Phase 3: The Party

Canada walked downstairs, yawning. He had gotten a fair night's rest, but when he woke up- to the incessant shrilling of the alarm clock,- the warm, comforting weight of his brother wasn't there. And Canada swore to himself that if he found his asleep on the toilet again, he would leave him there and wait until he fell in. Or better, push him in himself.

But when Canada walked down the stairs, he felt his foot press against a cord, and a white balloon exploded over his head, showering him in maple shaped confetti. Well. This was a nice surprise. He opened his eyes from the downpour to see his slightly- well, definitely more than slightly- dysfunctional family waiting in the living room for him. France was beaming, and had an arm around England's waist, who was blushing but also smiling. That was a shock, Canada had thought England's frown was permanent. Australia was smirking, like he usually was, and Hong Kong- whoa. That was a smile. An actual smile. Hong Kong… openly showing emotion… Does. Not. Compute.

And America, of course, was grinning from ear to ear, his impossibly white teeth almost blinding Canada. That idiot, Canada thought fondly as he stepped further into the downstairs, only to see it covered, floor to ceiling, in Canadian memorabilia. The sweet scent of Canadian food drifted from the kitchen, and Canada felt himself smiling like the rest of them.

"You remembered?" His voice quavered slightly, and America rushed over immediately to hug him with such force that it felt like his ribcage might splinter into tiny pieces.

"Of course we remembered, Mattie! We love you! Even though my love is the best, because I'm a hero!" America looked like a puppy that expected to be praised for dragging a dead skunk (twice the stink) into the house, and Canada debated whether to hit his brother, hug him back, or shake his head ruefully while smiling.

He opted for the last option, because, well, most gatherings of more than three nations tended to end up in chaos of magnificent proportions, and Canada did not want the birthday of his country to turn out like that. Even though it would be amusing, and probably a story he would reminisce about after all the horrendousness was over and the others had left.

Way after.

"Mathieu, mon fils chéri, let us eat! I went to all the trouble of preparing a wonderful breakfast so we must get started, non" France dragged England into the room, and the others followed. And immediately gasped at the sheer amount of food France had been able to create in a mere six hours. That man was a culinary genius, no doubt. Although the fact that he was a relentless pervert detracted from his culinary skill, but that was not the point. The point was that America might not be able to finish all the food. Which was why it was a good thing that there were five other people with relatively normal appetites to help.

After everyone had finished their heaping plates of food, they all turned to Canada for his verdict on how they should spend the day.

"We can go to a hockey game." Australia, offering a sensible solution, like usual.

"Let's go to McDonalds!" America, being an ignoramus like usual.

"Alfred, you wanker, we just ate!" England, chastising America and wondering where he went from with the idiot, like usual.

"That horrific excuse for a restaurant will give me a heart attack if I even set foot within a 100-feet radius of the premises! Mathieu, surely we are not going there, of all places!" France, being overdramatic, like usual.

"Let's ask Matthew what he thinks." And the usual pearls of wisdom from Hong Kong.

"U-umm…" And Canada being his usual, indecisive self.

"I have an idea! Let's all sit around and share stories of Mattie!"

The entire table went silent as they realized that America had just said something that made sense and didn't center around what he wanted for himself. They were flabbergasted. And, actually, sort of proud that he was emotionally maturing.

"Because I wanna know what he was like when he was really little, so I can tease him about it!" Alright, maybe it was a slow emotional maturation, but it was happening never the less!

"That sounds fine."

So the nations all gathered in the living room, France pulling England on his lap in a large armchair, Hong Kong and Australia accidentally sitting on the two animals on the couch- resulting in a need of new pants for the both of them- and America and Canada together on the loveseat. Which France grinned at, perverted man he was.

And to someone that was barely paying attention, only the more interesting snippets of the conversation would stand out.

"Well, mon fils chéri used to only drink maple syrup. He refused anything else, only that tree sap of his would satisfy him."

"When Matthew lived in my house, he would hide in the large vases with that bear of his, and pop out to scare the visitors."

"Matt and I occasionally set firecracker traps for Arthur." ("SO IT WAS YOU TWO!")

"Matteh helped potty train Bastard, now all he has to do is make him stop biting me!"

"Mattie's finest moment was when he burned down my White House. But be warned, brotha, you will never pwn me like that again!"

"I bet he did in bed last night, non?"

"Francis!"

"After all, he is geographically on top!"

And the rest of Canada passed in a peaceful lull, with stories being shared and wine being passed around. It was a nice day, Canada reflected, one of his better birthdays.

And the fact that his family was there to share it with him made it all the better.

Authoress' Random Ramble

ALMOST DONE