[fan fic] Family Reunion
Title: Family Reunion
Characters/Pairings: A hell of a lot, mostly OCs. Check tags. (Pairings: Canada/Seychelles, (onesided?) America/England)
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Booze, Jamaica's potty mouth, silliness. Really long set of historical notes.
Summary: The Commonwealth of Nations has a family reunion. Hilarity ensues.
-How Canada’s Day Began-
Canada yawned and rolled over in bed, only to fall out with a crash. His startled yell echoed in the room exactly the way it shouldn’t have and made him open his eyes. Oh, right, the acoustics in his room back home were far different from the guest room in the United Kingdom.
“Great way to start the day,” he told himself dryly, standing up and untangling himself from the blankets and sheets. The bed was a small single, something Canada had used when he was still a colony visiting England. It was not nearly big enough for him now and he'd slept curled up so that his feet wouldn't poke out at the end.
Sighing and rubbing his temples, Canada decided not to let this poor start for the day bring him down. He’d need all his energy and positive outlook if he was to survive the day.
-
Breakfast was the first hurdle.
After wrestling Fiji away from the bathroom--she’d nearly taken his arm off in the process and shouted at Canada all the while--he’d hurried downstairs to see what was left of breakfast for him. India was there, calmly spreading some marmalade on her toast, while around her a war raged on. It seemed to be Solomon Islands, Australia, and New Zealand against Sealand and his new friend Saint Lucia, tossing bits of burnt toast at each other from across the kitchen.
“Is there anything left?” Canada asked India, sliding into the chair next to hers. With something of a wry smile she pushed a plate of mostly-burnt toast and slightly brown fruit towards him. How she’d gotten perfectly toasted toast and marmalade was a mystery, and not one Canada was willing to pursue so early in the morning. Sealand beaned him with a piece of toast and the man sighed into his glass of water. This was going to be a long day.
-
The second hurdle was getting to the hotel where they were meeting.
“No way I’m letting you drive!” Papua New Guinea shouted, taking the keys from Canada. Why he felt the need to shout was beyond him. “You’ll probably crash like your idiot brother does!”
“I can drive on the left almost as well as I can drive on the right,” Canada said, trying his hardest to stay calm. Papua New Guinea scoffed at his statement and tried to shove Canada aside. Fiji seemed to be watching in interest.
India took the keys from his hand while he was distracted and leered at them. Papua New Guinea looked like he was about to start shouting again, but Australia leaned on him and laughed.
“You can trust India, Pop,” he said mildly, “she’s a good driver.”
Clearly, Australia hadn’t driven with India before, or his definition of “good driver“ was disturbingly different from the norm. She seemed to have made herself an enemy of the speedometer, and ignored the fact she was driving far too fast for a country road. Or, really, any road short of a race track. To make matters worse, she was doing a running commentary on how everyone else was driving "so pathetically" and she honked to express her joy when a song came on the radio that she liked. She was almost a mortal enemy of the signal lights too, apparently, and only signalled once, while passing an officer. Not even to indicate which way she was going. No, she signalled as if it were a salute.
“Know what we need here?” she asked as she recklessly passed another driver and continued to occupy the right half of the road. “Less speed limits.”
When Canada finally escaped the vehicle he fell to the ground underneath Fiji and Papua New Guinea, who were equally terrified. Australia, who had been in the passenger’s seat, making a running commentary on India’s driving, was laughing loudly.
“You’re all right, mate,” he told India as she locked the car. “And we’re twenty minutes ahead of schedule,” he added, looking at his watch.
“I wonder why?” Canada muttered sarcastically as Fiji and Papua New Guinea started a yelling match on top of him. He was rescued by Jamaica, who apparently could see him well enough when she wanted to.
“We’re still doin’ Caribana together, yeah?” she asked briskly. Jamaica was not a woman who liked to be kept waiting, and she had no patience for bickering Nations.
“O-Of course,” Canada stuttered back. He liked Jamaica, particularly when he got to visit her in the middle of December, but she’d always managed to intimidate him. Probably because of all the stories he’d heard of her being a spitfire in her youth, always fighting England and generally being rebellious.
“Trinidad and Tobago say they’re comin’, too,” she added.
“A-All right,” he replied. He liked Trinidad and Tabago as well, and they were a fun pair to party with. No doubt this year's Caribana would be fun. And then he saw Seychelles walk into the hotel and Canada decided it would be a good idea to talk to her instead. Years of attending meetings for both the Commonwealth of Nations and La Francophonie had made them closer than they were with many other members of either group.
“Bonjour,” he said in a low voice, appearing behind her. They had to tread lightly speaking French in a hotel lobby full of former British colonies.
