Part thirty: The Birth of Awesome Town
Word count: around 1200
Genre: general, drama
Note: New Prussia is a geographic location in Wilmot Township, Waterloo Region, Ontario, Canada. Look it up on Wiki if you wanna. Read end note for author's rambling ;)
The flight had been the longest in his life, for certain, and at the moment, Canada wasn't sure that it had been worth the effort. During the bigger part of the trip, Canada had felt the urge to bite his nails for the first time in… well, centuries, to be quite honest. (France had been very strict on his no-biting policy, and preached the importance of smooth, flawless hands to his young colony for so long that Canada had begun to tune him out, despite his honest efforts not to do so. Then he had realized, of course, that France had in fact tuned him out a long time ago, and was now just preaching for his own sake.)
Either way, Canada had had to dig his nails hard into the armrests of his chair in order to keep his hands away from his mouth. America had noticed, and of course chosen to interpret that as he wished, and teased his younger brother for being a wimp who had developed a fear of flying in old age. Canada had just glared back at the other nation, not trusting his voice not to crack if he answered, which would only make the teasing worse.
Because there was no way America – with his inability to interpret even the most obvious atmospheric changes amongst his companions – would be able to figure out the actual reason why Canada's face grew more and more pale in the co-pilot's seat of the other North American's private jet. And that might be just as good.
Then, much to Canada's surprise, as they were just about to step off the plane onto German soil, America reached up to ruffle his brother's hair.
"Don't worry, 'kay bro? I'm sure he'll be thrilled to—OH HEY, ENG—ARTHUR! HOW DID YER LEGS HOLD OUT DURING TH' FLIGHT, OLD MAN?"
As that had been about the only comfort anyone bothered to offer Canada ever since the invitation to the new German Province of Prussia had landed like a bomb in his mailbox, he was more than ready to accept it. Canada let go of a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, and followed America down the stairs at a much calmer pace.
At first Canada had thought that someone was playing a very bad joke on his expense, but as he started to get phone calls from his closest ones (all of whom demanded an explanation to all of this; it had taken him a lot of time to assure them that he was just as clueless at everyone else), he realized that while yes, Prussia probably would go out of his way to play such a horrible joke on the rest of the world, Germany would not.
No matter how composed he looked on the outside – to those who bothered to look, that was; England for example had yet to even acknowledge Canada's presence amongst them, and France was busy ducking Hungary's mighty swing after some comment directed at Austria – his heart was still beating at a pace that made him feel like it was winter Olympics 2010 all over again. Before he knew it, him and the rest of them, a company of six nations , from the airport to the presumed Province of Prussia.
He was still fighting the urge to gnaw his nails off all the way to the bone, he noticed, squeezed into the backseat, between Hungary and Austria. Ever since the invitation, composed and signed by Germany had arrived at his home, a thousand different scenarios had been played through his mind non-stop. Even as he slept, he saw himself reunited with his former protégé, each new one worse than the other, each one a little bit more confusion and surreal than the last (the most confusing one was probably the one with the time machine, and – for some mysterious reason – a dinosaur on which the albino came riding towards Canada ).
Reality was nothing like anything he had imagined. (Luckily, in the case with the dinosaur.)
After a quick, efficient and explaining tour of the little town, lead by Germany – who had the ever-smiling Italy seemingly glued to his arm – they decided to wind down at one of the local pubs.
"So what, exactly, is it that you are attempting to accomplish here?" England asked Germany over his pint, thick brows furrowed in a way that made his expression look like doomsday – at least it did to Canada.
"Well…" Germany shrugged. "He needed to be connected to a physical landmass, as we all do. What else is family for, if not to help out during times of struggle?" He cast a glance at Canada, where he was seated in one of the corners of the table, and then raised an eyebrow at England as he turned his clear, unrelenting blue eyes back to the European nation. England made a face of dislike.
"I'll have you know, that I have never during my entire history, put myself before my closest family—"
"Hey, man seriously, I mean seriously, don'tcha think ya should be real fuckin' careful about what you say next? I don't want the history of Awesome Town to start out bein' tainted by the next great uprising of the pubertal ex-colony against the fallen empire of stick-up-his-ass."
And suddenly, he was right there, standing behind Italy, looking down at the seated group, his mouth twisted into the usual, cocky, canine-showing grin. Canada's vision blurred. The others seemed to still be talking, but it didn't matter. None of it mattered.
Prussia was alive.
And he was right in front of him.
"-at the hell is wrong with Awesome Town, if I may ask the mighty herr Eyebrows?"
"Everything is wrong with it. Do you have any idea how offensive that name is? You cannot bloody call it Awesome Town!"
"Yeah, like your name doesn't offend anyone Great Britney of I-wanna-rule-everything-I-lay-my-eyes-on; not-that-you-could-tell-since-my-eyes-aren't-even-visible-under-my-eyebrows."
"It's Britain!" England practically shrieked. At his corner of the table, France was laughing so hard he was folded double at the waist. Prussia threw him a thumbs up once the blond man was calmed enough to take in the world around him again. France beamed back at his long time not-quite-friend.
"Oh, Prusse, I never did believe that I would 'ear these words from my own mouth, but I have missed you, mon cher. Angleterre," he continued, gesturing to England, who had been pulled away to a corner of the pub by America, as the taller nation was apparently trying to calm his fuming boyfriend, with surprisingly big success, "'as been absolutely impossible to 'andle ever since 'e got 'is 'ands on 'is Prince Charment, rubbing it in my face like 'es the first person on this earth to get some well sculpted American ass… 'Onestly, it's been painful to watch."
"Oh, eeew," Prussia wrinkled his nose. "I don't even wanna think of Eyebrows and sex. Once is enough to know that's not a position most would enjoy to be in, seriously what is the runt thinking, signing up for a full time experience of that."
"My sentiment precisely," France agreed.
That was about when Austria finally registered the weight on his should and realized that Canada had slumped over in his seat, unconscious.
Note the second: I was planning on posting this months ago, but found that I just couldn't. There were too many things in this chapter that I didn't feel were thought-through enough, and it also hurt me a bit to think that it would be the final chapter. I've also had to struggle a lot with how to write this chapter, as I normally stick to my more light-hearted, humorous style, but that really didn't suit the bigger part of this instalment. Thus, I finally decided to split the last chapter into two, and see if I could find a way to work around the problem that way. It's not over yet, people!