A/N: Hadn't planned on uploading until Monday, but I'm going to try to have another chapter ready for Monday. I'll be busy from the twenty third until probably the twenty seventh...you know, Christmas stuff. I'm going home! You don't know how much you miss your family until you leave the area you grow up in with no hope of just being able to drive down...*sigh*
Anyway, enjoy. I appreciate all the people who added this story to their alerts...but if you have the time when you're reading this, could you review? I really like to hear peoples' opinions and speculations...
"England, you should get down…what if you fall!"
Thick eyebrows furrowed as the island nation looks down at Canada. "You have been doing most of the decorating, and I'm just sitting around. I can't stand-whoa!" The chair he had been standing on wobbled and nearly tipped over.
"Careful, careful, careful!" Canada squeaked. Without even thinking, Canada put his hands on England's hips and lifted him down onto the floor. No effort whatsoever; although England had begun to gain weight recently…or at least, that's what England had been thinking. The scales in Canada's bathroom told him differently.
"Don't do that!" England snapped grumpily. His cheeks had gone a reddish-pink colour in embarrassment.
"I'm a bit taller than you are," Canada pointed out. "Perhaps I should be in charge of putting tinsel up. You can finish decorating the tree." He gestured to the large pine tree sitting across the room.
"Fine, whatever," England grumbled, going over to the tree. He was somewhat content, though; he had something to do instead of seeming like a lazy sod.
Canada smiled to himself. It had only been a week, and already he found England acting like the England he knew - back to insults, stubborn independence, the works. It was actually a nice change from the sick, exhausted England he had been dealing with previously. Things were almost normal for the Brit now, except those wretched nausea spells in between the ravenous appetite - which England was demonstrating now by absentmindedly picking a candy cane off the tree and trying eat it without Canada noticing.
Yes…things were alright for the time being.
The rest of the preparations went by without many problems, and both went into their respective rooms to change into something more presentable than the clothes they had worn while cleaning, cooking, and decorating. Canada had gotten himself and his polar bear dressed(Kuma-something simply wore a tiny bowtie) without much time wasted, but nearly ten minutes passed and England still hadn't exited his room. Worried that the Englishman had suddenly fallen ill, he cautiously stepped into the guest room….and nearly burst out laughing at what he saw.
England was laying on the bed, struggling to fasten his dress pants, but to no avail. His shirt seemed to have gotten on without much of a struggle, but those pants jut did not seem to want to go over England's slightly bloated belly.
"Do you need help?" Canada asked - allowing himself to snicker a little. England obviously did not realize the Canuck had been watching him, as he went bright red and nearly launched himself off the bed.
"I-I-I can take care of it myself!" England sputtered, hiding his embarrassment behind a glare.
"Doesn't seem like it…" Canada walked over to the Brit and put either hands on the pants. "Suck in your gut."
With those potentially hurtful words, England scowled. However, he did as he was told - taking in a rather large breath - trying to flatten his stomach the best he could. Canada used this to slide the dress pants up over England's abdomen and quickly fasten them. The Englishman slowly let out his breath, and waited patiently to see if the buttons would come undone. A few seconds passed, and the two blonds came to the conclusion that it was safe.
"…Thank you," England said with a bit of hesitation. "…I didn't think I put on that much weight already…"
"It's just gas," Canada said flippantly. However, this explanation only seemed to embarrass England more.
"I don't-"
"It's not a huge deal. It's normal, actually," Canada told him with a small smile. He got off the bed and headed towards the door. "The guests will arriving any minute now. Come on." He then left the room.
"Matthew is really as pushy as his brother when he wants to be," England grumbled, adjusting his clothes and leaving the room.
When he reached the main area for the party, Canada was already answering the door and welcoming the first guests. Peeking over the large nation's shoulder he saw Prussia, Spain and…France.
"The bloody Bad Touch Trio," England muttered to himself. "Of course they'd be first to a party. Probably will be bloody last, as we-ahh!" Arms had wrapped themselves around the island nation's waist, and England could feel a lightly-bearded chin rub against his cheek.
"Ah, Angleterre~!" France purred, pulling the Brit closer. "It's been so long since we met laast!"
"It's only been two weeks!" England snapped, shoving the Frenchman off of him. "You can't-wait, you three are half pissed!"
