Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia nor any of its characters.

"Achoo!" Canada sneezed, hunching over with his mouth in his arm to prevent the spread of his germs. A common courtesy and subconscious habit, though he assumed the nation in the driver's seat would have given him hell if such etiquette were ignored. Just as he parts his face from his limb however, Canada leaned back in to block another sneeze.

The blond in the driver's seat lifted his gaze from the road, raising an eyebrow at the northern country sitting beside him, mild confusion sweeping past his emerald eyes. "Bless you." He said, removing a hand from the wheel to pluck a tissue from the box in the center console and handing it over.

Canada took the offering and blew his nose. "Thanks, England…" The Briton gave a fraction of a smile, though it went mostly unnoticed, disappearing as fast as it came while keeping his eyes trained on the slick road ahead. The drive was passed in comfortable silence, save for the drumming of the rain that wept on the vehicle and the moaning of England's car, signifying its life. The UN meeting that was held in London had just been dispersed mere minutes ago, and both nations were drowsy and in need of a pick-me-up; though both knew drinking was completely out of the question.* Instead England suggested a local restaurant he was personally fond of downtown. It was only natural; he was the one to offer his former colony some time spent together and a ride back to his hotel, and they just so happened to be in the place England knew best; his own heart. The Brit could very well drive to his destination blindfolded if there was a call for it.

As soon as the meeting was dismissed and the nations began filing out of the building, Canada found himself leaning back against his seat, removing the glasses perched on the bridge of his nose to ease the sting in his eyes and rub at his temples. As he let his head roll back to let out a sigh and stretch his neck, the Canadian's eyes darted over to the figure who had approached him; England was hovering over him shaking a bottle of Tylenol in Canada's vision. The latter looked up into the vicarious eyes of his forefather and gave a tired smile.

"Please, if you don't mind."

The England slid the bottle over to Canada, taking a seat beside him while the northern country sat up and helped himself to the medication, popping a few of the pills into his mouth and washing it down with a bottle of water. Canada returned it with a thank you, and England hid the container of capsules into his jacket pocket. He'd need some himself soon.

"Seems like everyone was giving you a hard time today." England said. Canada chuckled and looked down at the table before him with a bashful expression.

"I'll never get used to these sudden bouts of spotlight shined on me…. Besides, I recall most of the conversations being directed towards you this time around, eh?"

England nodded. It was true. "I can't say I'm too fond of these investigations. De Schutter seems to have relatively good reasons to be conducting them, but this just all seems like another round of finding out what's wrong with the world.*" Canada wrinkled his nose, deciding to pack up his notes from the week's meetings.

"That name gives me a bad taste in my mouth right now…" Canada furrowed his brow, deep in thought. Both parties were at fault. It was bad enough his government decided to take it as an insult, but De Schutter was just as ridiculous. Calculating hunger statistics is one thing; criticizing my political ideologies is another.

The Canadian stopped and shook his head, stuffed the folders into his messenger back before standing up and slinging the bag over his shoulder. His expression was still one of exhaustion, but actually made direct eye contact with England this time and smiled feebly. "Sorry, I shouldn't be complaini-"

"Oh no, there's no need to apologize, lad. The UN's been harsh on you lately, anyone can see that." England defended. He stood up himself, pushing in his chair before turning around to face Canada once more and walking out of the conference room with him. A few nations were still lingering in the halls, but for the most part the two were alone.

Canada watched the world pass by the windows of the hall they walked down frowning. "Seems like it sometimes. They don't have anything left to beat down my brother with; I guess they're going with the next best thing…"

England furrowed his brow. So much for light conversation. He was so sure the Canadian would be the one person he could have polite chatter with, but it seems even he's been brought down by everything. Since when had his former colony been one to surrender to bitterness?

"Uhm, not to be rude or anything, but did you need something from me?"

England looked back at Canada, eyebrows raised in surprise, a little startled by the question. This was easily seen by the other who shrunk back on himself and increased the distance between them. But the Briton could see the apology coming and immediately spoke up before his companion could utter a word. "Actually, I was wondering if you'd accompany me for an outing tonight," He tried a faint smile, but England was pretty sure it came out looking pained after his suggestion. That was by far the most fatuous thing he's said all week. "You know, take our minds off things and catch up with each other?" That was no better.

Canada thought about it for a moment, before replying. "Yeah, that sounds nice. Anything in particular?"

England shrugged nonchalantly. "Not really," Of course he did. "How about a drink?"

He was given an incredulous look from the Canadian, and laughed. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding! There's a lovely restaurant downtown I think you might like."

