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"That's it! I'm done with him, Canada!"
Canada looked up from the newspaper he was reading and glanced over at the other nation. America stood in the doorway, face red from cold or anger, or probably both. He calmly set his mug of tea onto the kitchen table and placed the newspaper down next to it. "Done with who?" he asked politely.
America stormed into the room slamming the door shut behind him. Shrugging his shoulders apologetically at Canada upon the other's wince, he dragged out one of the chairs and sat down in it. "Don't give me that shit, bro. You know exactly who I'm talking about."
"Did you have another spat with your boyfriend?" Canada raised an eyebrow. "I thought you resolved what happened at the meeting."
"So did I! But nooooo, he got mad at me for getting mad at him for what he said- which was totally not true! I'm not a 's-stupidly deluded fool who's got no bloody idea what he's doing'! And he's the one who started it all because he interrupted my presentation with his stupid tea kettle!" The words left America's mouth in a rush, and when they were all spent the nation slumped back into his seat. He stared at Canada, seeking validation.
Canada thought carefully about his words. "...What did you mean by, 'I'm done with him'?"
"I mean I'm through with him. We're breaking up."
Purple eyes widened. "What?" America and England had gone through many arguments together - there was a new one almost every week - but never had Canada seen his brother look so determined in ending his relationship.
"Yeah." America lowered his head. "It- It's just not working out. He's too nitpicky over every single tiniest detail and it drives me insane. Like, there's a thing called an organised mess."
Raising an eyebrow, Canada sighed softly. He could think of many qualities America had that would also work against the relationship, but of course America himself was either blind to them or too stubborn to ever admit he was doing something wrong. "Uh, yeah."
America looked at him, shock in his eyes. "You agree with me, right?!"
"Yes, yes, I do." Canada hurriedly assured him. "Well, mostly."
"Mostly?! Bro-"
"Yes!" Canada raised his voice for a moment, and America fell silent. "Mostly. While England probably shouldn't have gone that far during the meeting, I don't think breaking up with him is the right thing to do. Look, we've all had a stressful and work-stuffed couple of months. Tempers are short and nobody tries to talk out their problems. Just give him a chance. Christmas is in a month-"
"To hell with Christmas! I'm not spending it with him! It's done." America heaved a great sigh and ran his hand through his hair. "I've given him plenty of chances before. Every single argument we had was another chance! I'm through. I don't need his shit on top of everything else."
Canada sighed as well, his much more quiet than his brother's. He took a look at America and knew he was in for a very long couple of weeks. The young nation was angry right now, too angry to see things clearly. He would be pining for England within the next few days, if not the next few hours. Normally that wouldn't be a problem, but if it was true that the two of them had already broken up, then this time would be a very different story.
"Do you want some hot chocolate?" he asked, to change the topic and hoping to calm America down.
"What?" America looked up, momentarily startled. "Yeah, sure."
Raising an eyebrow, Canada stood and moved over to the counter to start preparing the chocolate. "You want to talk about exactly what happened?"
"I just- We went back to the hotel and I was expecting some cuddles or at least something to y'know, say that it was okay now. But he just started going off like it was still the meeting! How I wasn't really one to talk about interruptions and how my presentation was stupid and just generally how apparently childish I was." America huffed angrily, his fists clenching with the very memory. "And then I started snapping back at him and then it was a full blown row and I might have smashed a glass but that's not important and then I just said we were done and left."
"That...sounds bad," Canada said, ruffling America's hair sympathetically as he placed the mug of hot chocolate down. He noticed that America seemed to flinch a tiny bit, but then the nation picked up his mug and his face was hidden by the rim. "America... I think you should apolo-"
The mug slammed down. "I'm not apologising to him! I'm always the one who apologises! He can do it this time! And even if he does, I'm still not taking him back!" America declared. "Look, can I crash here for the night?"
"Uhm- of course. You know where the guest bedroom-" But by then, America had gone. "Is..."
Canada stayed at the table for another half hour or so, the mostly full mug of chocolate his only company. He only hoped that America calmed down by the next morning and he and England could work things out maybe after that day's meeting.
But to his dismay, none of that happened. America was unnaturally silent the whole drive to the meeting building, and when they walked in he didn't even spare a glance in England's direction. The British nation looked like shit, honestly, but it was apparent he had tried to cover it up. Not much could help his red-rimmed eyes or scruffy appearance, though Canada suspected he had bags under his eyes that had been concealed with foundation. It was a weird meeting, and during the lunch break, France waved Canada over.
"Yeah?" Canada asked, giving a soft gasp of surprise when he was pulled onto the Frenchman's lap. "Well bonjour to you too."
