Ugh. I really need to stop promising a deadline for posting new chapters, because I when I do that I never fail to miss it. -_- Anyway, sorry for missing the deadline by…a lot. That took waaaay longer than I anticipated.
Franada and mentions of PruAus/PruHun in this chapter
Please review~
"You'll behave won't you?" England stood in the doorway of his hotel room, hesitant to leave Sealand behind.
"Of course, Jerkland! I always behave!~" the boy chirped.
"I was actually talking to Scotland, Peter, but that's good to know."
Scotland responded by lighting up his fourth cigarette of the hour and flopping down in a chair in the back corner of the room. "'e'll be fine ya sissy, get goin'."
"Alright, fine. Just take good care of him. And open the damn window if you're going to smoke," England said.
"I thought you were leavin'," Scotland growled. "Go on to yer party. Christ, ya act like such a pansy.
"But-"
"Yeah, go to the party, England!~" Sealand interjected, "You should have fun with someone you like~"
Scotland gave the boy a funny look but chose not to investigate whatever the hell it was that Sealand was talking about. England, slightly miffed, proceeded to exit the room with one last irritable "Goodbye."
America's Christmas parties were extravagant events. Not extravagant as in lavish or fancy, more extravagant as in lots of booze, lots of colorful lights, and, towards the end of the night, lots of bizarre, drunken conversations that could just as easily be the ramblings of two meth addicts after watching a Syfy channel original movie. It seemed like it should all be good fun, but England didn't like parties much; too many people, too much noise, hardly enough room to breathe. To make things worse, most countries had learned by then to keep someone on guard to make sure England didn't go anywhere near the alcohol.
America's house was located in a town that was about a half hour's drive from New York City. However, despite its close proximity to the city that never sleeps, it was actually a quiet, more rural place. Like most countries' houses, America's house was very large. It stood out from the other houses in the area, especially on that particular night. It lit up the street, which was otherwise cloaked in darkness, and the noise disrupted what had previously been silence (with the exception of the sound of an occasional stray car).
England approached the front door, tentatively knocking on it. The door soon burst open. England hardly had the chance to say "Hello Amer-" before he was grabbed and pulled into the entryway.
"Hey, Iggy!" America said loudly, trying to project his voice over the music. "What's goin' on?!" It appeared most countries had already arrived; they were all dancing, talking, and joking. Some even appeared to have gotten a hold of some booze already.
"Uh, not much," England replied. "America, I would...I would really like to talk to you."
"WHAT?! I CAN'T HEAR YA!"
"I SAID-!"
Someone tapped on America's shoulder, prompting America to hold up his hand, shushing England. "Hold on a sec, Iggs! I'll be right back!" he said before disappearing into the crowd of people.
England rubbed his temples, sighing. Well, there went his chance. He glanced towards the door. Would it be easier to just leave now? At least he wouldn't have to put up with the obnoxiously loud music for however long it took America to return in addition to however long it took England to say what he wanted to say. God knew how long either of those could take. America would probably forget that he had even said a word to England and spend the rest of the night partying until he suddenly remembered that the Briton was there. England, on the other hand, if given the chance to talk to America, would probably struggle to form a single word and then America would say something stupid...then England would yell at America...and America would try to apologize...and then say something stupid again...
'I might as well leave, England thought, It's silly to even think that...America...No! I'll tell him! I'll just try to relax until I can finally talk to him and then...well I guess it depends on how he reacts.' England pushed his way through the crowd and slipped into the kitchen. To his relief it was empty. It muffled the sound of the music as well, giving him some peace and quiet. He lay his head down on the kitchen counter. He took a moment to register his emotions. What did he feel? Anxiety. Loneliness. Stress. Frustration. Vexation. Anger at nobody in particular.
He felt a sudden need for fresh air. Not wanting to have to go back through the crowd, he looked for a window. Unfortunately, the only windows were inconveniently located above the counter.
England put a knee up on the counter and hoisted himself up onto it. He pulled open the window and stuck his head out, taking a deep breath. There was a slight, pleasant breeze that cooled his face. He respired slowly, savoring the sweet air.
"Kesesese. What the hell are you doing?"
England jumped in surprise, painfully hitting the back of his neck on the top of the window. He scrambled to get off of the counter.
