[fanfic] APH - Bagyo - Oneshot/Special Request
Title: Bagyo (with art byvivalalixi)
Part: One-Shot/Special Request
Characters: OC Philippines, England
Rating: OLDER Teen
Warning: UKPiri, OC warning, mature themes
Summary:
Bagyo (n) -a storm
Trapped indoors during an ill-timed vacation, Iggy is saved from boredom, and possibly starvation, by an energetic host island nation. A few months later, the fruits of those three amazing weeks with her are revealed with a life-changing phone call.
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Bagyo
One-Shot
By DamageCtrl
*All Standard Disclaimers Apply: I do not own anything other than the plot and OCs. Even then, they're not that creative.
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.oOo._____ .oOo. _____ .oOo. _____ .oOo. _____ .oOo. _____ .oOo. _____ .oOo.He stood in front of the tightly closed window, watching the palm trees lean terrifyingly far to one side as the wind whipped their branches against the cloud-filled gray sky. He could hear the roar of the storm outside of his resort cottage.
Why hadn't any one told him that his summer was monsoon season in that area of the world? Would it have killed any of the dozens of other nations to casually inform him "Oh, you're going in June? I hope you like rain, hahaha."
No...they let him plan his own vacation in silence and even encouraged him to splurge on a private cottage at a high end resort. He had planned to go snorkeling, take a boat out around the islands, and possibly get a tan...carefully, of course.
Instead, he was stuck indoors with the news advising people to do so since the winds were abnormally high and the rain abnormally heavy. The only thing on television were various dramas from various countries, random variety shows, and a marathon of old Filipino movies from the 1980's. Bad ones.
"I cannot believe this," he grumbled in a low, irritated voice. "Three weeks of this!? I can't believe I listened to that stupid boy!" He could almost see America laughing at him for actually thinking that he would enjoy his visit.
Thick brows knit together. If he wanted to enjoy endless gray skies and rain, he could've stayed home. At least he wouldn't be sweating even though there was a storm outside. Scowling he turned away from the window and heard a low familiar rumble come from his stomach. His eyes crinkled up.
No. Of all the times to be hungry, this was not one of them.
He didn't have any food, except a mango he saved from breakfast, and he couldn't go outside with the storm raging. Not to mention that he didn't know where exactly to get food in the area to begin with. His eyes crinkled up as his hand pressed against his stomach. This was it, he realized as his heart sank.
This was how he was going to die. Quietly...in a secluded cottage on a beach...alone. Wars couldn't do him in. Economic crisis didn't destroy him...but a seasonal rain storm would. He just knew it.
"This is all America's fault," he growled irrationally. Narrowing his eyes, he made a beeline for the desk, where his laptop was set up. If he was going to die, he would at least send a scathing email to Alfred regarding his choice in holiday destination suggestions.
He made it halfway across the cottage when a loud thump sounded from the wooden door. Arthur immediately froze in his spot, his wide eyes quickly settling on the door. He held his breath, silently wondering if he had just heard things. He waited for another sound, but none came.
England released heavy breath. He really was just hearing things. Perhaps it was just a coconut falling on his cottage porch or something. Shaking himself out of his stupor, he took another step and heard a knock. He whirled back to the door, his eyes narrowed. That was a clear knock...not a random storm-related sound.
But he wasn't expecting anyone. Even he was, he wouldn't expect them to come to his rented cottage in the middle of a storm. Who would be crazy enough to attempt such a feat?
"Hello!" an accented female voice sounded from the other side of the wooden barrier. "England? Are you in there?" His eyes widened. It was impossible.... "Shoot...did I get the wrong cottage again? I knew I should've doubled checked with the resort...." He heard her talking to herself, obviously frustrated.
Unknowingly, he took a step forward, extending his hand towards the door.
"Philippines?" he called out unsurely. "Is that you?"
"Arthur!?" Maria sounded surprised. "Oh, thank God!" she sounded relieved. "This is the third cottage I've tried! I thought I was at the wrong one again!" she laughed a bit at her mistake and Arthur darted forward.
He all but ran into the door as he fumbled with the locks before pulling it open. A strong gust of wind slammed into him, blowing his hair out of his face and soaking his front side with warm rain water as he took a step back.
"Ma...Maria?" he choked out as he lifted one arm to shield his face from the stinging wind and barely made out a figure draped in a thick green rain slicker and, shockingly, flip-flops. In her arms were rain soaked plastic woven bags filled with unseen contents and for a moment, all he could think about was that he was looking at his savior.
"Hi!" the Philippine's cheerful voice greeted him. "I'm sorry for arriving so suddenly. Can I come in?"
"Yes! Yes! I'm sorry!" Arthur stammered out stupidly as he stepped aside to let her him. He couldn't very well stand there in a stupor while she stood in his porch, in the middle of a storm. "Come in, my dear. Excuse my manners...I'm just surprised," he admitted as Maria made her way in with an arm load of bags. As soon as he she was inside, he grabbed hold of the door and leaned against it, using his weight to close it shut before locking it in place.
"Wow, you got one of the good ones," the Philippines said in awe as she stood in the small entryway, looking around at the one-bedroom cottage. "I knew they were renovating, but I didn't think they'd come out this good."
Arthur moved forward. "Maria, let me help you with those," he said as he reached for her bags.
"Thanks!" she smiled as she handed him one of the large, rectangular bags. The moment she let it go, Arthur winced. It nearly hit the floor form the weight.
"What is in this thing?" he choked out, surprised as he wrapped both hands around the handle and heaved it up. "It's like a sack of bricks!"
"Cooking supplies," Maria said. "I have a small tank of gas in there and a burner and some pots and pans," she named off as she seemed to look around the cottage for a place to set up. "Ah! Good, they have a small kitchen!"
Unperturbed, the island nation proceeded to walk into the cottage, her slippers making wet, slapping noises on the tiled floor as she walked. England followed, half carrying-half dragging her bag of cooking supplies with him.