"Bonjour, mon cher," France murmured to him, happily pressing a small kiss to the shell of Canada's ear. "Do you know what happened between Amérique and Angleterre? Because a certain little Sourcils came to my door last night, quite drunk and blabbering how he was alone and heartbroken and it was all America's fault."
"Oh, yeah..." Canada sighed and shifted slightly. "It was about the fight they had yesterday. Apparently England carried it over to the evening and America had enough so he left, shouting about how they were breaking up."
France's eyebrows rose. "I did not believe Amérique to be one to give up his love over so silly a thing."
"Nor did I." Canada glanced over to where England was sipping quite miserably out of his thermos, and then across the room where America was doing his best to be completely oblivious to the sight of the Englishman. "I hoped America would calm down and then apologise... But I guess not."
"They are both going to be miserable if this continues," France said flatly.
"I know, I know. But you know how they are, if you push either one, then he'll do the exact opposite out of stubbornness. Especially England."
"Hmm..." France had a thoughtful look on his face, and then he smiled wickedly. "Cher, what do you say if by Christmas those two idiots haven't gotten back together, then we do a little matchmaking of our own?"
Canada looked between the two of them and nodded. He turned his face back to France's, and purple eyes met blue. "Fine. I don't want America sobbing to me over the phone every week about how much he misses England."
"Bon," France whispered, then tilted his head up to kiss his own lover.
America looked to where France and Canada were sucking each other's faces off and grimaced. He discreetly glanced at England again to see he had changed to sadly eating a roast beef sandwich. All in all he made a pitiful sight, but America wasn't about to back down. He was serious this time. England had to apologise first. Then maybe they could talk and maybe, just maybe, consider getting back together.
(Oh who was he kidding, America already desperately missed the feeling of England's body beside his in bed, missed their kisses and their whispered sweet nothings in the dark. But hell if he was going to admit that to anyone.)
No, he'd made up his mind. He would be strong this time. Huffing decisively at no one in particular, the young nation stood and made his way to the door, trying to pretend he hadn't seen the tiny flash of hope in England's eyes.
He didn't even last a week before the horrible emptiness settled in his stomach. He called Canada a few days later and begrudgingly admitted that he missed England. But when Canada suggested that he just talk to the Englishman, he adamantly refused. As much as he longed for England, he still had his pride left, and that wouldn't allow him to.
The fact that England himself had gotten distant after that first day didn't help. Gone was the small figure hunched over his tea and scones, staring at the table as if lost. England was back to his suave and snappy self, looking dapper in his suit and chatting with almost everyone except America. America had run into him briefly at the airport and tried to stutter something out, but England had simply given him a cool look and brushed past. That had hurt more than America cared to admit to himself.
America was in New York by then, slowly preparing for his grand Christmas party. After a couple more phone calls from the nation, Canada had flown down early to both help prepare and provide emotional support.
"I miss him so muuuuuch!" America wailed, burying his face in Canada's shoulder.
Canada looked down at him, unamused. Honestly though, he should have expected as much when America had suggested watching Christmas movies on the Hallmark channel. All of them had sappy, cheerful endings full of love and family and cheer. "It's all right, America..." he said, gently running his hand through the silky blond hair but carefully avoiding Nantucket. By now he knew better than to suggest America apologise.
"L-Like really? Why does he have to be s-so fucking stubborn?"
"Well that's England, you know."
"I do know!" America sounded wholly miserable, and after another moment he crawled into Canada's lap.
"There, there..." Canada gave him a little squeeze and cooed into his ear, much like one would to calm down a small child. Or puppy.
After a few long minutes, America finally seemed to quiet down. He fell asleep right there on Canada's lap, and the northern nation wanted to groan. Cue Olympic-level gymnastics again just to get out from under him. He eventually did, and covered America with a blanket after taking off his glasses.
"You are so stupid," he told America's sleeping body, and that made him feel better. He called up France, and once he was assured that England was indeed coming (or rather getting dragged along by a certain Frenchman) to America's party, he went to bed. This was going to be an eventful Christmas.
The day of the party dawned bright and clear, with the previous day's snow glittering prettily in the sunlight. It was only the 22nd of December, but America always planned it like this so that if nations wanted to go back to their home countries for actual Christmas, then there would still be time. And of course, even though not everyone celebrated it, people still came for the food and festivities and presents.
America was busy all morning with making final preparations, and Canada was glad for it since he had some peace and quiet. He thought that if he heard the words 'I miss him!' or 'He's stupid, why doesn't he just apologise?' or even England's name once more coming from America's mouth he would whack the other blond with the heaviest object he could find.
At around three-thirty in the evening, the doorbell rang. "Could you get that?" America shouted from the depths of his penthouse.
"Yeah, on it!" Canada called back, already knowing who it was.
