A/N: This always happens – there comes a chapter where I just really, really don't know exactly what's going to happen or what I should write. So, this chapter may be strange, haha. Not to mention, I'm probably slightly delirious, seeing as I am ill. Hehe. Enjoy the long chapter (it is long!)

Disclaimer: I can't remember if I've remembered to disclaim in earlier chapters, so here is a disclaimer. Full of disclamation. Which means that I am disclaiming all ownership to this series named Hetalia: Axis Power and Hetalia: World Series and all other things which are related to Hetalia. Hetalia. Ve~

Chapter 4 – The "Wedding"

Russia wanted Canada to wear a white suit.

"E-excuse me?"

"Today is the day, Matvey," Russia said patiently over the telephone. Canada, who had been laying in bed when he got the phone call, was a bit groggy. "We are getting married at the G8 meeting today; therefore, we should dress as if we are going to a wedding, da?"

"But why do I have to wear a white suit?"

"You are the bride, of course!"

"No!" Canada screeched into the mouthpiece, startling Kumajirou, who was cuddled up in front of him. "I refuse to be the bride. You have white hair, why don't you wear the white suit?"

"Nyet, my hair is gray. Besides, shouldn't the small country be the bride?"

"Just because I'm smaller than you doesn't mean I am a small country!" Canada growled.

"Fine da. The fat bride."

Canada hung up.

Russia called back five minutes later. "It will look weird if we are both the grooms, Matvey!"

"It'll look weird if the two largest countries in the world decide to become one! Oh wait…"

"Don't you want to make me happy?"

This caught Matthew off guard. "R-Russia, wha… how can you… I don't want to make you unhappy…"

"Then why do you refuse to do this one thing for me?" Russia asked sincerely.

"We're two men becoming one, so why should one of us dress like a girl? And besides, white is supposed to mean purity anyways."

Canada realized his mistake a moment later. "Are you saying you are… impure?" Russia questioned seductively. Canada gulped.

"We're not to talk of this right now!"

"If we are to become one, I do think we should know of each others' sexual pasts," Russia purred. Canada shook his head, although he knew Russia couldn't see his action over the telephone.

"I said, we're not talking about this."

"I want you to wear white because it will look better on you than black," Russia admitted suddenly.

"I don't want to – what?"

"It will look better with your eyes."

Canada, who was sitting at a reflective table, looked down into the glass at his reflection. White would look better with his eyes? Really? "Non, you are lying, Ivan. I would look terrible in white."

"Why do you say that?"

"Well, I look terrible in anything, but that's beside the point – I'm so pale that-"

"You are, on the contrary, very beautiful," the larger nation responded.

Canada felt the blood rising to his cheeks hotly. He thinks I'm beautiful? "Ah, Russia, beautiful is such a feminine term! Why not handsome, or good-looking?"

"Well, you are those too."

"I'm still not wearing white."

Russia showed up in a purple suit and Canada in red, both with white ties. It wasn't the best moment of planning on their part. Canada had finally convinced Russia to let him wear red and white because they were colors that both the countries shared in their flags. Of course, Canada hadn't expected Russia to come in a clashing purple suit, which Russia proclaimed, "matches my eyes, da?"

Canada, upon reflection, didn't think that the red really did much for his complexion either, or his blue eyes, but he let that one go, knowing that he'd saved himself from eternal, worldwide humiliation at being a male bride.

"Ah, the two lovebirds have arrived!" France exclaimed when the two walked in to France's house, the location of the G8 meeting, together. France seemed to possess momentary color blindness. Russia grinned in a way that made every other country nervous, while Canada spent his time fiddling with his shiny white tie.

The expressions which adorned the faces of the different nations in the room made Canada even more nervous. England's expression was unreadable as he sipped his tea; France appeared to be undressing Canada and Russia with his eyes; Italy was immeasurably happy; Germany looked as if he wanted to scrape out his own eyeballs, probably at the purple and red suits; Japan was confused; and America was wholly pissed.

"Shall we start the ceremony?" France asked smoothly.

"Eh, all you guys have to do is recognize us," Canada said quietly. "You and England already do, so…"

"China does as well," Russia supplied happily. "Although he is not a G8 member, he does appear to have a lot of power in this new day and age…" Canada balked at America's facial expression upon hearing those words. It was clear that this was a sore spot for the superpower, and that Russia had said it purposefully.

"I recognize you, ve~!" Italy exclaimed. "Doitsu does too, right?"

Germany nodded, still looking as if he would vomit from seeing Canada and Russia's color combination. Canada would never have pegged him as OCD.

"I suppose it would be prudent to recognize you as well, seeing as my brother does," Japan said softly.

"Ah, Amerika?" Russia asked kindly, prompting him to make his statement.