"Maria," he called out as she placed her second, equally heavy looking, bag on the small counter. "Not that I'm not happy to see you, but...may I ask what you're doing here? It's a raging storm outside!"
"Oh, that?" Maria looked over her shoulder as she pulled down her rain slicker's hood. She shot him a wide smile. Despite her bangs being pulled back, stray hairs were pasted to the sides of her head from the rain. "That's nothing. It's just a little rain."
"A little...," he choked out, staring at her. "You call that-" he demanded as he pointed out the window, to a palm tree that was leaning almost horizontally over the sand. "A little rain!?"
"Okay," she admitted as she began gathering her plastic rain slicker to lift over her head. "It's a little more than normal," she said. He watched as the green material rose over her legs, revealing a short pair of black tights beneath a simple floral dress that ended at her mid thighs. "But you get used to it."
Thick, tousled black hair fell around her face as she finally slipped out of the rain slicker and began to fold it. Arthur could only stand by the small dining table, where is lone mango remained. He let out a heavy breath and lifted his hand to the bridge of his nose. "Maria," he began carefully. "It's not that I don't appreciate you coming to visit, but don't you think it's a little dangerous to be out during such a storm?"
"I've been through worse," she told him with a confident smile as she placed her folded rain slicker to the side and then unzipped the bag she had been carrying. "Besides, I don't mind. I was bored at home, anyway," she admitted. "I thought you could use some company...chicken or fish?"
"What?" he lowered his hand and stared at her. Maria was removing various items from her bag; a small paper bag filled with still-steaming bread rolls, several plastic storage containers which most likely contained food, and a sack of various fruits and vegetables.
"Chicken adobo or bangus sinigang?" she repeated as she held out one pink container and one lime green one. "I made both, since I wasn't sure what you felt like."
He stared at her expectant face a moment longer. The dumbfounded look on his face slowly melted into a thoughtful expression. "You really are far too accommodating, you know."
"When you're in my home," she assured him. "You are family." She smiled warmly. "Now...chicken or fish?"
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Several Months Later...
He stood rummaged through his closet, looking for his favorite trench coat that had been lost in the depths of his usually organized wardrobe. Green eyes were narrowed. He was sure it was there yesterday....
The phone began to ring and he let out a heavy breath. He pursed his lips and turned himself away from the closet as he headed for the mobile phone resting on the nightstand by his bed. He glanced at the name and nodded to himself.
Hong Kong was calling. It must've already struck midnight in Asia and thus, he was making his annual 'happy new year' phone calls.
Arthur brought the phone to his ear. "Arthur speaking," he began cordially. "Happy New Year, Hong-"
"What did you do to my sister." The voice that cut him off was low and calm, but beneath it was clear displeasure.
Arthur furrowed his brows and cocked his head. "What are you talking about?" he asked, confused. "I'm sorry, but I believe you may have the wrong number, Hong Kong. Where you trying to reach-"
"I do not have the wrong number," the former colony's voice asserted firmly. "What did you do to my sister," he demanded once more.
This time, England frowned. "I do not have to answer to such a tone, young man," he replied strongly. "If you are going to be so rude-"
"Give me the phone!" another voice shouted in the background. Arthur narrowed his eyes.
"I have it, goh-go," Hong Kong was trying to assure the other party. England could hear some struggling for the phone.
"Let me talk to him, aru!" China demanded. A heavy sigh was heard before Yao's voice carried clearly across the phone. "You!" he shouted furiously. "How dare you, aru! No one gave you a right to touch her-"
He already had to deal with the shoddy weather for London's New Year's bash, couldn't find his favorite coat, and now he had to be yelled at by China for something he didn't even known about? It had gone far enough.
"What the bloody hell are you talking about!?" Arthur shouted into the phone. "How dare I do what? What 'her'? I don't know what 'her' you're even referring to!"
"Don't try to pretend you don't know, aru!" Yao shouted back. "Everyone knows you were the one that was with her during the monsoon!"
Thick brows shot up. "Mon...monsoon...?" He felt dread in the pit of his stomach. That he remembered. He remembered it rather, well, actually.
"Yes!" Yao yelled. "Now look what you did to her-"
"Kuya, stop!" a female voice shouted in the background. "Stop it! Give me the phone!"
"No!" China refused. "And sit down, aru! You're in no condition to run!"
"Ate!" the familiar female voice cried. "Ate, stop him!"
"Brother, stop it, you're going to upset her," Arthur could hear another woman's voice chide. "Let her speak to him. She should be the one to tell him."
"Tell me what?" Arthur demanded, his hand turning white as it clutched the phone against his ear. He heard more struggling and sounds of China resisting and possibly being wrestled to the ground. "Hello!?" England shouted into the phone. "Hello?" He pressed the device against his ear desperately. "What's going on? Hello!?"
"Hold on," a firm voice said. "Maria, go in here. You can talk in private," a less clear voice advised.
On the other side of the world, Arthur felt his heart skip a beat. Maria? As in, the Philippines?
"Arthur?" He closed his eyes at the sound of her voice and released a breath he didn't even realize he was holding in. "Are you there?"
"I'm here," he assured her as he took a seat on the edge of his bed. "Are you alright?" he asked carefully. "Your brothers sounded angry." A small whimper escaped her lips and he frowned as he heard it. "Maria?"
"Arthur," she began hesitantly. "Do you remember what we did in June?"
He couldn't help the smile that graced his face. It had rained almost ninety-percent of his time there, but it hadn't bothered him. It only made it easier for him to remain indoors with her.
"Of course, my dear," he assured her intently. "How could I possibly forget?"
"Okay...," she seemed to accept. The Philippines bit her lower lip. "And...you know...that we...you know...."
He smiled lopsidedly. "I remember," he told her. "And promised to come back again this summer to...er...repeat our experience," he added, cheekily.