Francis stood on the other side of the door, a grumbling and decked out in a festive (and ugly) Christmas sweater England next to him. "Ah, chéri, how nice it is to see you," he murmured, stepping forward and wrapping his arms around Canada. There was a soft gagging noise to his left.
"Yeah, you too." Canada kissed him quickly and stepped away. There would be time for more of that later. "And you, England. Come on in." He closed the door after them and led the way to the Christmas tree. "You can put any presents underneath it and then just relax until-"
"What is he doing here?"
The trio turned around to see America in the doorway, pointing an accusing finger at England.
"I'm not here of my own free will, that's for sure," England snapped back, stepping forward.
An instant later, France had his hand on England's arm and Canada was tugging America back down the hall. The last thing Canada saw was England turning on France with a heavy scowl on his face.
"Canada, what the fuck is he doing here?" America asked once they'd reached one of the guest rooms. "I didn't invite him!"
"Yes, and that was rude," Canada told him flatly. "Look, America. As much as you claim not to like him at the moment, wouldn't you be even a little sad at the thought of England spending Christmas on his own? Because you and I both know that's what would happen." He didn't skirt around laying on the emotion.
"I don't ca-"
"You do. Deep down you do." Canada moved to the door. "Look, just don't talk to him all night, okay? There'll be plenty of other people here." Then he was gone.
When Canada reached the living room again, France was nowhere to be found and England was sitting stiffly on one of the couches. Their presents were under the tree. The quiet nation approached the couch and settled down next to the other man.
"England?"
"I knew coming here was a mistake, but I let the damn frog drag me here anyway." England didn't look away from the window.
"Come on, the party hasn't even started yet," Canada coaxed, giving England's shoulder a little nudge. All he got in return was a wan smile.
"I believe America's made his position about my presence here quite clear." Heaving a sigh, the Brit stood. "If you'll excuse me-"
"He does miss you," Canada said quietly.
"Pardon?" England paused and finally looked down at him.
"America. He misses you. I've been here since the tenth and all he goes on about is how much he misses you."
England's brow furrowed. "Then why is he acting like this? Why won't he just bloody apologise?"
"Pride." Canada rolled his eyes. "Something I'd imagine you know quite well. He won't apologise until you do."
"What? Well he's an idiot." And with that, England stomped off towards the kitchen, leaving Canada sighing heavily on the couch.
The hours flew by and nations arrived until, by eight in the evening, the party was in full swing. People were gathered in every corner of the living room, dining room, kitchen, and hallways, just chatting and drinking and occasionally grabbing a bite to eat. America seemed to have forgotten his previous bad mood because he was flitting about from one group to the next, chiming in on conversations and making sure there was never a shortage of food. He wanted to make sure there were no arguments and that everyone was having a good time. Everyone except England, that was.
The island nation had settled down in a corner chair half-hidden by the tree and was simply watching the proceedings. Barely anyone approached him, and he had a stony look on his face. Whenever America would enter the room he'd glance at the other nation, but never made a move.
It sure didn't look like America was missing him. England sighed and dropped his face into his hands, absently rubbing at his cheeks and therefore missing the somewhat worried look that America shot at him. After a moment, when he lifted his head again, America was gone from the room. In truth he missed the boy as well, and deeply, but really. He was being ridiculous. Keeping an argument going for the sake of pride.
(England conveniently ignored all the times he'd done the same.)
After another hour and a half of sitting there, he finally decided to leave the chair, if only for a moment so he could make himself a tea. But when he entered the kitchen, he discovered to his chagrin that Alfred was the only one in there, rooting around in the refrigerator for some more food. He quickly spun around and exited again, only to run straight into Canada.
"Sorry lad, didn't see you there-"
"Where are you going?" Canada frowned softly.
"Ah, back to my chair, if it's still free." England tried to sidestep around him, only to find that Canada had a strong grip on his arm.
"Oh no, England." Keeping him there, Canada peered around him and smiled softly when he saw America still focused on the fridge. "I think you should make him a hot chocolate. And say sorry."
"But-" England paused and looked into Canada's eyes.
"You're both pining after each other and it's really just pathetic," Canada said simply.
"Oh..." England groaned softly and let out a breath. "All right. I suppose this has gone on too long, hasn't it? I can barely remember why we were arguing in the first place."
"That's the spirit. Remember, hot chocolate and apology." Canada gave him a pat on the shoulder and vanished down the hallway, presumably in search of France.
Taking a deep breath, England entered the kitchen and quietly started gathering up the necessary materials he would need to make the tea and hot chocolate. Out of the corner of his eye he saw America glance at him, and then continue to ignore him. That hurt more than England would care to admit.
