And by the way, I don't own Hetalia (© Himaruya Hidekaz), the provinces and territories (© ctcsherry) or the iammatthewian project (© r3ginasimon).

The Chaperone

Prairie Blossom

February 13, 10:47 PM

Tomorrow is the day. I have been waiting for tomorrow for as long as I can remember. It feels so surreal to finally wrap my mind around the concept of "tomorrow": every time I'd tried to execute this plan in the past there had always been something preventing my success. To actually be on the eve of the accumulation of all my hard work: I'm practically trembling with anticipation, even as I write these words. Honestly, there were days when I thought this entire scheme was going to be impossible, that I should just give up while I was ahead. But this year, all of the pieces fell into place, right into my waiting hands.

Yes, all of the preparations are already made. I had to hire almost everyone in town, and I'm sure more than half of them are suspicious of either where I got all of this money or why I'm so invested in this project, particularly the folks at the post office. It sure cost me a pretty penny to make it worthwhile for them, especially considering how busy it is down there at this time of year. Still, they all agreed, and I can easily smooth over the rough edges of my plan so long as everything works out tomorrow.

Tomorrow. Just twelve hours, thirteen minutes left, and then she will finally be here.

It will be perfect. I'll make sure of that.

-SK

The tall, lanky young man closed the spiral notebook he was writing in and slid it under his mattress. He set the ballpoint pen on his bedside table and switched off the lamp standing beside it. Sighing in the dark, he then grabbed two fistfuls of the cotton blanket lying over him, pulled it up to his chin, and closing his eyes. Still, sleep would not come easily to him tonight. His thoughts wandered to the day ahead of him at irregular intervals, resulting with bursts and fits of chuckles, his thin body shaking as he laughed.

After all, no one could possibly stop him now.

Or so he thought.

When Ukraine stepped out of the car she had rented back in Saskatoon, she couldn't help but raise an eyebrow to the town that she had been invited to, if it qualified to even be called that. There couldn't possibly be more than a hundred houses in the entire village, most of which looked vacant. In fact, she could count all the businesses in town with one hand. Still, if the heart-shaped sign she stared at from across the street was accurate, then she definitely had the right address.

Her left hand reached into its corresponding coat pocket and pulled out a twice-folded piece of paper. She glanced left and right before opening it, a nervous habit she had picked up over the last few months. Her two siblings did not know of her exchange of letters with the Canadian personification, and though she was fairly certain that her younger sister would not care, she was wary of what her little brother would try to do to her… friend. Yes, that was what they were: friends. Just friends, right?

She wanted to say "yes," but that did not explain why Canada had asked her to meet him in a place called "Love, Saskatchewan" on February fourteenth.

Anyway, I was wondering: what are you doing on the fourteenth of next month? If you are free, would you like to come out to visit? There's a little town called "Love, Saskatchewan" (I know, it's an awkward name) that has some really great scenery nearby. I'll bring out my snowmobile and we could take a tour of the area before going back to one of my province's houses for dinner. And don't worry, you're not putting Saskatchewan out at all; he said he would be more than happy to have us.

The Slavic woman blinked down at the neat handwriting on the letter, pursing her lips. Did Canada celebrate Saint Valentine's Day? Did Canada not know that she did? She could only vaguely grasp the implications of either possibility, which both left her mind reeling and her stomach in knots.

"Ukraine?"

She gasped and spun around on her heel, eyes wide open and the letter pressed firmly against her breast. "C-Canada! You scared me."

The northernmost American Nation laughed lightly, and Ukraine found that she couldn't resist smiling along with him. "Yeah, sorry about that. How was your trip?"

"It went well, thank you," she answered, stuffing the note back into her coat pocket and pulling the button through. "So, this is Love?"

Canada's gaze shifted to his feet. "W-well, that's what the sign says, anyway."

"And you said that your province lives here?"

"Yeah, on his farm."

Ukraine gnawed on her lip. He won't look at me, she thought. Why won't he look at me? What could that mean? "Canada?"

"Eh?" his head snapped up.

Ukraine noted the rosy tint to his face. Is he embarrassed to be seen with me? Or is he blushing because he—NO! I won't get my hopes up. It's— it's just the cold. Yes, it's the cold. That's why his face is so red. "Are you ready to go, now?"