Predictably, she yelped and then smiled when she saw it was Canada. “Ne fais pas ça,” she protested, still grinning, and smacked his chest lightly. He chuckled.
“It’s good to see you, Leone,” he said as they shared a quick hug.
“No hugs for us?” a small girlish voice protested. Canada looked down. There was Saint Kitts, a ten-year-old girl, holding the hand of her six-year-old brother, Nevis. He tried to wrench his hand away from Saint Kitts, but her hold was firm.
“Of course you get a hug,” Seychelles said, sweeping down and hugging Saint Kitts, followed by Nevis. Canada gave Saint Kitts a hug, too, but Nevis protested when it was his turn. “You’re too cute,” the older female cooed in spite of his protests.
“’M not cute,” Nevis pouted. Canada and Seychelles hid their laughter and sent the pair on their way.
“He is mignon, non?” Seychelles asked.
“Oui,” Canada agreed. “Oh, there’s Mozambique,” he noted. And there she was, clinging to South Africa’s arm and trying her best to stay in the cloud of Nations that were her neighbours. She lacked a history with the British Empire and had been let in as a special exception, meaning she was still excessively shy at the meetings and preferred staying with the African Nations. Not that they were particulary bothered by this.
“I wonder where England is,” Seychelles pondered, putting a finger over her bottom lip in a wondering gesture.
“No idea,” Canada replied. “And why is Hong Kong here?” he added, looking at Hong Kong, who seemed rather unmoved by the chaos unfolding around him. A group of the Asian Nations were surrounding him, having a grand old time. His blank eyes caught Canada’s and he nodded politely. After excusing himself from the company of his companions, he moved towards the northern Nation and southern archipelago.
“早晨,” [“Good morning”] he said politely.
“Zou san,” the pair replied politely, stumbling over the Cantonese. “I thought China didn’t let you come to the commonwealth meetings anymore,” Seychelles added.
“I came on my own, because it’s the 75th anniversary of the Commonwealth,” he replied. Sealand ran between the two of them, Saint Lucia following close behind. “Have you seen England? He will probably want to know I am here.”
“I was going to ask you the same thing,” Canada replied. He shrugged.
“Get back here!” Jamaica was shouting, going in the same general direction as Sealand and Saint Lucia had been going before, also between Hong Kong and Canada. Singapore was following them, laughing and tripping on her long skirt.
“Well, time to face the relatives, right?” he asked brightly, putting an arm across Seychelles’ shoulders. The three of them turned towards the hall that had booked for the occasion.
-Where England Actually Was-
“Aah! A-America,” England choked, “I have a meeting to go to!” He tried his hardest to push America off.
“Call me by my real name,” America growled in lieu of a proper response. He continued tormenting England.
“G-Get off me!” England kicked at America and caught him in the knee. He immediately swore.
“God, Arthur, could you get any rougher?” he wheezed, trying to shake off the pain. He was pushed off and England did up the buttons of his shirt again. America clung to his leg. “Can I go with you, then?” he asked. He put on his best pleading face, but England shook him off. This was one of the few times he’d be able to get together with the insane extended family he’d acquired over the years. He hardly needed America to mess everything up.
-What Happened Until He Arrived-
Canada and Seychelles sat next to each other uncomfortably as Australia tried to call the meeting to order. Uncomfortably because they were among the few Nations who were actually sitting and behaving, along with Nauru, a chubby little boy who wasn’t a full member, and as such had to be on his best behaviour to stay in.
“Oi, Zealand, help me out here!” he finally shouted. New Zealand was busy being mauled by a small pack of Caribbean Nations. A great majority of them were children, and “Uncle Zealand” was usually quite playful, a favourite at these sort of meetings.
“Shut up!” Pakistan finally shouted, standing up from his chair. Aside from some giggling children, everyone fell silent. Cyprus actually fainted, calling Malta’s attention to him.
“Uh, thanks… Stan,” Australia said, trying to gather himself up again. “So, today’s our annual reunion, and the celebration of the 75th year of the Commonwealth of Nations’ existence. Since, uh, England is missing,” there were some whispers at that statement, “we’ll have to start the, uh, film South Africa made for us without him.”
The “film” was actually something of a slideshow featuring all fifty-three members of the commonwealth, in order of joining, followed by some of the highlights of the history of the organization. By the time the film reached 1949 (the London Declaration) Canada had spaced out completely. It wasn’t for lack of trying, but he’d lived through nearly all these events himself and had told many of the newer members the story.