"Oh...well...that's nice," she replied. He tilted his head to the side, confused. Usually, if he tried to flirt with her in such a way, she would tease back and laugh. She wasn't laughing now. "I know it's a bother...but do you think you can come a little bit earlier?"
He furrowed his brows, looking confused. "I suppose...is there a problem?"
"Well....no...yes...no," she contradicted herself and shook her head, trying to focus on what needed to be said. "No," she asserted. "This is not a problem."
"Maria," Arthur frowned, concern filling his voice "What's going on?"
"I'm about five months along," she broke the news as casually as she could, though her voice shook with each word. "If the doctors are right, then conception was about a week before you left," she let out a slight, nervous laugh. "Arthur," her voice choked out, filled with fear. "I'm pregnant."
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Her lips were so soft. He could remember the first time he felt them; a chaste kiss on the cheek. He had still blushed like a schoolboy as he stood rooted in place, watching her go into his bedroom for the night before she closed the door behind her. He insisted she stay the night and take his bed. After she fed him and kept him company, he wasn't about to send her home in a storm. Although in truth, he didn't want to send her home at all.
He loved the feeling of her lips on his more than the feeling of them on his cheek. It was an accident, really. They were caught up in the moment, during one of several brown outs that happened during his stay there. She was looking for candles, he was trying to help her light them. They literally ran into each other while trying to find the other and tumbled to the floor.
Even when they both apologized, he didn't roll off of her and she didn't push him off. They sort of lay there for a while longer and one thing eventually lead to another.
He grew accustomed to her body laying beside him when he awoke in the morning. She grew tolerant of the burnt pieces of food he considered 'breakfast in bed'. He would listen to the rain outside as he played with her long strands of hair. She would listen to the sound of him complaining as her hand gently rubbed his stomach, as if to calm him down.
He thought that they had gotten close. Not just physically, but emotionally. He would email her every day once he returned to England and he would receive replies in return. Long ones, not just brief messages. Yet, not in any of them had she told him that she was pregnant.
Arthur closed his eyes and leaned back against the seat of the airplane, replaying every moment with her in his mind. He did remember her mentioning how she hadn't been feeling well a few weeks after he left and that she had gone to see a doctor. Afterwards, he realized, she never mentioned it again.
That was probably why she didn't blame him when he grew angry and demanded to know why she hadn't told him. He wanted to know if she ever planned to. Maria had sobbed that she did, it was just she didn't know how and that she was scared and that she was sorry.
How could he be angry at her? It wasn't her fault and he could only imagine what she had gone through when she discovered that she was pregnant. The fear, the uncertainty, the pressure. Perhaps he was angrier with himself for not knowing and not being able to share in those burdens.
"Is there anything you want from London?" he had asked as he listened to her cries subside. "Anything at all. Name it and I will bring it," he had told her.
"Bring it?" she had asked, still choking back cries. "You're coming?"
"Of course," he had stated proudly, his cheeks warming up. "You're pregnant with my child! How can I not be at your side?" She had started crying again and at one point, he heard her reassure Vietnam that she was fine and was just emotional due to the pregnancy.
"Anything?" she had choked out, sounding almost happy. He smiled at that small hope in her voice.
"Anything," he had smiled softly. There was a thoughtful pause on the other end of the line before her unexpected answer.
"Can you bring me some of that Marmite?"
The smile it brought to his face didn't leave him until he arrived at the airport in Manila and rolled his bag out of the airport, into the area outside the international terminal where crowds of people were waiting for relatives and friends.
His green eyes scanned the crowds behind the metal dividing rails hoping to catch a glimpse of the soon-to-be mother of his child. He had told her when his flight was arriving and wasn't sure whether or not he wanted her coming to pick him up in her condition. Thus, when he didn't see her, he felt both disappointment and relief.
When he instead saw an angry looking Brunei alongside a waving Thailand, he felt a rush of terror.
"There he is," Brunei growled as he narrowed his eyes.
"Ah...England!" Thailand smiled, trying to give him a friendly face. "Maria asked us to come and pick you up."
For a moment, he wanted to ask if they were planning on driving him elsewhere and then killing him, but quickly shook the ridiculous thought out of his head and thanked them. Despite Brunei's death glare, he got into the hired car with them and clung on to his bag as they wove through the insane death traps that were Philippine roads.
By the time they stopped in front of a large, old house, he was sure that he had narrowly escaped death. Carefully, he stepped out of the car and looked at the iron gate of the house they had arrived in front of.
"So, this is where she lives...," he said quietly. Brunei gave him another sharp glare.
"You don't even know where she lives," he spat out, disgusted. England resisted the urge to shrink back at the venom in the other island's voice.
"I'll get your bags," Thailand said. "Why don't you go inside? Vietnam was helping the Philippines cook something in preparation for your arrival."
"Thank you, Thailand, I'll do that," England gave him a curt nod and continued to hold on to the bag that had had been carrying on his lap. Quietly, he followed the brooding Brunei through a door in the gate and then up the cement and brick path to the front of the house.
"Maria," Brunei called out. "He's here!"
England heard the sound of rapid footsteps and quickly looked towards the direction it seemed to be coming from. He held his breath as shuffling could be heard and a woman appeared at the head of the hall.
She was dressed in a simple floral print dress with thin straps that cascaded over the slight bump on her stomach. Her hair was tied back in a loose pony tail and she stood in house slippers. She was wasn't dressed at all to impress, but to him, she was the most breath-taking woman in the world.
His eyes softened immediately. Silently, he dropped his bag on the floor and began to cross the room. He watched as her eyes widened and her lips began to tremble as he approached her. Arthur's arms opened as he reached her, wanting nothing more than to pull her into his arms and keep her with him always. Before he could bring himself to, he stopped in front of her and met her eyes.
"Hello," he greeted stupidly as he swallowed a lump in his throat. "You're looking well."
If he could've slap himself, he would've. His arms were still hovering at his sides, wanting to hug her, but unable to move.
She offered him a smile and crinkled her wet eyes. "So do you."
