Pancakes

The original plan was to wake up at seven, avoid any and all other nations, and have a quiet birthday dinner in peace. Unfortunately, plans don't always work out.

Feeling a wet tongue on his face, the Canadian drowsily pushed his polar bear away and slowly sat up in his bed. Ignoring the polar bear's protest of hunger, the soft-spoken nation reached for his glasses and glanced at his alarm clock. After staring for a few moments, the Canadian realized that the analog click had been smashed, rendering it useless. The nation blinked rapidly, trying to figure out how it happened, when a loud crashing sound came from downstairs.

Canada hastily slipped out from underneath his red covers and bolted down to the source of the noise. The blonde nation stopped at the bottom of the steps, in complete shock. He could see into the kitchen from where he stood, watching the scene play out before him.

"Oh mon dieu! What 'ave you done to the cake?"

"Now all my scones are scattered on the floor. They'll taste awful!"

"Dude, they taste bad anyways. Why dontcha use your magic stuff to make them better?"

"Good idea for once. I'll even clean up the mess you made, twit."

Canada watched as his family began arguing amongst themselves. Then he smiled when he just barely recognized the Englishman's magic, glittering around the filthy counter top and overflowing sink. It had been a while. Looking away from his dysfunctional family, the sometimes-invisible nation noticed that the table was the only relatively clean surface in his kitchen, aside from what looked like gifts.

There was a sweet-smelling basket, no doubt filled with pastries from France. Next to the woven basket was a knitted, red and white scarf with an embroidered red maple leaf. Even from afar, Canada could distinguish the difference between England's needlework from that of anyone else. The last thing the birthday nation noticed was the tall stack of very large pancakes. The pile of flapjacks seemingly formed the shape of a cake, with maple syrup drizzled all around. A small, white card was toothpicked to the topmost pancake, with the American's distinct handwriting on it.

Happy birthday, Mattie!

Glancing back and forth from the gifts to the messy, disheveled appearances of the other nations, Matthew Williams burst out into full-blown laughter. It was so nice to have his family together again.

AN: 400 words. Booyah. Pardon how belated this story is. I've been busy with family, and I'm officially a godmother as of today. Such a cute kid. Anyways, thanks for reading.