But he ignored his feelings for the moment and quickly made the two drinks. Luckily America had those little packets of ready-made hot chocolate powder that you simply poured hot milk or water over and stirred. A quick look through America's pantry produced marshmallows as well as a small glare from the American himself. What, was America not going to allow him to take three jumbo marshmallows?
Apparently, for just as England plopped them into the hot brown drink, America decisively closed the fridge and started towards the door to the kitchen.
"America, wait."
America paused just before the door, his shoulders stiff. He didn't turn around. "What?"
"I ah..." England padded forward, a mug in each hand. "I made you a hot chocolate."
"Why?"
The question startled the Brit. "Well, I thought you might like one. You know, to keep your energy up."
America finally turned around, his face neutral. He stalked forward, forcing England back until the smaller nation's back hit the counter. A splash of tea overflowed the edge of the cup and landed on England's fingers, and though he winced, he didn't drop either mug. "And why do you care about that?"
"Because I care about you, you stupid boy!" England's voice rose a bit too high and cracked, and the older nation cleared his throat. "Look, America." He took a breath. "I'm sorry."
America looked shocked. "...What?"
"I said I'm sorry. This silence is pointless, and I'd at least like to be back on speaking terms with you." His hands were shaking slightly, and America must have noticed because he moved forward again and took the cups from England's hands. "Ah..."
"I... I'm sorry too, England." America gently brought England's hands together and enveloped them in his own, relishing England's soft gasp of surprise. It was too cute, the way England got flustered by affection sometimes. "I guess I was kinda stupid that day. Maybe."
"If you were, I can't remember what about," England whispered.
America let out a soft chuckle. "You know what? Neither can I." He moved to wrap his arms around England's shoulders and pull the other man close.
England melted into the embrace, letting out a soft breath of relief. Oh, to be back within those strong arms... But there was one small matter- "America, a-are we together again?"
"If you'll take me."
The Brit chuckled. "Of course, you silly boy." He gasped softly as the arms around him tightened, and in the next instant he felt a small kiss pressed to the side of his head.
"I'm glad," America choked out."God, I fucking missed you..."
"Did you miss me? Or did you miss fucking me?" England couldn't help sniping.
Laughing deeply, America gave him another squeeze. "Both," he admitted, then let go of England to pick up the mug of chocolate. He took a sip and sighed contently. "Ah, that's the stuff. Thanks, England."
"No problem, love." England smiled back, reminding himself to thank Canada later. He grasped his own cup of tea and sipped along with America, feeling more at peace than he had all month. "I'm afraid I didn't get you a gift... I wasn't aware I was attending your celebrations until two days ago when the frog forced me onto a plane."
"Neither did I..." America's cheeks reddened softly, but then his face lit up with an idea. "Oh, I know! We'll have two rounds tonight, one with each of us topping! That can be a temporary present, and then I can spend actual Christmas with you in London and we can go get each other shit during the Boxer Day sales!"
"Boxing Day, America." England chuckled and leaned his head on America's shoulder. "But that does sound lovely."
America, in turn, rested his head on England's. "Awesome."
"Would you like to get back to the party?" England asked after a moment.
"Nah, let's just stay here together for a lil bit longer." America grinned down at him, and was rewarded with a small smile stretching across England's lips.
"Just until we finish our drinks," England conceded. "You have a party to host, after all."
"Yeah, yeah. Just drink real slow." America smiled more and settled contently against the counter. He saw a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye, but dismissed it as someone simply passing by in the hallway. He was too focused on England at the moment to really notice anything else.
And England was looking back at him, a warm light in his eyes. The two of them finished their tea and chocolate much too quickly for either of their tastes, but there was in fact a party going on around them, and the peace of the kitchen could be shattered at any moment. America gently took England's hand in his own, lacing their fingers together, and nodded gently at the door.
"Let's go?"
"Sure."
America, however, paused right in the doorway, looking up quizzically. "Huh, I don't remember putting one there..."
Following his gaze, England saw a sprig of mistletoe neatly attached to the doorframe. "Well. I suppose there's nothing for it but-"
He got not further, America having shut him up gently with a kiss. He turned them so England's back was pressed against the doorframe and kissed him soundly, their lips moving together in perfect rhythm. It was broken after a moment, the both of them panting gently and staring into the other's eyes.
"That was nice..." England whispered, his hand tightening in America's.
"Mmm, it was." America grinned back at him and pecked England's lips once more before stepping back. "C'mon, let's go mingle."
"Heh, all right."
And as they passed a little alcove in the wall, England nodded in thanks to Canada and France, who were in it, trying to hide. Canada nodded back, a small smile on his face, while France pretended to look indifferent and uninvolved.
"What were you looking at?" Alfred asked a few steps later.
"No, nothing." England smiled up at him and pulled him into the living room. "Let's enjoy the rest of the party."