"Prussia! What are you doing?!" England demanded.
"Hey, I was just getting some more beer out of the fridge, you're the one who had half your body hanging out of the window," Prussia pointed out.
England quickly regained his composure, "Well, I just needed a bit of air and didn't like the idea of having to put up with that stupid music for the fifteen seconds that it would take to get to the front door. Now if you'll excuse me, I was just thinking of leaving." He strode past Prussia, annoyed.
Prussia looked worried at this. "Wait!" He threw himself in front of the exit, blocking England. "Why are you leaving so soon? You should go, uh...talk to people!"
"Why would I want to talk to people? I have to deal with them enough. Now please move out of the way."
"B-but, you haven't tried any of the food!" Prussia said.
"I'm not hungry! Move!" The thoroughly pissed off Brit looked just about ready to throttle the German. Prussia was getting nervous. He didn't want to get into a fight, but he didn't want to let down Francis either.
"If I, uh, get America to talk to you will you stay?"
England's furious expression was replaced with an embarrassed one. "W-why would I want to talk to that moron?"
"Uh..." Prussia combed his mind for a good excuse. He didn't want England to figure out what he was trying to do. "You were talking to him a few minutes ago, weren't you? And then America walked away?"
"Yes...how did you know that?" England eyed him, suspicious.
"Francis mentioned it," Prussia stated confidently. It was the truth.
"Er...fine," England relented. Prussia moved away from the door. As soon as he did so, England bolted from the room.
Spain stood on his toes, trying to see over various countries' heads. Spotting a head of long, golden locks in the corner, he weaved through the guests over to his friend. Spain saw that France was alone and became confused, "¿Dónde están Gilbert y Inglaterra?"
"Stupid Gilly let Angleterre get away," France grumbled.
"Oh," Spain said, "Do you think he left?"
"He better not 'ave!" France said, "Gilly's looking for Amerique, he better be back soon..."
"Okay..." Spain went quiet for a few seconds, "Uh...how are we going to set them up?"
"Well..." France began, "I 'aven't really thought about that. Should we go cliché? There must be some mistletoe around here somewhere. It is a Christmas party..."
"Or we could just lock them in América's bedroom and see what happens~" Spain suggested.
"Non! That will never work!"
"But it's easier..." Spain pouted.
"Go get some mistletoe!"
"Alright~"
Just as Spain departed, Prussia appeared.
"Hey, Francey-pants! I talked to America!"
"Oh? What did he say?" France asked.
"Uh, he was having a push-up contest with Mexico so I don't think he was really listening but I told him that he should go talk to England und he gave me a thumbs-up, so I guess he heard me."
France face-palmed. 'Ugh! Can Gilly and Tonio not do ANYTHING right?! I guess if you want something done right, you better do it yourself. I have to; I promised Angleterre's little brother.'
"Francis! I found some mistletoe!~" Spain returned, proudly displaying the parasitic plant in his hand. France, not very impressed with this, simply stomped off, ignoring the Spaniard.
"Aw...What did I do wrong?"
Prussia patted Spain on the shoulder. "Don't take it personally, Tonio. C'mon, let's get some beer."
"Okay..." Spain frowned. "Do you want some mistletoe?"
"Kesesese. Sure, maybe I can use it to score a date with Austria...or Hungary, I haven't decided yet, kesesese."
"Hooray! ¡Soy útil! So, what do you think?"
"What do I think about what? About Austria und Hungary? I told you, I haven't decided yet," Prussia said.
"No, I mean about Francis trying to get América and Inglaterra together," explained Spain.
"Eh. I don't know," Prussia said, "I guess Francey-pants is doing a good thing. It's almost painful to watch America and England hopelessly dancing around it. Why don't those two just get a room und make-out or something, I mean really; it's obvious that they're in love."
Spain's eyes went wide as if he'd just heard this for the very first time, "América and Inglaterra are in love!?"
Prussia gave him a look. "What-? You didn't-? Of course, why else would Francis be trying to set them up?!"
Spain shrugged, "I don't know. I thought maybe Francis was just trying to get them to have sex so he could film it and sell it to Hungary or something."
"Kesesese. Oh, Tonio. You're funny, you know that?...uh, Hungary doesn't really buy that kind of thing, does she?"
