Re: Here Comes the... Who? [Chapter 1 Cont.]
anonymous
April 2 2011, 23:54:43 UTC
Sometimes Canada wondered if maybe England was to blame for his shyness and invisibility. People had known Canada under France’s care. No one had paid attention to Canada once he had become part of the British Empire, though. He could understand why, too. All the reunions he had been to with the Commonwealth cemented why no one paid attention to him-he was quiet in comparison, didn’t really have many historical complaints, and, even for those complaints he did have, he wasn’t interested in really voicing any general concerns. He also wasn’t adventurous like Australia, exotic like India, or special like Tuvalu. Amongst 53 other countries, he faded to the background. Even Fiji had acquired more attention than he had when she had been suspended-not that Canada wanted a coup in his country to get some attention, but it still would be nice to get some type of recognition from England from time to time. At least recognition that involved the name Canada and not America or, and this one he loved, America’s brother. After all, they had more history than that!
And it was with all this in mind that Canada sat primly next to France, who seemed to be waving a postcard with Kumayoyo’s face on the front and loopy letters in typical touristy font saying: Wish You Were Here! But Canada was too busy thinking about his life to care. The room around him was breaking in typical chaos with Germany hauling around a typically smiling Italian holding onto a plate of pasta one hand and wrapping himself around the blonde with his other arm. All Canada could hear behind him was a zooming ‘Ve~!’ here and a ‘Potato bastard, let go of my brother!’ from an angry Romano trying to multitask by punching a very touchy-feely Spaniard. Lichtenstein seemed amused and smiled just a tad as she hid her mouth behind a cup of tea, but already her brother Switzerland was warning her to stay away from the general chaos that was rudimentary of meetings.
America had not yet arrived. Russia was creepily looming behind China, who seemed far too busy with a brand new Shinatty doll to care about his lover, and all the while, Japan was fangirling with Hungary over some disturbingly mysterious looking photos that threatened to send Hungary into a nosebleed. Behind the chair, Prussia jumped between their shoulders: “Liz, you’re such a pervert!-What will America say when the awesome me tells him you have pictures of his repressed British jerk-” he crowed before he was slammed with a frying pan, catching the attention of Austria, who seemed perpetually used to hearing the term associated with Hungary’s name and seeing Prussia get knocked out by said female. Gilbird simply floated down to the ground, looking ever as precious, if not awesome.
But Canada was somehow ignoring all of this. Maybe it was because he had built a tolerance, or maybe it was because by the time he was going to comment on the fact that England hadn’t yet arrived for the meeting, the door slammed open and in strolled the island nation. Surprisingly, England looked smug, almost upbeat, his grin a mixture between his old imperialism smile and … and something Canada hadn’t seen since he had been a tiny colony. Something reminiscent of pure adoration. And why was it being directed his way?
Canada really should have known that something was wrong then.
“Move it, frog, you’re sitting on my seat…”
“Ah, Angleterre, your seat, you say? Mais, this is my seat. I always sit here next to cher-”
England’s response was simply to narrow his eyes and give France that smile-that old, smug, bastard-like imperialist smile. The full thing, not what Canada had caught before, and almost immediately, Canada jumped when the chair made a squeaking sound as it was pulled back and France scurried to get away, fear evident on his face.
“Ah, oui, oui, ‘ow stupide of me… your seat, yes…” France blanched, making sure to whisper by Canada, “We will ‘alk about ze bear later, non?”
Re: Here Comes the... Who? [Chapter 1 Cont.2]
anonymous
April 2 2011, 23:55:52 UTC
Canada gave him a nod, too busy staring at England. A few other nations had stopped to look over at England as well.
Really, Canada should have known something wasn’t quite right when Spain hid behind Romano, shakily whispering something about an Armada. And if that hadn’t given him a clue, then he really should have been able to tell the moment England sat down and immediately gave him a feral grin, almost too happy to be normal, and then rubbed the side of his face before whispering close to his ear, “try to refrain from stuffing your face with burgers for the rest of the meeting; I’ve a surprise for you, love…”
The purr alone made Canada shiver. Not in a good way. Burgers…
Of course, England was mistaking him for America.
