It was 1931 and Canada was nothing if not worn through. His finest suit was rather old and wasn't entirely a good fit -- he'd gained another few centimetres and it showed -- and when he spoke he was still rather hoarse. Nonetheless, he and his half-siblings were all in London to meet receive a copy of the Statute of Westminster.

As always, it was exceedingly chaotic whenever the Dominions got together, simply because they were so different. Ireland was clearly not in a good mood, although England assured them that he was doing much better than normal, Newfoundland had huffed that she didn't particularly want the statute at all, Australia and New Zealand bickered constantly, South Africa seemed isolated from the others, and Canada was constantly coughing into his handkerchief as he fought off his cold. England, it seemed, regretted inviting all six of them to stay in his house, particularly as they loosened up around each other.

The actual ceremony that gave the former colonies almost complete equality with their suzerain state was solemn but not particularly big, and when Australia spouted, "It's about time!" when he received his copy, he only received a cuff on his head for the disruption. Afterwards came the interesting parts. New Zealand fretted over the patchwork state of his constitution and the time it would take for his government to ratify the document. Newfoundland seemed downright frustrated with the document in her hands and swore on her life that she wouldn't ratify it (England had blanched when he heard her stubborn declaration). Canada refused to let it go except when absolutely necessary.

When he finally managed to get to the guestroom he was sharing with South Africa, he breathed a sigh of relief and reluctantly set the tube holding his copy of the statute on his bed. He undid his tie and removed his suit jacket, relaxing as the too-tight material slipped off. He rolled his shoulders once before retrieving his handkerchief and coughing into it loudly.

In the middle of his fit England came through the open door, a little bit on concern on his face. "Are you alright?" he asked gently. Then, of course, he seemed to realise how little tact he had in that question and attempted to rephrase it. "Should I get you some--"

"I'm fine," Canada croaked. "My throat's just dry." When England tried to say something again he continued, "Nessa said she'd bring me some tea."

"Ah, very good," he said awkwardly, standing just inside the room. His expression seemed slightly lost, as if he didn't know what to do with the Dominion. He was about to turn and leave when Newfoundland bustled in, saying, "Sorry 'm late, that contrary island b'y wouldn' know what I was sayin' if I said it to 'im in the King's English," in her rapid, distinct accent. She thrust a cup of tea at Canada and marched out of the room, fuming.

"All the tact of a fisherman's wife," England muttered. This time he did approach Canada, and sat on the other edge of his bed as the young man sipped his steaming tea.

"Nessa's been foul-tempered lately," Canada replied with a little smile. "Always angry about something."

"I noticed," England couldn't help but say, his dry tone indicating his sheer annoyance with her. Silence settled over them again quickly enough, and looking for something, anything, to distract him, England's eyes happened upon a book sitting on Canada's bedside table. He raised his eyebrows in surprise and picked it up. No doubt about it, this was one of his books.

"Canada," he said softly, "why do you have this?"

"Wha-- oh! This is, uh… One of my boys left a black bear here during the war, one named--"

"Winnipeg," England supplied. "Better known as Winnie. And one of mine wrote some books about Winnie for his son."

"Christopher Robin," Canada finished with a little smile. His cheeks were turning pink. He hadn't expected England to come into the guest room, and he certainly hadn't expected to be caught with a copy of a Winnie-the-Pooh book.

"Do you mind if I read some?" England asked softly, flipping through the book. Canada said yes right away, only to find himself admonished. "Look at the state of this book. I had hoped it would be in a better state than this. Really, Matthew, is it so much trouble to take care of your books?"

"Actually," Canada replied, "I was seeing Hungary and Poland and they found it in my suitcase. They read it so many times that it started to get dog-eared." He chuckled, only for it to become a cough. When he ceased, he leaned against the headboard of the bed and settled in as England began reading.

"Chapter One," he said, "In Which We Are Introduced to Winnie-the-Pooh and Some Bees, and the Stories Begin…" As he read further from the book, the other newly-made Dominions started coming into the guest room, perhaps because it had been so long since England had read to any of them, let alone from a children's book. Australia and New Zealand sat together at England's feet, laying their heads on the mattress. South Africa had found a comfortable place at the foot of the bed and was relaxing there, while Newfoundland curled between England's back and Canada's side, playing with the ends of her dark hair.

A fair amount of time must have passed, but all together as they were, they hardly noticed. No one bothered to speak up when it had to be dinner time, and only once did any of them move, when South Africa stood and turned on the lights so that England could read better in their darkening room. About the time England read the words, "So they went on, feeling just a little anxious now, in case the three animals in front of them now were of Hostile Intent," Canada realised with a start that he didn't really consider England his father anymore. He hadn't referred to him by that title since the beginning of the World War.

If England wasn't his father, though, now Canada had the question of what England was to him. He really wasn't an authority figure to him any longer, the Statute of Westminster saw to that.

"So Winnie-the-Pooh went off to find Eeyore's tail."

Of course, Canada didn't dare consider himself completely independent from England, either. He followed British law and belonged to the newly-formed Commonwealth, and England was still one of the nations closest to him besides his brother and some of his newfound friends across the Atlantic. It was reassuring to know he still had a certain amount of closeness to the former Empire; something that didn't quite pass for a familial bond but was still warm and comforting.

"Owl lived at The Chestnuts, an old-world residence of great charm, which was grander than anybody else's, or it seemed so to Bear, because it had both a knocker and a pull-bell."

And it was sitting there, England's voice and A. A. Milne's words in his mind and Newfoundland warm against his side that he came to his conclusion. The thought came to him like a bubble, perfectly formed as soon as it came into being. I'm in love with England, he thought to himself. And he smiled softly to no one in particular and wriggled into a more comfortable position, his head on his sister's shoulder, as he listened to England continue.

"…for Owl, wise though he was in many ways, able to read and write and spell his own name WOL, yet somehow went all to pieces over delicate words like MEASLES and BUTTERED TOAST…"

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A/N: Written for the kink meme prompt "when Canada realised he was in love with England".

Skippable historical/cultural notes:

-The title is taken from the name of one of A. A. Milne's Winnie-the-Pooh books.
-Canada was still really dealing with the Great Depression and the Dust Bowl when he was made equal to Britain. What a rough time to go mostly alone into the world, huh?
-Ireland, er, doesn't appear much besides at the opening because of the fact the other Dominions were more like kids than siblings to England. I imagine he left ASAP after the ceremony.
-Yes, New Zealand had a constitution even more patchwork than Canada's. As difficult as that is, it is indeed possible. It made it very hard to ratify the Statute and took a while. Took a while for Australia, too.
-Nope, Newfoundland never did ratify the Statute, and England was starting to want to get rid of her. For real. Speaking of Newfoundland, I hope I got the accent right.
-Poland and Hungary both really dig Winnie-the-Pooh. For serious. Both have streets named for the famous bear.
-Quotes taken from the Google book version of Winnie-the-Pooh, spelling, capitals, and italics preserved to the best of my abilities.
-Thank you for reading!