"Oh, sí, she does! I heard her talking to Japan about it. I think he was selling her a doh...dow...douji- ..dowji-"
"Doujinshi?"
"Sí! That!~"
"Uh...maybe I'll go with Austria then...but, then again...Hungary is pretty hot..."
"I like Austria~ Hungary scares me because she has that frying pan..."
"Hmm, you're right. I'll try Austria first. Can you go find him und hang that mistletoe up near him?"
"Sí! Right on it!"
France poked his head into another room. 'Ack! Angleterre isn't here either. If he left, I swear I'll kick Gilly's ass!' He heard movement somewhere behind him, like someone was climbing the stairs behind him. He snapped his gaze back to the hall, catching a glimpse dark blond hair before it disappeared at the top of the stairs. 'Aw, what is mon petit Canadien doing? He did not even say hello to moi! And he was all alone...' A nasty smile grew on France's face, 'Honhonhon, maybe I should fix that~'Just as he was about to make his merry way up the stairs, something else caught his eye; more blond hair. England was walking off in the opposite direction. France bit his lip, feeling conflicted. This was what he had been waiting for, but...
'Ugh! I can't decide! I can talk to Angleterre, or I can talk to Canada. I am sure Canada will still be there, I mean...he's probably staying later than everyone else, since it /is/ his brother's house...'
France started reluctantly walking away from the stairs.
'Ack! Who am I kidding?! I just cannot resist~ Honhonhon~'
France ascended the stairs to the second floor, his pervert smile shining bright. The stairs lead up to a small, hexagonal shaped room. Canada stood near the wall, appearing to be looking out the window. Hearing the footsteps behind him, the Canadian turned around. "Oh! France! Hi...I didn't know you were here..."
"Call me 'Francis', mon cher~ So, what are you doing up here all alone?" France asked.
"Oh. I don't know. It's too noisy," mumbled Canada.
"Aw, well would you mind if I kept you company?" France asked, smiling.
Canada returned the smile. "No, not at all."
France moved a bit closer to him. "So, tell me, 'ow 'ave you been feeling, Mathieu?"
"Um, fine, I guess. I haven't gotten much sleep lately, though."
France gave him a concerned look. "Why is that, mon ami?"
"I'm not sure. I've been a little stressed. Maybe that's why." He looked down at his feet as he spoke.
France reached out and lifted up the younger man's chin. "Cheer up, Mathieu. You'll be fine~"
Canada blushed at the contact from France's hand. He was a little taken aback by the sudden consolation. "Um...alright. Thanks Francis."
France retracted his hand and placed it back at his side. "So, what else 'ave you been up to?"
Canada shrugged. "Not much. I had dinner at Japan's house a few weeks ago. I haven't done all that much since then. I didn't even really want to go to this party, but Al really wanted me to be here. He hasn't said one word to me since I got here, though."
France rolled his eyes. "Stupid Amerique. He's ignoring Angleterre too. He is ruining my plan!"
Canada chuckled, "You have a plan?"
"Oui! I was trying to get them together, but they haven't talked since Angleterre arrived. Mon dieu! It's like they're trying to avoid each other!" France exclaimed.
"Yeah. They're both really stubborn," Canada agreed. "Al told me at the world meeting that he tried to give some flowers that he bought to England, but he got too nervous."
France looked intrigued. "Flowers?"
"Yeah. He bought some flowers, and he was all excited, saying that he was going to give them to England, but-"
"Does he still have them?" France interrupted.
"Um...I think they're in his room. Why-?"
France made a bee-line for America's bedroom. Canada watched, somewhat uncomfortably. When France returned, he was holding the same flowers that America had shown Canada earlier that day.
France examined the flowers carefully. "Hmm...red chrysanthemums? Stupid American. Doesn't he know that in Europe, chrysanthemums mean death? Oh well, at least he got an odd number of flowers." He smoothed out some of the petals. "Why are they all so...untidy?"
"Al put them in his suit case," Canada laughed.
"And 'ere I thought that Amerique would be able to win Angleterre's heart on his own... Anyway, I'm going to go spread l'amour. Go 'ave some fun, Mathieu~" France blew the Canadian a kiss and left. Canada was thankful that no one was there to see how flustered the gesture made him.