He continued to stare at her. "I'm scared," he stated suddenly. She immediately looked worried, but he continued speaking. "I want to hug you...but I'm afraid."
She looked at him, confused. "Afraid of what?"
"I don't know," he admitted. "What if something happens if I touch you?"
"Oh, I think it's a little late to be concerned about that," a snarky voice commented. Maria's lips pursed as she turned around and shot Vietnam a glare.
"Ate," she growled.
"Sorry, sorry," the older female said as she lifted her hands and stepped back into the kitchen. "Continue with your awkward moment."
"Ate!" Maria flushed.
"Ahem, well," Arthur coughed, his face even redder than hers. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make this more awkward than it already is."
"No, no," she insisted as she reached forward and grabbed one of his arms. "Thank you for coming, Arthur. You didn't have to-"
"What are you talking about?" he frowned as brows knit together. "Of course I had to come! Maria, you're going to have my child," he reiterated as his hands rose and cupped the sides of her soft face. "I will be with you as long as you'll have me." He didn't mean it to come out as the oath it did, but it had...and he found himself meaning it.
"Arthur...."
A few seconds later, the Philippines began crying all over again.
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"You can touch it, you know," Maria chuckled as she lay on her bed, propped up with pillows and with remote in hand as she flipped through channels. Crouched precariously on the other side of her bed was a pale-faced, terrified England. One hand was lifted and just above her protruding stomach. Every time he lowered it to touch the swell, he would freeze and then jerk his hand up before he made contact.
"Are you sure it won't...hurt?" he asked hesitantly.
She chuckled and shook her head. She lifted her free hand and rested it gently over her stomach, giving it a gentle rub. "It's not going to hurt."
"What about the baby?" England continued. "Are you sure it won't hurt the baby?" The female island nation let out a heavy sigh. She turned off the television and placed the remote on the nightstand beside her bed before reaching over and taking one of his hands. It didn't take a genius to know what was planning on doing. "Maria! No!"
"Stop being such a baby," she said as she carefully placed his hand on her swollen belly. "There!" she stated. She turned to look at him. "See? Was that so hard?" She crinkled up her eyes as the would-be father remained frozen in his spot, seemingly unable to move. "Arthur?"
She looked back at his hand as she felt it tensing against her. "I...I...," he choked out. "I can feel it...I mean...," he shook his head and smiled weakly. "Him...or her...?"
Maria raised a brow, but smiled. "The baby is a her," she clarified, relaxing as she saw the elated expression on his face. "But she's not moving yet...that's just your hand shaking."
His cheeks flooded with color. "Oh...."
"It'll be a few more weeks before she starts kicking," she assured him as she carefully released his hand. "Believe me, I'll know when she does."
Arthur kept his hand on her stomach. "It's not going to hurt, is it?" he asked worriedly.
"She's going to be kicking my insides," Maria laughed. "It's going to hurt at least a little," she assured him. "But it's nothing I can't handle."
"I have to admit," he began. "You're taking this far better than I am. I'm not the one carrying her and I'm terrified that I'll do something wrong."
"You're not going to do anything wrong," she assured him. "You'll be a wonderful father." His hand stopped moving across the swell.
He lifted his eyes and met hers with damp green ones. "You have no idea how relieved I am that you have that much faith in me," he whispered. "I don't have that much faith in myself at the moment," he admitted.
Her gaze softened and she reached out and stroked the side of his face gently. "I don't see why you have any reason to doubt yourself. I think you'll be a marvelous father." Her smile faltered. "Even before I told you, I knew you would be."
His eyes crinkled up as his free hand cupped hers and brought her knuckles to his lips. "Then why didn't you tell me?" he asked, sounding somewhat hurt. "You answered all my emails. You wrote about your days, but no where in them did you say you were pregnant."
"I'm sorry." Her eyes dropped and she pulled her hand away. "I didn't mean to hide it from you. And I did mean to tell you," she insisted. She lifted her eyes and gave him a pleading look. "I even wrote down that I was pregnant in several emails, but decided against it. You deserved to at least get a phone call from me -not some emotionless text."
"But you didn't call," Arthur persisted, a wounded look on his face.
"I think," Maria began as she narrowed her eyes and looked out past the bed. "That maybe that is why I went the family's New Years party...because I knew that if I went, then they would notice and that they would call you. Then I'd have to tell you."
He let out a small scoff. "A hell of a way for a man to find out he's going to be a father," he mumbled.
"You're mad," she whispered in a strained voice. "Aren't you?"
He closed his eyes tightly and looked away. "I could've been at your side the last six months," he told her. "I could've helped take care of you...made it so you didn't have to lift a finger."
"I don't mind working," Maria insisted. "You know that."
"But I could've helped," Arthur insisted as he gathered her hands in his. "When you told me, I couldn't believe it. I was surprised and then happy and then angry that I couldn't be there...that's why I took the first flight I could find here. I wanted to be here with you and the baby."
"I know," she acknowledged. "But eventually, you will have to go back."
"And eventually I will return," he assured her. "And if you are willing, you and our child can come visit me for long periods of time. I'm not going to make you move there or anything, but I'd like for our child to see where Dad's from."
Maria chuckled slightly. "Dad, huh?"
"Do you think that's too informal?" he cringed slightly. "Father seemed a bit much and I never cared for 'Papa'."
"No, I think that Dad fits you," she squeezed his hands. "You'll be a wonderful dad."
His eyes softened. Arthur carefully moved and lay down beside her. He put one arm around her shoulder and rested his other hand over her stomach as she nuzzled his shoulder. "And I know you'll be a wonderful mom."
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He didn't want to say it aloud, because he knew it would only annoy her to hear it, but he thought she looked cute when she was waddling around pregnant. Arthur lowered the newspaper he had been reading and quickly took in the sight of Maria making her way outside, into the dirty kitchen, to ask one of the hired helpers to buy more pan de sal for the house. She didn't look beautiful when she was waddling.
