"Canada, quick, get over here as soon as you can!"

America had sounded in such a panic on the phone that Canada hardly wasted a second booking the next flight over, thinking something horrible had happened. It took longer than usual for him to find a taxi—he'd noticed that the more frazzled he was, the less that people were able to see him—but once in, he paid the driver extra to floor it and arrived at America's house in record time. He reached his door out of breath and held his hand up to knock when America flung it open, looking disheveled in his excitement.

Canada narrowed his eyes.

America didn't look even a hair close to being on his death bed. His narrowed eyes turned to furrowed brows. What was the problem, then?

"It. Is. Time!" America shouted and grabbed for his hand. He missed, instead grabbing his sleeve and dragging the reluctant Canada through the door.

"America, let me go," Canada snapped, pulling his arm out of his grip. "It's time for what?"

"Doncha remember?" America asked, not letting Canada's clear confusion stop him from running through the house. "The trees! It's maple syrup time!"

-

"Alright, so, I've already made some spouts," America told him, gesturing to a bag on the table. "And I've got us coats since it looks like spring outside but it's actually a lying jerk since it feels so much colder."

Canada couldn't help but smile; America was truly a summer child. But then a coat hit him in the face and he snarled.

Forget being a summer child.

He was a brat, plain and simple. And with a roll of his eyes, Canada pulled the coat off his face and jerked it on.

"I have two drills, one for each of us, and I have an outdoor fireplace set up already," America continued, nodding as if he were checking items off a mental check list. "Buckets are outside on the table ready for us, and there are jars in the kitchen drying. I think that's everything."

Canada nodded, going through his own mental checklist, his annoyance fading at the prospect of fresh maple syrup. Drills, spouts, buckets, a sap-boiling station, containers, coats… nothing seemed obviously missing. "Sounds good to me," he finally said, nodding.

America beamed. "Great! Let's get going then!"

-

Canada's eyes were wide when he stepped outside into America's back yard. He'd expected the trees to have some height, being fifty years old, but they were taller than he'd thought possible for that amount of time. He shot a questioning look at America, who was oblivious and talking instead about how delicious the syrup would be and how he couldn't wait to have one of Canada's world famous pancakes. Shaking his head, Canada let the question go and smiled. There'd always been a connection between America and nature, after all.

"So here's the first tree," America announced, softly clapping his gloved hands together, awkwardly holding the drill. "How about I drill the holes first, you attach the spouts and buckets, and we switch off every couple of trees or so?"

Canada narrowed his eyes at him, slightly suspicious. "You will let me drill some, right?" Since, you know, he was the maple syrup expert and all.

But America waved his hand and laughed it off with an airy "I said I would~" before drilling the first hole. With a triumphant grin he removed the drill, a perfectly round hole left behind. Following his cue, Canada gently tapped a spout into the hole with his hammer, carefully hanging the covered bucket from the end.

"One down, an awesome ton more to go!" America announced, grabbing Canada's newly freed hand and forcing it into the air in a triumphant fist pump.

Hours passed, America and Canada switching off the drilling every three trees until finally, every tree had been tapped at least once. A couple of lucky ones were even big enough for a second, much to their maple syrup expecting joy.

At the end of the day, America slapped Canada on the back, causing his knees to buckle slightly, and threw his arm around his shoulder. "We did good, bro. Let's go get some burgers. We can catch up on life!"

Canada smiled, nodded in agreement, and tried to pull away from under his arm all in one fell swoop. Having a legitimate excuse to spend time together and talk, well, that had been America's main reason for wanting to harvest maple syrup to begin with. The whole loving maple syrup had been a secondary reason, if Canada recalled correctly. "Sure. Your treat, and ice cream afterwards?"

America dropped his arm, re-entering his house with a spring in his step. "Of course! Let's get changed and go!"

-

"And so then I told my boss that it wasn't going to work and I had the bruises to prove it!" America finished with a loud laugh, shoving a fry into his mouth.

Canada smiled and had been smiling more than he thought he would throughout the meal. Dinner with America was turning out more fun than he had expected. In fact, he found himself wondering more than once if he could come up with a better excuse for them spend even more time together before the next harvesting season. Maybe, for once, they could do a joint birthday in July or something.

"You had a good idea," Canada said out of the blue, causing America to stop laughing mid-chuckle.

"Huh?"

Waving a fry at America, the ceiling, around, in general, Canada repeated, "You had a good idea. This whole maple syrup thing. It's been fun."

He'd expected another smile, maybe a laugh and a high five, from America, and he wasn't disappointed. His smile was so bright it was blinding-and then he couldn't see it anymore as he was enveloped into a tight hug. He awkwardly patted America's back, but didn't try to pull away.

"I'm so glad you came along."

-

The rest of the maple syrup harvesting went by in a flash of brown, bright winter coats, and left-over autumn leaves blown by an unceasing wind. More than once, Canada had had to treat burns America sustained in his excitement from boiling the sap, but he found it hard to stay annoyed for long. In the down time between collecting sap, boiling it, and storing it, they caught up with each others' lives and did other fun things-like video games. Canada had nearly gotten to the same level as America and it was no longer a flat out "America wins" when it came to games.

But all too soon it was coming to an end. The trees were beginning to bud, and so they had to call it quits for the season.

"I don't want to stop," America whined over pancakes drenched in maple syrup on the last morning.

Canada smiled a sad smile, picking at his own pancake. "I've been away for too long. I need to go back home."

America pouted and defiantly shoved a bite of pancake in his mouth. "You can stay here for as long as you like, you know!" he shouted around bits of pancake.

Canada shook his head. "I had a lot of fun, America." He chewed his next bite of pancake thoughtfully. "I was thinking maybe we could do a joint birthday this year? Make a week of it or something and spend-"

America jumped to his feet and shouted, "That is a great-no-awesome idea!" And then he was off, talking about plans and things they could do and reminding Canada don't forget to take maple syrup back with him and to dress warm in the evil fake spring and to visit again someday and oh maybe next year they could invite someone else to join them or maybe they should just keep it each other and oh don't forget this and-Canada just smiled fondly, listening and finishing the rest of his pancake.

(It's been a while, eh? I'm still alive. Resource links regarding maple syrup harvesting are available upon request!)