"Ah, right." An uneasy smile made its way back onto Canada's face. "I'm ready if you are. Saskatchewan said that he was busy until this evening, so we have until then all to ourselves. Do you have anything you need me to put in my truck?"

"Yes," Ukraine replied, desperately trying to convince herself that he was only offering out of common courtesy. "There's a backpack in the passenger's seat."

"I'll get it," Canada offered. "You can go ahead and get in."

He's just doing this because it's the right thing to do. I'd do the same if I invited him to my house. "Sure. Thank you."

Shuffling her feet in the snow, Ukraine made her way to the far side of the vehicle while watching Canada over her shoulder as he took her pack. "Oh, toss me the keys, would you? I'll lock it up," he offered.

"O-okay." Biting off her right mitten, Ukraine quickly dug through her pockets, remembering to avoid the one containing the letter, until she found what she was looking for. She tossed the key ring to her companion, which he caught with a slight fumble, and climbed into his car. Then she waited, idly playing with her worn fingernails until Canada returned, giving her back the keys and laying her bag on the floor against the back seat. "Alright, is that everything?"

"I think so. You are sure that my car is fine parked right there?" Ukraine asked.

"Positive. Don't worry about a thing." Canada shifted into reverse and turned in his seat to look back over his shoulder. A turn of the wheel, a growl of the engine, and a puff of moist exhaust fumes, and the truck pulled out of the tiny lot and began heading north and out of town, leaving behind only an echo and a fresh set of tire tracks on the snow.

Only a minute of stillness later, a lone figure stepped out of the shadows from behind the building.

"I can't believe it. I just can't believe it," he said to no one in particular, but smiling like a madman all the same. "It's starting! It's finally starting!" He punched his fist into the frigid air and leapt in excitement, completely ignorant of the strange looks he was getting from the townspeople walking up and down the street. "That should be enough of a head start," he declared, turning to his own dingy-brown truck. "Time to go—"

But before he could finish that thought, another car pulled into the parking lot, grinding to a halt only a few metres away from the young man. Two voices could be heard from within, one mid-ranged and relaxed, the other shrill and fast. The passenger's door opened wide and two small boots hit the ground. "Where is she?" the shrill voice demanded.

The young man raised a thick blond eyebrow. "Prince Edward Island?"

The car door slammed shut, and in its place stood a short, freckled, red-headed girl with her hair in two tight braids. Her expression radiated with indignant fury, and her sights instantly locked on the young man twice her height. She marched straight toward him, her boots crunching in the packed snow almost with each step until the point of her nose was barely a hand's width away from his chest. "Yea, now where is she?"

He leaned back away from her, trying to recover some of his invaded personal space. "W-what are you doing here? How'd you—"

"Euy brought 'er, in case ye were wondrin'." The driver stepped out of the car. The family resemblance between him and the girl was obvious: red hair, freckles, distinct facial structure.

The blond bit back a chuckle. "Nova Scotia. Of course, I should have guessed."

"Well, Saska—Sasko—Sak—Si—you," Prince Edward Island growled out, much to her companion's amusement, "I'll have you know that I was sitting comfortably warm at home just last night, when all of a sudden, I get a call from my little boy's boss asking if I knew when he and Miss Ukraine were going to be done with their rendezvous! Rendezvous! You wouldn't happen to know anything about this, now?"

The young man narrowed his azure eyes. "First of all, it's Saskatchewan. Four little syllables. Second, since when is it any of your business who Canada becomes romantically involved with?"

"Since always!" she wailed. "I'm his mommy! It's my job to stop him from making stupid decisions like this!"

Saskatchewan sighed. "Hey, Joel," he called Nova Scotia over the short girl's head. "Just wondering, how much did she have to promise you to have you put up with her today?"

"Forty pints and an all-ye-can-eat lobster dinn'r," Nova Scotia snickered from his seat on the hood of his car. "O'course, Euy used seven o'those pints with m'breakfast, an' Euy'll let Bonnie 'ave one if sh' wants te."

"Focus!" Prince Edward Island snapped at her brother before whirling back to the prairie province. "I don't approve of that girl he's with, you know. She'll be a terrible influence, mark my words!"