By the end of the film Canada’s head was on Seychelles’ shoulder, and a very jetlagged Nauru was leaning on his waist, asleep. He was going about lazily brushing the island Nation’s knuckles with his cool fingertips when someone burst into the meeting room. It was England, who was furious at being left out of the proceedings. Canada jolted up, hitting his head on Seychelles’ jaw and knocking Nauru onto his side. The chubby boy snorted awake with a start.
“Jack,” England said, using his soft, old imperial voice. It was one of the few ways he could still intimidate the boisterous, laidback Nation. Thinking back to the days when he was nothing more than a penal colony for the Empire’s worst criminals, Australia shivered.
“Why would you start without me?” His soft voice was silencing everyone in the room, even the most antsy of children. Everyone but Mozambique had bitter memories of times England had used that voice while they were punished for some transgression.
“W-We, we were getting tired of waiting,” Canada finally said, swinging into diplomacy mode. “When we found Saint Lucia and Sealand trying to get into the hotel kitchen, when thought it’d be good to start.” He paused, weighing the probability of facing a furious England against his own curiosity. “Why are you late, though?”
England stiffened visibly. “Ask your goddamn brother…” he murmured in a low, annoyed voice. “At any rate,” he said more clearly, “if we’ve already gotten started I suppose we’ll just have to continue.” The tension in the room left.
-What Transpired During the Celebration-
Only a complete fool would have spiked England’s drink. All of Canada’s money was on Australia, although Seychelles believed it was Solomon Islands. The young man had quite a rebellious streak after all. He was also apparently not the brightest bulb and relied a great deal on Australia. (Little did they know, Sealand was running around with a flask of something strong that Malaysia had given him…)
But someone had spiked England’s drink and they were quickly dealing with the repercussions. This included England playing “pirates” with the Caribbean Nations, many of which had rather bad experiences with the terrors of the high seas. Why was his tact always the first thing to go when he was buzzed?
Fortunately, Uncle Zealand had joined the crew and was serving as first mate, making things more fun for everyone involved. Canada dodged the drunk captain and his excitable crew and sought out Tanzania. She was talking animatedly with Malta and Cyprus about how socialism was the worst thing that had happened to her economy, although the teenaged Nations seemed uninterested.
“Uh, excuse me?” Canada said mildly.
Tanzania turned to him and brightened. “America! I thought you didn’t attend these things!” She pulled a startled Canada into a hug and kissed his cheek. “Thank you all the aid, you’re a sweetheart.”
“I’m Canada,” he corrected, still half in Tanzania's stranglehold. Both Nations flushed and Tanzania apologised multiple times. “Anyways, how are your parents doing?”
“Tanganyika is doing well, and so is Zanzibar. They keep telling me they’re glad they can relax now and leave me with all the hard work.” She frowned, clearly displeased that her parents would leave her with the difficulties of helping run a nation while they ran off to socialise.
“Great!” Canada smiled and held his hands behind his back. “America just wanted me to tell you that he wants to meet up with you again soon, okay? He’ll call sometime next week with the details.”
“That’s good. And Canada, could you please tell him to make sure it’s not the middle of the night when he calls?” Tanzania’s frown became playful.
“O-Of course,” Canada replied, which was when Captain Kirkland grabbed the Nation by his neck and press-ganged him into the crew.
Seychelles simply watched and laughed.
-
By the time evening had rolled around, it was quite clear that most of the other Nations who were of age (and more than a few who weren’t), had snuck alcohol into the meeting, Canada included. However, Canada had the luck of being a Nation who could not only hold his alcohol, but act almost completely sober even when he was smashed as well.
Okay, mostly sober. That would probably why he was found by a very amused Kenya making out with Seychelles in a supply closet of the hotel. This was not the first time they'd been caught in this sort of situation.
“England’s ‘bout as coherent as he’s gonna get, so we might as well do the presentation now,” he said, eyebrows raised as the two Nations untangled themselves and fell out of the closet.
“Who’s doing the presentation?” Canada asked, trying to stand. It supposedly had been decided the night before, but no one was really quite sure who had picked whom.
“Jamaica’s doing a speech, and you’re singing.” Canada did a doubletake. First of all, Jamaica was doing the speech? That could end very poorly. And he was singing? Canada knew for a fact he a decent singer (more than decent, actually, but he wasn’t about to get egotistical about it) but he’d only ever sung for a few of the Caribbean children, Seychelles, Australia, and America. The prospect of singing in front of more than fifty people, for the man who had raised him, was terrifying.
Seychelles squeezed his hand a little reassuringly and Canada sighed. He’d just have to try his best. And figure out what the hell he was going to sing.
-
Everyone sat uneasily as Jamaica stood at the front of the room and glared down the remaining whisperers in the room.
