Hello! This is a fluffy kind of story about Sealand, Canada, and Prussia, with a hint of PruCan. I hope you enjoy it. About Prussia's nickname for Canada, I've seen it used in a lot of different fanfics, and I don't know if there's any one person who can claim it as theirs. If there is, and that person doesn't like me using it, I'll edit it out. Comments and criticisms are welcome.

Sealand sat on the brick wall outside the conference building, scowling.

'Sorry, brat,' said England, his condescending smirk saying differently, 'but only real nations are allowed in here. Go buy yourself some ice cream and wait out in the foyer like a good principality, okay? The meeting shouldn't be too long (unless America brings up one of his idiot ideas again, that git, he certainly didn't get that from me, probably spent to much time with Spain as a child, yeah, that's it...) Lost in his own world, England shoved a few pounds into Sealand's hands and wandered off toward the meeting room.

Stupid jerk England, giving him jerk England money when the conference was taking place in America. He did it on purpose, Sealand knew it. He hunched his shoulders and glared at a ladybug crawling up his shorts.

Prussia stalked out of conference building, scowling.

'Sorry, East,' said Germany, half-distracted, as Italy was hanging off his arm (chattering about how America's food was shit, and he was really tired, and do you think we could maybe go on a picnic later? I brought pasta with me, real pasta, not that horrible stuff America tried serving last time, remember? Romano threw it on the floor and called it shit and then drank a whole bottle of wine and called that shit and said he was going to put a hit out on America! Germany? Please?).

Germany continued, 'They only provided one seat for the German representative, and you know I have to be here. Besides, these meetings aren't really your thing, right? Why don't you go out and do something while the meeting is going on. Just- just don't cause any sort of property damage or get drunk or anything, all right?'

Germany and his perpetual hanger-on entered the meeting room, leaving Prussia outside. Someone jabbed him in the back and he turned around, coming face-to-face with the older, less adorable Italy.

'Move it, second potato!' growled Romano. 'Other (more important) people still need to get in.' Romano brushed past him into the room and took a seat next to his brother.

So Southern Italy was good enough for these stupid meetings, but the awesome Prussia wasn't. Whatever. Like he'd want to spend time with any of those decidedly un-awesome assholes anyway.

A litany of 'jerkEnglandjerkEnglandjerkEngland' made its way to Prussia's ears. A young boy sat on the wall surrounding the conference building, kicking his legs back and forth.

I found something interesting, thought Prussia, and he made his way over to where the kid was sitting.

Canada tripped on the steps leading out of the conference building and scowled.

'Sorry, bro!' America smiled at him and stuffed another hamburger into his (big, stupid) mouth. 'Mmph hnph mmnn -gulp- and so I had to give your seat to that South Italy guy! Yeah, because I didn't want him to sic his mafia on me -not that I'm scared of his mafia or anything because heros aren't scared of anything and you know I am the hero- . I mean, it's not like I forgot you existed and didn't put your name down on the list when they were making the seating arrangements -because a hero totally wouldn't do that and you know I am the hero- so you'll have to wait outside and do whatever it is you Canadians do. Oh, wait, you can't smoke pot here. I mean, I know you really love the stuff but if you do I'll have to put you in jail -because pot is illegal and heros can't stand for the law to be broken and you know I am the hero-.'

Canada stared at his brother, wondering just how he could talk without actually breathing. It was hard to tell, what with all the 'I'm the hero' interruptions, but Canada was pretty sure he had been insulted.

Canada left the conference building, staring at his shoes and shuffling down the sidewalk.

"So then, I was like, 'West, you fucking moron, you should never turn your back to a Sicilian!"

Sealand stared up at his new friend in awe. He had never heard as many swears before in his life (not counting those times jerk England got drunk, or that one time Papa Sweden and Mama Finland thought he was at Latvia's and went up to their room and Mama Finland started moaning and cursing and yelling 'Sweden, Sweden' over and over, but he tried (really hard) not to think about that).

"Hey, jer- er, Prussia! Let the great Sealand hold that chick!" Sealand held out his hands expectantly.

"Huh? The hell are you- oh, was it on my head again?" Prussia reached up into his hair and pulled out the tiny little bird. Handing it to Sealand, he warned, "Be careful with it okay? He's just a little thing."

"Stupid, I know. Stop treating the powerful Sealand like a baby!"

"Calm down, kid, jeez." Prussia paused, and studied Sealand's face. "Y'know, you look just like that guy England when you're mad."

"Wha- WHAT!? THE GREAT SEALAND WILL NOT STAND FOR THAT KIND OF-"

"Ah, hello, Prussia, Sealand."

The two non-nations turned. Standing there with a small smile on his face, was-

"Oh, it's America. Haven't seen you since the Wall came down. How've ya been?"

"Ah, actually, I-"

"Yo, 'Merica! You recognize Sealand as a country yet? Also, can I come over and play video games with Tony again? I've found we share similar views pertaining to certain Englands, and the jerkiness thereof."

Canada sighed. How was it that he, an actual country, was less known than these guys? Seriously.

"I'm Ca-Na-Da. America's brother. The one who is nothing like him." Canada wasn't bitter. Not at all.

"Hn? Oh, ohhh. Canada. Right. You're the guy with the awesome syrup. Thanks for that, by the way."

Canada was actually a bit surprised. So he was remembered. Not very well, but at least he had made some sort of impression.

"What are you doing out here, Birdie?"

It took Canada a second to realize the question was directed at him, and he flushed at the nickname. Birdie? That's kind of...

"Ah, well, America forgot about me (again) and gave my seat to South Italy..."

"Ha! I knew that little pissant wasn't supposed to be there. Tomato-faced asshole, thinks he's so great..."