“But, England-”
“Hush, I promise you it will be all worth it afterwards.”
“But I’m not-”
“Just a few more bloody minutes, America! Even your stomach can handle being empty that long!” he hissed out, dismissing him with a wave.
Well, at least he had tried. So Canada sat back, looking down at his empty lap and missing Kumajiro. It was moments like this when he really wished the bear was between his arms so that he could press his nose into that white fur and take in the smell of comfort or feel a paw patting his head. Instead, he sat alone, trying hard to pay attention to Germany, but the German nation simply rushed through his opening speech, opening the list of speakers and immediately bypassing England’s request to speak.
“Ahem!” England interrupted when Portugal’s name was written down first, “Ahem, Germany, I believe that it is customary for the hosting nation AND the one who motioned to open the list to go first on the list…”
“This is true,” Germany concurred, furrowing his brows before looking around the room and not finding America, “I just thought you’d want to wait, England, since-”
“No, no, I’d much rather do it now if it is alright with you.”
“But I just thought you’d want to wait until everyone is here.”
Germany had never been good in these kinds of situations, and he could feel a few beads of sweat pool on his forehead. He couldn’t keep secrets, but he could also not stand surprises. Thus, he had appreciated England telling him of his plans, but the pressure was getting to him, and he was growing increasingly confused. Why would England not wait for America to propose?-Or, maybe England wasn’t proposing to America? He pursed his lips together, nodding when his eyes met England’s piercing green gaze.
“Very well, then. Germany recognizes England for a total speaking time of 1 minute. Portugal will speak after that, and then it will be France and… Italy,” Germany shook his head, sighing, “and then China. England, the floor is yours.”
“Thank you, Germany,” the island nation was surprisingly peppy as he pushed his chair under the table, taking the opportunity to seductively blow by Canada’s neck, sending the poor nervous nation into frightened shivers. But England was too busy strolling to the front of the room. He cleared his throat, suddenly turning to Canada. He set a tiny velvet box on the podium, and Canada’s eyes suddenly widened.
Oh, no. No, no, no, England wasn’t going to propose to America, was he? A-and he thought he was America, which meant… oh no, no, no, no…
“Would you mind coming up here for a moment, love.”
A sudden cold gasp blanketed the room like a wave and all eyes fell on poor Canada, who writhed in his chair. Where was Kumakinchi when he needed him? He pointed at himself nervously. “M-me? E-England, I.-I don’t think th-this is a good-”
“Now’s not the time to be bashful, America,” England frowned; he cupped his hand over his mouth, furrowing his brows together as he hissed at the other nation. “Get your arse up here!”
“But I’m not!-” Canada was turning a deadly shade of angry red, but suddenly he stopped, blinking a few times before his lips curled into a smirk.
Re: Here Comes the... Who? [Chapter 1 Cont.3]
anonymous
April 2 2011, 23:56:27 UTC
For all those years he had been relegated to the marginal shadow of remembrance, for all those years Canada’s poor teenage heart had ached, and for all those little moments that continued to bug him when people forgot his name, thought he was America, or generally beat him up thinking he was just as bad as America, yes, for all those moments, he was going to stand up for himself. He was going to teach England a lesson and maybe America as well, though he really didn’t have anything against America. Besides, maybe others would start noticing him, too, after this. Maybe. At least France would leave him alone for a few weeks, right?
“Get up here,” England spoke through gritted teeth, looking nervous as ever. And Canada felt guilty-for just a moment.
Canada nodded, standing up, “right.”
He stood behind the podium next to England, waving shyly at everyone in the room. A few people had begun to whisper, and Germany seemed to have grown steadily pale. Italy seemed to busy trying to focus on the half-finished plate of pasta in front of him.
“Right then,” England cleared his throat before taking Canada’s hand into his own and grabbing the little velvet box as he got down on one knee. “I’m not one for long speeches or much romanticism, but-”
The rest was very much a blur to Canada. He was much busier exploring the different faces of everyone in the room. Italy seemed particularly excited, practically bouncing on his seat as he pulled at Germany’s arm, “ve, ve~! Germany, Germany, is England really proposing to Canada?”