She was beautiful when she was still, usually with a pensive look on her face, but not when she was in her third tri-mester and walking. No...when she was walking -waddling -he could see the way her rounded hips move and the swell of her tummy beneath her loose dress, making him just want to gather her in his arms and hold her. She looked cute...like a baby unicorn.
Arthur momentarily drew his thoughts back. A baby unicorn? That was the best analogy his mind could come up with? He shook his head and quickly lifted the newspaper up as she returned.
"Nana is going to the bakery," she said as she made her way towards the table where they were eating breakfast. "Do you want anything specific?"
"Do we have any more of those en-say-mad-as?" he asked. He butchered the word with his accent, he was sure, but it wasn't as if Spain were there to have a heart attack at the horror. He had been in the tropical islands for a few weeks now and he found that he still couldn't pronounce words correctly.
"Oh, you're right, we're out...," Maria nodded. She turned around and began waddling back, making Arthur chuckle to himself as he watched her. "Nana! Ensaymadas!"
When she returned she lifted up one of the last pieces of pan de sal -a sort of all-purpose bread roll, he learned, and cut it open with a butter knife before reaching for a jar of Marmite. He honestly didn't know where she had heard of the yeast extract or asked why she liked it, but he couldn't help but smile every time she carefully spread a thin layer of the dark mixture on to something.
He briefly wondered if that was a pregnancy craving. "So...we're going to see the doctor today?" he asked casually.
"Yes," Maria said as applied a layer of Marmite to a buttered pan de sal. "We get to have an ultra sound today."
"Is that when you get to see the picture of a baby inside you?" Arthur asked hopefully. She nodded as she bit into her bread. Once she swallowed, she smiled.
"I'm going to take a picture and send it out to my friends," she said. He nodded proudly then suddenly realized something.
"Speaking of friends," he began. "Aside from your family, who else knows?"
She paused in mid-bite. "I asked my siblings to keep it quiet," she admitted. "At least until I told you. I don't think they've told anyone yet." She sat up straight and put her food on her plate. "But it isn't as if I'm ashamed or anything!" she asserted. "I just didn't want the rest of the world to know before you!"
"I understand, I understand," he told her calmly as he reached over and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "I only wanted to know because I'm sure sooner or later, others will begin to ask-" The sound of a phone's ring tone filled the dining room and Arthur sighed. He gave her an apologetic look before reaching into his pocket and taking out a phone. "Hello-"
"Where are you?" a French accented voice demanded. "Wait, no...just tell me if you are in England or not."
"Francis?" Arthur snorted. "What the hell do you want?"
"Don't take that tone with me!" the other nation snapped. "I am being a good neighbor, your antisocial buffoon! I'm calling to warn you."
"Warn me?" England scoffed. "Of what?"
"Of several nations not pleased that you got the Philippines pregnant!" France told him truthfully. "China has been telling everyone who is willing to listen that his little sister has been taken advantage of by you!"
"Taken advantage of!?" Arthur choked out. "I did not such thing! I would never do something so unthinkable!"
"Arthur," Maria frowned as she moved her hand across the table and reached for his hand. "Arthur, what's wrong?"
"Nothing, Darling, nothing," he assured her quickly as he gathered her extended hand and brought it up to his lips for a quick kiss. "It's just France being France again." He released her hand and pushed his seat back. "Pardon me for a moment."
He tired not to dwell on her concerned look as he turned around and quickly made his way to another part of the house. "Several of the Asian nations are not pleased that you have...shall we say, dipped your fingers into the Philippines, but they are not the ones you should be worried about."
"What do you mean?" Arthur frowned. "The Philippines' business is her own and-"
"You have pissed off America," Francis told him curtly. "He considers her in his sphere of influence."
"Well, that's too damn bloody bad," England retorted as he paced one of the parlors at the front of the house. "He is neither her boss nor mine!"
"And Spain is furious."
"A...what?" England stopped pacing and crinkled his eyes. "Spain?"
"Yes...Spain...you know...former empire, loves football, loves his former colonies just as much with a near fanatical obsession?" Francis reminded him coolly. "He knows...and is very, very displeased."
He forgot how well loved by others she was. Of course there would be others who wouldn't find news of her pregnancy, especially with his child, pleasant. It was unexpected, unplanned...shocking. Arthur narrowed his eyes and shook his head. But it wasn't any of their business! It was theirs!
"So what?" he scoffed defiantly. "I'm not afraid! What's the worst he can do to us? He's half a world away!"
"I am just telling you to be prepared," France stressed.
"No need to concern yourself," England replied proudly. "I can take care of myself and my family just fine." He hung up the phone and gave a small 'humph' before shoving the device into his pocket and stepping out of the parlor.
Before he could reach the dining room, where he had left his pregnant lover and their breakfast, he heard a familiar, and somewhat foreboding, voice.
"I demand to speak to him immediately!" a male voice demanded. "Let me speak to him!"
"Not until you've calmed down!" Maria yelled.
"I am calm!" the male voice insisted, obviously anything but.
"Shut up, bastard! You're upsetting her!" another male voice said. "Maria, don't listen to him-"
"What's going on here?" Arthur said as he stormed into the dining room. Maria was being seated back on her chair by a concerned looking South Italy. In front of them, closest to him, was a tall, angry looking tan-skinned man with burning green eyes.
"You!" the Spaniard's face twisted with fury. Before Arthur could even ask what they were doing there, he heard Maria scream and then a sharp pain against his face.
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"I think she looks like her daddy," Maria gushed as she looked at the ultrasound against the backlit screen.
"No, no, Mija," an affectionate voice assured her. "She looks just like her mama."
Romano narrowed his eyes and squinted at the monochrome ultrasound. He honestly couldn't tell what was baby and what was random blur. Even when the nurse pointed out the baby's head and limbs, he still couldn't make the child out. And even if he could, no one could really tell if the baby looked like the Philippines or the country with the black eye standing beside her.