Canada still looked at him for a moment, cautiously after what was first suggested, but agreed to the suggestion with a smile. "Alright."

The northern nation sneezed a few more times into his tissue, startling the Brit beside him. "Goodness Canada, are you alright?"

Said nation blew his nose once more. "Yeah, I'm fine. Ugh," Canada stuffed the tissue into his pocket and pulled another one from the box to blow his nose. "Just having some economic issues back at home…"

"Isn't everyone?"

Canada laughed. "True." The recession hit everyone pretty hard, but Canada knew that. It wasn't what he was referring to.**

The restaurant they parked at was a little ways away from the bustling city center, alive with gleaming lights that lit up the sky, and sparkled reflections of the various puddles on the roads, and towers of shining glass a few blocks down. England brought out his umbrella to protect them from the drizzle. It was bad enough the meetings were exhausting; the Briton was not keen on being tired and wet.

"For two, please."

The restaurant wasn't a huge, lavish place. It was quaint and of descent size, and had most likely seen recent renovations from the way the modern interior looked inside the old Renaissance building. The two nations sat at a table by a window overlooking the street. The rain had begun to pour harder just as they walked into the door, and was now endlessly beating against the glass. Cars that drove past sprayed water onto the sidewalk. "Good thing you brought an umbrella, eh?"

They order their hot beverages and sat basked in each other's company while they waited. It was a rare occasion for England to be able to have descent conversation with someone, more specifically a nation, let alone resist the urge to wring their throat out and scream whatever colorful profanities came to his mind. Sure there were other nations who behaved themselves, but all nations had their stubborn pride to uphold, which often got in the way of anyone having friendly relations with each other. It often seemed Canada, being the humble, polite nation he was, was the only God forsaken country on the planet who wasn't so narcissistic. Or he was at least brilliant at hiding it.

"… and?" What? "England?" The Briton lifted his eyes from the window to the man in front of him. Canada was looking at him, his violet eyes glistening with the expectation of an answer.

"Sorry lad, I was just thinking," He apologized, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. "What were you saying?"

Canada just let out a breathy laugh at him. "An awkward conversation starter." England laughed. "I was just asking how things have been with you."

"Oh. Well, I've been holding up alright, I guess…" In relative terms.

Most of their time in the restaurant was spent discussing recent economics. England would tell him the details of the EU status, while Canada mostly talked about what was going on with his southern neighbor. England found the constant references to America slightly irritating, but endured it. It was good to know how the superpower was doing, but he would much rather hear about the arctic nation before him. Canada almost never made it to the international headlines on the news. It was interesting to know what was happening in such an overshadowed country, but Canada was always an observer; an attribute that gave him the tendency to go on about his knowledge of others instead of himself.

Discussion died down near the end of their meal, stomach's full and drowsiness drifting back over them. England dropped his head forward and rested his eyes for a little while they waited for the bill, crossing his arms across his chest for more self-security. It had been a long day, and while he wished he were more awake to tend to his former colony, England couldn't ignore how sore and exhausted he felt. From the way he heard Canada yawning, the Briton assumed he wasn't the only one.

"How much did you lose…?" There was a very quiet voice of a woman a little way's away, something to it that made it stand out amongst the buzzing chatter of the restaurant. England felt the sound prick at his ears, but decided on ignoring it in preference to resting.

"All of it…?" England opened an eye. The voice was even quieter then. Barely a whisper, a breeze that brushed past his ear, yet so loud and clear and utterly distressing, echoing off the walls of his mind. As his eyes fluttered open he caught Canada in observation of something a ways away from them, a concerned focus on whatever it was in that spot. England looked at him in confusion before following the path of the Canadian's eyes to the booth across from them. His brow furrowed.

There was a man and a woman sitting there. A couple, perhaps. They both seemed disheveled, the man more so while he fumbled with a bottle of alcohol in his hand. His head hung low and hid his eyes in his cascading hair, refusing to make contact to the girl sitting across the table. She seemed to be in a state of shock as she stared at her lover with drooping eyes, like tear drops, trying
to search for what he refused to give her.

"How are we going to pay for rent…?" The woman asked, but the man just shook his low-lying head, letting out a hiccough he spent the whole time trying to keep in and prevent a scene. It was clear the two had failed at that, as the story of the destruction of their lives at the hands of debauchery and sin unraveled before the eyes of the two nations.

England opened another eye, his tightly locked arms loosening as one came down to rest on his lap, but the scene did not grab his attention for long. It was sad, but rather typical. His people could handle themselves, and his tea was going to get cold by the time he finished it. England took the cup in one hand, still sitting slightly slouched in the booth as he finished off the drink and settled for glaring irritably at the rain that refused to let up beyond the window.

