The Matfred Chronicles: Chair
The Matfred Chronicles
Chapter 9: Chair
Rating: PG
“We’re here!” a certain jubilant Italian cried, bursting through the door. Canada practically had cardiac arrest with the sudden hubbub, but soon recollected himself from the shock and went to attend to his guest, America at his side.
Just how many friends did Alfred decide to invite? he thought as countries flooded into the foyer over the course of fifteen minutes. There were the veterans to the scene, France and England, who had come to virtually every birthday party the brothers had ever had since birth. France gave each sibling a firm hug without a second thought. England was a bit hesitant to even shake hands, but eventually followed suit.
There were other familiar faces, too: China (who had dishes of dumplings for everyone to enjoy despite the fact that food had already been made), Prussia (whose congratulatory clap on the back nearly knocked the wind out of poor Canada), Russia (his cheerful voice didn’t make his birthday wish any less colder), Greece (whose many cats soon became fascinated with Kumajirou), Romano (who failed to keep the cursing at a minimum), Japan (who brought some of the best video games with him alongside both the Wii and PlayStation consoles), Korea (to both China and Japan’s displeasure), Ukraine(whose arrival could’ve been heard from outside the house what with her vast chest): even Cuba was present, a surprise to Canada due to his boyfriend’s animosity toward the Caribbean nation.
For about an hour, the nations chatted amongst each other until America plucked Canada from the crowd, rounded up everyone, and directed them to the living room.
Now, America had been insistent upon preparing everything for the party (although he asked France to do most of the cooking while he prepared hamburgers), ordering Canada to relax on his day. Thus, Canada was just as dumbstruck as the rest of the mass to see a circle of chairs in the middle of the room and a boom box off to the side.
“We’re playing musical chairs?” Canada exclaimed, having expected some ordinary setup for a video game session or movie marathon.
“Ooo! That sounds like fuuuunnnn~” Italy chirped, waving his hands up and down in utter joy.
“I guess a round or two wouldn’t be all that bad.” Japan remarked, a smirk on his features.
“It would, like, totally be a blast, right Liet?” Poland nudged Lithuania with an elbow.
It took a little while before the company organized themselves into a circle a few feet away from the chairs within. Italy volunteered to occupy the post at the boom box and soon music blasted from its speakers.
The group revolved around the seats, muscles tensed, eyes locked, breaths bated, prepared for anything sudden.
Click.
At once, everyone jolted forward, scrambling to claim a seat, lest they be eliminated. As the last of the contestants slid into place, America plopped his rear end onto the remaining space just before Cuba did. In mockery, he blew an obnoxious raspberry at the other man, who scowled and shuffled back.
It took a few minutes to remove the extra chair and reconfigure the circle before the turn perpetuated, this time with Greece left without a seat (one of his cat had screeched and he had rushed off to attend to the feline).
More rounds ensued, with shoving, pushing, tripping, treading over toes, pinching, and even a dash of grouping in a desperate attempt to match tush with cushioned seat. At long last, one solitary chair was placed in the center, America and Canada glaring at each other, both minds set on being declared winner.
The music started. Both countries circled the folding chair. Their eyes remained locked, never flinching. A second before the sound ceased, America was in front closest to the seat with Canada positioned behind the back of the chair. An American victory seemed inevitable.
Once the notes from the stereo were cut off, Canada made the most agile move any country had seen him perform off the ice. Canada whipped around the chair, sat himself down and sent America crashing to the floor in one blurry advancement, leaving everyone dizzy with perplexity. The bemused atmosphere turned vivacious as the party cheered with enthusiasm for the Canadian, who comically bowed in acceptance of the praise.
He then extended a hand to aid America to his feet, but was instead yanked on top of the runner-up. Canada burned with self-consciousness and he was smothered in kisses, from head to nape of neck, very much aware of the occasional flash of Hungary’s camera (especially when they shared a tongue-and-teeth lip-lock).
As both retrogressed to their feet, Canada vaguely speculated how many hits Hungary’s blog would receive tomorrow and decided to ask her if it were possible to get a copy of a picture for himself. Somehow, he felt at this point, mental memories wouldn’t be quite a satisfactory momentum for this particular first day of July.
Hello, my dear readers! I understand it’s been a painfully long time since last update, but I figured a birthday special would be the best time to return. I know I said that I’d do Games for this chapter, but inspiration hit me pretty hard (I will be writing up that one next, no worries!)
In any case, I wish a very happy Canada Day to my friends on the other side of the border in addition to a wonderful Independence Day for my fellow Americans. Thanks, as always, for reading.
~Curlee1029
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