Hetalia oneshots

Christmas Traditions, pt. 1 -RusCan

A/N: Dedicated to Masuma, because without her suggestion (which will be used in part 2), I probably wouldn’t have come up with this.

~*~

Russia frowned at the festivities around him, unsure what to make of the way Americans celebrated their Christmas.  America himself had been sufficiently caught up in the “Christmas Spirit” to actually invite Russia to his annual party, but the Russian found that he wasn’t enjoying himself as much as he had hoped to.

True, he enjoyed watching all the other Nations relaxing and having fun—if anyone asked though, he was imagining painful and entertaining deaths for all of them.  Even Lithuania was smiling, and Latvia was wrapped up in some game with the annoying blond kid, Sealand.  Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, although Norway and China’s little brothers had had some sort of run-in with mistletoe earlier.  Russia couldn’t honestly say he understood why two strangers would kiss because of a plant.

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he saw America enter the room carrying something fluffy and white.  Russia figured it was probably time to greet his host—knowing the loud American, he probably wouldn’t get another chance to do so without reminding everyone why they were so uncomfortable around him.

"America," he called with forced cheer, "Thank you for inviting me to your party."

The blond looked up; he looked somewhat surprised to be addressed.  Seeing Russia smiling at him, he quickly replied, “Ah, no, I’m Canada.”

Russia realized his mistake, seeing that the boy was indeed the American’s brother.  His hair was longer and wavy, and instead of America’s cowlick, a lone curl stood out from the rest of his hair.  The eyes that stared up at him were of a purple hue, rather than America’s clear blue.  If nothing else, the sleepy polar bear in his arms should have given him away.

"I am sorry," Russia apologized, earning a weak smile from the boy.

"Can I help you with anything?" Canada asked, looking up at Russia with big, eager eyes.  He seemed reluctant to end the conversation.  Russia could understand that; after all, the boy was often forgotten.

"I’m afraid I don’t understand some of your brother’s traditions," Russia admitted, deciding to humor the Canadian, "If Christmas is a time to be spent with family and friends, why are there so many people here?  America can’t be so close to all of them, can he?"

"He’s not," Canada began, shrugging, "To America, Christmas is more about involving everyone and making them feel wanted.  One of the few things that really upsets him is seeing someone alone during the holidays."

Russia noticed a certain light in the boy’s eyes as he talked about his brother.  America may have frustrated Canada to no end and made things difficult for him, but the northern Nation clearly still loved and respected his brother.  Russia smiled to himself, thinking of his sisters.

The two fell silent, watching the party with a new sense of comfortable companionship.  Another question of Russia’s rose to his lips as England and America found themselves under the same mistletoe that had trapped the two boys earlier.

"Canada," he began, drawing the pleasantly surprised attention of his companion," Why do people kiss under that plant?"

The younger Nation followed his gaze to the plant hanging over the heads of his brother and the still-struggling Brit.  He blinked, smiling a little to himself.

"Mistletoe, eh?" he asked, clarifying, "I’m not sure; I don’t think it was one of America’s ideas.  The idea, though, is that if two people find themselves under it, they have to kiss."

Russia glanced back down at the Canadian, thinking to himself that he might like to be caught under the plant with the shorter Nation (the last person on that list, of course, was Belarus—he’d rather kiss an enemy than get his sister’s hopes up only to continue refusing her advances).  Instead, all he said was, “Interesting.”

"What customs do you have in Russia?" Canada asked, again clinging to the conversation with that eager look on his cute, expressive face.

"We celebrate on January seventh," Russia began, before breaking off to think for a moment.  Canada waited patiently to hear more.

"Canada," Russia began again, thoughtfully, "Perhaps you would like to visit me and see a Russian Christmas for yourself, da?"

Canada looked suddenly excited and apprehensive at the same time.  Russia wondered what provoked the look—was it his reputation, or maybe America’s opinion of him?  He waited nervously for the boy’s answer.

"Can I?" Canada asked finally, his eyes searching the other’s face before he quickly added, "I mean, I wouldn’t want to disturb you if you have plans."

"Of course," Russia assured him, once again surprised by the difference in manners between the North American brothers, "I would very much appreciate your company."

Canada nodded, his shy smile prompting an answering smile from the Russian.  The idea of having company for Christmas left Russia feeling warm and…happy.