I haven't posted anything in a while due to time constraints and other insecurities, so I decided it was high time to indulge in a fluffy, cheesy snippet for Christmas. Even if it's short, I figured it would still be better than nothing.

I hope you'll enjoy it, and merry Christmas! 3

Summary: It's the night before Christmas and Canada is sick and bedridden, facing the prospect of spending the holiday alone and away from his family — or so he believes.

Christmas Is with Family

The bells chimed at midnight, rousing Matthew from his restless slumber with a series of deep chough that rattled his chest. When he was finally able to regain control of his breathing, his chest burned and his throat felt like it had been scratched by a thousand needles. The bells had long since fallen silent.

Matthew's lips curled into a wry grimace.

He could picture the people outside – chatting and hugging each other, exchanging gifts and greetings. He could have been in a similar situation too, smiling and joyful, with his face caught in the bright, colourful lights of Alfred's Christmas tree.

Unfortunately, that year hadn't been clement on Matthew. Instead of Christmas carols, only his own rasped breaths echoed in his ears. No welcome aroma of freshly-baked treats filling his nostrils, just the pungent smell of alcohol-based chough syrup. His stomach hollow and aching instead of almost unpleasantly full.

Oh oh oh, Merry Christmas!

What an exquisite gift his body had decided to bestow upon him…

A wet, cold nose nuzzling the back of his neck brought Matthew back to reality.

"Too warm," Kumajiro complained in a whimper, "Fever high."

This time, the ghost of a smile that danced at the corners of Matthew's lips was genuine. He cleared his dry throat with a small, painful cough in an attempt to give confidence to his raspy voice.

"There's nothing to worry about, Kuma. I'm a personification. I'll be all right."

Which took nothing out of the fact being sick sucked, however. And on Christmas, on top of that. Kumajiro's concern, for how welcome, wasn't enough to erase that.

The phone vibrated from side-table.

Matthew groaned and burrowed himself deeper under the blankets, trying to soothe the shivers wreaking his fevered body. Maybe, he could have summoned enough energy to extricate one heavy arm from the tangle and retrieve the phone.

If he had felt like it. Which… he didn't.

He had already contacted Alfred with an excuse for why he wouldn't be able to attend their usual Christmas gathering – there was nothing else he needed his phone for. Nothing except for reading messages of well-wish, each one a further twist of the knife embedded in his chest – another remembrance of what he was missing.

Matthew turned his head against the pillow and tried to ignore the tears stinging his eyes.

He knew he was being overdramatic ('It's just for one year, you'll have plenty of other occasions,' a stern voice in a corner of his brain berated him) – yet, he had been looking forward to that day for so long… to seeing the smiling faces of his brothers, sitting together in front of the fireplace with the warmth of the flames caressing their skins…

But that year, Matthew was going to have nothing like that. While his brothers where somewhere sharing food and drinks, laughing… and simply being together, Matthew's too cold, still room span around him. As he willed himself to fall asleep, the silence sank its claw into his chest, whispered into his ear. With cruel sweetness, it reminded him that he was alone.

Matthew wanted to shake away the feeling. Not to think – to sink into the oblivion of sleep and forget.

Yet, his feverish brain couldn't. While his body was stuck in bed, his mind wandered back into memories. Christmas carols coming from somewhere around him. Wooden stairs creaking under the weight of several feet, doors opening and closing in a crescendo as the steps thumped closer. Arthur's smooth voice and the concerned note in Francis's one. Fingers cupping his face and threading across his hair.

Dreams. Ghosts conjured by the feverish delirium. Not real – but the flicker of comfort that warmed Matthew's chest was, in spite of the dull pain in his limbs. Since he couldn't have the real thing, he forced himself to bask into that small comfort and curled his lips into a small smile.

Except they couldn't be only memories, for the weight of another blanket securely tucked around his trembling form was real. The cold fingertips that rested on his forehead were too solid to be just a dream, too.

As awareness slowly trickled back into Matthew's mind, the sensations became stronger. The muscles of his forehead spontaneously creased in a frown, a confused whimper was torn from his throat.

"Ah! Look who's back to the land of the living!"

Alfred's chipper voice was the last push Matthew needed to be wrenched away from sleep. When he opened his eyes and blinked, his brother's face solidified in front of him.

"Wha…"

Perhaps, he had succumbed to the fever for good and was still dreaming.

But instead of vanishing, Alfred's smooth fingers travelled from Matthew's forehead to his hair in a soothing motion.