Prussia just shrugged. "We weren't sure if alcohol would be served here," he said in his scratchy, slightly high pitched voice that would make one think of some sort of bird huffing gasoline. "So we had a few beforehand."
"Besides, Angleterre, we know you will be wearing nothing but an apron and singing zee Spice Girls by the end of the night," France joked. The entire Bad Touch Trio laughed and made their way to the living room - where all the furniture had been moved to make something of a dance floor. England just scowled at their retreating forms, silently fuming.
Canada placed his hand on the shorter male's shoulder. "England, please don't drink tonight," he pleaded quietly. "I realize that I shouldn't of put alcohol out at all if I didn't want you to drink…but…"
"Bloody crotch fruit," England muttered to himself, scowling.
"Don't reference it like that." Canada frowned. "I'm sure you'll start feeling more than contempt towards it when it starts actually growing, instead of giving you morning sickness…"
"Of all things to ever exist, morning sickness has to have the worst name," England grumbled, glaring at nothing in particular. "I'm sick all bloody day."
"But you're not sick now, are you?" Canada pointed out, trying hard to stay an optimist. "You don't need to drink to have a good time, England. I'll stay sober too, okay?"
"Yes, whatever," England said dismissively, turning away to enter the living room. Almost as soon as he entered said room, he was seized by France. A glass of eggnog was pressed against the Brit's lips.
"Come on, cherie," France purred. "There's enough rum in zis glass to get a moose drunk."
Oh, bloody hell. The alcohol smell was really assaulting England's nose now - both tantalizing and nauseating at the same time. The representative of the United Kingdom had a better sense of will than to break with a single glass of spiked eggnog thrusted underneath his nose, however; so he turned his head away. Unfortunately, the nausea remained.
"No thank you," England said shortly, his large eyebrows furrowing in annoyance.
"Quoi!" France gasped in rather overdramatic shock. "Angleterre refused alcool! It eez zee apocalypse!"
"Shut up, you bloody frog," England growled. "I'm not feeling well tonight. That's all."
"Is it zat bump Canada told moi about?" France gently poked the small lump on England's left temple. It didn't hurt so much anymore, it was still enough to make England want to sock the Frenchman in the gut.
"Who cares!" Prussia pushed himself between the two, snatching the eggnog from France's hand. "If he isn't drinkin', then there's more for us!" As if to prove his point, he downed the entire glass in one quick gulp. He then turned his head to England and grinned, as if taunting him.
"Ahhh! That was some good stuff!" Prussia said triumphantly; his hot, drunken breath washing over England's face.
Ugh. That breath which reeked of wurst, booze, and now eggnog. England was sure he was going to vomit now.
"Excuse me," the Brit muttered, pushing away from France and Prussia. He made his way through the small crowd of nations which had begun to trickle into Canada's living room - in more recent years, Canada had become much more well known, if not still a bit forgettable.
Speaking of the maple lover, where the bloody hell was he!
In England's struggle to find Canada, he bumped into someone and stumbled backwards. He paid no mind, just muttered an apology and continued on his way. Or, he would of if his arm hadn't been grabbed.
"Why are you in such a hurry, Artie?" Oh. Of all people, why did it have to be America!
England turned to scowl at the tall male keeping him from moving. "I'm just-" He paused to wince, another wave of nausea running through him. He hadn't been feeling too bad all day, why did it have to start up again during the party!
"Just…? Whoa, man, you're really pale. You okay?" America's hands found themselves on either side of England's shoulders, trying to stable the Englishman.
"Don't bloody touch me!" England snapped, feeling rather sensitive at the moment. Another wave of nausea, and England clasped his one hand over his mouth, the other on his stomach.
For once, America was quick to understand what was going on. He grabbed the shorter male's wrist and began to drag him through the crowd, down the hall, and to the bathroom. The timing had been just right; as England nearly dropped to his knees in front of the toilet as soon as the entered the bathroom.
"Dude, the party just began," America muttered, watching the Brit cough and sputter his guts out. "And you're this drunk already?"
England wasn't sure why the next words left his mouth. Maybe in his ill state, he had no energy to think before speaking. Maybe he needed someone other than Canada to comfort him. All he knew was that he turned to the American with a small glare and said, "I'm not drunk, you git. I'm bloody pregnant."