Synopsis: Prussia was not one for ice skating but it was impossible to resist Canada when he asked with such sweetness. 'Please' was a more powerful word than most realized.
Hetalia does not belong to me. Neither do any of the countries mentioned. Get back to me after 'World Domination Phase 3' is complete.
"Oh, but it's cold outside. ~ "
It's Cold Outside
"It's cold."
"Isn't it wonderful?"
"No."
Prussia was perched on the end of the makeshift bench with a frown. He was wearing two sweaters, a jacket that almost covered his knees, and three scarves that he had tied together into one awful, mismatched conglomeration. It was five feet long and wrapped half a dozen times around him. He was wearing gloves tucked inside his mittens and his fingers were still cold. There was a dreadful knitted 'toque' that clashed with his colouring and kept slipping down and ruining the effect of his glare.
He looked as if he were the youngest child of seven unfortunate hand-me-downs.
Worst of all were the battered ice skates that Canada was strapping to his feet.
"It will be fun."
"It will not."
"It will too," Canada was kneeling in the snow as he threaded the ice skates with practiced motion. Under different circumstances, Prussia might have been pleased with the position, but he was nervous as it was. "You drag me along on all sorts of odd adventures that end in… Well… This is a nice, normal date for nice, normal couples."
"Nice, maybe, but normal? What about when we…?"
"Illegal."
"Or when we…"
"Amoral."
"Or…?"
"No, and I have not forgiven you for that one either."
Canada could finish his thoughts without looking up from the laces. Prussia tugged down on the pompoms that were hanging from his hat on knitted strings to showcase his displeasure and it slipped lower on Canada to cover his nose.
He sighed and stopped lacing.
Canada pushed 'toque' back into place with the heel of his palm. He did look at Prussia now but with a frown. Canada swept the jacket further up to bunch on his lap and rested his cheek on his knee. Prussia was surprised that his cheek was warm in this weather but grateful nonetheless.
"It's cold out." He said it again in case it had been missed the first time.
"Welcome to the 'Great White North'. What were you expecting?"
"Sun. Sand. Coconuts!"
"The hell you were."
Canada tucked himself between his legs with no mind to the snow beneath him and looked up at Prussia with the widest, most innocent stare in his arsenal. He trailed his fingers along the inside seam of his pants in unasked but understood question. He had convinced Prussia to come this far and he needed that last resignation of his crumbling will not to ice skate. Prussia wanted to keep what little was left of his poise and decorum but those fingers dancing on the seam were distracting.
"No." He tried to resist.
"Yes."
"No?"
"Yes." His voice was firm even as his eyes were soft.
"… Alright." It was difficult to resist the other nation when he wanted something, truly wanted it, and Prussia failed every time. He bent over to place a chaste kiss on the tip of his red nose.
Canada grinned and pushed back to continue on the laces.
He was wearing far less than Prussia but seemed much warmer; one jacket, one hat, one pair of mittens. That was it. It might have been insulting if Prussia were not above such trivial emotions.
He tied an elegant knot with a flourish.
"There."
"… Why does that knot suddenly seem like the hangman's noose?"
"That would be because you are a chicken."
"Do not speak of chickens to me! You know how I feel about them!"
"Then come on." Canada stood and managed to balance just fine on snow with his ice skates. He had tied his first and laughed when he saw that Prussia was still struggling with his. "Let's go."
He held out his hand but Prussia just glared at it. He tried to get up on his own.
"Ah!"
He slipped, of course, and received a mouthful of snow for his trouble.
Canada hauled him upright with surprising strength and looped their arms together for equilibriumas he guided them towards the frozen water of the river. It had been cleared of white and the ice beneath was the colour of fog at dawn.
"Come on, come on, let's go." He was excited but Prussia was not.
"Are you sure this is safe?"
Canada stopped their strange, huddled stride to stare at him. It was difficult to be elegant wearing ice skates on anything except for ice.
"Safe? You? You are worried about whether or not it is safe?" He burst into laughter. "Who are you and what have you done with Gilbert?"
"Oh, ha, ha. That is hilarious," Prussia frowned. "This is serious!"
"Yes, yes, we've been over this. It's safe."
"Safe, safe or 'Canadian safe'?"
"What does that mean?"
"It means that Canadians believe that wandering through the woods is safe or launching themselves down mountains is safe or," Prussia pointed to his ice skates, "that strapping knives to their feet and dancing on thin ice is safe!"
Canada cocked an eyebrow but he started walking again and continued dragging Prussia with him.
"You've thought this through, I see."
The two of the reached the dividing line between snow and ice.
"Yes."
"And nothing I say will convince you otherwise?"
Prussia glared at the ice.
"No."
"What if I said," Canada fluttered his eyelashes, "please?"
Prussia glanced from him to the ice to him to the ice. He sighed.
"I hate you."
"But you'll do it?"
"I'll do it."
Canada beamed and let go of his arm with the rustle of their jackets passing against each other. He jumped backwards onto the ice and held his hands out for Prussia as he floated to the other side of the river.
He was skating backwards as if it were the easiest talent to master in the world.
Backwards.
Prussia frowned at him and allowed one tentative foot to touch the ice. It was not so difficult. He could do this.
He picked up the other foot and that was when it all went to hell.