“We all know why we’re here today. We’re celebratin’ that the Commonwealth of Nations has been around for seventy-five years. Great. I’ve been a member for forty-four years, and let me tell you somethin’. It’s been a long ride.
“We’ve become a distinct family of people from all walks of life, from the wealthy white guys to the dirt-poor blacks, and Nations with hundreds of thousands, even millions, of people to Nations so small that they have to be in pairs to exist. And we try an’ act like a family, even though we've got very little in common. We can’t even boast we all have the same father, because so many of us have other parents like Portugal and France and there’s Mozambique, who isn’t related to England at all.
“But we have one thing in common. A want to bring human rights and good governance and free trade and world peace to reality. That’s our goal, to make ourselves the best we can be. We’ve got that in common, and England decided that was enough to bond us together as this group. As a Commonwealth of Nations.
“The other thing that brings most of us together is that we were, at one point or another, a British colony or possession. We can share stories of the good times and the bad times we shared with England--sorry Mo--and how that’s shaped us.
“Right, I’m admitting that England’s shaped who I am. I’m proud of it. England was always a crap father for me, and so I tried to rebel all the time. I still have scars from some of those rebellions. But, you know what? It’s made me strong and proud and all that more thankful for the freedom I enjoy now. It makes me feel for those poor Nations and people who still aren’t free. England taught me pride and courage and empathy when he crushed my rebellions. You may not like that memory, England, but I’m not bitter anymore.
“And there’s more, too. Because England raised most of us, we’ve taken some of his virtues as our own. India’s national pride, and Canada’s patience, and Pakistan’s fire for right, those are all things we saw in you, or that you tried to fostered in us.
“Mostly you were a crap father, ‘cause you oppressed and used us for your own sake, and did your best to crush any hopes of freedom until you decided that being a bastard wasn’t the way to win friends. But in the end, all I remember is that you made me what I am and that I am, and hopefully everyone here is, very grateful for that.” Jamaica’s eyes were locked with England’s, who seemed surprised and maybe a little flushed.
“May your joys be as bright as the morning, your years of happiness as numerous as the stars in the heavens, and your troubles but shadows that fade in the sunlight of love,” Jamaica recited. Such softness from her was completely out of character and surprising, and it made England tear up. Even more so when she slowly started clapping, followed by a few more Nations, and then a few more, until the room was filled for applause for England.
Canada stood silently, still clapping, and licked his lips. At least half-a-dozen Nations were expecting him to sing, and he was horribly nervous. He’d chosen a song at least, something old and familiar. A lullaby England had sung to him every night during their first winter together.
“Bitweene Merch and Averil,” he sang softly, in the familiar but foreign tongue of Middle English. “When spray biginneth to springe,/The litel fowl hath hire wil/On hire leod to singe./Ich libbe in love-longinge…” Heads were turning to him and he swallowed a burst of nervousness. “For semlokest of alle thinge./Heo may me blisse bringe:/Ich am in hire baundoun…”
By the end of the song, the audience was transfixed. England really was crying now, although he was smiling. Canada looked at him and smiled. This was a gift, for England alone, even if everyone heard it.
Saint Kitts and Nevis walked up to England and presented him with a bouquet of roses, his national flower. England smiled and said thank you and Australia started playing loud dance music. They still had an hour with the hall, after all, and he was determined to have a good time.
-What Happened After the Meeting-
As everyone got into cars to get going home, England flagged down Canada.
“Thank you for the song,” he said, “you sang it very well.” Canada was about to say something sincere and sweet when India honked the horn.
“We’re gonna go without you!” she warned loudly. Canada laughed and bade England a fond farewell and slid into the car next to Australia, who had one arm around Fiji and was telling her about the time he’d nearly lost his arm to a crocodile.
“Why’d you wrestle it, then?” Canada asked dryly, receiving the combined glares of Fiji and Australia.
“It’s the principle of it, Matt,” Australia replied before returning to his story. Canada snorted and then yelped as India went about night driving, buzzed on Singapore’s beer. It was even worse now that it was dark, and India had the radio up to annoy Papua New Guinea. Fiji was enraptured by Australia’s next story, one from World War II, and Canada really, really wanted a nap. Or sleep. Either sounded wonderful at this point.
When he escaped the car and got into the house they were staying in, he was unsurprised that New Zealand, Solomon Islands, Saint Lucia, and Sealand had yet to arrive. Oh well, he could worry about them later.
Only stopped to take off his shoes, shirt, glasses, and socks, Canada flopped into his too-small bed. It was a little lumpy and unmade and too cool for comfort, but he was out in only a few moments. He could swear he heard the lingering notes of England’s old lullaby just before he fell to sleep.