"I hate to have to agree with him, my dear," Arthur said as he held her hand. "But I do believe she looks like her beautiful mother."
"Aww...," Maria leaned against him and smiled softly as he caressed the back of her head and gazed at the ultrasound.
It was a miracle they actually made it to the hospital in time for Maria's appointment. After Antonio struck Arthur, Maria had burst into tears -which seemed to be the only reason Spain didn't throttled the father of his daughter's child. It took some time to calm her down, with Spain forced to apologize to an irritated England.
Then, instead of staying behind, Spain insisted on coming to the hospital with them, much to England's chagrin. The hired driver arrived and Romano was forced to listen to Spain's numerous threats and the Philippines' even more numerous pleas for him to leave England alone.
It only stopped once they were in the actual hospital and the image of the child growning inside of her was displayed on a dark screen. The room had gone quiet as all eyes settled on the baby.
"She's mine?" England's voice had been hoarse and barely a whisper. "That beautiful little angel...? She's mine?"
The nurse had chuckled. "Yes, sir," she had confirmed. "This is your daughter."
Romano watched as England grasped the Philippines' hand tightly in his and squeezed it. He brought her hand to his lips and seemed to whisper something into them as he closed his eyes. Part of the Italian was sure the Englishman was trying not to cry.
Before anyone else could notice, Spain began to cry and Romano took it has a cue to get him to leave the room to leave Arthur and Maria alone. She gave him a thankful smile as he slipped out of the door, pushing Spain out with him.
They returned a few minutes later, calmer, and waited with the couple for the picture of the ultrasound to be prepared.
"I forgot my camera!" Maria gasped as the nurse handed her the photo. "I was going to take a picture and email it to everyone! Arthur!" she cried as she reached for him.
"Don't worry, Darling, I've got it," he assured her calmly as he reached into his pocket and took out a small little black camera. "I saw it sitting on the table before we left. I want everyone to see in the most amount of megapixels available just has adorable our baby is."
Maria beamed and has the nurse remount the ultrasound so that Arthur could take a picture. After numerous shots, just in case one didn't come out well, the group took the ultrasound photo and left.
It was pouring rain outside and, seemingly always prepared, England had an umbrella. He held it over Maria as lead her to the waiting car. As Arthur helped her into the car, taking great pains to make sure she was comfortable and safe, as well as dry as she could be, he rounded the vehicle to get to his seat. Before he could take it, Romano stopped him.
"Hey, English bastard," the Italian said. England frowned. "I'm counting on you to take good care of her and her baby, si?" he said in a stern voice. "She is famiglia."
Arthur glanced into the car, where he could see Maria and Antonio looking at the ultrasound once more, then turned to Romano and extended his hand. "They are my famiglia, too."
Lovino nodded and instead of shaking Arthur's hand, craned his neck upwards and gave him a kiss on each cheek. "Shaking hands are for acquaintances," the brunette snorted as he rounded the somewhat horrified Englishman and got into his seat. "Beci are for famiglia."
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"And then he kissed me," Arthur told her in a shocked voice as he sat on his side of the bed, crocheting needles in his hands and he prepared what would become a bonnet for his daughter, once she was born. He had been working on it for some time now, but was never satisfied with the pattern and would end up unraveling it to start over. "Are you sure that this is what they do?" He hadn't expected Spain to kiss him on the cheek, as well, that night. It seemed at the closer Maria's due date, the more his former rival warmed up to him. Perhaps he had finally taken notice of how much England cared for his daughter...or realized that he could never get rid of him now.
"You're just not used to it," Maria assured her calmly as she flipped through a small book. Outside, another storm was raging, but she didn't bat an eye. "What do you think about Elizabeth? That's a nice name, don't you think?"
"Whatever you want to name her is fine," he assured her as he created another loop of his needle. "I know you'll give our daughter a beautiful name."
Maria raised an eyebrow. She glanced at the corner of their room, where a pile of presents from other nations had been stacked. Pastel pink and white boxes seemed to dominate one corner of the bedroom along with an obscenely large stuffed panda, a crib, and various gift bags.
"And if I wanted to name her Antonia, after Spain?" she asked coolly. He nearly dropped his crocheting needles. "I thought so."
"Well, Darling, if you really wanted to name her...Antonia," he forced himself to say, earning him an amused grin from the nation beside him. "I...I don't see anything wrong with that."
"I'm just joking," she assured him as she closed the naming book and held out her arm. "Help me up. I need to use the toilet again."
He chuckled and put his things down to help her. "That's the third time since we retired."
"I'm pregnant! It's normal!" she insisted with a huff as her face reddened. Arthur rounded the bed and smiled as he dutifully helped her.
"Do you need me to go with you?" he offered as she began to head towards their attached bathroom.
"No!" she insisted as she waddled inside and turned on the bathroom light. "I'm perfectly capable of-"
Her voice cut off and he turned around. "Maria?" he called out after her. She didn't answer and he frowned. "Maria?" he said, a bit louder.
"Arthur!" she shouted from the bathroom. The blond felt his heart slam against his chest as he raced across the room.
"What's wrong!?" he gasped as he reached her and nearly slipped on the puddle over the tile. "Ah!"
"I think we're going to need that name soon," the pale female gripping the counter told him. "My water broke." She was shaking...suddenly terrified. She had just been so calm a moment ago that is surprised him how quickly she had changed moods. Not that it mattered to him. He knew what he had to do.
Arthur carefully stepped forward. He wrapped his arms around her and pressed his face against the top of her head. "It's alright, Darling," he whispered against her as her hands curled into his shirt. "Come on...let's get you to the hospital."
"Arthur," she choked out as he carefully lead her out of the bathroom. "Arthur...I'm scared...what if something goes wrong? What if there's a complication or we don't get to the hospital or-"
"Maria," his voice was calm as he grabbed her robe and wrapped it around her. "Hold my hand," he told her. She did as she was told, nearly crushing it in her fervor. England didn't show the smallest bit of discomfort. "Better?" he asked.
