Sunday, December 22nd, 1991 : 3 days until Christmas

As I woke up I could feel this amazing warmth, Canada curled up against me, my arm over him. The tips of my fingers easily wander about the smooth skin on his stomach, trailing down to the top of his boxers, playing with the skin there. He shifts a bit in my arms, pressing his backside firmly against my hips. I wish we could stay in bed all day.

I lightly trace my fingers back up his stomach and across his ribs, feeling every inch of skin he has to offer. He flinches when I pass his ribs again and I smile.

"Sorry, did I wake you?" I ask softly.

"Yes, but I don't mind, as long as you stop tickling me."

"Hmm like this?" I tease, giving his ribs a firm squeeze. He gasps and flinches again.

"Don't start something you can't finish." He says, laughter in his voice.

"Is that a threat?" I ask with amusement, squeezing his side again. He flinches and laughs, causing me to smile. His laughter is so beautiful, like a delicate song.

My antics are stopped when he grabs my wrists and straddles me, pinning them above my head.

"Is this okay?" He asks me. A weird feeling rushes through my body and I immediately feel incredibly vulnerable. Those purple eyes, the grip on my wrists. I can practically feel how he gets heavier and heavier on my hips as I think about Russia doing this to me. His body was so much larger than mine. He had 23 centimeters (9 in) on me, 50 kilograms (110 Ibs) heavier. I could never match him physically, he held me down with ease, smirked as I struggled under his weight.

"It's adorable how red you get when you try so hard." Russia said in a patronizing tone. I was out of breath, no choice but to calm down and accept what was happening.

I close my eyes and push the memory away. When I open them again, Canada is staring down at me with a concerned look.

"Yes, I'm fine." I say softly, shifting underneath him.

"You seem nervous."

"Only because it's you sitting on me, I'm anticipating what you're going to do."

He gives me a sultry look before leaning down and placing soft kisses on my jaw. My body relaxes into the bed as I revel in the feeling of those lips tracing pleasurable points on my skin. He avoids my neck but the delicate feel of him kissing my collar bone and chest is just as good. After a few moments of his teasing he comes back up to my jaw and places a gentle kiss there before meeting my eyes.

"What do you prefer?" He asks softly.

"I normally receive." He lifts an eyebrow and I smile. "And you?"

"I tend to bottom. . ."

"Seems we are at a crossroads."

"It would seem," he says with a hint of laughter, "though I am not displeased with the idea of switching."

"It's settled then."

He giggles a bit before placing a soft kiss on my cheek. I take one of my pillows and place it under my hips as he takes a small bottle of lubricant out of my nightstand.

"How can I go about this to cause the least amount of pain?" He asks. I smile at him and take one of his hands in mine.

"It's always painful at first, I'm not sure we can avoid that. But it's okay, just go slow."

What makes this moment particularly emotional for me is that I've never been asked that before. To see how much he cares about me, in all aspects, is truly warming to see. The discomfort is there, but minimal compared to everything else in this moment. Him being so close to me is such a wonderful feeling.

"Oh, my God." He whispers in French, dirty blonde hair falling mostly to his right side and acting almost like a curtain. He moves slowly and it's - again I find myself unable to use words. My hands grip the sheets as he hits that spot dead on.

"Please, go faster." I ask in German, decently confident he'll understand me. He obliges me and all I can see are stars. I know the walls are thin so I bring my left hand to my mouth and bite it to keep quiet. He's letting all of his emotion show on his face and it's incredibly erotic to see.

"How close are you?" Mmmm, I can hear the desperation in his voice.

"Almost." I manage quietly.

He reaches in between us and grips me, pumping in time with the rhythm he's setting.

"Oh, fuck." I whisper, feeling myself approach the edge quickly.

He leans down only slightly to kiss my cheek before whispering, "come for me." Well, how could one refuse such a tempting command? He covers my mouth as I go over, unable to help the moan that leaves me. I hardly notice him pull out before he joins me in ecstasy. Oh those beautiful eyebrows knitted together in pleasure as he bites his lip. I'm going to burn that image into my mind. We lie on the bed for a while, attempting to catch our breaths.

"You don't think anyone heard us, do you?" He asks.

"I'm not sure. These walls are notoriously thin."

"Well let's pray nobody got a show." He says with laughter in his voice.

December 23rd, 1991

I stretch a bit and throw a glance at the digital clock on my dresser. 2:56 am.

Canada isn't in bed with me so I look toward the bathroom door to see if the light is on. It is not. Perhaps he went to the kitchen to grab some water. I nestle back into my pillow, closing my eyes with full intention to fall back asleep. That is until I hear a large bang come from upstairs. I sit upright, eyebrows furrowed. What is going on?

I quickly put some pants on before walking up the stairs and exiting the basement. The lights from the kitchen pour down the hallway and blind my eyes a bit.