"And so then, the Japanese golfer says- SHIT!" America yelled in surprise as two arms wrapped around his waist and tugged him backwards roughly. When his feet were placed back on the ground, he whipped around to face his assailant. "Hey! What gives, man?! I didn't get to finish telling my joke!"
"What, I cannot just 'ave a conversation with my favorite Américain?" France winked at him.
"But my joke..." America pouted.
"Whatever," France groaned. He lifted the chrysanthemums up so that they were at America's eye level. "So, who gave you these?" he asked, fully knowing what the answer would be.
America looked away, averting his eyes. "I, uh...actually got those for someone else..."
"And who would that be?" France asked, smirking.
"You don't need to know," America grumbled, sucking his cheek in to form an expression that made him look hilariously like a petulant child.
"Ooh, but I WANT to know!" France insisted.
"Maybe I don't want you to know..."
France's eye twitched in annoyance. He was getting rather tired of having to convince people. "Well, in that case, maybe I'll go spend some time with Canada~ Honhonhon~" He put on the best (worst?) rape face that he could muster.
"WAIT! ENGLAND! IT'S ENGLAND!"
France looked positively gleeful. "Très bien~ That's what I thought~ So, when are you planning on giving these to Angleterre?"
"I was gonna give them to him at the world meeting but I didn't! Give me those!" He lunged forward, trying to grab the flowers, but France jumped back.
"Why didn't you give them to him?"
"I forgot to! Why are you so friggin' interested in those flowers?!"
France laughed, "Silly Amerique!~ I am not interested in the flowers! I'm much more interested in what's going on between you and Angleterre~"
America's face reddened. "What do you mean what's going on between me and Anglet- I mean, England?"
"Oh, I don't know. I was just wondering why you would be giving such a gift to someone...you know, like Angleterre," France said.
"What do you mean, someone like England?" America's eyes narrowed.
"Well, he isn't exactly the most pleasant country in Europe, now is he?" France said. His lips curled into a sly mug; now he was getting somewhere.
"What are you saying about him?" America asked, looking almost offended by the assertion that England might be less than perfect.
"I would 'ave thought that you would be in love with someone with more energy; someone more like you. Like Australia or maybe Ireland."
"No way, man! I love England!" America went pale when he realized what he'd just said.
"HA! I knew it!" France cheered. "Now, tell me the real reason that you didn't give these to Angleterre?"
"I don't know," America said, "It was right before the meeting, and it just didn't seem like the right time. I was going to talk to him after but he suddenly told me that he was coming here for the party and then it got all awkward."
France took America's hand and placed the bouquet in his palm. "I think Angleterre's been lonely for longer than 'e can 'andle. You could probably fix that."
"I-uh...okay..." America stuttered.
France firmly placed his hand on the American's shoulder. "Non! If you are going to do this, you should not agree to it; you should want to do it."
"I do! I want to! I have for a long time!"
"Oh, it's alright. If you don't want to, I can go spend time with Angleterre~"
"HELL NO! England's mine!" America sped off, fleeing into the next room.
France laughed. 'Reverse psychology works so well on Americans~'
America ran wildly through the house, peaking into every room, trying to find the blond-haired European nation. Several countries tried to stop him to chat, but he ignored them. 'Gah! Where did England go?!' He pulled out his cell phone and quickly sent a text message to the older country; 'Where r u?'
He dared not take his eyes of the phone out of fear that even blinking would somehow cause him to miss an incoming text. After an agonizingly long seven or eight seconds, the phone buzzed, indicating that England had replied.
'Patio. Why?'
America smiled. It was funny to him that England couldn't bring himself to just use "y" as shorthand for "why". He didn't bother replying, and instead made his way to the door that lead outside to the patio. It was a sliding glass door, and through it, he could see England, his back turned to him. As soon as America opened the door, he was hit with a blast of cold air. England turned his head when he heard the metal hinges of the door creaking.
"Holy shit, dude. Why are you out here? It's fucking freezing!"
England smiled weakly. "I just wanted to be away from all the noise."
"Well, come inside, man. Your face is all red." America opened the door back up. He had one foot in the house and one out, looking over his shoulder and waiting for England's response. He tried his best to use his body to conceal the flowers, but it had already probably become obvious to England that he was holding something. England silently complied, following America inside.