America crossed his arms like a small child. "I refuse to recognize your union. In my country, we have something called principles, and these principles are Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness! Therefore, I refuse to recognize what is clearly a COMMIE EXPANSION!"

Canada counted to ten in his mind before saying, "America, you need to stop acting like this. You are going to appear stupid to the rest of the world! Everyone else is embracing this merge!"

"I don't care about stupidity! I care about my principles!"

"Then let us live freely and pursue happiness," Russia said logically.

America seemed to have no response.

"Wonderful!" France said, standing up and clapping his hands excitedly. "It's time for the ceremony!"

It seemed that France had taken some time out of his life to create a makeshift arch for the service. It was red and white in honor of their shared colors, and it was adorned with Maple Leaves and Russian flags. France had also presumed to invite most of the world to the wedding, including countries who didn't like either Canada or Russia. The wedding, which was taking place at France's house, was held in France's lavish ballroom, which was significantly fancier than the makeshift arch. Canada nervously surveyed the entire audience of almost 200, wondering how in hell he would manage not to faint from embarrassment and stage fright.

"Now, for the procedure," France started. "At the request of the groom and groom, I have been elected to minister over this sacred act of holy natiomony!" (1)

Canada and Russia looked at each other confusedly. "You asked him to do this?" Canada asked, wondering why Russia would do such a thing. He didn't think France and Russia ever even talked to each other.

"Nyet, I thought you must have done so Matvey," Russia replied. "He is your Papa, after all."

"Does this mean that neither of us asked him to do this…?" They both said together.

"Heh… heh… you are talking semantics! Let's get down to business!" France said hastily.

And suddenly, Russia and Canada were forced out of the room as France got all the countries to sit down. The two nations found themselves in a small side chamber with the Italy brothers, England, Ukraine, Latvia, Lithuania, and Estonia.

"Congratulations!" Ukraine said to Canada as she kissed him on the cheek. "I am so happy that you are becoming a part of my family!"

"Uh…"

"Why are you all here?" Russia asked.

France came back in at that moment. "Ah, everyone knows each other, oui?"

Silence.

"Of course… now, you are probably wondering why you all are here."

Silence.

"I took the liberty of assigning a Best Man and a Maid of Honor!" France said happily. "Lithuania is Russia's Best Man, and Ukraine is Mathieu's Maid of Honor!"

"HOLD IT!" Matt said angrily. "The whole point of me not wearing a white suit was so that I didn't have to be the bride!"

"Just be quiet, mon amour," France said condescendingly. "Now, Latvia and Estonia are groomsmen, and England is the bridesmaid. England, you need to put on this dress," France said, holding up a beautiful (and girly) green dress.

"Fuck. No."

"But England, I had this made especially for you! It matches your beautiful eyes!" France whined.

"I am not putting on anything you made for me, you frog!" England snarled.

"G-guys…" Canada stammered, trying desperately to make himself heard. "This really isn't n-necessary…"

"Put on the dress."

"No."

"Put on the dress!"

"NO!"

"I SAID PUT IT ON!"

"I SAID FUCK NO!"

"SILENCE."

It was Russia who had spoken the loud command. "Matvey finds this unnecessary. Therefore, there is no reason for us to do this."

"Fine, England doesn't have to wear a dress," France resigned.

"I more meant that none of this groomsmen stuff is necessary…." Canada said quietly.

"Nonsense! Now, Ukraine, you can wear the dress," France directed.

"B-but… my boobs…."

"Ah, you are right. This dress was made for a man - or a very flat woman. Well, what you are wearing now is fine. A business dress suit is more than sufficient for the Maid of Honor!" France responded, although he sounded somewhat bummed out that his dress was unworn. "Now, Feliciano and Lovino! You two have very special tasks."

"I don't want to," Romano responded rudely.

"Brother~!" Feli whined. "You don't even know what it is!"

"…fine. What do you want us to do, you bastard?"

France grinned and stood behind Romano, rubbing his shoulders suggestively. "Ah, Romano, you know I have always liked you, mon cher. You have always been so beautiful, and cute, and sexy..."

Romano choked.

"You are to be the ringbearer!"

"W-what? Are you kidding me you sex-crazed bastard?"

France ignored him and moved over to Italy, wrapping his arm around his shoulders. "And you, Italy, my beautiful little flower, are to be the flower girl!"

"Yay!" Italy seemed to be pleased with the idea.

"Ringbearer? Flower girl? France, this is too much!" Canada tried to say, but he went unheard.

"Okay, so, we are going to modify this from a traditional wedding for the sake of time and the fact that Russia has no mother to walk with down the aisle at the beginning," France said, somewhat bluntly and rudely. Canada noticed a tick of anger in Russia's forehead. "Groomsmen and bridesmaid walk down the aisle first. Then, Ukraine and Lithuania will walk down the aisle together and stand on their respective sides of the altar. Then, the Italies will walk down together. Romano will be carrying these rings which I had the liberty to pick out for you, and don't worry, I measured your ring fingers when you weren't looking, so they will fit. Feliciano will throw sunflowers into the audience. Then, as soon as the music starts, Russia and Canada will walk down the aisle together when the traditional "Here Comes the Bride" song turns on, where we shall begin our service!"

