It's Christmas in the United Kingdom and everyone's celebrating. Even the Irish Free State has decided to come over for a little Christmas dinner with his brothers. Though this evening feels strange to England, there's something in store for him later tonight.

Enjoy everyone! It's a little past Christmas so consider this a late gift.

If I'm not on here tomorrow, I wish you all a happy New Year! Welcome the year 2013!

A week and a half passed by and England was still having the strange dreams. Though he had meant to find a way to end them, he never got around to it. Truthfully, he enjoyed the dreams. They reminded him of the days before Ireland became a part of the United Kingdom. Those happy days when Ireland didn't hate him.

It was the day before Christmas. This would be the first Christmas the family would spend incomplete. They've had years where they couldn't make it home for the holidays but this was different. Since Ireland was no longer with them, it always felt like something was missing.

As England was descending the stairs, he heard a knock at the door. He walked over to the door and opened it, revealing Ireland. He was standing outside the door, wrapped up in his winter clothes and wearing an emotionless expression. This was the face Ireland used only for England.

"Hello, Irish Free State. What brings you here?" England was a little surprised to see his brother here. He didn't expect him to ever return to the house or even come near it.

"America sent me this and I wanted to know if you or anyone else wanted it."

Ireland showed England a dream catcher. It was brown with feathers hanging off of strings under the catcher. England stared at the object for a moment before giving Ireland a confused look.

"A dream catcher? Why on earth would he give you that?"

"I don't know. Apparently France told him I was having problems sleeping, and he gave me this."

"If you don't want it, then just throw it away."

"That's inconsiderate, England."

"You'd know what being inconsiderate is like, wouldn't you?"

Ireland gave England an annoyed look before thrusting the dream catcher into England's chest.

"Do you want it or not?!"

"For God's sakes! I'll take it!"

"That's all you needed to do, England. Why do you have to make things complicated?"

"I make things complicated?! And what exactly have you've done that was so perfect?!"

"Why in the hell am I still standing here talking to you? Good-bye, England!"

Ireland turned to leave as Wales came by to see what the yelling was about. He saw Ireland and began making conversation with him.

"Irish Free State! What brings you here?"

"Oh, Eld- I mean Wales!" The Irish nation's mood and voice instantly changed into a happier tone. "I just came by to drop something off. I won't bother you anymore-"

"Nonsense! Come in! It's really cold outside."

"I'm sorry, Wales. I have a lot of work to do. Maybe another time?"

"Surely you'll come by tomorrow, right? I mean, it's Christmas."

"I don't know. I'll be awfully busy tomorrow. I'll try."

"You should take at least one day off from work. It won't kill you."

"Yeah, but things are different now. I don't have as much... help as I use to. I can't miss a single day."

"Then what about later in the evening? You'll be free then, right?"

"Yes."

"Then it's set!"

"But, what about Northern Ireland? Won't he be upset?"

"I'll talk to him. I'm sure he misses you, too."

"Well, he sure has a way of saying it," Ireland muttered under his breath. Lately, he and Northern Ireland haven't been getting along. There has even been talk about a civil war coming between them.

"Trust me on this, okay?" Wales encouraged him, "I'll talk to him."

"All right. I'll come over. But the moment I realize I'm not welcome, I'm leaving."

"Okay. I'm sure it won't be anything like that."

"Slán." (T: Goodbye)

"Hwyl fawr." (T: Goodbye)

Ireland walked off, hugging himself through the cold winds. England watched his brother leave, both dreading and looking forward to the following night.

Having Ireland for Christmas put some of the brothers in lighter spirits. Northern Ireland didn't like having his twin so close to him again, but even he was in a better mood than usual. Wales welcomed his younger brother with open arms, signifying that the separation hasn't changed anything about their brotherhood. Scotland offered Ireland a drink once the younger nation walked in. He generously accepted it without complaint. England couldn't do anything more than shake the Irishman's hand and hang his coat and hat.

England was finding it awkward to be around Ireland. It was nothing like his dreams. He was expecting that. The happy Ireland that showered England with affection was only in his dreams. That's what made it so awkward.

England hadn't had the dreams that long, yet he was use to them. Having Ireland sit with them through dinner was now strange to England. Hearing his cheerful voice for real was almost unnatural. Seeing his smile was unreal. Why did only England feel this way?

Maybe it's because he hasn't actually been here for a while, the Brit reasoned.

Instead of staying around for the other celebrations they usually had, Ireland left. He said he had plans to meet up with several other nations at the pub later that night. He also explained that he felt that he would be doing too much if he stayed for too long.

Despite his brothers urging him to stay and continue celebrating with him, Ireland insisted he had to leave. For a moment, England wondered if Ireland was feeling unwelcomed somehow.

Later that night, a drunk England found himself slowly drifting off into sleep. As usual, he and his brothers began drinking as they tend to do every year on Christmas. England had a little too much tonight. He wasn't even sure how he ended up in his room on his bed.

England turned his head to the right and caught the sight of the dream catcher lying on his night stand. He picked it up and stared at it through blury eyes. England knew what this was used for.