“I-I do not know, Italy.”
“But what happens to America, Germany? What happens to him? I thought he and England had a Special Relationship, ve~!”
“Oh my,” Japan tried to hide by shrinking into his chair. Next to him, Hungary seemed horribly conflicted as she sobbed a little bit, whispering, ’oh, poor America! but continued to snap pictures of the entire event.
“Do you think America knows, aru?”
“It doesn’t really matter if he knows or not that England is marrying his brother because at the end everyone will become one with me, starting with you, da?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, aru! I am not joining one with anyone… let me go, aru!” China struggled as Russia tried to pry him off his seat and into his lap. Along the way, Shinatty-chan was falling from China’s arm, “Ah, my Shinatty!”
“This is so fucken sad, isn’t it Gilbird? Obviously this proves that I am far more awesome than America! Not that it needed to be proven or anything because my awesomeness is just that awesome!”
Canada shook his head, trying to ignore everyone. It was actually kind of sad. There was England, on one knee, practically regurgitating his feelings, and Canada could only focus all his attention on everyone else. France looked especially deflated, biting into a white handkerchief as he impatiently waited for the entire event to end.
“So, will you?-Will you share the rest of your life with me?” England finished, tugging on Canada’s hand to get his attention back on the little velvet box holding a very tastefully picked out silver band. Typical England to have elegant taste and enough tact to get another man a nice band and not an eyesore of a diamond ring. Canada studied the little band carefully, taking it into his fingers to look at it, feel its cool texture against his hand. And he knew that he was doing something wrong-unbelievable that already he was feeling guilty, but not enough as to turn back. “You’re taking very long to respond,” England tried to get his attention again, his eyes shifting from side to side nervously. “Are you listening?” he whispered.
“Yes,” Canada snapped his head up, giving him a bright smile. England gave him a bright, sunny grin, slipping the ring into his finger. “I’ll marry you, England.”
“My Canada~!” France cried out, still biting onto the handkerchief even as he held out his hand in mid-sob. He shook his head from side to side, “You British merde! My Canada~!”
Re: Here Comes the... Who? [Chapter 1 Cont.4]
anonymous
April 2 2011, 23:57:10 UTC
“Ve~! Congratulations, Canada!” Italy bounced from his seat, pulling Germany up with him as he congratulated the North American nation.
A few others mumbled out their congratulations, some obviously more excited than others.
“W-wait,” England blinked, furrowing his brows together, “Cana-what?”
Next to him, Canada chuckled, “Ca-NA-da. CAN-A-DA! You’re marrying Canada!”
England blanched, “N-No, wait a minute, no, I just proposed to-”
Canada nodded, “Canada. You just proposed to Canada, and I, Canada, have accepted!”
On that cue, the door slammed open and America waltzed in, hamburger in hand and glasses glinting, “Hahaha, nobody panic! The Hero is FINALLY here! America has arrived! Hell yeah!” He strolled into the room to the shock of many of the nations in the room, and he blinked, almost offended by the random silence he encountered. Usually the room was a buzzing chaos. He walked up to South Korea and held up his hand for a high-five. The nation gave in reluctantly. “What’s going on everyone?-I said the HERO has arrived!”
Germany cleared his throat, trying to divert everyone’s attention away from the confused American over to the front of the room, where England seemed to have suddenly fallen into a standing coma. Canada ushered England back to his seat. Germany stood at the front of the podium once more, taking hold of the gabble. “Ah, well, we’ve, uh, gone over time. Next on the list of speakers is Portugal, then. The floor is now yours.”
“But I have an announcement!” America interrupted, already marching to the head of the room and dragging a comatose England by the wrist as he went. “I’m sure you are ALL wondering why I’m late!-And, as a hero, it is my job to make sure you all don’t die from suspense so I’m just gonna be as straightforward as possible! I was late because I was picking up a ring!” he set the burger on the podium, and, to gasps and a fainting Japan, pulled out a bright red velvet box. He slammed it onto the podium with strength, pulling at England.
