Happy Birthday, Canada

Matthew's eyes flew open to the sound of the alarm on his phone blaring his national anthem out loud and clear. Instinctively his arm flew out while his fingers fumbled to silence the sound. It was cut short in the middle of standing on guard or some other mumbo-jumbo; his brain wasn't wide awake enough to function properly in English. Silence settled in the semi-dark room as he looked around. His eyes turned back to the phone he hadn't remembered setting, scanning for the time. The Canadian released a long sigh; eight o'clock and yet it looked like six with the lack of light from the dark clouds.

What day is it? His mind fumbled around until he glanced back to his phone. Oh merde! Matthew fell back against the pillow, shutting his eyes as tight as they would go. Any day but today, he wished in his head. Couldn't it still be June or even July 2nd? But no, the words read loud and clear: July 1st, also known as Canada Day.

He used to like his birthday, he honestly did. It was the one day a year where his people seemed to glow with national pride (aside from any hockey game) and he could walk outside, feeling loved like any other country. But that was only in his home. No one else remembered or cared. His brother never made a call and hell, his boyfriend never remembered until the next day. There was the one time that Arthur had called him a decade or two ago but, he was pretty sure, it'd been done in a pre-Fourth of July drunken stupor.

Matthew laid there awhile longer, mentally bracing himself to get out of bed. Maybe he could lie there all day and just not even get up. That'd be nice. He could just hide under the covers where it was warm and safe and—

Something wet started to nudge his cheek and he opened his eyes. A pink tongue kept rasping over his cheek while black eyes gazed at him pointedly.

"Good morning, Mr. Kunashiro."

The snow white polar bear blinked at his owner, rasping his tongue over the man's cheek again.

"Do you know what today is?"

Once more than bear didn't respond and just licked his cheek. Matthew laughed softly and sat up, stroking the bear's soft fur as it nuzzled his shoulder.

"Who are you?" it finally asked. Matthew felt his humour drain and he fell back again. This just wasn't fair. 

"I'm your owner. Matthew Williams. You know? Canada." He could feel the strain in his own voice. "We've been together how many years and you still don't know my name?"

The bear blinked.

"You don't know mine either."

"Yes, I do. You're Mr. Kunashiro."

The bear shook its head, "No, I'm Kumajiro."

Matthew blinked, "Oh?"

The bear nodded and Matthew felt a flush bloom across his cheeks. Carefully he placed a kiss to the bear's head, "Well, then I'm very sorry, Mr. Kumajiro."

"It's okay, Canada."

Matthew blinked, a little dazed for a moment to think that bear actually remembered his name. A smile split across his face as he slowly got out of bed. Okay, so maybe today wouldn't be that bad. It'd just be him, his people, and Kunashi—Kumajiro which was pretty good.

He was up and dressed before long, slowly trudging out of his room with Kumajiro held in his arms. The house was oddly quiet but there was a strong aroma that lured him towards the kitchen. It was a sweet smell almost like pancakes or maybe crepes. A frown tugged at his lips; he thought he'd put the food away last night.

The Canadian pushed through the saloon-style doors into his dark kitchen. Immediately the lights flickered on and a pair of arms wrapped tight around his waist. 

"Joyeux anniversaire, mon amour," a throaty kind of voice whispered into his ear.

Matthew felt his face heat up as a warm kiss was placed to the side of his cheek. His violet eyes frenzied the room to see Alfred waving boisterously from the counter, a wide smile on his face. Red and white streamers were all over the dining room table where 

Arthur sat, sipping at a cup of what looked like tea and smiling. On the table were stacks of pancakes and what he guessed where crepes. And syrup. Lots and lots of syrup. A tentative smile lit up his face.

"Happy Birthday, Mattie!" Alfred cried, ripping his brother from the Frenchman's grasp and hugging him tightly. Matthew felt his air supply cut off as the American spun him around the kitchen.

"Ease up, you buffoon!" cried out a thickly accented voice. "If you kill him, no one's going to be able to sedate the frog."

Alfred laughed rowdily, releasing the Canadian who was sent flying into Francis. The Frenchman wrapped his arms around Matthew's waist and smiled.

"How did you—?!" 

"I have a key, you know that. I wanted to surprise you and I told Angleterre who was more than happy to help. And, of course, your brother was in as well. We thought we'd throw you a surprise since your birthdays always seem so lonely."

Matthew felt colour creep up his face as he smiled at the three of them.

"Well, thank you. This is really nice, guys."

"We're more than happy to do it," Arthur smiled warmly at Matthew. "Well, I hope you're hungry. We spent most of the morning cooking enough to feed the whole G-8 summit."

The room was silent.

"I cooked," Francis whispered into Matthew's ear, "so it's safe."

Matthew couldn't help but smile at the look Arthur threw Francis, the way Alfred hugged 

Arthur's shoulders, and the fact they were here. 

"Well, then. What're we standing here for? Let's eat!"

Alfred was the first to run for the table with Arthur right behind him, muttering something about incorrigible.

"Thank you," Matthew smiled up at Francis who placed a gentle kiss on the top of his head.

"Anything for you, mon chere. Happy Birthday."

Matthew smiled broadly, tilting down his boyfriend's cheek to give him a real kiss. "For once, it is."