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Seasons Greetings	By : Darbracken Category: +G to L > Hetalia: Axis Powers Views: 1119 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own England, America, France or Canada or Hetalia - though that would be sweet. I have not and will not gain any profit from this fiction.

Chapter List
- 1-Seasons Greetings
- 1
So this week’s challenge was America x England, a world conference, Canada’s point of view. I wanted this fic in contrast to my Russia x America one to be very light and fluffy and hopefully humorous. I feel a little sorry for Canada really so I wanted to make happy times for him. Should I continue this at all? I don’t know. I was getting very nervous after the lack of response to my Russia based fiction. Maybe I went too far? :s As always reviews and comments are much loved!

***

It was the last world conference before the Christmas holidays. Finland was nowhere to be seen, he’d excused himself to ‘help out Santa’. Russia was likewise absent, apparently General Winter had dropped 10 feet of snow on his house and he was trying to pickaxe his way out with the assistance of Lithuania and Estonia. And America was wearing a red and white bobble hat and trying to get everyone to try his ‘miracle drink’ eggnog.

Tuning out the rest of the excited chatter, England watched the animated motions of the American as he handed out presents and good cheer. Just as emerald eyes watched Alfred, sapphire eyes watched him. A little distance away Canada leant onto his palms and scrutinised the Brit who longingly watched his brother. If only England would look at him like that, or look at him at all really. Hadn’t he been loyal? Hadn’t he stayed when Alfred had stood on all of England’s hopes and dreams and forcefully tore himself from their family home?

Still it seemed England only had eyes for America, something that his brother had failed to notice in his apparent obliviousness. As countries began to leave in little clusters or alone, Alfred jogged over to the Brit and threw his arms around his shoulders. Automatically flustered England lifted a hand and pressed it to his chest as though he was trying to fend him off. “Merry Christmas England!”

The embrace was swiftly ruined as France appeared and lofted mistletoe above the Brit’s head, leaning in to kiss him full force on the lips. If it hadn’t been for America restraining him Canada was sure that France would have felt the full force of the British navy, that or Arthur’s foot in his face. “Joyeux Noel Angleterre! On honhonhon.” After giving America an apprehensive glance the Frenchman waved merrily and disappeared to harass another of his European neighbours.

Having lost momentum Arthur wiped his lips with disgust, missing the slight scowl that flittered over America’s face. When he looked up again the younger nation was beaming at him. “Oh boy, Christmas is so fun England! I’m glad Finland found Santa and made him his slave once a year!” Ah that was right, this year he was going to do it. This year he’d gather up his courage and ask.

“What are you doing over Christmas, Alfred?”

Pausing for a moment though he was still jiggling America seemed to give the question some serious thought. “Well, the usual I suppose, lots of food and alcohol and warm blankets.”

Pale cheeks flushed, taking deep breaths as he worked up the required courage to ask his next question. Damn it he could really do with some of Scotland’s whiskey right now for some Dutch courage. “I was just thinking that it might be nice to… to… spend Christmas toge-“ “Dude, Japan released this absolutely sweet game too, I’m totally looking forwards to beating your ass on it! You should come round after New Year or something!” With that he pushed a present into the spluttering Brit’s arms, ignorant to the tender feelings he’d just stamped all over.

England carefully pulled tape from the crinkled and vibrant paper, the present frankly looking like it had been dragged through several hedges backwards. America usually got so excited with the prospect of Christmas that he forgot how to wrap presents and merely rolled them into a ball of overly decorated wrapping paper and duct tape. America was bouncing by now, watching the older nation with big, sparkling blue eyes. “Oh you’re going to love it so much! I just know you will!” Alas as the packaging finally gave up it’s secrecy a tweed suit came into view.

England wasn’t sure what about him suggested that he needed a new suit but every year America, without fail, purchased him one. To add to his irritation the suit always was either one size too big or one size too small, depending on how America happened to view his place in world politics at the point of purchase. Holding it up England decided this year it was too big. Fortunately he had a number of excellent tailors who would shave the fabric down to a more suitable fitting. Bushy brows furrowed as he inspected the leather pads sewn in at the elbows. Did America think he was some kind of History teacher from the 1950s?

“Ah, well it’s… very thoughtful Alfred.” It was best to be gentlemanly, gracious even, in defeat and despite his sometimes harsh words the soft spot he had for his former colony made him wary of inflicting too much emotional damage. A forced smile seemed to fool the over-exuberant male as he grasped onto him and swung him around. “Right! It’s so… you! From the moment I saw it I knew you’d have to wear it! Well, see you later England! I have to go and save Santa or something!” With that America fled the conference room, the white bobble of his Santa hat swaying merrily behind him.

Emotionally drained England sunk into a chair, thumbs rubbing the tweed slowly. At least the suit was of an extremely high quality; even he had to admit that. Still, what he wanted beyond all other things seemed to be just out of his reach. That thought in mind his head gave a dull thump as it fell onto the large oak table before him. It took a few moments to realise that he was not alone, a warm hand rubbing over the back of his shoulder in a comforting manner. Raising his head emerald eyes narrowed, for a split second thinking America had returned to mock him further until he realised the gentle smile that confronted him was Canada instead.

“Oh, hello Matthew, I hadn’t realised you’d stayed after the meeting too.” Of course Canada had witnessed the whole sorry scene but he was much too polite to admit that he’d been eavesdropping. A slightly furtive expression dawned the other’s expression as he continued to rub his shoulder. “If… if you want I can have that taken in for you.” Nervously Canada indicated the suit that was half strewn across the wood, knowing very well that it would not show the slight but strong frame of England to its best advantage.

England groaned low in his throat and slumped back onto his chair. At least he could depend on sweet, mature Canada, even if the man was exceptionally quiet and often overlooked. “Would you mind? It’s a bloody inconvenience. I mean it’s not like I’m constantly changing size or anything?” Canada bit his lip and decided broaching the Hong Kong matter was not required, England always seemed to be pluckily short no matter who was living at his house at any given time. Still, the next question made him nervous, fitfully folding the suit neatly.

“England if you’re not doing anything for Christmas do you... maybe, possibly want to come over to my house? I’ve got Her Majesty a broach and everything so that’s already sorted and it’s not like I have anyone else that will visit. I just don’t want to be alone at Christmas.” The last few words were such a rush they nearly blurred into an unintelligible mumble. The truth was though that Canada really wanted to spend Christmas with England and it seemed an ideal moment to ask.

Fresh from his defeat with America Arthur was in honesty a little dazed by the question and the serious hue in Canada’s eyes. For a moment he scrambled for a suitable excuse before it occurred to him that he was in fact quite fond of the nervous male. Well why the hell not? America had blown him off and if Matthew sincerely wanted to spend Christmas with him and he sincerely didn’t want to alone for yet another festive period it made sense. A swift nod was given as he made his decision. “I’d like that Matthew, I’d like that a lot.” A brilliant smile lifted onto worried features, a little pink seeping over Canada’s cheeks.

“So would I Ar.. Ar.. Ar.. England.”

Historical notes:

This is mostly fluff and my conjecture that Canada likes England much more than America does. Hell he’s even in the commonwealth and shares a monarchy with England. I read that this year the Canadian army got the Queen a broach for Christmas. Of course this was no normal broach one might purchase ones grandmother but the thought of Matthew using this as leverage to get England to visit amused me.
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Seasons Greetings