America slid the door closed. England watched him with a look of indifference. America turned to him. "So..."
England chuckled. "I thought you said that you would be back in a second. I was waiting for you, you id-"
England stopped talking. America had his arm outstretched. In his hand, he clutched a bouquet of flowers. England tried to think of an appropriate response, but couldn't. His brain couldn't even really register what America was doing.
"For...me?" England asked.
America nodded. "Yeah, for you."
England tentatively took the flowers. He let his gaze rest on them; he was too nervous to meet America's eyes. He stroked the petals of one of the flowers. "Hmm... Chrysanthemums?...You know, in the Victorian language of flowers, red chrysanthemums mean 'I love'."
"Y-yeah," America said, "I was gonna get you roses but they made me think of France so I was like 'nah'-"
America blushed furiously when England's arms snaked around his neck, pulling their bodies closer together.
"Alfred, I know you probably think I hate you," England rested his head on America's shoulder. "But I...I don't..."
America could've laughed, were he not touched by this confession; England looked as if it had been physically painful for him to just to articulate those words.
"Heh. You've never been much of a hugging kinda guy, Iggy."
"Shut it, fatty."
"Suck it, limey."
England sighed, relinquishing the hug so that he could take America's hands. "America, why do we do this?"
"Eh? Do what?"
"Why are we always bickering and at each others' throats? Why do we always pretend like we don't...well, care about each other?"
America thought about what England had said. "At each others' throat" pretty much summed up their relationship. For as long as they had known each other, it had been that way. When he was England's colony he'd hated all of the "dumb" rules he'd have to follow. He'd complain for hours to anyone who would listen that England was "unfair" and "oppressing his freedom". Then there was the war...and the other war. Then, there was that other time they almost went to war. And a whole slew of awkward meetings throughout the 1800's that usually ended in yelling and screaming. Even long after their governments had patched things up, and 'America' and 'England' had become close allies, Alfred F. Jones and Arthur Kirkland had come to except that it would never be the same between them. It was a quirky relationship. They'd spent more than a man's lifetime despising each other and more than a man's lifetime somehow falling in love.
"Because we're dumb," America concluded. "But...let's not do that anymore."
England smiled. "Yeah...let's not do that." England cupped America's cheek endearingly with his hand. "Oh, and thank you for the flowers," he murmured, "They're lovely."
"Heh, you're welcome," America said.
They closed the distance between their mouths, their lips pressed together in a sweet kiss. England moaned contentedly; America's lips were surprisingly warm and soft. Feeling the American's strong arms firmly entwined around his lower back, he gave his muscles a break, relaxing in the younger man's lock. They stayed like that until their lungs screamed for air and reluctantly broke apart, breathing heavily.
"I love you, Alfred."
"I love you too, dude." America pressed another quick kiss to England's forehead. "Hey, you've been all by yourself for the entire party, why don't we go have fun with everyone else? I don't care if you don't think it'll be fun; I'll make you have fun, so come on."
"I don't really-"
"But, Artiiiiieee!"
"Oh, fine," England relented.
They exited the hallway, hand in hand, looking absolutely ecstatic. Although, no one was quite as ecstatic that night as a certain Frenchman who was crouched on the ground outside, peering in through the window.
France grinned victoriously at the screen if his phone; on it was a clear shot of England and America with their lips locked. "Honhonhon~ This is perfect~ Now I just have to go inside and print this picture out!" France walked proudly towards the door. He grabbed the handle and tried to open it. His feeling of elation was instantly crushed when it failed to open.
"Uh...no problem, I'll just use the front door..."
France made his way around to the front of the house. He climbed the steps to the porch. When he reached the door, he tried opening it- nothing. "Merde! Did Amerique lock the door or something?!" Just as he said this, a few snowflakes began streaking down from the sky.
"Oh, this isn't good..." He started hitting rapidly hitting the window with his fist. "Let me in! Let me in! Let me in! Let me in! Let me in!" Relief washed over him when he saw Spain on the side of the room opposite the window staring at him curiously. "Oh, merci Tonio!" He gestured hurriedly for Spain to come closer. It took Spain a few seconds to realize that his friend wanted him to approach the window. Spain walked towards the window. He pointed in the direction of the door as if asking if he should open it. France nodded vigorously; the sooner he got out of the freezing cold, the better.