"England."

"Yes?"

"Who are they?"

The nation looked back towards his companion, raising an eyebrow. But the look of concern Canada was giving him immediately notified England who he was referring to. England took another glance back at the couple across the way in the other booth. The woman had moved over beside the man in the short time England took his eyes off of them, and the man had all but broken down into rather noisy sobs. It took England a moment to realize what a ridiculous question Canada asked until he saw the other nation producing a cheque book from his pocket.

He's got to be joking.

England shook his head at the idea. "Canada, these things happen every day. They'll be fine."

"But it's not every day one gets an opportunity to prevent it." Canada held England's gaze with his own, the concern and determination radiating from pools of violet rushing into another sea of green. There was a moment of silence between them while the rest of the world continued on its loud and droning course.

England sighed, rubbing his temples with his thumb and index finger. "Alright, just give me a minute…" His eyes closed and scrunched together in concentration as he delved deep into the depths of his nation, into his people, traversing the endless souls he represented to pick out the sad couple in the booth among the hundreds of millions of people who were the essence of his mind. Canada tapped the end of his pen on the pad of cheques in front of him, leaving the cap on the writing utensil so as not to ruin the slip of paper. After a few moments, England let up his head, his tense figure relaxed as he let out a small breath of air and leaned back against the seat again, eyes wearily upon his companion.

"James Miller and Sarah Thomson." Unmarried, most likely. Canada paused in thought for a minute with his left hand at the ready before filling out a check. England simply rolled his eyes and finished his tea as Canada tore off the sheet, checking it over to make sure he made no mistakes, and leaned back against his side of the booth in satisfaction.

After the bill was paid (which Canada offered to pay, but England held his ground. There was no way in hell he was letting a guest pay, he had his pride. Besides, the lad had spent enough money that evening, the philanthropist he often was), The two nations slipped on their coats and headed for the door. Canada looked behind them with a content flicker of a smile as he watched a waiter hand the couple their bill before trading the warmth of the restaurant for the drizzling cold of the parking lot. Night had settled and left the sky pitch black, thick rain clouds blocking the moonlight and smearing the city light into blurs and blotches with their heavy tears.

"I hate the rain," England grumbled underneath his umbrella. Canada laughed. "Come here, you're getting drenched!"

"I like the rain. It's a nice break from snow."

"You'll catch a cold," He retorted. "No, you'll be even more ill as you are now."

"I think I can handle getting a little wet."

"You might. I will not stand you getting my car wet, however." Canada didn't oblige, but England didn't think he would anyways. The boy had been smiling to himself since they left the building, lost in his momentary world of glee. England shook his head again, his mouth quirking slightly upward. "You didn't need to do that."

"All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing." England gave Canada a look. Canada looked at England, still smiling. "Edmund Burke."

"I know. I was there when he said it." England replied, digging into his pocket for his keys to unlock his vehicle. Canada chuckled.

"I wonder-"

"WAIT!" A soft voice called out from the other end of the parking lot. Startled, both pairs of eyes turned back to a woman running towards them, heels clacking against the concrete and splashing through small puddles that gathered here and there in the uneven slopes. Her black coat was unbuttoned, but she made a feeble attempt at doing them up in her approach to keep herself dry from the rain. It was the woman they had seen in the restaurant; Sarah. As she closed in, England spotted James coming up behind her, but took his time crossing the lot.

The next thing Canada knew he was almost full-on tackled by the girl, her arms wrapping tightly around the nation's neck, face burying into the nook of his shoulder. She was a small figure, having to still stand on the balls of her feet despite the added height of her heels to reach up to the Canadian, who England swore almost yelped when she hugged him. However Canada laughed it off; not in amusement, but in understanding, because all he could hear at that moment was the sobbing of Sarah, and all he could feel were the quivering grin in his shoulder and the tears of joy seeping into his jacket.

"Thank you-! Oh God, thank you so much..!" She praised in between hiccoughs. Canada slowly enclosed her with his arms and soothingly rubbed her back, smiling softly in the rain, admitting modest comments. Her boyfriend, James, had reached them, and when Sarah was finally able to let go of the man who saved their quality of life, he too couldn't help but give a quick embrace to Canada, who was then trying to calm the both of them down.