North Italy and Ukraine seemed to be the only excited ones. Canada was nervous; Russia was angry; England was annoyed; Latvia, Estonia, and Lithuania were cowering with fear.

"Well, let's begin!"

The wedding was chaotic. Romano had started yelling about how he didn't want to be a ringbearer as he walked down the aisle, so he'd thrown the rings onto the ground and run out of the room. Feliciano had started crying, but before he could chase his brother out of the room, Germany had to come and restrain him. France, trying to keep everything together, picked the rings up, but then, because he'd had his back turned to the arch where the groomsmen, bridesmaid, Best Man, and Maid of Honor were, England used the chance to attack him from behind. He jumped on France's back, yelling, "DIE YOU PERVERTED FROG!"

Suddenly, the band decided to play "Here Comes the Bride," so Russia and Canada stumbled out into the chaos. "What the…" Russia started to say.

The room got quiet; England, who was hanging off France's back, went still, and Germany and Italy stopped their struggle. France shook off his personal hindrance and went to the front of the room. "Everyone to their places!" he screeched. Suddenly, everyone was exactly where they needed to be – even Romano entered the room again and picked up the rings, and finally, he and Feliciano made it to the arch.

Russia and Canada walked up the aisle slowly, their bright and mismatched suits comical.

"Phew!" France said as soon as they made it there. "Well, let's make this quick! Vows! Repeat after me, Russia: I, Ivan Braginski, vow to keep Mathieu Williams safe," France started.

"I, Ivan Braginski, vow to keep Matvey Williams safe, da,"

"And to use my influence as a major world superpower to bring light and happiness to the world."

Russia didn't repeat it. He didn't even start to repeat it.

"AND TO USE MY INFLUENCE AS A MAJOR WORLD SUPERPOWER," France said, his eyes starting to go a little crazy.

"And to use my influence as a major world superpower to do hippy dippie things, got it," said Russia. France could barely control his anger.

"I vow to keep Mathieu Williams a leader of equal status of the United Sovereignties."

"I vow to keep Matvey Williams a leader of equal status of the United Sovereignties."

"And I vow to stay perfectly, completely, 100 percent faithful to my dear Mathieu, even in the face of strong sexual desire for many other people."

"I vow to stay faithful to Matvey."

"Good! All done!" said France. "Now, it's your turn Mathieu! Repeat: I, Mathieu Williams, vow to keep Ivan Braginski safe."

"I, Matthew Williams, vow to keep Ivan Braginski safe."

"And to use my influence as a major world superpower to bring light and happiness to the world."

"Uhm… to uh, use my influence as a major world superpower to bring light and h-happiness to the world," Matt repeated. Where the fuck does France come up with this shit?

"I vow to keep Ivan Braginski from becoming a crazy tyrant,"

"Uh…"

France rolled over that one. "And I vow to stay faithful to Ivan Braginski, except for when Papa France wants me to come to his house, because even when I become married, I will never be able to stop giving my body to the beautiful, seductive, sensual France…"

"PAPA! I vow to stay faithful to Ivan Braginski! And that's it!"

"Heh… heh.. okay, so, without further adieu, I now pronounce you – the United Sovereignties of the Arctic Ocean!" The room exploded in applause, North Italy whooping loudly. "C'mon, put the rings on each others' fingers… see, I told you they'd fit! Now, it is time, time for the biggest moment," France said, pausing for suspense. "Whichever one of you wishes – you may now kiss the groom!" France blew his nose on a fancy handkerchief as the two countries stood stationary. "Well? Go for it!"

Russia and Canada looked at each other awkwardly. Canada stayed still, since he wasn't so sure he wanted to kiss the taller nation in front of so many people. But, Russia made a move as if he wanted to lean in to kiss Canada. Canada shied away from it. Russia pulled back, appearing somewhat hurt. "Er, that's alright, France!" Canada stammered. "Uh, not a real marriage anyways. No need to kiss."

It was an awkward moment, and Canada felt bad. It wasn't that kissing Russia was revolting - he just didn't want to kiss Russia in front of his brother and some of the countries in the audience. The audience started to murmur, wondering why there wasn't a traditional kiss.

"Ah… well… party time!" France yelled, in a vain attempt to lighten the tension. "Everyone, follow me to the ALCOHOL!" In less than five minutes, all of the other nations had gotten up and followed a hooting France into a larger room, where the reception was to take place. Russia and Canada stayed where they were until everyone was out of the room, Canada looking at the ground mortified, Russia staring forward callously.