But, suddenly, someone, namely Prussia, tapped Spain on the shoulder. Spain was immediately distracted from his task.
"What? Tonio! What are you doing?!" France yelled, though he knew Spain would not be able to hear him.
Prussia appeared to be laughing. He told something to Spain. Spain laughed and followed Prussia away from the window.
"Non! Gilly, you stupid imbecile! Come back!" France sobbed, pounding the window. The snow was picking up.
But, all in all, it was a wonderful night for everyone...except for France.
Sealand flipped the page in his comic book. He tried to focus on the speech bubbles and colorful illustrations, but he found that he just wasn't able to concentrate. He closed the book and set it aside on the night stand, sighing with boredom. He lay down on his stomach and stretched his limbs out; there was plenty of room, since it was a double bed. Sealand normally had to sleep in the small, uncomfortable single bed in his room at his country/abandoned fort, but luckily for him, all of America's guest bedrooms had the large, comfy double beds that Sealand liked (mostly because it made him feel more grown up).
Sealand had been surprised, albeit somewhat hopeful, when England had failed to return to the hotel the previous night. Just a few hours prior, England had finally returned to the hotel. He'd looked unusually happy while he was telling Sealand that they would be staying at America's house for Christmas. By then, it was after dinner time. Almost as soon as they arrived, England had sent Sealand to his guest room.
There was a knock at the door, allowing Sealand a momentary vacation from his boredom. "Come in!~" Sealand called. He secretly hoped that it was America and not England. Maybe America would bring him some food...
The person who entered the room was, indeed, a blond, though not the blond he expected. "Oh! Hello, Mr. France! What are you doing here?"
"Hello, Sealand~ What 'ave you been up to?" France asked, completely ignoring the boys question.
"Not much," Sealand moped, "As soon as I got here, England sent me up here. I'm bored!"
"Aw, that is too bad," said France, sitting down on the edge of the bed, "So your Christmas Eve 'as not been so fantastique?"
"Nope," Sealand replied, "Jerkland wouldn't even tell me why we're here."
France chuckled. "Well, I hope your Christmas Day is better. Speaking of which, a...friend of mine told me that you might like to see this." France pulled out a manila envelope and handed it to the child.
Sealand opened it curiously and pulled out its contents. He was shocked by what he saw; three pictures, all of them of his older brother and America pressed together, kissing passionately.
"They kissed?!" Sealand exclaimed.
"Oui, at the party last night," France said. "I don't think I've ever seen Angleterre so 'appy...Actually, allow me to rephrase that; I don't think I've ever seen Angleterre 'appy before."
Sealand couldn't stop smiling. "B-but, how did you know?!"
"I told you. A friend of mine told me~" France said.
"You're friends with Santa Claus?!" Sealand asked, astounded.
"Oui, he and I are...very close. Almost the same person, in fact," France laughed. He figured that Sealand would probably understand when he was older.
"Thank you, Mr. France! This was the best present ever!"
"You're welcome, Sealand~" France said, "Now, I must be leaving. Have a wonderful Christmas."
France exited the room, shutting the door behind him.
"Francis?"
France turned around. He was pleased to once again encounter his favorite Canadian. "Oh! Mathieu~"
"Uh, Francis, are you alright?" Canada asked.
"Of course! Why would I not be?~"
"Well, last night when we found you outside in the snow, you kinda looked like you were dying..."
"Uh...I am fine, now. So, you're staying here with Amerique, Angleterre, and Sealand for Christmas?"
"Yeah. I was actually just about to go buy a present for Sealand. I wish I'd known earlier. It's the day before Christmas so the stores are going to be completely packed," Canada said.
"Just be careful. I would not want you to get trampled by an angry mob of Americans pepper-spraying each other for an Xbox."
Canada laughed, "I think I'll be fine."
"You better be~ Adieu, Mathieu~"
France was about to leave when he felt Canada grab his arm. He was surprised. Normally, Canada wouldn't be so...direct.
"Um, Francis. W-wait."
"Hmm? What is it?" France asked.
"Are you, um...spending Christmas with Italy and Romano?"
France smirked slightly, understanding what Canada was really asking him.