“Oh no…” Hungary sobbed, crushing her cheeks between her hands.
“Ve~! Germany, is America going to propose to England? But England already proposed to Canada!”
“How un-awesome to propose to someone that’s already dumped you, nah, West?”
“Both of you, hush,” Germany doubled his head, somehow trying to pretend that he was no longer in a room filled with idiotic nations. A part of him wanted to slam his forehead onto the table, but he refrained. “America, this will have to wait. It is against procedure and Portugal has the floor!”
“Sim, the floor sua mina,” Portugal tried to pry England away from America, a part of him almost fearful for his long-time partner’s well-being. Already the island nation was looking faint.
“I unilaterally vote the suspension of all rules for the remainder of my announcement!” America replied nonchalantly, turning to face England with velvet box in hand.
“You can’t do that!” Germany barked out, stomping over to the front of the room, “that is against the rules!”
“Dude, I’m a world hegemon! I totally make the rules, now just sit down for a bit because you’re making my proposal totally unawesome!”
“I-I…” England blinked, slowly returning to consciousness. Portugal next to him continued to try and fan him with air. “I proposed to… t-to… C-Ca-Canada…”
America blinked, turning to his boyfriend for a moment, “huh? What’d ya say, Iggy?”
England shook his head, looking up at America with panicked eyes. “Y-you’re America and he… he’s Canada…”
Re: Here Comes the... Who? [Chapter 1 Cont.5]
anonymous
April 2 2011, 23:58:19 UTC
America’s eyes fell on Canada, and with a grin, he waved at his brother, “Oh yeah, that’s uh, Can-Cancun alright! Sup, Mattie? Makalakajuro comeback yet?”
“One, I’m Canada. Ca-NA-da! Your brother. And, two, it’s Kumayoyo and no,” Canada replied, crossing his arms.
“Sacre bleu! It’s NOT kumayoyo! It’s kumajiro!” France interrupted, waving the little postcard with the bear’s picture, “And that’s my Canada~!”
“Dude, Canada is a sovereign nation!” America frowned at France, pointing the gabble right at him. Then, looking over at his brother, he continued, “Has France been trying to invade your vital regions again, Mattie?”
“That British bastard took my Canada!”
“You need to get over that, amigo,” Spain patted France’s back, ignoring the jealous piercing looks Romano was sending his way, “that happened back when Canada was an itty-bitty colonia! The pequeñin obviously loves England more…”
“Oh, you’re one to talk, always talking about votre precious Armada!”
Spain took a few steps away from France, falling back onto his seat as he tried to hide his face inside the crook of Romano’s neck, “My Armada! My beautiful Armada!”
“Get the hell away from me you tomato bastard!”
“What’s going on here?” America asked, suddenly confused. He turned to the island nation behind him, blinking his bright baby blues at him, “England? Why is Spain talking about his Armada and France saying that you took Canada away from him?”
“Ve~! That’s because before America got here, England proposed to Canada!”
America felt his jaw drop, almost as quickly as the little box fell from his hand to the floor. “Y-You WHAT?!”
England looked at America, nervous even as he leaned against a fearful Portugal for support, “I-I guess I proposed to Canada…”
“Yup!” Canada beamed, giving his brother a little wave. The silver band glinted under the light of the room, “England proposed to Canada. Ca-na-da!”
The last thing everyone in the room heard before England passed out in Portugal’s arms was America turning to Canada and practically lunging over the table towards the other North American nation shouting, “I’ll nuke you!”
author note: So hopefully this was a little less fail than the other parts? I’m trying to keep the characters IC, but obviously being my first Hetalia fanfiction, it’s a process so help me out by commenting and letting me know if you think there’s something that could be improved. =) Also, apologies in advanced for any little mistakes. Sometimes I just can’t catch them all. On another unrelated note, I really dislike character limits.
Re: Here Comes the... Who? [Chapter 1 Cont.5]
anonymous
April 3 2011, 05:07:41 UTC
Hahahaha, this is so hilarious, I was laughing all trough this. I love the chaos of the meeting, France's melodrama, Portugal trying to help England and the fact that Canada is not a helpless victim here but someone who's an active part of this mess.
