What would Prussia, England, and Canada do with their s/o on a snowy day?
Canada: Canada sometimes forgets what an utter joy snow can be, and has kind of grown bored of it. He’s the kind who will grumble at the roads needing plowed, even as he tries driving over the “white shit” anyway. However, when you expressed excitement at the first snow- showing up completely armed with a few pairs of gloves and socks, beaming from ear-to-ear, cheeks already flushed from the cold, he couldn’t help but fall in love with the weather again. You two would take advantage of the high drifts to go on a nice walk, and if the flurries were still falling, he would unintentionally twirl you a few times, smiling gently at the snowflakes sticking to your eyelashes. You two would be out exploring for a good portion of the day, probably taking photos and selfies (per his request), and finally finding an open cafe or diner to share breakfast-for-dinner and warm drinks.
England: To see snow in London anymore was a very rare experience, and in the even of, you can expect a very excited England. He would be wuick to make his way over to Regent’s Park with you, making pit stops near Baker Street Station to get freshly made Belgian Waffles, and to Pret A Manger for hot drinks. The highlight of his day would be walking through the snow-covered park. If you were lucky you two caught a glimpse of a fox, and he would absolutely demand to visit with the swans and pigeons near the boating lake. He rarely gets time to slow down, so he would be determined to enjoy every moment he could with you in peace. His final destination would be the Secret Garden, where you would share kisses and lingering discussions about the future, watching the sky shift in yellows, blues, and greys.
Prussia: Run. If you don’t, you will be dragged out for snowball fights, making snow people, racing to the end of an ice-covered street, and impromptu sledding competitions. Prussia has a habit of seeing everything as a competition, and with his boundless, childlike love of all things winter, he would absolutely be itching to drag you outside, even if only for five minutes to fetch the mail. He’s more than content to stay inside with you, Netflix, and toasties, but he would be a complete sourpuss if you didn’t go outside with him at all. (Your reward would be a massage and a surprise candlelit dinner, but he’s not telling you that when you’re both too busy laughing at his falling on his butt because he slid on the ice.)