"Oh really, now? And why is that?" Saskatchewan grit out from behind clenched teeth.

"Call it a mother's intuition," she huffed. "You remember my Matty's birthday a few years ago? Do you remember how she dressed in lingerie and burst out of his oversized birthday cake like a bad Los Vegas showgirl?"

Saskatchewan fought back a shudder at the memory. "You know that America tricked her into that."

"She still agreed to do it," she asserted, wrinkling her nose with her scowl. "That woman has no morals. She'd leech off of any man that would give her a second look. And my little Matty is falling for her pathetic act! That scandalous little..."

Saskatchewan's hand grasped Prince Edward Island's shoulder. "That's my mother you are talking about," he warned.

Rather than shy away from the implied threat, Prince Edward Island narrowed her eyes and faced the larger man with a ferocity that would have made even General Winter cringe in apprehension. "Your mommy," she spat, "is an inane seducing bloodsucker who uses her outrageous sex appeal to wrap my poor boy around her little finger!"

In the background, Nova Scotia whistled.

The grip on the girl's shoulder tightened significantly and began shaking with barely-restrained rage. "You are so lucky you are a short little girl, right now."

"Aw," Prince Edward Island cooed, batting her eyelashes mockingly. "Am I fortunate that you take after daddy and not mommy?"

"Don't provoke me into following my uncle's example," he snarled. If someone else was watching closely from the right angle, he or she would have sworn the blond's eyes flashed dark violet for a split-second.

Before the redheaded girl could hurl another insult at him, Nova Scotia intervened, hollering out, "Anne, Euy think 'es had 'enuff, now." When Prince Edward Island turned to face him with an annoyed glare darkened by a hint of malice behind it, he sighed. "Think 'bout it, Anne. The long'r we stay 'ere, the farth'r we 'ave to catch up wit' Matt an' Ukraine. Now, what's the smart thing te do?"

Prince Edward Island glanced from her brother, to Saskatchewan, to the road out of town before she groaned. "Fine. We can continue this later," the sides of her lips pulled tight into a smirk, "after Sissy and Newfoundland get here to help us out."

Saskatchewan's eyes widened. "You're bluffing." But he knew she wasn't.

"Keep believing that if you want," the girl chimed as she turned on her heel, breaking out of the tall young man's grip, and skipped back to her car, snow crunching under her feet with every step. "C'mon, brother."

Nova Scotia hummed as he dug his keys back out of his pocket before turning to Saskatchewan with a pitying half-smile. "Euh, just so y'know, Euy'd norm'lly be on the side o' true love m'self. It's just tha' Anne's my lil' sister, an' a family sticks togeth'r, no matt'r what."

"Now, Joel!" the girl shouted, scooting into the vehicle and slamming the door closed behind her. With a shrug, the older brother followed suit, buckling in and turning the car on. Saskatchewan could only watch with his mouth slightly agape as they pulled out of the parking lot and onto the street, leaving town just as Canada and Ukraine did only a few minutes earlier.

When the purr of Nova Scotia's car finally faded away, Saskatchewan slumped, sighed, and began to trudge back to his own car. He had been so sure—so sure!—that he had tied up any loose ends. His parents were literally in Love! On Valentine's Day! He had worked on his farm until the calluses on his hands bled, motivated only by the promise that on this day he could make everything worthwhile.

But even as he sat behind the wheel of his truck, mechanically strapping himself in as if nothing unexpected happened at all, he knew that Prince Edward Island's appearance was definitely a problem. As much as he hated to admit it to himself, the girl had found a flaw in his "perfect" plan.

Granted, Saskatchewan knew that he could hold her off long enough if she were alone. But if what she said was true, and both her brothers and sister would help her in her mission, the odds tilted in their favour. As long as they were united, the maritime province family could outman, outrun, and —maybe, depending mainly on Nova Scotia's rate of alcohol consumption— outsmart him.

"...an' a family sticks togeth'r, no matt'r what."

His hand stopped short over the keys in the ignition, hovering a second before he reached across the dashboard and snatched his cell phone out of the glove compartment.

"So, you want to bring your family into this, eh, Anne?" Saskatchewan muttered, opening his contacts list with an expanding grin. "Well, I've got a family of my own."

To be continued…