His first foot slid forward and to keep from gymnastics he had to bring the second foot forward too but then the first one slipped again. It was an odd, scissoring sort of prance that looked and felt ridiculous.
Canada floated past him in gliding motion with his hands clasped behind his back. He was laughing.
"Come on, then. Let's go. I'm waiting."
"Fuck you."
"Later. We're skating."
"You're skating. I'm…" Prussia gestured to himself with a frantic up and down gesticulation. "Not. I'm not."
Canada was still laughing but he came to a halt in front of Prussia with a splash of ice shavings and mist. He held out his hands again.
"Please?" Prussia let Canada wrap his mittens around his own and coax him forward. "Left. Right. Left. Right."
Prussia concentrated on the steps and not on his good natured laughter but he could not match his grace.
"What part of this is 'fun'?"
"This part!"
Canada tugged him forward with a little more force and the two of them darted across the ice in random patterns.
"Ah! Ah! Matthew! Not awesome!" He was weaving back and forth and Prussia was coming for the ride. He was not shifting his feet much anymore and was instead just holding onto Canada for dear life. He started to spin in circles, alternating tight and then wide, until Canada was all he could focus on whilst the rest of the world was blurring. "Not awesome!"
Canada began to slow down before coming to a laughing rest. His cheeks and nose were bright red from the freezing temperature but it suited him. He let go of his hands and Prussia tumbled to the ice.
Canada bent down to poke him.
"Are you still alive?"
"No thanks to you," he mumbled into the ice.
"Does it hurt?"
"'It?' You need to be more specific; everything hurts."
"Would hot chocolate make it better?"
Prussia thought about it.
"… It might."
Canada laughed again and the tinkling sound managed to warm him somewhat.
"Alright. Give me five more minutes."
"… And then hot chocolate?" It sounded piteous even to his ears.
"And then hot chocolate."
"With marshmallows?"
"With marshmallows."
"Fine. Five minutes."
Canada was gone in a second to skate in loops and languid 'figure eights'. Prussia continued to lie on the ice to soothe his bruised ego but it could not last because it was too cold. He gathered himself up into a neat little pile to watch Canada.
Prussia often watched Canada on the rink during team sports but this was different. There was a level of aggression in ice hockey that was missing here.
Canada had closed his eyes as if he knew where the snowbanks or other obstacles might be. His hands were clasped behind his back again and he was humming under his breath in little gasps. He seemed so peaceful in this moment that it was simple to forget the muscles and amount of control involved in skating. He might as well have been made of liquid grace for all his lack of straining.
Canada made ice skating seem effortless and, even when Prussia knew the truth, he could almost believe it.
The cold was seeping through his layers but the thought of attempting to stand and instead making a fool of himself kept him on the ice. The cold did not bother him as much as it might most nations but he would never have that stamina that countries above 60degrees north developed.
It was still cold, though.
Canada came to a stop in front of him with another splash. He was smiling but it was more serene than his earlier laughter. It was as if he had been lit from the inside. He offered Prussia his hand and this time Prussia did not gripe; he just held on.
"Thank you," Canada whispered as he guided Prussia back towards the bench in halting steps.
"You're welcome." Prussia was not sure what he was thanking him for but that was alright. It had been important to Canada, whatever it was, and that was enough.
Canada pushed him down on the bench and settled to start unlacing his ice skates but Prussia instead tugged on those pompoms for his attention. Canada looked up, perhaps to berate him, but Prussia managed to bend over and land a kiss instead.
It was soft and sweet although their lips were cold and turning blue.
There was too much clothing between them to do more, as disappointing as that was, so Prussia touched their covered foreheads together. It would do for now.
"So… Hot chocolate?" Canada was still whispering and Prussia realized how hushed it was in the wintertime. There was a stillness even in the sunlit afternoon that could not be found in other seasons. It suited Canada and his quiet moments.
"There are other ways to keep warm," he leant forward to kiss him again, "but hot chocolate is good too."
Author's Notes:
And that's where I will stop that. It is in the same universe as a couple of other pieces I have written.
This has little to do with the piece but one of my favourite terms is 'toque bucket'. If you are from Canada, you might have one of these and not even know it. It's that bucket/basket/container sitting at the front door with miscellaneous hats, mittens, and scarves, most of which do not match. In the summer it gets tucked in the closet or basement but most families I know keep one in the winter. The term 'toque bucket' just sits so… I like the taste of it, if that makes sense. "Toque bucket, toque bucket, toque bucket!"
It's minus 40c at the moment, which is also known as "fuck, it's cold" or "mah tahngue ish sthuck to thish pole" (my tongue is stuck to this pole). So I wrote this! Fun fact: I live in the coldest city in the world with a population over 600 000. Yeah, suck on that for awhile.
For those of you who pay attention, I have been online off and on because it's been a tough year. The one year anniversary for the death of my father is in two weeks and I am currently hanging out with my mum in the hospital as we go through yet another round of chemotherapy and radiation therapy. We have a donor, though, so the transplant should be next week or so! Yatta! Ah, but the point of this is to ask that you continue to be patient with me as I update as a glacial pace. I did just post 'Faith' and 'It's Starting to Show' if you care to take a gander. Cheers!
Please leave a review and feel free to offer opinions, advice, or criticism. All are welcome. You are free to leave an anonymous review; I do not mind. Please let me know what you think of this piece.