"Non. Feli and Lovi are going to be with Tonio and Germany. So I'll be all alone..." he answered melodramatically. Technically, Italy had invited him, but he decided to leave that little detail out.
"Oh," Canada said, "D-do you want to stay here then?"
"I would love to, Mathieu!~ But, I do not think Angleterre will be very 'appy. And this is Amerique's house, after all. It should be up to him."
"Yeah, but...I wanted..." Canada trailed off.
"Ah, you want to spend Christmas with moi, mon ami?"
Canada nodded. "Is that...okay?"
"Of course, Mathieu," France said. He put an arm around Canada's shoulder. "Maybe, tomorrow, after you are done here, you and I can spend the day together."
Canada nodded again, "Yeah. That sounds good."
"Honhonhon~ So it's a date?~"
"D-date!?"
"Oui, it'll be fun~" France took Canada's hand and kissed it. Canada's face flushed red. "I will pick you up, of course. Call me when you are ready!~" He paused at the top of the stairs to see if the younger male would respond.
"Okay." Canada smiled shyly. ""I'm looking forward to it."
"We'll 'ave a good time. I promise."
France winked, waved, and then departed to the first floor. Halfway down the stairs, he thought he could hear the sounds of "l'amour" coming from the living room, but was disappointed when he entered the room to find that it was actually just England groaning from the effort of attempting to push America off of him.
"Alfred! Stop it!" England sounded angry, though a smile had broken out on his face.
"Hahaha! But Iggy, you're so cute!~ Let me love you!"
France felt a bit deflated at realizing that he wouldn't be seeing any sensuous exchanges of Anglo-American diplomatic relations. "Unbelievable! You two are finally together but you still act like idiots!"
England was surprised to see France there. America didn't even seem to notice, continuing to assault England's face and neck with kisses.
"France, when the hell did you get here?!" England asked.
"Like eight minutes ago."
America finally looked up. "Wait...how did you get in my house?"
"Mathieu forgot to lock the back door again after you all...you know, found me outside. Anyway, I'm glad to see that the 'appy couple is doing well, so I'll be on my way~"
"Not so fast," England chided, "Why are you here?"
"Why do you always assume that I am up to no good, Angleterre? I was just saying hello to Mathieu and wishing him a merry Christmas. Speaking of which, I almost forgot. Joyeux Noël!" He pulled something out of his pocket and tossed it to America, who caught it in one hand.
America glanced down at the object, smirked, and set it aside out of England's view. England craned his neck to see what it was and was immediately embarrassed; it was, unsurprisingly considering it was from France, a brand new bottle of lubricant.
"I just thought maybe you would be needing that. Au revoir~" France bid them farewell before giddily vacating the premises.
England snorted. "I don't know what just happened, but I don't really care." He snuggled closer to America, closing his eyes. "Mmm. It's getting late. I'm tired..."
America pulled England into his lap. "I love you, Arthur."
England felt a small amount of satisfaction at the fact that America finally addressed him as "Arthur" and not by his country name or some ridiculous nickname. He gave America a featherlight kiss on the cheek. "And I love you, darling."
Neither noticed Sealand watching from the doorway. The boy looked joyous. His big brother finally looked happy: happy to have someone special in his life, especially someone that his heart had ached for for so unbearably long. Sealand had never understood "love". He had always though of it as two adults moving their stuck together faces like someone had done a poor job of gluing their mouths to each other, and the idea of having a significant other seemed just about as appealing as such. But now, seeing how someone can hold another human being so close to their heart and the passion with which that person could cherish the object of their affection...he understood now.
He tiptoed away from the doorway, breathing a sigh of relief when he managed to get out of sight without either of them noticing him. He was about to pick up his walking speed when he suddenly heard his brother loudly curse.
"Shit!"
Sealand froze. Had England heard him?
"I just realized something!" Sealand heard England say through the wall, "I never got Peter a Christmas present! I completely forgot!"
"It's nine o'clock. We still got three hours 'til midnight," America reminded him.
"Christmas shopping at 9 P.M. on Christmas Eve!?...ugh, go start the damn car."
Sealand suppressed a giggle. They didn't realize that they'd already given him the best present he could ever ask for.
Whew. I finally got that done. Thank you for reading!