Re: Here Comes the... Who? [author anon]
anonymous
April 3 2011, 15:25:09 UTC
Glad you liked the addition of Portugal to the mix! I think I have a kink for the Anglo-Portuguese alliance (going strong since 1386!!), but it's never enough to overcome my love for the USxUK pairing so I guess in my head canon Portugal is like England's unconditional bestie, haha. Always nice to see someone else appreciate Portugal♥
Re: Here Comes the... Who? [Chapter 1 Cont.5]
anonymous
April 3 2011, 06:02:16 UTC
The last thing everyone in the room heard before England passed out in Portugal’s arms was America turning to Canada and practically lunging over the table towards the other North American nation shouting, “I’ll nuke you!”
Oh shit! Run, Canada, run! You don't even have nuclear weapons!
Re: Here Comes the... Who? [author anon]
anonymous
April 3 2011, 15:30:18 UTC
This author!anon is a polisci major and your comment makes her squee with happiness, anon! Nerd mode activating like now: for a time back in the 70s and early 80s, Canada used to store American nukes sometimes... today, Canada no longer does this, but nuclear-armed American planes and naval vessels definitely use Canadian facilities! - OTL I don't actually know where I was going with that, but yeah, thanks for commenting.
Re: Here Comes the... Who? [Chapter 1 Cont.5]
anonymous
April 5 2011, 03:01:10 UTC
The last thing everyone in the room heard before England passed out in Portugal’s arms was America turning to Canada and practically lunging over the table towards the other North American nation shouting, “I’ll nuke you!”
This line was pure WIN XD This whole story is absolutely amazing so far. I love USUK, but I don't often read it, but this is such an original idea and I love how you've worked with the prompt! Please keep up the good work!
Re: Here Comes the... Who? [Chapter 1 Cont.5]
anonymous
April 5 2011, 05:29:07 UTC
Author anon here! Thank you so much for the lovely comment, and I'm sooooo relieved to see that people are liking the whole thing. Hopefully you enjoyed chapter 2 just as much. =D
And it was with all this in mind that Canada sat primly next to France, who seemed to be waving a postcard with Kumayoyo’s face on the front and loopy letters in typical touristy font saying: Wish You Were Here! But Canada was too busy thinking about his life to care. The room around him was breaking in typical chaos with Germany hauling around a typically smiling Italian holding onto a plate of pasta one hand and wrapping himself around the blonde with his other arm. All Canada could hear behind him was a zooming ‘Ve~!’ here and a ‘Potato bastard, let go of my brother!’ from an angry Romano trying to multitask by punching a very touchy-feely Spaniard. Lichtenstein seemed amused and smiled just a tad as she hid her mouth behind a cup of tea, but already her brother Switzerland was warning her to stay away from the general chaos that was rudimentary of meetings.
America had not yet arrived. Russia was creepily looming behind China, who seemed far too busy with a brand new Shinatty doll to care about his lover, and all the while, Japan was fangirling with Hungary over some disturbingly mysterious looking photos that threatened to send Hungary into a nosebleed. Behind the chair, Prussia jumped between their shoulders: “Liz, you’re such a pervert!-What will America say when the awesome me tells him you have pictures of his repressed British jerk-” he crowed before he was slammed with a frying pan, catching the attention of Austria, who seemed perpetually used to hearing the term associated with Hungary’s name and seeing Prussia get knocked out by said female. Gilbird simply floated down to the ground, looking ever as precious, if not awesome.
But Canada was somehow ignoring all of this. Maybe it was because he had built a tolerance, or maybe it was because by the time he was going to comment on the fact that England hadn’t yet arrived for the meeting, the door slammed open and in strolled the island nation. Surprisingly, England looked smug, almost upbeat, his grin a mixture between his old imperialism smile and … and something Canada hadn’t seen since he had been a tiny colony. Something reminiscent of pure adoration. And why was it being directed his way?
Canada really should have known that something was wrong then.