She nodded her head. He shouted for help and was pleased to see that one of the helpers hadn't left for the night yet. The old woman immediately began calling for a car. Arthur lead Maria out into the porch, making sure to keep her away from the rain that was coming down in buckets. As they stood there, grasping each other tightly and listening to the sound of the rain, Maria seemed to calm down.
"Don't let me go," she whispered as they saw the car arrive.
He squeezed her hand back as an umbrella was held over their heads. He gave her a warm smile. "Never."
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A.N. -Thank you for reading! Fanfic response to a request. I apologize for how short and choppy this is. The request for a pregnant Maria was rather sudden and I didn't really have much time to plan. I think that could've gone into a multi-chaptered fic, but I was lacking in time. I hope this will suffice, at least for now. I wish I could've done a better job and do apologize for the lack of detail. It would've been nice to draw out and elaborate on the UKPiri romance at the beginning. It know it seems more England-centric, but I didn't have time to write out the extended Philippines-pregnancy scenes that I would've preferred. I'm very sorry for any disappointment! If I just had more time...T_T. I also asked one of the LJ artists if she could do a quick drawing of the story to add to the fanfic. I hope it's okay and at least makes up for some of it.
Part: One-Shot/Special Request
Characters: OC Philippines, England
Rating: OLDER Teen
Warning: UKPiri, OC warning, mature themes
Summary:
Bagyo (n) -a storm
Trapped indoors during an ill-timed vacation, Iggy is saved from boredom, and possibly starvation, by an energetic host island nation. A few months later, the fruits of those three amazing weeks with her are revealed with a life-changing phone call.
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Bagyo
One-Shot
By DamageCtrl
*All Standard Disclaimers Apply: I do not own anything other than the plot and OCs. Even then, they're not that creative.
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.oOo._____ .oOo. _____ .oOo. _____ .oOo. _____ .oOo. _____ .oOo. _____ .oOo.He stood in front of the tightly closed window, watching the palm trees lean terrifyingly far to one side as the wind whipped their branches against the cloud-filled gray sky. He could hear the roar of the storm outside of his resort cottage.
Why hadn't any one told him that his summer was monsoon season in that area of the world? Would it have killed any of the dozens of other nations to casually inform him "Oh, you're going in June? I hope you like rain, hahaha."
No...they let him plan his own vacation in silence and even encouraged him to splurge on a private cottage at a high end resort. He had planned to go snorkeling, take a boat out around the islands, and possibly get a tan...carefully, of course.
Instead, he was stuck indoors with the news advising people to do so since the winds were abnormally high and the rain abnormally heavy. The only thing on television were various dramas from various countries, random variety shows, and a marathon of old Filipino movies from the 1980's. Bad ones.
"I cannot believe this," he grumbled in a low, irritated voice. "Three weeks of this!? I can't believe I listened to that stupid boy!" He could almost see America laughing at him for actually thinking that he would enjoy his visit.
Thick brows knit together. If he wanted to enjoy endless gray skies and rain, he could've stayed home. At least he wouldn't be sweating even though there was a storm outside. Scowling he turned away from the window and heard a low familiar rumble come from his stomach. His eyes crinkled up.
No. Of all the times to be hungry, this was not one of them.
He didn't have any food, except a mango he saved from breakfast, and he couldn't go outside with the storm raging. Not to mention that he didn't know where exactly to get food in the area to begin with. His eyes crinkled up as his hand pressed against his stomach. This was it, he realized as his heart sank.
This was how he was going to die. Quietly...in a secluded cottage on a beach...alone. Wars couldn't do him in. Economic crisis didn't destroy him...but a seasonal rain storm would. He just knew it.
"This is all America's fault," he growled irrationally. Narrowing his eyes, he made a beeline for the desk, where his laptop was set up. If he was going to die, he would at least send a scathing email to Alfred regarding his choice in holiday destination suggestions.
He made it halfway across the cottage when a loud thump sounded from the wooden door. Arthur immediately froze in his spot, his wide eyes quickly settling on the door. He held his breath, silently wondering if he had just heard things. He waited for another sound, but none came.
England released heavy breath. He really was just hearing things. Perhaps it was just a coconut falling on his cottage porch or something. Shaking himself out of his stupor, he took another step and heard a knock. He whirled back to the door, his eyes narrowed. That was a clear knock...not a random storm-related sound.
But he wasn't expecting anyone. Even he was, he wouldn't expect them to come to his rented cottage in the middle of a storm. Who would be crazy enough to attempt such a feat?
"Hello!" an accented female voice sounded from the other side of the wooden barrier. "England? Are you in there?" His eyes widened. It was impossible.... "Shoot...did I get the wrong cottage again? I knew I should've doubled checked with the resort...." He heard her talking to herself, obviously frustrated.
Unknowingly, he took a step forward, extending his hand towards the door.
"Philippines?" he called out unsurely. "Is that you?"
"Arthur!?" Maria sounded surprised. "Oh, thank God!" she sounded relieved. "This is the third cottage I've tried! I thought I was at the wrong one again!" she laughed a bit at her mistake and Arthur darted forward.
He all but ran into the door as he fumbled with the locks before pulling it open. A strong gust of wind slammed into him, blowing his hair out of his face and soaking his front side with warm rain water as he took a step back.
"Ma...Maria?" he choked out as he lifted one arm to shield his face from the stinging wind and barely made out a figure draped in a thick green rain slicker and, shockingly, flip-flops. In her arms were rain soaked plastic woven bags filled with unseen contents and for a moment, all he could think about was that he was looking at his savior.
"Hi!" the Philippine's cheerful voice greeted him. "I'm sorry for arriving so suddenly. Can I come in?"
"Yes! Yes! I'm sorry!" Arthur stammered out stupidly as he stepped aside to let her him. He couldn't very well stand there in a stupor while she stood in his porch, in the middle of a storm. "Come in, my dear. Excuse my manners...I'm just surprised," he admitted as Maria made her way in with an arm load of bags. As soon as he she was inside, he grabbed hold of the door and leaned against it, using his weight to close it shut before locking it in place.