-End-
Characters/Pairings: A hell of a lot, mostly OCs. Check tags. (Pairings: Canada/Seychelles, (onesided?) America/England)
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Booze, Jamaica's potty mouth, silliness. Really long set of historical notes.
Summary: The Commonwealth of Nations has a family reunion. Hilarity ensues.
-How Canada’s Day Began-
Canada yawned and rolled over in bed, only to fall out with a crash. His startled yell echoed in the room exactly the way it shouldn’t have and made him open his eyes. Oh, right, the acoustics in his room back home were far different from the guest room in the United Kingdom.
“Great way to start the day,” he told himself dryly, standing up and untangling himself from the blankets and sheets. The bed was a small single, something Canada had used when he was still a colony visiting England. It was not nearly big enough for him now and he'd slept curled up so that his feet wouldn't poke out at the end.
Sighing and rubbing his temples, Canada decided not to let this poor start for the day bring him down. He’d need all his energy and positive outlook if he was to survive the day.
-
Breakfast was the first hurdle.
After wrestling Fiji away from the bathroom--she’d nearly taken his arm off in the process and shouted at Canada all the while--he’d hurried downstairs to see what was left of breakfast for him. India was there, calmly spreading some marmalade on her toast, while around her a war raged on. It seemed to be Solomon Islands, Australia, and New Zealand against Sealand and his new friend Saint Lucia, tossing bits of burnt toast at each other from across the kitchen.
“Is there anything left?” Canada asked India, sliding into the chair next to hers. With something of a wry smile she pushed a plate of mostly-burnt toast and slightly brown fruit towards him. How she’d gotten perfectly toasted toast and marmalade was a mystery, and not one Canada was willing to pursue so early in the morning. Sealand beaned him with a piece of toast and the man sighed into his glass of water. This was going to be a long day.
-
The second hurdle was getting to the hotel where they were meeting.
“No way I’m letting you drive!” Papua New Guinea shouted, taking the keys from Canada. Why he felt the need to shout was beyond him. “You’ll probably crash like your idiot brother does!”
“I can drive on the left almost as well as I can drive on the right,” Canada said, trying his hardest to stay calm. Papua New Guinea scoffed at his statement and tried to shove Canada aside. Fiji seemed to be watching in interest.
India took the keys from his hand while he was distracted and leered at them. Papua New Guinea looked like he was about to start shouting again, but Australia leaned on him and laughed.
“You can trust India, Pop,” he said mildly, “she’s a good driver.”
Clearly, Australia hadn’t driven with India before, or his definition of “good driver“ was disturbingly different from the norm. She seemed to have made herself an enemy of the speedometer, and ignored the fact she was driving far too fast for a country road. Or, really, any road short of a race track. To make matters worse, she was doing a running commentary on how everyone else was driving "so pathetically" and she honked to express her joy when a song came on the radio that she liked. She was almost a mortal enemy of the signal lights too, apparently, and only signalled once, while passing an officer. Not even to indicate which way she was going. No, she signalled as if it were a salute.
“Know what we need here?” she asked as she recklessly passed another driver and continued to occupy the right half of the road. “Less speed limits.”
When Canada finally escaped the vehicle he fell to the ground underneath Fiji and Papua New Guinea, who were equally terrified. Australia, who had been in the passenger’s seat, making a running commentary on India’s driving, was laughing loudly.
“You’re all right, mate,” he told India as she locked the car. “And we’re twenty minutes ahead of schedule,” he added, looking at his watch.
“I wonder why?” Canada muttered sarcastically as Fiji and Papua New Guinea started a yelling match on top of him. He was rescued by Jamaica, who apparently could see him well enough when she wanted to.
“We’re still doin’ Caribana together, yeah?” she asked briskly. Jamaica was not a woman who liked to be kept waiting, and she had no patience for bickering Nations.
“O-Of course,” Canada stuttered back. He liked Jamaica, particularly when he got to visit her in the middle of December, but she’d always managed to intimidate him. Probably because of all the stories he’d heard of her being a spitfire in her youth, always fighting England and generally being rebellious.
“Trinidad and Tobago say they’re comin’, too,” she added.
“A-All right,” he replied. He liked Trinidad and Tabago as well, and they were a fun pair to party with. No doubt this year's Caribana would be fun. And then he saw Seychelles walk into the hotel and Canada decided it would be a good idea to talk to her instead. Years of attending meetings for both the Commonwealth of Nations and La Francophonie had made them closer than they were with many other members of either group.
“Bonjour,” he said in a low voice, appearing behind her. They had to tread lightly speaking French in a hotel lobby full of former British colonies.