“Move it, frog, you’re sitting on my seat…”
“Ah, Angleterre, your seat, you say? Mais, this is my seat. I always sit here next to cher-”
England’s response was simply to narrow his eyes and give France that smile-that old, smug, bastard-like imperialist smile. The full thing, not what Canada had caught before, and almost immediately, Canada jumped when the chair made a squeaking sound as it was pulled back and France scurried to get away, fear evident on his face.
“Ah, oui, oui, ‘ow stupide of me… your seat, yes…” France blanched, making sure to whisper by Canada, “We will ‘alk about ze bear later, non?”
Reply
Really, Canada should have known something wasn’t quite right when Spain hid behind Romano, shakily whispering something about an Armada. And if that hadn’t given him a clue, then he really should have been able to tell the moment England sat down and immediately gave him a feral grin, almost too happy to be normal, and then rubbed the side of his face before whispering close to his ear, “try to refrain from stuffing your face with burgers for the rest of the meeting; I’ve a surprise for you, love…”
The purr alone made Canada shiver. Not in a good way. Burgers…
Of course, England was mistaking him for America.
“But, England-”
“Hush, I promise you it will be all worth it afterwards.”
“But I’m not-”
“Just a few more bloody minutes, America! Even your stomach can handle being empty that long!” he hissed out, dismissing him with a wave.
Well, at least he had tried. So Canada sat back, looking down at his empty lap and missing Kumajiro. It was moments like this when he really wished the bear was between his arms so that he could press his nose into that white fur and take in the smell of comfort or feel a paw patting his head. Instead, he sat alone, trying hard to pay attention to Germany, but the German nation simply rushed through his opening speech, opening the list of speakers and immediately bypassing England’s request to speak.
“Ahem!” England interrupted when Portugal’s name was written down first, “Ahem, Germany, I believe that it is customary for the hosting nation AND the one who motioned to open the list to go first on the list…”
“This is true,” Germany concurred, furrowing his brows before looking around the room and not finding America, “I just thought you’d want to wait, England, since-”
“No, no, I’d much rather do it now if it is alright with you.”
“But I just thought you’d want to wait until everyone is here.”
Germany had never been good in these kinds of situations, and he could feel a few beads of sweat pool on his forehead. He couldn’t keep secrets, but he could also not stand surprises. Thus, he had appreciated England telling him of his plans, but the pressure was getting to him, and he was growing increasingly confused. Why would England not wait for America to propose?-Or, maybe England wasn’t proposing to America? He pursed his lips together, nodding when his eyes met England’s piercing green gaze.
“Very well, then. Germany recognizes England for a total speaking time of 1 minute. Portugal will speak after that, and then it will be France and… Italy,” Germany shook his head, sighing, “and then China. England, the floor is yours.”
“Thank you, Germany,” the island nation was surprisingly peppy as he pushed his chair under the table, taking the opportunity to seductively blow by Canada’s neck, sending the poor nervous nation into frightened shivers. But England was too busy strolling to the front of the room. He cleared his throat, suddenly turning to Canada. He set a tiny velvet box on the podium, and Canada’s eyes suddenly widened.
Oh, no. No, no, no, England wasn’t going to propose to America, was he? A-and he thought he was America, which meant… oh no, no, no, no…
“Would you mind coming up here for a moment, love.”
A sudden cold gasp blanketed the room like a wave and all eyes fell on poor Canada, who writhed in his chair. Where was Kumakinchi when he needed him? He pointed at himself nervously. “M-me? E-England, I.-I don’t think th-this is a good-”
“Now’s not the time to be bashful, America,” England frowned; he cupped his hand over his mouth, furrowing his brows together as he hissed at the other nation. “Get your arse up here!”
“But I’m not!-” Canada was turning a deadly shade of angry red, but suddenly he stopped, blinking a few times before his lips curled into a smirk.
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“Get up here,” England spoke through gritted teeth, looking nervous as ever. And Canada felt guilty-for just a moment.
Canada nodded, standing up, “right.”
He stood behind the podium next to England, waving shyly at everyone in the room. A few people had begun to whisper, and Germany seemed to have grown steadily pale. Italy seemed to busy trying to focus on the half-finished plate of pasta in front of him.