England stood there dumbfounded. Yes, he had seen countless people in such circumstances throughout his never-ending lifetime, though most were in even more dire situations. Yes, he had seen people help those going through such troubles get back on their feet. Yes, he had seen other nations help their own people in times of hardships. Yes, he had seen such nations help the people of another. England himself had partaken in such endeavors numerous times. It was a rare occurrence, but England had seen nations help strangers on a personal level such as what Canada had just done. However, there was something as he watched the encounter in front of him unfold that was different. He supposed it may have been the rain making the moment far more dramatic than it truly was. Or the fact that it was so unexpected, yet he wasn't surprised when Canada had written the couple a slip of paper that would correct the mistakes they had made. There was something, something that he felt so strongly, that he couldn't even begin to comprehend. It was not any sort of emotion that could be described through words, but it was there and he found it odd, yet perfectly fitting. Enlightening, perhaps.

The man had let go of Canada. His hair was cleared from his face and gave England a chance to see bright, tear-stricken eyes red and puffy, and stained cheeks to which some of his hair clung to. He sniffled and let out a sharp breath of air coupled with a sad laugh.

"Thank you so much…! I-I don't," Words caught in his tightened throat, but he laughed it off. "I don't know how to repay you for this. Th-this is-"

"Don't worry about it," Canada reassured the man. "Just promise yourself you'll use it with honesty and caution." The nation received a feverish nodding of the head as a response. Sarah came up beside James, intertwining his hand in her own and pulling him closer to herself.

"Thank you again, we won't forget this." She said, before turning away and heading to her own vehicle on the other side of the lot with James. Canada stood there and watched them leave. England stood there and watched Canada standing in the dark blur of the night and rain.

"Canada, for crying out loud, you're soaking wet!"

Canada looked down at himself and brushed a hand through his damp hair. "Ha-ha, oops." England sighed, opening his trunk and pulling out a blanket.

"Come on, you can try to dry off on the way to your hotel." He opened the driver door and slipped in, tossing the blanket onto the seat beside him. "Sit on this, I'd rather you not soak up my car if I can help it."

Canada bent down to straighten out the blanket over the seat before climbing in, a bashful look on his face. "Sorry." The Briton started the ignition and brought the car to life, driving through the empty lot in front of them and back onto the busy streets of London.

"It's fine." He said. The rain was starting to ease up, but England still had to put his wipers on full strength. I wasn't all that effective; the moment they'd swipe by, the rain would dot the windshield and make it near impossible to see properly out of. I didn't matter to him whether he could see, he knew these streets all too well. "I don't think I'll ever understand you, Canada. You've always been one of the many puzzles in the world."

Canada smiled and looked out the window. "One among many, perhaps. I'm not as confusing as you think."

England was quiet for a moment, then spoke. "… Thank you for helping my people." Canada took his eyes off his window, eyebrows raised slightly, and looked at England. The Briton stopped at a red light and felt his company's gaze, seeping underneath his skin. He kept his sights on the light in front of him.

"You're welcome."

Author's Notes:

Hello readers for the first time!

Not only for others, but for myself I would like to take note that this the first time I have written a complete story (despite it being a simple one-shot). So... Yay~! Accomplishment! *fist pump of awesomeness*

This story was actually based off of one my grade 8 math teacher told me when I lived in Ottawa. Apparently this happened during a trip to Los Vegas, and my teacher went up to this couple who had lost all their money to gambling, pulled out all the American cash he had out of his wallet, and just gave it to them. He is an amazing, generous old man.

Also, the name Matthew means "gift of/from God," so I thought it'd make for a nice title. :3

Aside from that, there are a few things in here that I should clear up:

* : About a year ago, Olivier De Schutter, the UN "Special Rapporteur on the Right to Food," decided to conduct missions in the developed countries of the UN to observe their hunger and poverty rates... Let's just say, he was not welcome. :P Canada was poorly graded, though it was the extreme hostility and tension between De Schutter and our nation's government that really made the mission rather disastrous for Canada's reputation. You can read more about it in online news, but there were some suggestions of how De Schutter was bashing our federal system of government (blahblahblah provincial funding blah), the mission being a waste of time and money, the UN turning to Canada for someone to bash now that the US is out of the take-the-blame picture, etc. Yeah, Canada hasn't been on the greatest terms with the UN lately. Also, after a visit to the UK, De Schutter is now advocating for a formal investigation into its concerning poverty and hunger rates. Good luck, England...

** : Canada exports most of its oil from the oil sands to the United States. However, since our southern neighbor has discovered many new oil deposits in its southern states such as Texas, the US is becoming less dependent on our oil and reducing the import. This has resulted in what will be a $6 billion (might be more) loss of revenue in oil exports in Alberta in 2013 alone. Government funding is being reduced in the province, many cuts in health and education are being made, and there was even the possibility of Alberta introducing a provincial sales tax. : / Looks like we're heading to China now.

Anyways, feedback is welcomed and appreciated! ^^