As Prussia continued his rant, Canada turned to talk to his sort-of little brother.

"How've you been, Sea? England tells me you've been living with Sweden and Finland. Have you been having fun?"

Sealand stared up at him and, ignoring his questions, asked,

"So, you... you're a nation, right?"

"That's right."

"Then, will you recognize Sealand?"

"Ah, well, I-"

"Hey, why didn't you ask me to recognize you?"

"'Cuz you're, like, a zombie, duh. Zombies can't recognize Sealands. They eat brains." Sealand glanced down at the chick in his lap. "And raise chicks, I guess. That doesn't seem like a very 'zombie' thing to do, but-"

"I'm not a zombie, you little-"

"HEY!"

Prussia and Sealand started in surprise and turned to look at Canada, who quavered a little at having their sudden undivided attention.

"So, ah, Sealand, I'll recognize you-"

"REALLY!?"

"Seriously?"

"-IF you can tell me my name."

Sealand stared, wide-eyed, at Canada, and bit his lip in thought.

"Aw, come on, kid! He just said it like, five minutes ago!"

Sealand's brow furrowed in concentration. ...starts with a C... China? No, He's in Asia. This guy's in North America... AHA!

"You... are Cuba!"

Canada sighed and Prussia laughed like a madman.

"So? Was Sealand right? Will you recognize me now?" Sealand looked hopeful.

"Sorry, Sealand, but I'm Canada. Ca-Na-Da, not Cuba. You were close, though. At least you didn't call me America."

Sealand's bottom lip started to tremble and he started blinking rapidly.

"Shit! You made him cry, Birdie!"

"Ah- oh, no! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! H-how about we go get some ice cream? Would you like that?"

Sealand brightened up considerably.

"Can we go to McDonald's?"

"Sure, if that's what you want."

England was going to be unhappy about him ruining Sealand's appetite, but- wait, England? Poor Sealand, having to eat that guy's food. Oh, but, wasn't he staying with Sweden and Finland? Wait, Finland?

"Hey, Sealand, how about we get lunch, too, before the ice cream."

The kid deserved some decent (edible) food.

"I want a Happy Meal! Oh, and, thanks, Columbia!"

"You're welcome, but my name is-"

"Hey Birdie! I'll have one of those whatsit burgers, the kind your bro is always stuffing his face with. Also, do they serve beer there? That would be awesome."

Canada sighed.

"McDonald's doesn't serve beer. Look, I'm not going to keep you from tagging along, but I'm not paying for anything you eat, Prussia."

"Wha- oh, come on, Birdie!"

"Haha, you loser!"

"Sealand, be nice."

After finishing their hamburgers (Canada had wanted chicken nuggets, but had remembered the fourth member of their party and thought better of it), the trio had walked to a nearby park, where Sealand and Prussia entertained themselves on the playground after finishing their ice cream. Canada sat on one of the benches and watched as Prussia ran around and around, pushing the merry-go-round, with Sealand hanging onto one of the bars. Prussia got the ride up to a dizzying speed, then jumped on with a whoop. The two whirled around, nothing more than a blur to Canada's eyes, and the arctic nation sincerely hoped the Happy Meal he had bought for Sealand wouldn't be making another appearance.

The ride eventually slowed, and the two wobbled off into the grass, stumbling around like drunks. Canada had to hold in a snicker as Prussia face-planted. Sealand swayed a bit, but managed to stay upright.

"Whoa- how are you doing that?"

Sealand beamed down at Prussia.

"This is nothing to the great Sealand, who was born in the middle of the frothing waves, on a stormy ocean and-"

"Actually, Sealand, you were born in a shipyard, in England-"

"SHUT UP, CHILE!"

"What? But it's true! You-"

"Kesesese, you guys are hilarious!"

The sun was low in the sky by the time they arrived back at the conference building. The World Conference was supposed to have ended three hours ago, but knowing the nations involved, it was probably only letting out now. Sealand skipped ahead of Canada and Prussia, humming his anthem.

Prussia turned to Canada and, rather hesitantly, started talking.

"Y'know, Birdie, I was pretty pissed off when they didn't let the awesome me in with everyone else."

"Huh? Oh, I'm sorry. And you came all the way to America's place, too..."

"Yeah, but... I'm kinda glad..."

Prussia trailed off and stared up at the sky. Canada's eyes widened as Prussia's gaze slowly slid to his face, which was blushing as red as the setting sun behind them.

"Prussia, I-"

"SEALAND!"

England's voice cut Canada off, and he and Prussia looked to Sealand with alarm. England was kneeling in front of the boy, red-faced and tense.

"Just where the hell were you, young man? Do you have any idea how worried I was!? You could have been kidnapped, or-"

"Oh hey, England, no worries, he was with the awesome me!"

England's face went from brilliant crimson to deathly pale in the space of about a second.

"Tha- THAT'S EVEN WORSE, YOU BLOODY-"

"Don't worry, England, I was with them the whole time."

Canada cut off England before he could say anything too rude (even though he had to admit, Prussia was one of the last people he would think to trust with a child).

England looked up at him and frowned.

"Don't lie to me, America. You were at the meeting the whole time. You threw the scones I made at Russia. Don't try and claim you weren't there- you're still in a lot of trouble and don't think that just because Russia has a concussion, he won't-"

Before Canada had a chance to correct England, Sealand piped up.

"Jerk England, that's not America! It's Canada!"

Canada was strangely gratified, at least until Sealand continued,

"Hey! I did it! I remembered your name! So? You recognize me now, right? Right, Canada?"

As England shot him a look he hadn't worn since his days as a privateer, the one that used to give Spain nightmares, Canada grabbed Prussia, who was laughing his ass off, and ran for the hills.