'It doesn't matter how your children get to your family. What matters is that they get there.'
It seemed England had lied to him about the 'gathering just for friends' because all Russia could see were former colonies, France and England's, turning up at the door complaining and arguing with each other. England answered the door every time, casting his eyes a little a higher than their heads, as though he expected a taller guest, and looking disappointed every time he shut the door. Russia's heart told him that England was waiting for him, yet he still denied it.
The place was dreamlike, something Russia hadn't believed existed. It had a literal white picket fence, and the greenest grass he ever saw, along with beautifully kept flowerbeds dotting the edges, which had their own little fences to prevent balls and such running over them; gnomes were also dotted here and there (and Russia could have sworn he saw one move...). There was a white post box at the gate, littered with different coloured fingerprints, no doubt the colonies themselves, labelled 'Kirkland-Bonnefoy household'.
And the house! It was what Russia would describe as a very giant English cottage. It was white and pastel blue, with white steps leading up to the front double doors under the extended roof over the porch, where England was no doubt waiting. Large windows were methodically placed several inches apart starting from the doors, going - Russia imagined - right the way around the house. There was a second and third floor too, styled in a similar fashion, each with a balcony where Russia could see some colonies had spilled out onto, enjoying the good weather, or chasing others. The third floor had an open balcony instead of being covered by roof like the other floors, and sun beat down onto it, making it glitter. All in all it was very domestic.
Which, of course, made the winter nation uncomfortable. From where he was sitting, if he strained his ears, he could hear the distant shouts of colonies - younger ones - playing in the protected back garden, and the laughter of many more watching them or exchanging anecdotes. Canada suddenly burst through the front door, hurtling around the wrap-round porch, pursued by a seething Seychelles. Sealand followed with a camera, laughing. France hurried out too, wearing a pink frilly apron that said 'kiss the cook', looking worried as he pursued his three children, to diffuse the situation, perhaps. England appeared, tutting loudly in his usual combo of 'old man' clothes.
Without even thinking about it, Russia got up and went to the house. England smiled upon seeing him. "Russia! I'm so glad you came," he said with warmth. Russia carefully shut the tiny gate, going up to the doors where England was. He looked down, seeing the welcome mat, which said 'an old grump and a beautiful person live here.'
"It's France who's the grump if you ask me," grumbled England, ushering him into the house. "Clearly, I'm very handsome, don't you agree?"
"Um - " Russia hesitated, and England laughed good-naturedly.
"Actually don't answer that..." Russia turned to look at England properly, noticing he was wearing badges that said things like 'no.1 mum!' and 'best mum' on it. England blushed, "Oh - the children bring me such things, who am I to say no?"
"I bring vodka," he said, suddenly feeling very out-of-place. Clearly this was a family gathering, with children... and he brought alcohol. He held it out to England, who gave him a conspiratorial glance and took a swig from it before handing it back. Russia copied him, feeling the burn of the alcohol settle his aching nerves. "I'm going to need it aren't I?" he asked.
"Oh you will, but don't let France see. He's already locked up the rum cupboard, stupid frog..." as England began complaining again, leading him through to the living room, Russia already felt better - this was familiar territory. There was a crash and a scream, before crying started. "Oh - Russia, just make yourself at home, there's snacks on the table, and no I didn't make them!" England hurried off, leaving Russia alone. The alcohol was looking more appealing...
"What are you doing here?" Russia jumped and turned to see Wy looking at him. She tugged on his coat. "Did mum invite you? Why? Are you my brother now too?"
"I... I don't know, maybe," Russia said, the reality of being here hitting him hard. He was invited to a family gathering. Did that mean he was part of a family?
"Well, since you're here, you can play with me," she demanded and Russia found himself on the floor, playing 'Go Fish' with her. England appeared at the corners of his vision, placing down some pastries which they both absently nibbled on, focused on the game. Russia didn't see the pleased smile England gave Wy as she helped him relax. The man slipped out of the room again, going to his children, ready to start transitioning Russia into their family.