Predictably, she yelped and then smiled when she saw it was Canada. “Ne fais pas ça,” she protested, still grinning, and smacked his chest lightly. He chuckled.
“It’s good to see you, Leone,” he said as they shared a quick hug.
“No hugs for us?” a small girlish voice protested. Canada looked down. There was Saint Kitts, a ten-year-old girl, holding the hand of her six-year-old brother, Nevis. He tried to wrench his hand away from Saint Kitts, but her hold was firm.
“Of course you get a hug,” Seychelles said, sweeping down and hugging Saint Kitts, followed by Nevis. Canada gave Saint Kitts a hug, too, but Nevis protested when it was his turn. “You’re too cute,” the older female cooed in spite of his protests.
“’M not cute,” Nevis pouted. Canada and Seychelles hid their laughter and sent the pair on their way.
“He is mignon, non?” Seychelles asked.
“Oui,” Canada agreed. “Oh, there’s Mozambique,” he noted. And there she was, clinging to South Africa’s arm and trying her best to stay in the cloud of Nations that were her neighbours. She lacked a history with the British Empire and had been let in as a special exception, meaning she was still excessively shy at the meetings and preferred staying with the African Nations. Not that they were particulary bothered by this.
“I wonder where England is,” Seychelles pondered, putting a finger over her bottom lip in a wondering gesture.
“No idea,” Canada replied. “And why is Hong Kong here?” he added, looking at Hong Kong, who seemed rather unmoved by the chaos unfolding around him. A group of the Asian Nations were surrounding him, having a grand old time. His blank eyes caught Canada’s and he nodded politely. After excusing himself from the company of his companions, he moved towards the northern Nation and southern archipelago.
“早晨,” [“Good morning”] he said politely.
“Zou san,” the pair replied politely, stumbling over the Cantonese. “I thought China didn’t let you come to the commonwealth meetings anymore,” Seychelles added.
“I came on my own, because it’s the 75th anniversary of the Commonwealth,” he replied. Sealand ran between the two of them, Saint Lucia following close behind. “Have you seen England? He will probably want to know I am here.”
“I was going to ask you the same thing,” Canada replied. He shrugged.
“Get back here!” Jamaica was shouting, going in the same general direction as Sealand and Saint Lucia had been going before, also between Hong Kong and Canada. Singapore was following them, laughing and tripping on her long skirt.
“Well, time to face the relatives, right?” he asked brightly, putting an arm across Seychelles’ shoulders. The three of them turned towards the hall that had booked for the occasion.
-Where England Actually Was-
“Aah! A-America,” England choked, “I have a meeting to go to!” He tried his hardest to push America off.
“Call me by my real name,” America growled in lieu of a proper response. He continued tormenting England.
“G-Get off me!” England kicked at America and caught him in the knee. He immediately swore.
“God, Arthur, could you get any rougher?” he wheezed, trying to shake off the pain. He was pushed off and England did up the buttons of his shirt again. America clung to his leg. “Can I go with you, then?” he asked. He put on his best pleading face, but England shook him off. This was one of the few times he’d be able to get together with the insane extended family he’d acquired over the years. He hardly needed America to mess everything up.
-What Happened Until He Arrived-
Canada and Seychelles sat next to each other uncomfortably as Australia tried to call the meeting to order. Uncomfortably because they were among the few Nations who were actually sitting and behaving, along with Nauru, a chubby little boy who wasn’t a full member, and as such had to be on his best behaviour to stay in.
“Oi, Zealand, help me out here!” he finally shouted. New Zealand was busy being mauled by a small pack of Caribbean Nations. A great majority of them were children, and “Uncle Zealand” was usually quite playful, a favourite at these sort of meetings.
“Shut up!” Pakistan finally shouted, standing up from his chair. Aside from some giggling children, everyone fell silent. Cyprus actually fainted, calling Malta’s attention to him.
“Uh, thanks… Stan,” Australia said, trying to gather himself up again. “So, today’s our annual reunion, and the celebration of the 75th year of the Commonwealth of Nations’ existence. Since, uh, England is missing,” there were some whispers at that statement, “we’ll have to start the, uh, film South Africa made for us without him.”
The “film” was actually something of a slideshow featuring all fifty-three members of the commonwealth, in order of joining, followed by some of the highlights of the history of the organization. By the time the film reached 1949 (the London Declaration) Canada had spaced out completely. It wasn’t for lack of trying, but he’d lived through nearly all these events himself and had told many of the newer members the story.