"And your temperature's down! You might even be able to get out of bed by dinner!"

Matthew kept staring at his brother, his muddled brain unable to make sense of what was happening.

"Why are you here?" he managed to rasp out at last, swallowing to restrain a coughing fit.

Alfred noticed anyway. Without a word, he slipped an arm behind Matthew's back and helped him to a semi-reclined position to ease his breathing. He even fluffed the pillow behind his back.

"Cause you're sick, duh. 'I can't come because of some last-minute paperwork, I'm really sorry. Have fun for me too,'" He parroted in a high-pitched voice. "Did you really think anybody was going to buy that?"

He trained a stern glare on Matthew's face and clicked his tongue.

"Come on, Mattie. You could do better than that. Everybody knows how much you've been looking forward to this, it wasn't like you at all."

Matthew opened and closed his mouth, unable to divert his eyes from his brother's bright, earnest ones. He was aware it hadn't been one of his best excuses – but he had been feeling too dizzy and awful to come up with anything else. Yet…

"But… you shouldn't be here. I could get you sick… that's why—"

Alfred sighed and performed an exaggerated eye-roll.

"I won't get sick and you know it, dummy."

"Yes, but—"

"Aand that's why I'm the only one here with you. Arthur and Francis just came in to check on you earlier and are staying downstairs making all the preps and stuff. They probably wouldn't have gotten sick anyway – don't let him know I said this, but not even Arthur's actually so fragile, dude – but hey, we all know how stubborn you are about this. We just wanted you to feel better."

At Alfred's words, Matthew suddenly realized that the odd perceptions he had chalked to his delirious dream hadn't vanished. The smell of freshly baked cookies and cinnamon had seeped through the door and invaded the room with its promise of warmth and delicious food downstairs. The faint noises – Christmas carols occasionally covered by the bickering of two voices. They were too far away for the single words to be grasped, but the French and British accents were unmistakable.

Warmth filled Matthew's chest and spread to his limbs, making any discomfort fade. An incredulous smile blossoming on his lips, he looked up to his older brother.

Alfred reciprocated with a smile that was just as bright and grounding in its confidence.

"Christmas's with family, Mattie. We wouldn't have it without you."

Wetness prickled at the corners of Matthew's eyes, but he couldn't summon enough energy to feel embarrassed. There was only mind-numbing gratitude – for the best present he could have ever imagined.

(word count: 1253)

Note: I decided to turn this into a collection of short standalone ficlets like this one (meaning: not really enough plot to be considered a full fic, mostly just one/two moments). You'll find the necessary info for each chapter below.

Table of Contents

1. Christmas Is with Family: It's the night before Christmas and Canada is sick and bedridden, facing the prospect of spending the holiday alone and away from his family — or so he believes. (Canada-centric; FACE family)

2. Small Stream: Canada is exhausted after a bad day. But maybe, everything isn't as bleak as he thinks. (Canada-centric)

3. One Sip Too Many: Canada has had a bit too much to drink and America is an overbearingly overprotective older brother (and an unreliable narrator). (NA brothers)

4. Cultural Dissonance: America and Canada are on a road trip across England and have forgotten some important details. (NA brothers and ACE family)

5. Truce: England loathes asking for help. But for his boys, he can even swallow his pride and do that. (England-centric; England and France)

6. Sweet Memento: The fairy tales England used to tell hold a special meaning for Canada. (Canada and England)

7. What Comes After: Being immortal in a world of mortal men can be painful. (France and Canada)

8. Insignificant: Not everybody holds the same memories dear and innocently careless words can hurt. (NA brothers)

9. Another Breath: Coming back after temporary death isn't a pleasant experience. Canada's two concerned brothers help. (Canada-centric; ACE family)

10. Missing Piece: America makes the unpleasant discovery that his little brother has other friends as well. (NA brothers)

11. In Time of Need: England's first days with his new colony, Canada, bring some scary realizations. (England and Canada)

12. Stubborn Naivety: America isn't going to accept Canada getting too close to somebody who could hurt him. (NA brothers)

13. White, Red, and Green: Snapshot of Canada at the end of a particularly harsh winter. (Canada-centric)

14. Sun and Games: America wants to have some fun after a conference and drags in his family as well. (America and FACE family)

15. The Best Reward: His brothers need help and Canada runs himself ragged to provide it. (Canada; ACE family)

16. Forgotten Item: America goes out for groceries and forgets something important. (NA brothers)