Mini Hockey Stick

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Something long and wooden brushed your fingers, and you grasped it, pulling it out.

"A-A mini hockey stick?" asked England. "Canada, was this you?"

The usually invisible country shook his head furiously, eyeing it with fear etched in his face.

"It was me."

Heads snapped as the rest of the meeting realised the group in the corner. One stepped forwards, black shades pushed on top of the messy blonde hair, violet eyes flashing dangerously as the tall Canadian walked over, red Mountie jacket hung loosely on a bare chest and over black, torn up jeans, heavy boots making a resounding clunk as they took a step.

"W-W-When did you lot get in here?" America exclaimed.

"Obviously before the hat went round, dumbass." Sneered a brunette man from the group, his crimson eyes watching Matt as he took you from England, who tried to hold on.

"Get the hell off her, you bloody wanker..."

"Now now, Artie, do I need to get the swear jar out?" chipped in strawberry-blonde, bright blue eyes watching with curiosity and amusement as he adjusted his bright blue bow.

Matt had finally wrestled you in his arms, and was now holding you to his chest, looking down at you with curiosity, a gaze that you returned.

"Are you my new daddy?" you asked, your childlike bluntness emerging once again.

He blushed about as red as his jacket, but gave a nod anyway. "Yeah, I am."

"Oh, ok. Can I call you Daddy?"

"Sure, kid. Hey, what even is your name?"

"Girl"

"Haha kid, seriously, what is it?"

"Girl."

"Really?!"

"Uh-huh."

"Not anymore, it ain't. How about, [name], eh?"

You thought for a moment. "Yeah, I like it."

"That's good. C'mon you lot, we're out." Matt shot to the rest of the 2p's.

"You can't take the awesome frau!" cried out Gilbert.

Matt shot him a look of venom. "Just try and take her."

No one followed you as you left the meeting hall.

~~~~~~

"Where-a were you three?!"

A knife flew past your head, hitting the wall. You merely stared at it, before pulling it from the wall, tracing your finger along the blade.

"Meeting. The 1p's." grunted Al as you all walked in, Matt still carrying you as you played with the knife.

"Where on earth did you-a get a bambini?!" A man leapt to his feet, his tan skin complimenting the violet orbs that were his eyes.

"Meeting." Replied the all-too chirpy Oliver. "She had no family, so Matt's her dad now!"

"Really? Matt, a Vati? I struggle to see zhat." Grinned the lazy German in the corner, his eyes looking at you as he pushed blonde hair from his face.

"Shut it Lutz." Matt snapped.

You were still playing with the knife in your hands, now flicking the blade open and shut over and over again.

"Hey, is-a that my knife?" cried Luciano, leaping to his feet.

"I don't know, is that the one you threw at me and my maple leaf as I entered?" Matt replied.

"Yeah."

"Then, you have just answered my question, dic-!"

"No swearing round the little poppet!" Oliver chimed.

Matt simply grumbled, "She'll only hear it as she gets older anyway."

~~~~~~

"It's a flickering motion bambini! Flick-a the wrist!"

"What are you do with her?!" Matt exclaimed, entering the room.

"Teaching. Now shut-a the fuck up." Luciano growled, before returning his attention to you. "Tre, due, uno... Now!"

You threw the knife, and it hit the bulls' eye.

"Well-a done!" Luciano grinned, ruffling your hair.

"I'm not sure I want you teaching my daughter how to throw knives." Matt frowned.

"Yet you'll let her-a hang around with-a her uncle and his bat?"

"That's cause Al is her fucking uncle!"

"Matt! That's money in the swear jar!" Olli sang, entering with the jar.

Grumbling, Matt pulled some coinage out his pocket and stuffed it in the jar.

It had officially been a month since Matt had taken you in. During that time, you various 'Uncles' had been teaching you various things.

Uncle Al had been teaching you baseball.

Uncle Ollie had been teaching you baking.

Uncle Francois had not taught you anything, but had strangely been quite patient with you, especially when it came to bandaging you up.

Uncle Andres had taught you about tactics.

Uncle Lutz had taught you how to shoot.

Uncle Luciano was teaching you about throwing knives.

Uncle Kuro had taught you about swords and tattoo's, promising to give you one when you were older - "If I gave you one now," he had said, whilst drawing on your arm in pen, "your father will most likely have my head removed."

Uncle Wang had taught you about poisons.

And Uncle Flavio had taken it upon himself to be your personal stylist.

"Good good! I think we have enough here to buy [name] a new dress!" Olli said, peering in.

"I'll take-a that and little [name] then!" Your other Uncle, Flavio, waltzed in, sweeping both the jar and you into his arms.

"Be careful with her!" Yelled Matt. "If anything happen to her, then so help me, I will force feed you Oliver's poisoned cupcakes!"

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