"R-Russia, I'm sor-" Canada started. But, he was cut off by a glare from the previously Russian nation.

"First, I am no longer Russia, and you are no longer Canada. We are now the United Sovereignties of the Arctic Ocean, so you should refer to me as Ivan. Or, if you prefer, you may call me a United Sovereignty. Second, there is a party we should be attending, so there is no time for talk." Ivan turned away coolly, leaving Matthew to stand at the makeshift arch, feeling stupid and alone.

Canada sipped a glass of wine morosely as he lounged by the refreshment table. Russia – No, Ivan! – hadn't spoken a word to him since the beginning of the reception. I suppose I deserve it, though. God. Why do I have to be so shy in front of Alfred? And how could I let my shyness embarrass Ivan? I'm going to be a horrible partner for Russia. I mean, Ivan!

The rest of the party was jumping, from what Canada could observe. Romano and Spain were making out on the dance floor; Germany and Prussia had started a drinking contest (Prussia was winning); Greece had introduced cats to the reception. Canada wished he could be as high-spirited as the rest of his fellow countries, but he found himself sad instead. Part of him figured it must have been the wine – he'd had a few glasses, and he tended to be a sad drunk.

"How goes it?" said a familiar voice from behind him. Canada turned around and found America standing close to him, still looking angry.

"H-hi Alfred," Canada said, not particularly wanting to hear America's angry tirades. He was already in a bad enough mood. "I am d-doing well, how are you?"

"I am pissed off!"

"Listen, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I know you hate this-" Canada started to apologize immediately, trying to hold off America from starting a major argument.

"Shut up! I don't care if you're sorry!"

Canada felt a few tears leak out of his eyes. Maybe the alcohol had gone to his head – normally he could last until he and America weren't with each other to cry over Alfred's rude comments.

"Holy fuck!" America looked even angrier, misinterpreting the sadness. "If getting married is going to make you so sad, let's go get it annulled! You don't have to stay a country with him."

"No, I still want to," Canada hiccupped. "T-that's not why I'm crying…"

"I am going to kill that Commie bastard for making you feel this way!"

"N-no, I just told you, it's not about him!"

"I can't believe that Russia would be such a dick to you! I am going to kill him! I am going to nuke his ass all the way to-"

"STOP!" Canada yelled. The rest of the party started to take notice then. "Stop yelling about him! Stop complaining! If you nuke him, you nuke me! That's how it is!"

"Well maybe I wouldn't have to nuke you too if you guys didn't have to decide to get married!"

"You are such a selfish, arrogant, egotistical, stupid, irritating, ridiculous bastard!" Canada yelled through tears. "I hate you!"

"Yeah, well, maybe I hate you too!"

"Fine!"

"Fine!" America stomped away, leaving Canada husband-less and brother-less at the refreshment table. The whole party was silent, starting at Canada, who was slightly drunk and crying profusely.

"Oh, fuck you guys!" Canada yelled and walked out of the room.

Canada had holed himself up in one of France's many extra bedrooms, his tears finally subsiding as he curled up on an armchair. I hate him. I hate him. Why does he have to be such a jerk? I hate him. I hate him.

I hate me.

"Matvey?"

Oh god. I refused to kiss him at the altar. I am such a douche. I should go to hell.

Matt stood up quickly to meet his new 'husband' as he entered the room. "Russia – I mean, Ivan, oh god, Ivan! I am so sorry. I just got so shy, and it was so *hiccup* stupid but I was put on the spot, and then Alfred and certain countries were there, and I didn't want to kiss in front of them, oh God…"

"Matvey,"

"I know you'll probably never forgive me *hiccup* but I am so sorry, I an a terrible person, I don't know how you could *hiccup* forgive me or want to be one with me or-"

"Matvey! You are drunk. You are having trouble controlling your emotions." Russia put his hand on Canada's shoulder, which made Matthew calm down. "It is okay. You are forgiven."

"H-how can you even say –"

Russia leaned down and pecked Matthew on the mouth. "It is okay. I did not want to kiss in front of your minutely-endowed brother either." He pecked him again, slightly harder this time, eliciting a small squeak from Matthew.

"I will tell England to come up here to give you a ride home," Russia said after he pulled away. "And, I will call you in the morning so we can discuss our new house in Vancouver, da?"

Matthew, slightly drunk still, touched his mouth incredulously. "I-Ivan…"

"Goodnight, Matvey," were Russia's last words before he departed the room.

I think…. I think I like kissing Russia. I mean, Ivan.

TBC…

(1): This is a joke. It's not a very good joke. Replaced 'matri' with 'natio' because they are nations joining in marriage. It is so silly. Hehe.

It's going to take me a while to stop calling them by their country names. They won't call each other by their country names anymore, but I am probably still going to call them Canada and Russia in narration.

So, I hope you all enjoyed! Thanks for reading this long chapter.