By the end of the film Canada’s head was on Seychelles’ shoulder, and a very jetlagged Nauru was leaning on his waist, asleep. He was going about lazily brushing the island Nation’s knuckles with his cool fingertips when someone burst into the meeting room. It was England, who was furious at being left out of the proceedings. Canada jolted up, hitting his head on Seychelles’ jaw and knocking Nauru onto his side. The chubby boy snorted awake with a start.
“Jack,” England said, using his soft, old imperial voice. It was one of the few ways he could still intimidate the boisterous, laidback Nation. Thinking back to the days when he was nothing more than a penal colony for the Empire’s worst criminals, Australia shivered.
“Why would you start without me?” His soft voice was silencing everyone in the room, even the most antsy of children. Everyone but Mozambique had bitter memories of times England had used that voice while they were punished for some transgression.
“W-We, we were getting tired of waiting,” Canada finally said, swinging into diplomacy mode. “When we found Saint Lucia and Sealand trying to get into the hotel kitchen, when thought it’d be good to start.” He paused, weighing the probability of facing a furious England against his own curiosity. “Why are you late, though?”
England stiffened visibly. “Ask your goddamn brother…” he murmured in a low, annoyed voice. “At any rate,” he said more clearly, “if we’ve already gotten started I suppose we’ll just have to continue.” The tension in the room left.
-What Transpired During the Celebration-
Only a complete fool would have spiked England’s drink. All of Canada’s money was on Australia, although Seychelles believed it was Solomon Islands. The young man had quite a rebellious streak after all. He was also apparently not the brightest bulb and relied a great deal on Australia. (Little did they know, Sealand was running around with a flask of something strong that Malaysia had given him…)
But someone had spiked England’s drink and they were quickly dealing with the repercussions. This included England playing “pirates” with the Caribbean Nations, many of which had rather bad experiences with the terrors of the high seas. Why was his tact always the first thing to go when he was buzzed?
Fortunately, Uncle Zealand had joined the crew and was serving as first mate, making things more fun for everyone involved. Canada dodged the drunk captain and his excitable crew and sought out Tanzania. She was talking animatedly with Malta and Cyprus about how socialism was the worst thing that had happened to her economy, although the teenaged Nations seemed uninterested.
“Uh, excuse me?” Canada said mildly.
Tanzania turned to him and brightened. “America! I thought you didn’t attend these things!” She pulled a startled Canada into a hug and kissed his cheek. “Thank you all the aid, you’re a sweetheart.”
“I’m Canada,” he corrected, still half in Tanzania's stranglehold. Both Nations flushed and Tanzania apologised multiple times. “Anyways, how are your parents doing?”
“Tanganyika is doing well, and so is Zanzibar. They keep telling me they’re glad they can relax now and leave me with all the hard work.” She frowned, clearly displeased that her parents would leave her with the difficulties of helping run a nation while they ran off to socialise.
“Great!” Canada smiled and held his hands behind his back. “America just wanted me to tell you that he wants to meet up with you again soon, okay? He’ll call sometime next week with the details.”
“That’s good. And Canada, could you please tell him to make sure it’s not the middle of the night when he calls?” Tanzania’s frown became playful.
“O-Of course,” Canada replied, which was when Captain Kirkland grabbed the Nation by his neck and press-ganged him into the crew.
Seychelles simply watched and laughed.
-
By the time evening had rolled around, it was quite clear that most of the other Nations who were of age (and more than a few who weren’t), had snuck alcohol into the meeting, Canada included. However, Canada had the luck of being a Nation who could not only hold his alcohol, but act almost completely sober even when he was smashed as well.
Okay, mostly sober. That would probably why he was found by a very amused Kenya making out with Seychelles in a supply closet of the hotel. This was not the first time they'd been caught in this sort of situation.
“England’s ‘bout as coherent as he’s gonna get, so we might as well do the presentation now,” he said, eyebrows raised as the two Nations untangled themselves and fell out of the closet.
“Who’s doing the presentation?” Canada asked, trying to stand. It supposedly had been decided the night before, but no one was really quite sure who had picked whom.
“Jamaica’s doing a speech, and you’re singing.” Canada did a doubletake. First of all, Jamaica was doing the speech? That could end very poorly. And he was singing? Canada knew for a fact he a decent singer (more than decent, actually, but he wasn’t about to get egotistical about it) but he’d only ever sung for a few of the Caribbean children, Seychelles, Australia, and America. The prospect of singing in front of more than fifty people, for the man who had raised him, was terrifying.
Seychelles squeezed his hand a little reassuringly and Canada sighed. He’d just have to try his best. And figure out what the hell he was going to sing.
-
Everyone sat uneasily as Jamaica stood at the front of the room and glared down the remaining whisperers in the room.