Problems sleeping, huh? What keeps him up all night? England continued staring at it, tracing the lines that intertwined together with his eyes. Not like this will help me. I haven't been having any bad dreams.

England sat up quickly, a little too quickly to where he almost fell back down. Propping himself on his elbow, an idea went through his mind as he stared hard at the dream catcher.

Maybe... If this is suppose to ward off bad dreams... Maybe it will keep any bad magic from coming into these dreams.

England stood up slowly and hung the dream catcher on a nail next to the window. He wasn't even sure if this would work. He was willing to try it out, though.

The British nation returned to bed, wrapping himself up in the warm sheets. Before he knew it, he was back in the dream world he visits each night. His head was a little clearer, his sight less blurry, and he could walk properly. Apparently, whatever happens in the real world doesn't affect him in the dream world.

England walked down the stairs into the living room to find Ireland tending to the fire. He knew better than to speak or go near Ireland while he was concentrating on a certain task. The red-head had a strange tendency to attack anyone or anything that snuck up on him. Even if it was a dream, England didn't want to be hit in the face by a fireplace poker.

Once Ireland was finished messing with the flame, he put the poker away and looked up to see England. That bright smile of his returned to his face the moment he laid eyes on England. This time, the blond didn't feel uneasy when he saw that smile.

"Merry Christmas, Deartháir Beag!" Ireland greeted cheerfully. He walked over to England and pulled him into a warm embrace. England returned the hug, taking in the warmth and scent of his older brother.

"Merry Christmas, South."

"Do you want to go outside?" Ireland asked as he pulled away, "It's been awhile since we had a snowball fight or made a snowman."

"I guess we can do that. I'll get my coat."

Before England could turn to go up the stairs, Ireland grabbed his arm and pulled him back. As if pulling it out of thin air, Ireland pulled out England's coat from behind his back.

"It's right here, Deartháir Beag."

This wasn't the first time things appeared out of nowhere in the dreams. Seeing as they were only dreams (possibly, possibly not), logic didn't have to exist. Objects suddenly appearing, changes of scenery, and the absence of certain people who cause England distress are all part of this dream world.

"Oh. Thank you." England pulled on his coat while Ireland went to the door to put his coat on. After pulling on their gloves and wrapping their scarves around their necks, the two island nations went outside.

It was snowing when they came outside. The snow fell lightly from the sky, blowing delicately in the wind. The ground held several inches of pure white snow that had yet to be stepped on. It was beautiful. Never had England witnessed such a breath-taking scene.

"Wow," England whispered, "This is amazing."

"You know what else is amazing?"

England turned his head to the right and was about to ask "What?" when a chunk of snow hit his cheek. He was a little surprised for a minute before seeing Ireland bend down, and bunch up some snow in his hand. Before Ireland could finish his snow ball, England crouched down to make his own.

"You want to fight, huh?" England said to Ireland as they rose with their snowballs.

"Just like old times, Deartháir Beag."

"What are the rules?"

"Whoever gives in first loses. The winner choses his reward."

"All right. If I win..." England thought about Ireland's punishment for a moment before an idea went through his mind. "If I win, you'll have to wear one of Scotland's kilts."

"Okay. That's a little embarrassing but I can accept that. If I win then you'll have to wear one of Scotland's kilts. I'll even pick it out for you."

"That won't be necessary."

"A little too confident, are we?"

"No. I know I'll win."

"We'll see, Deartháir Beag. We'll see."

Ireland threw his snowball but England dodged it. England threw his but Ireland jumped out of the way. They both crouched back down to the ground to make more snowballs, gathering them in their arms as they attacked each other.

An hour passed as their snowball fight raged on. By now, they were both cold with frost bite on their numbing fingers. That didn't stop them as they continued to fire snowballs at one another.

England threw his snowball at Ireland as the red-haired nation tried to dodge it. Ireland lost his footing, staggered, and fell to the ground. England ran over to him and sat on the Irishman's stomach before he could get up. As Ireland grabbed for some snow, England took his wrists and held them above his head. Ireland struggled to get free but with no avail.

"Do you give up?" England asked.

"Yes! I give up!" Ireland yelled, more amused than in distress.

"Will you ever underestimate the British Empire again?"

"No! I learned my lesson! I give up!"

England released his brother's wrists and got off of his stomach. They both laid there in the snow, watching as more steadily came down from the Heavens. They were both quiet and still, as if moving would somehow disrupt this peace.

England looked over at Ireland from the corner of his eye. The Irish nation had a look of content on his face as he stared up at the sky. His glasses were wet with snow from their battle and the falling flakes. His cheeks were red from the cold.

The British nation's heart began to beat a little faster as he continued to stare. This wasn't the first time this happened when he was near Ireland. He'd felt this way for quite some time. The first time he can remember this happening was when he was around his pre-teens. He can even remember the first time he brought it up to his fairies after months of feeling this way.

"What do you think's wrong with me?" England asked his fairies as he picked at a piece of grass.