“Right then,” England cleared his throat before taking Canada’s hand into his own and grabbing the little velvet box as he got down on one knee. “I’m not one for long speeches or much romanticism, but-”
The rest was very much a blur to Canada. He was much busier exploring the different faces of everyone in the room. Italy seemed particularly excited, practically bouncing on his seat as he pulled at Germany’s arm, “ve, ve~! Germany, Germany, is England really proposing to Canada?”
“I-I do not know, Italy.”
“But what happens to America, Germany? What happens to him? I thought he and England had a Special Relationship, ve~!”
“Oh my,” Japan tried to hide by shrinking into his chair. Next to him, Hungary seemed horribly conflicted as she sobbed a little bit, whispering, ’oh, poor America! but continued to snap pictures of the entire event.
“Do you think America knows, aru?”
“It doesn’t really matter if he knows or not that England is marrying his brother because at the end everyone will become one with me, starting with you, da?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, aru! I am not joining one with anyone… let me go, aru!” China struggled as Russia tried to pry him off his seat and into his lap. Along the way, Shinatty-chan was falling from China’s arm, “Ah, my Shinatty!”
“This is so fucken sad, isn’t it Gilbird? Obviously this proves that I am far more awesome than America! Not that it needed to be proven or anything because my awesomeness is just that awesome!”
Canada shook his head, trying to ignore everyone. It was actually kind of sad. There was England, on one knee, practically regurgitating his feelings, and Canada could only focus all his attention on everyone else. France looked especially deflated, biting into a white handkerchief as he impatiently waited for the entire event to end.
“So, will you?-Will you share the rest of your life with me?” England finished, tugging on Canada’s hand to get his attention back on the little velvet box holding a very tastefully picked out silver band. Typical England to have elegant taste and enough tact to get another man a nice band and not an eyesore of a diamond ring. Canada studied the little band carefully, taking it into his fingers to look at it, feel its cool texture against his hand. And he knew that he was doing something wrong-unbelievable that already he was feeling guilty, but not enough as to turn back. “You’re taking very long to respond,” England tried to get his attention again, his eyes shifting from side to side nervously. “Are you listening?” he whispered.
“Yes,” Canada snapped his head up, giving him a bright smile. England gave him a bright, sunny grin, slipping the ring into his finger. “I’ll marry you, England.”
“My Canada~!” France cried out, still biting onto the handkerchief even as he held out his hand in mid-sob. He shook his head from side to side, “You British merde! My Canada~!”
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A few others mumbled out their congratulations, some obviously more excited than others.
“W-wait,” England blinked, furrowing his brows together, “Cana-what?”
Next to him, Canada chuckled, “Ca-NA-da. CAN-A-DA! You’re marrying Canada!”
England blanched, “N-No, wait a minute, no, I just proposed to-”
Canada nodded, “Canada. You just proposed to Canada, and I, Canada, have accepted!”
On that cue, the door slammed open and America waltzed in, hamburger in hand and glasses glinting, “Hahaha, nobody panic! The Hero is FINALLY here! America has arrived! Hell yeah!” He strolled into the room to the shock of many of the nations in the room, and he blinked, almost offended by the random silence he encountered. Usually the room was a buzzing chaos. He walked up to South Korea and held up his hand for a high-five. The nation gave in reluctantly. “What’s going on everyone?-I said the HERO has arrived!”
Germany cleared his throat, trying to divert everyone’s attention away from the confused American over to the front of the room, where England seemed to have suddenly fallen into a standing coma. Canada ushered England back to his seat. Germany stood at the front of the podium once more, taking hold of the gabble. “Ah, well, we’ve, uh, gone over time. Next on the list of speakers is Portugal, then. The floor is now yours.”
“But I have an announcement!” America interrupted, already marching to the head of the room and dragging a comatose England by the wrist as he went. “I’m sure you are ALL wondering why I’m late!-And, as a hero, it is my job to make sure you all don’t die from suspense so I’m just gonna be as straightforward as possible! I was late because I was picking up a ring!” he set the burger on the podium, and, to gasps and a fainting Japan, pulled out a bright red velvet box. He slammed it onto the podium with strength, pulling at England.