"I know it looks bad, but please, believe me when I say my intentions have never been malignant." Canada's distressed voice only adds to my confusion, but the light is messing with me so much I can't manage to open my eyes and walk down the hall.

"If you are innocent, why are you scared?" My eyes snap open at the sound of Germany's voice. Watery eyes or not I have to mitigate the situation.

"Because you can be a very frightening man."

"You haven't seen the worst of it."

"What is going on here?" I ask quickly, stopping Germany from punching a flinching Canada. The latter's eyes look at me with what I can only describe as utter fear. I've only ever seen that look on Canada's face once before. I couldn't stand it then I can't stand it now.

"Read that." Germany says, gesturing to some paper on the counter. Confused, I walk over to the counter and begin to read the contents of the paper. Slowly my heart sinks.

"What is this?" I ask softly.

"It's from my government concerning him and his ill-intentions." Germany answers, throwing a look at Canada that makes him cower slightly. "I should have never allowed you near us. I knew something was off about you."

"I've never had ill-intentions, please believe me when I say this. I would never put you or Prussia in harm's way. Ever."

Germany takes a few steps toward Canada, causing the latter to back himself into the counter.

"Germany," I say, causing him to stop, "it's alright. I'll talk to him." I look up at Canada and he looks down. Hm.

"Sit down." I tell Canada as I shut the door to the basement behind us. He sits on the bed and I cross my arms. He's looking down at the floor, body tense. "Look at me." Slowly his eyes find mine. I hold up the letter and narrow my eyes slightly. "Is this true?"

"No."

"Do not lie to me."

"I'm not lying."

"Why would our government send this to us if it was false? Or if they did not have a good reason to believe it was true?"

"I don't know. . ." His voice is truly pathetic.

"Well? Am I a threat? Did you get all the intelligence you wanted from me?"

"Gilbert I-"

"What's sad about this is that I defended you when Russia told me this was happening."

"You were not wrong, I did not offer to help you just to gain something from you. All I ever wanted to do was to help you. When I learned that you were still alive you could not imagine the joy and hope that filled my heart. I've never had this connection with somebody before, ever. Why would I throw it all away on some off chance for information about Russia?"

"Do you have any idea how much I've told you? I trusted you and opened up, I got this for defending you." I say gesturing to my neck. "And now that information will be used to destroy him."

"I never told anybody anything, I-" He gets a bit choked up and pauses.

"If you are trying to find a way to talk yourself out of this you can't. I suggest you tell me the truth."

"I am."

"Matthew!" I haven't raised my voice like that in some time. He jumps and I resist the urge to apologize. Watching him fight so hard not to start crying is really pulling on my heart. I decide taking a kinder approach as I set the papers down on the dresser and kneel down before him. He looks at me as I put a hand on his knee. As our eyes meet I feel a familiar pull and his eyes widen.

I see a lot. There is so much here. He's never good enough. No matter how hard Matthew tries he will never be good enough. America is so much better, he has charisma, confidence, everything. Canada is the weak, decadent, emotional one. The one that reminds England too much of France. I see the hold England still has over him, that grip that Canada just can't shake. He wants desperately to please, to be seen, allows himself to be walked over just for a chance to hear, see, feel some type of affection.

I see myself, the person he has felt so strongly for since. . . Oh my God, since the first time we met in the gardens of Versailles. His feelings only growing stronger during the American Revolution, growing more still after the signing of the Treaty of Versailles. Setting on fire after the Second World War. He's so incredibly upset because he did not do what I think he did. He was asked to care for me because he truly wanted to help, but when the other Western nations began to grow worried they asked him to do reconnaissance. He refused at first, but then thought it would be a good way to ensure I was protected. He would remain tight lipped about everything, only reporting that I said nothing of importance, no matter what I actually said, so that the others would not be suspicious of me.

I tear my eyes away from his and blink a few times.

"Wh-what just happened?" He asks, tears falling down his cheeks. I wipe them away and give him a sympathetic look.

"I know that you didn't do it. I'm sorry I doubted you."

"I'm sorry I didn't say anything sooner. I should have, when England was asking me, but I cannot assert myself with him."

"I know." I say softly, standing up so I can sit next to him on the bed and pull him against my chest. "I wish he wouldn't treat you the way he does. You deserve so much more than that."

"How do you know?" He asks with a cute sniffle.

"Let's just say I'm very intuitive."

He smiles and just looks too beautiful for me not to kiss him. I knew when I met him in the gardens of Versailles over two hundred years ago he might have had a crush on me. But I never knew how much he felt for me and for how long. . . As I think about it now, I may actually love him myself. Holy shit. I break the kiss and he bites his lip.

". . . I love you." His eyes widen and he lets out a breath.

"I love you too."

Author's Note: Wow, this one took me a while to write. . . I'm still not sure if this is what I want but I think it'll be okay for now. Either way the story is almost done! The countdown is ominously coming to a close. . .