Countryhumans Oneshots

1. Quebec (and Canada): Never Alone

Warning: This contains an awful lot of stereotypes, largely because I'm British and have no idea what on earth I'm talking about (oh well, oops). Sorry! If anything I write offends you, please let me know so I can fix it (I do make some provinces quite rude/mean in this - this does not reflect my views of any of the provinces in the slightest and I'm sorry if it comes across like that).

Edit: 6 months later, I finally fixed that French line ;-;

Quebec's POV:

Now, I'm not one to worry about the anglophone, but Canada has been gone for hours! It's going to snow soon, the news says, and heavily, too. If Canada doesn't get back soon, he'll be trapped in that Tim Hortons for years. Honestly, there's no helping some people! Besides, Nouveau-Brunswick keeps complaining that he's hungry and Ontario can't find him the chicken-noodle soup (top cupboard, second on the left, but l think I'll let him struggle! Oh, well.)

My point is, Canada left at 2pm and hasn't returned in at least three hours! That's not normal! Seriously, anyone decent would've at least phoned to explain what was happening!

"Oi, Frenchie, why are you grumbling at a window?"

I knew that smug voice anywhere.

"Nose pas me parler somme ca!" I snapped, "En plus, c'est pas t'est affaires!" ["Shut up, Manitoba! Don't you dare speak to me like that! Besides, it's none of your business!"]

"Jeez, ok." With an eyeroll, Manitoba disappeared into the living room, probably to whine about me to Alberta and Ontario. Again.

"Bit rude, eh?" Saskatchewan [is that how you spell it?] sighed.

"Eh, it doesn't matter. She won't care."

"...Ok."

By this point, the kitchen was empty, if not for Newfoundland and Labrador and his dogs, Bear and Brody. All three of them were asleep in Bear's (extremely large) dog bed in the corner. Giggling slightly at the trio, I thought it best to join my fellow provinces in the living room to sit by the fireplace and warm up a little, perhaps.

As I walked in, Ontario and Manitoba were stood in the centre of the rather cramped room, theatrically yelling... something.

"And then she was like 'shut up! Leave me to be weird! Je n'est suis pas [I am not] one of you! Leave!'" The pair finished by falling melodramatically to their knees, with Ontario miming crying like a baby.

That was it. Within seconds, I'd seen enough to understand. They clearly hated me. I ought to just leave.

"Err.... h-hi, Quebec, we-" British Colombia stammered awkwardly, as the other provinces turned towards me, looks of sheer horror plastered on their faces.

I didn't care what excuses they'd come up with. I walked out of that hellhole and never looked back. As I left, I felt truly alone, perhaps for the first time ever.

Staring up at the cavernous, mansion-like place I'd called home, I felt something damp rolling down my face. I never cried, never. But here I am... maybe I did care...

"Bonjour, Quebec! Sorry I'm late! I realised we were out of gravy for the poutine, so I went to every shop in town looking for some, until - Quebec? Are you ok?" To my surprise, Canada sounded nervous, worried even. "Have they been picking on you again?" Unsure quite how to respond, I nodded, unable to stop water from spilling from my eyes.

"T-they hate me, Canada... I don't know what to do... I feel so alone..."

"Oh, Quebec... they care deep down, I'm sure. You're never alone, never ever. You'll always have me, no matter what." Before I could quite process what was happening, he pulled me into a long, warm hug, wrapping his coat around my shoulders as he did.

"T-tu [Y-you] really mean it?" I sniffed.

"Of course I do."

"M-merci [thank you], Canada."