“Oh no…” Hungary sobbed, crushing her cheeks between her hands.
“Ve~! Germany, is America going to propose to England? But England already proposed to Canada!”
“How un-awesome to propose to someone that’s already dumped you, nah, West?”
“Both of you, hush,” Germany doubled his head, somehow trying to pretend that he was no longer in a room filled with idiotic nations. A part of him wanted to slam his forehead onto the table, but he refrained. “America, this will have to wait. It is against procedure and Portugal has the floor!”
“Sim, the floor sua mina,” Portugal tried to pry England away from America, a part of him almost fearful for his long-time partner’s well-being. Already the island nation was looking faint.
“I unilaterally vote the suspension of all rules for the remainder of my announcement!” America replied nonchalantly, turning to face England with velvet box in hand.
“You can’t do that!” Germany barked out, stomping over to the front of the room, “that is against the rules!”
“Dude, I’m a world hegemon! I totally make the rules, now just sit down for a bit because you’re making my proposal totally unawesome!”
“I-I…” England blinked, slowly returning to consciousness. Portugal next to him continued to try and fan him with air. “I proposed to… t-to… C-Ca-Canada…”
America blinked, turning to his boyfriend for a moment, “huh? What’d ya say, Iggy?”
England shook his head, looking up at America with panicked eyes. “Y-you’re America and he… he’s Canada…”
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“One, I’m Canada. Ca-NA-da! Your brother. And, two, it’s Kumayoyo and no,” Canada replied, crossing his arms.
“Sacre bleu! It’s NOT kumayoyo! It’s kumajiro!” France interrupted, waving the little postcard with the bear’s picture, “And that’s my Canada~!”
“Dude, Canada is a sovereign nation!” America frowned at France, pointing the gabble right at him. Then, looking over at his brother, he continued, “Has France been trying to invade your vital regions again, Mattie?”
“That British bastard took my Canada!”
“You need to get over that, amigo,” Spain patted France’s back, ignoring the jealous piercing looks Romano was sending his way, “that happened back when Canada was an itty-bitty colonia! The pequeñin obviously loves England more…”
“Oh, you’re one to talk, always talking about votre precious Armada!”
Spain took a few steps away from France, falling back onto his seat as he tried to hide his face inside the crook of Romano’s neck, “My Armada! My beautiful Armada!”
“Get the hell away from me you tomato bastard!”
“What’s going on here?” America asked, suddenly confused. He turned to the island nation behind him, blinking his bright baby blues at him, “England? Why is Spain talking about his Armada and France saying that you took Canada away from him?”
“Ve~! That’s because before America got here, England proposed to Canada!”
America felt his jaw drop, almost as quickly as the little box fell from his hand to the floor. “Y-You WHAT?!”
England looked at America, nervous even as he leaned against a fearful Portugal for support, “I-I guess I proposed to Canada…”
“Yup!” Canada beamed, giving his brother a little wave. The silver band glinted under the light of the room, “England proposed to Canada. Ca-na-da!”
The last thing everyone in the room heard before England passed out in Portugal’s arms was America turning to Canada and practically lunging over the table towards the other North American nation shouting, “I’ll nuke you!”
author note: So hopefully this was a little less fail than the other parts? I’m trying to keep the characters IC, but obviously being my first Hetalia fanfiction, it’s a process so help me out by commenting and letting me know if you think there’s something that could be improved. =) Also, apologies in advanced for any little mistakes. Sometimes I just can’t catch them all. On another unrelated note, I really dislike character limits.
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The last line was gold.
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Thanks for reading and commenting!
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I love the Anglo-Portuguese Alliance. And they are totally BFF XD
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Oh shit! Run, Canada, run! You don't even have nuclear weapons!
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This line was pure WIN XD This whole story is absolutely amazing so far. I love USUK, but I don't often read it, but this is such an original idea and I love how you've worked with the prompt! Please keep up the good work!
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