"What exactly is it that's frightening you so badly?" one fairy with purple hair tied into a ponytail asked.

"Well... every time I get close to Ireland or whenever he's nice to me, my heart starts to race. Sometimes I feel warm in the cheeks and my palms get a little sweaty."

The fairies looked at each other for a moment before giggling together. England looked at them with alarm and confusion.

"What? What is it? What's wrong with me?"

"It's okay, England. You're in love."

"In... love...?"

"Yes. It's completely normal for people to feel this way."

"But... Ireland's my brother..."

"You're both nations, though. Does it still work that way even if you're nations?"

"I don't know... This is wrong, isn't it?"

"Do you plan to tell Ireland this?"

"He'll probably hate me if I do. Our other brothers might laugh if they knew."

"Maybe you should wait until you're older. By then you might be able to face him."

"Maybe..."

"Deartháir Beag!" England looked over to see Ireland running toward him. England blushed slightly as his older brother came over to him.

"I've been calling for you for five minutes, Deartháir Beag. Wales ordered a family meeting."

"Oh, sorry."

"It's okay, Deartháir Beag."

Ireland helped England up and they walked to the direction of their eldest brother's house. In the back of England's head, he wished that Ireland wasn't one of his brothers. Maybe then his feelings wouldn't be wrong to anyone else.

The blond frowned at the memory. He definitely got his wish. Ireland was no longer considered his brother even though he still looked at him as such. Officially, all ties were broken between them.

England sat up slowly as he looked at Ireland. The man was still staring up at the sky, a smile still on his face. He finally noticed England staring at him and sat up as well. Seeing the far away look in his little brother's eyes, Ireland grew concerned.

"Deartháir Beag? Is everything okay?"

England stayed quiet, going over the thoughts in his head.

This is all a dream... Therefore, the Ireland in front of me isn't real... So... Even if someone was playing a trick on me, it won't matter if I...

England leaned forward as Ireland repeated his previous question. Before Ireland even knew what was going on, England closed the space between them with a kiss. Ireland's lips were very soft and warm, making the Briton's heart beat faster against his chest.

The kiss was short. A little too short for England's liking but he felt that he needed to make it quick. Looking up at Ireland's shocked face, England was afraid he may have screwed everything up.

"England...?" Ireland asked in a low voice.

"I'm sorry!" England stood up quickly and turned to leave. Ireland grabbed his hand before he could get far and pulled him back down.

"England, don't run away. I'm not angry."

"Forget it. It didn't happen."

"It's okay, England." Ireland pulled England closer to him and wrapped his arms around him. England's head was buried in Ireland's chest, refusing to look the older nation in the eye.

"Answer me this one little question, England. Can you do that for me?"

The blond nodded his head into Ireland's chest. Ireland ran his fingers through England's messy hair as he asked his question.

"How long have you felt this way?"

England turned his head to where Ireland could hear his voice clearly.

"Ever since I was young."

"How young exactly?"

"I can't tell. Some time before I became a teenager, I think."

"That's a long time, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"Can I tell you something, England?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"You're going to tell me it's wrong. I already know it's wrong. I've known since the moment I realized my true feelings."

"I wasn't going to tell you that."

"Then what?" England raised his head to look at Ireland. "What more do you need to-"

Ireland silenced England with a kiss on the lips. England was more than shocked when he felt his older brother's lips on his once more. This time it was warmer, sweeter, and lasted a little longer than before.

When Ireland pulled away they were both blushing, England's cheeks a shade or so darker. Ireland gave England a small smile as he leaned forward again, his forehead resting against his younger brother's.

"I've always had a special liking to you, Deartháir Beag," the Irishman whispered. England blushed a little harder as he heard this. He couldn't believe this was happening.

"Thank you so much, South."

"Anything, Deartháir Beag. Now, if I remember correctly..." Ireland stood up, helping England to his feet. "I have several kilts to try on before Scotland kills me."

"Please. He'll give you a slap on the wrist for doing it. He'll murder me for coming up with the idea."

"Not if I have anything to say about it."

The island nations went inside to warm their limbs up and see Ireland parade around the house in a kilt. It was a strange but fun Christmas for England. It was better than the awkward dinner he faced with Ireland back in the house. It was also better than how he and his brothers finished off the evening with liquor.

Unfortunately for England, this happy moment will be the only thing he can savor for a while. Not long after the Christmas celebration, the Irish Free State and Northern Ireland began having horrible fights that led to be known as the Troubles. Even with this already on his mind, the start of the Second World War came around. England, along with France, declared war on Germany after the invasion of Poland.

At one point, England asked Ireland if he wanted to join him in the War. Ireland just stared at him and said, "I had to fight alongside you in the First World War. What makes you think I'll fight with you in the Second? I'll just save everyone some trouble and be neutral."

It was decided. While England fought against the Axis Powers, Ireland stayed home and tended to his crops. Despite all the madness in the beginning of the War, England was still able to dream of Ireland. That was the only thing keeping him going through the first year.