IT'S STILL CHRISTMAS DAY I'M TECHNICALLY NOT LATE
But it still is late so I apologize homg Dx
Anyway, I think I lost the funny about a paragraph in, and the cute is rare... And I apologize for any messed up characterization, I tried, I swear! Dx
The accents too. Just... No =-= *Gave up*
Hope you like it anyway, Jen-Jen, with love and Christmas wishes <3!
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It was again that time of year. The time for fat men in red and white suits. The time for hectic shopping. The time for peace and joy and goodwill towards all men. Christmas.
It was the day of Christmas Eve to be exact, so everyone celebrating was preparing to meet with family and friends to celebrate the night. The Nations were no exception. England was occupied – likely trying to prepare a Christmas dinner and we all know how well that will turn out – Spain was enlisting Romano’s reluctant help to throw something together, Italy was making plenty of pasta and Russia was… Being scary. Germany, Prussia and Austria – the former had dragged the latter away from the piece he was trying to compose for the holidays – were out celebrating the usual way; plenty of nice, expensive German beer and some of the best cut wurst from the butcher, enough to satiate them for the entire day, night and rest of tomorrow. Berlin however, was not with them enjoying these festivities, because she was standing knee-deep in snow, waiting in front of some large, decorated, maple-wood door for an answer. France, standing beside her in what appeared to be a very expensive coat – probably the newest and most popular fashion in his country at the moment – flipped his hair over his shoulder and rang the doorbell once again. He checked his watch; quarter to one.
“Zat’s funny. I was certain zat Matthieu was expecting us.” Berlin scoffed, trying to hide the shiver. Just why was it so damn cold over here? “Maria, cherie, are you chilly?” France chuckled, going to wrap an arm around her before the barrel of a small pistol was pressed to his forehead.
“Nein, Francis,” she grit out, keeping the cold metal against his skull. He put his hands up by reflex, sweat beading near his temples.
“Now now, should you really be carrying zat on Christmas, darling?”
“Ja, und don’t c-call me darling.” Berlin seemed to curse mentally when she stuttered, instead focusing on gritting her teeth together to make sure she showed the Frenchman no weakness whatsoever. France sighed as the gun was lowered reluctantly and assumed she was acting so much more irritable because she was freezing. Canada always seemed to have some of the worst cold snaps he’d ever experienced, even compared to the one in his country before the French Revolution. Just as he moved to ring to doorbell once again, the door swung open to reveal a hectic-looking Noelle; her hair was in disarray, her eyes wide, her snow-pants falling out of her boots and her hood had even fallen off.
“P-Papa! Miss Berlin! Bonjour et j’m’excuse!” She bowed her head as her regular greeting before moving out of the way to let them enter. Berlin stepped in first, sliding past France without so much as a word, stomping her feet roughly to rid her boots of all snow. France of course, followed afterwards, placing a quick and concerned kiss on Noelle’s forehead while she shut the door to prevent more cold from entering. “It was just difficult to hear the doorbell over—”
“DUUUUUUUUUUUUDE!!” She was cut off. “Look at this place! I mean whoaaaaaaaaaaaa!!! Who knew there was such a nice house up here! I wonder who owns it…” Noelle sighed heavily.
“It is hard to hear over Alfred.” France laughed nervously as Berlin convulsed just slightly at the sound of America’s voice, attempting to offer Noelle a sympathetic smile. After accepting the gesture and stomping back out to meet America in all his deafening, shouting glory, Noelle side-stepped a brunette with glasses as she pulled the hood of her parka back up over her blonde hair. Said brunette waved slightly in greeting to the newcomers, looking a little lost in the large house. France grinned and approached her as soon as he had removed his coat, taking her hand and kissing it lightly. Berlin was still stomping away in the background, cursing snow in angry, rapid German and keeping her hands tucked into her pockets.
“Bonjour, ma petite. I am Francis Bonnefoy, and ‘ou might you be?” Her eyes widened at the gesture and she looked down with a slight blush.
“I’m Jenny. Nice to meet you.”
“Ah, ‘Jenny’. What a beautiful name.” The blush became more than slight as Jenny pulled her hand away. “So, what brings you to Matthieu’s ‘ouse for Christmas?” France looked at her expectantly and she managed meet his eyes, although she couldn’t manage to suppress her blush at all.
“Oh, Alfred invited me! He said,” she cleared her throat and imitated his voice as best as she could, even matching his volume, “WE’LL HAVE SO MUCH FUN AND IT’S THE RIGHT THING TO DO AS THE HERO TO INVITE A FRIEND TO A CHRISTMAS GET-TOGETHER!!! Then he dragged me right to this house.” Someone cleared their throat from behind France and she looked past to see Berlin crossing her arms.
“Maria Beilschmidt.” Slightly shocked by the to-the-point greeting and annoyed look in the German’s eyes, Jenny only managed to stutter out her name before there was a cry from behind her,
“Oh, NO WAY! Nuh-Uh!! Why is the FRENCHIE here??” From up on the second floor, looking over the banister, America pointed at France. “I am NOT having a party with the wine-guzzling fruitcake!! Why the heck did he even show up?!?!” He turned back to glare at Noelle, who was standing behind him and clutching her parka tight over her ears.
“Matthieu invited him!” All the anger in America’s form dissipated and his pointing arm dropped slightly. Blinking a few times, he drew in a slow breath – everyone watched in anticipation – and finally managed,
“Who?” France shook his head and sighed.
“… Canada,” Noelle blurted. America continued to look confused.
“Can… Aidia?” At this, Noelle clenched her eyes shut and looked down.
“Can… ADA,” she grit out.
“No seriously, who the heck’re you talkin’ bout?” At this, Noelle completely snapped. Dragging him away by the back of his aviator’s jacket – with much very loud protesting – she pulled him into another room, leaving Jenny, France and Berlin all standing in the entryway looking shocked. Jenny, noticing the silence, clapped her hands together and pointed to where Noelle had dragged America.
“Well, why don’t we see what’s going on over there?” She hurried along after the irate blonde and her captive nation. France cast a glance at Berlin, who focused on steadfastly looking forward.
“Would you like to follow zem… Or see some of ze ‘ouse first?” Berlin only grunted in acknowledgment before stalking off after Noelle, leaving France to follow. Berlin had no trouble navigating the large building; following America’s shouts was rather easy considering how loud he always was. As they entered the huge sitting room, Berlin almost regretted following them because she was met with the chaotic sight of Noelle pointing frantically at Canada, who was waving his hands in an attempt to calm her and laughing nervously, an action mirrored by Jenny in America’s case as he screamed at the top of his lungs. Of course, that meant that Noelle had to shout over America, interspersing her speech with random French and Inuktitut words – some of which had France cringing at their inappropriate nature – leading to enough noise pollution to get another Kyoto Protocol for sound involved. France made his attempt to jump in, only to have the two bickering nations whirl, glare and shout at him in turn, which had Canada and Jenny leaping to his defense. Berlin clenched and unclenched her fists, veins beginning to throb in her forehead at the event. She grit her teeth and tried counting backwards from ten in her head through all the arguing.