“We all know why we’re here today. We’re celebratin’ that the Commonwealth of Nations has been around for seventy-five years. Great. I’ve been a member for forty-four years, and let me tell you somethin’. It’s been a long ride.
“We’ve become a distinct family of people from all walks of life, from the wealthy white guys to the dirt-poor blacks, and Nations with hundreds of thousands, even millions, of people to Nations so small that they have to be in pairs to exist. And we try an’ act like a family, even though we've got very little in common. We can’t even boast we all have the same father, because so many of us have other parents like Portugal and France and there’s Mozambique, who isn’t related to England at all.
“But we have one thing in common. A want to bring human rights and good governance and free trade and world peace to reality. That’s our goal, to make ourselves the best we can be. We’ve got that in common, and England decided that was enough to bond us together as this group. As a Commonwealth of Nations.
“The other thing that brings most of us together is that we were, at one point or another, a British colony or possession. We can share stories of the good times and the bad times we shared with England--sorry Mo--and how that’s shaped us.
“Right, I’m admitting that England’s shaped who I am. I’m proud of it. England was always a crap father for me, and so I tried to rebel all the time. I still have scars from some of those rebellions. But, you know what? It’s made me strong and proud and all that more thankful for the freedom I enjoy now. It makes me feel for those poor Nations and people who still aren’t free. England taught me pride and courage and empathy when he crushed my rebellions. You may not like that memory, England, but I’m not bitter anymore.
“And there’s more, too. Because England raised most of us, we’ve taken some of his virtues as our own. India’s national pride, and Canada’s patience, and Pakistan’s fire for right, those are all things we saw in you, or that you tried to fostered in us.
“Mostly you were a crap father, ‘cause you oppressed and used us for your own sake, and did your best to crush any hopes of freedom until you decided that being a bastard wasn’t the way to win friends. But in the end, all I remember is that you made me what I am and that I am, and hopefully everyone here is, very grateful for that.” Jamaica’s eyes were locked with England’s, who seemed surprised and maybe a little flushed.
“May your joys be as bright as the morning, your years of happiness as numerous as the stars in the heavens, and your troubles but shadows that fade in the sunlight of love,” Jamaica recited. Such softness from her was completely out of character and surprising, and it made England tear up. Even more so when she slowly started clapping, followed by a few more Nations, and then a few more, until the room was filled for applause for England.
Canada stood silently, still clapping, and licked his lips. At least half-a-dozen Nations were expecting him to sing, and he was horribly nervous. He’d chosen a song at least, something old and familiar. A lullaby England had sung to him every night during their first winter together.
“Bitweene Merch and Averil,” he sang softly, in the familiar but foreign tongue of Middle English. “When spray biginneth to springe,/The litel fowl hath hire wil/On hire leod to singe./Ich libbe in love-longinge…” Heads were turning to him and he swallowed a burst of nervousness. “For semlokest of alle thinge./Heo may me blisse bringe:/Ich am in hire baundoun…”
By the end of the song, the audience was transfixed. England really was crying now, although he was smiling. Canada looked at him and smiled. This was a gift, for England alone, even if everyone heard it.
Saint Kitts and Nevis walked up to England and presented him with a bouquet of roses, his national flower. England smiled and said thank you and Australia started playing loud dance music. They still had an hour with the hall, after all, and he was determined to have a good time.
-What Happened After the Meeting-
As everyone got into cars to get going home, England flagged down Canada.
“Thank you for the song,” he said, “you sang it very well.” Canada was about to say something sincere and sweet when India honked the horn.
“We’re gonna go without you!” she warned loudly. Canada laughed and bade England a fond farewell and slid into the car next to Australia, who had one arm around Fiji and was telling her about the time he’d nearly lost his arm to a crocodile.
“Why’d you wrestle it, then?” Canada asked dryly, receiving the combined glares of Fiji and Australia.
“It’s the principle of it, Matt,” Australia replied before returning to his story. Canada snorted and then yelped as India went about night driving, buzzed on Singapore’s beer. It was even worse now that it was dark, and India had the radio up to annoy Papua New Guinea. Fiji was enraptured by Australia’s next story, one from World War II, and Canada really, really wanted a nap. Or sleep. Either sounded wonderful at this point.
When he escaped the car and got into the house they were staying in, he was unsurprised that New Zealand, Solomon Islands, Saint Lucia, and Sealand had yet to arrive. Oh well, he could worry about them later.
Only stopped to take off his shoes, shirt, glasses, and socks, Canada flopped into his too-small bed. It was a little lumpy and unmade and too cool for comfort, but he was out in only a few moments. He could swear he heard the lingering notes of England’s old lullaby just before he fell to sleep.
-End-