"Wow, you got one of the good ones," the Philippines said in awe as she stood in the small entryway, looking around at the one-bedroom cottage. "I knew they were renovating, but I didn't think they'd come out this good."
Arthur moved forward. "Maria, let me help you with those," he said as he reached for her bags.
"Thanks!" she smiled as she handed him one of the large, rectangular bags. The moment she let it go, Arthur winced. It nearly hit the floor form the weight.
"What is in this thing?" he choked out, surprised as he wrapped both hands around the handle and heaved it up. "It's like a sack of bricks!"
"Cooking supplies," Maria said. "I have a small tank of gas in there and a burner and some pots and pans," she named off as she seemed to look around the cottage for a place to set up. "Ah! Good, they have a small kitchen!"
Unperturbed, the island nation proceeded to walk into the cottage, her slippers making wet, slapping noises on the tiled floor as she walked. England followed, half carrying-half dragging her bag of cooking supplies with him.
"Maria," he called out as she placed her second, equally heavy looking, bag on the small counter. "Not that I'm not happy to see you, but...may I ask what you're doing here? It's a raging storm outside!"
"Oh, that?" Maria looked over her shoulder as she pulled down her rain slicker's hood. She shot him a wide smile. Despite her bangs being pulled back, stray hairs were pasted to the sides of her head from the rain. "That's nothing. It's just a little rain."
"A little...," he choked out, staring at her. "You call that-" he demanded as he pointed out the window, to a palm tree that was leaning almost horizontally over the sand. "A little rain!?"
"Okay," she admitted as she began gathering her plastic rain slicker to lift over her head. "It's a little more than normal," she said. He watched as the green material rose over her legs, revealing a short pair of black tights beneath a simple floral dress that ended at her mid thighs. "But you get used to it."
Thick, tousled black hair fell around her face as she finally slipped out of the rain slicker and began to fold it. Arthur could only stand by the small dining table, where is lone mango remained. He let out a heavy breath and lifted his hand to the bridge of his nose. "Maria," he began carefully. "It's not that I don't appreciate you coming to visit, but don't you think it's a little dangerous to be out during such a storm?"
"I've been through worse," she told him with a confident smile as she placed her folded rain slicker to the side and then unzipped the bag she had been carrying. "Besides, I don't mind. I was bored at home, anyway," she admitted. "I thought you could use some company...chicken or fish?"
"What?" he lowered his hand and stared at her. Maria was removing various items from her bag; a small paper bag filled with still-steaming bread rolls, several plastic storage containers which most likely contained food, and a sack of various fruits and vegetables.
"Chicken adobo or bangus sinigang?" she repeated as she held out one pink container and one lime green one. "I made both, since I wasn't sure what you felt like."
He stared at her expectant face a moment longer. The dumbfounded look on his face slowly melted into a thoughtful expression. "You really are far too accommodating, you know."
"When you're in my home," she assured him. "You are family." She smiled warmly. "Now...chicken or fish?"
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Several Months Later...
He stood rummaged through his closet, looking for his favorite trench coat that had been lost in the depths of his usually organized wardrobe. Green eyes were narrowed. He was sure it was there yesterday....
The phone began to ring and he let out a heavy breath. He pursed his lips and turned himself away from the closet as he headed for the mobile phone resting on the nightstand by his bed. He glanced at the name and nodded to himself.
Hong Kong was calling. It must've already struck midnight in Asia and thus, he was making his annual 'happy new year' phone calls.
Arthur brought the phone to his ear. "Arthur speaking," he began cordially. "Happy New Year, Hong-"
"What did you do to my sister." The voice that cut him off was low and calm, but beneath it was clear displeasure.
Arthur furrowed his brows and cocked his head. "What are you talking about?" he asked, confused. "I'm sorry, but I believe you may have the wrong number, Hong Kong. Where you trying to reach-"
"I do not have the wrong number," the former colony's voice asserted firmly. "What did you do to my sister," he demanded once more.
This time, England frowned. "I do not have to answer to such a tone, young man," he replied strongly. "If you are going to be so rude-"
"Give me the phone!" another voice shouted in the background. Arthur narrowed his eyes.
"I have it, goh-go," Hong Kong was trying to assure the other party. England could hear some struggling for the phone.
"Let me talk to him, aru!" China demanded. A heavy sigh was heard before Yao's voice carried clearly across the phone. "You!" he shouted furiously. "How dare you, aru! No one gave you a right to touch her-"
He already had to deal with the shoddy weather for London's New Year's bash, couldn't find his favorite coat, and now he had to be yelled at by China for something he didn't even known about? It had gone far enough.
"What the bloody hell are you talking about!?" Arthur shouted into the phone. "How dare I do what? What 'her'? I don't know what 'her' you're even referring to!"
"Don't try to pretend you don't know, aru!" Yao shouted back. "Everyone knows you were the one that was with her during the monsoon!"
Thick brows shot up. "Mon...monsoon...?" He felt dread in the pit of his stomach. That he remembered. He remembered it rather, well, actually.
"Yes!" Yao yelled. "Now look what you did to her-"
"Kuya, stop!" a female voice shouted in the background. "Stop it! Give me the phone!"
"No!" China refused. "And sit down, aru! You're in no condition to run!"
"Ate!" the familiar female voice cried. "Ate, stop him!"
"Brother, stop it, you're going to upset her," Arthur could hear another woman's voice chide. "Let her speak to him. She should be the one to tell him."
"Tell me what?" Arthur demanded, his hand turning white as it clutched the phone against his ear. He heard more struggling and sounds of China resisting and possibly being wrestled to the ground. "Hello!?" England shouted into the phone. "Hello?" He pressed the device against his ear desperately. "What's going on? Hello!?"
"Hold on," a firm voice said. "Maria, go in here. You can talk in private," a less clear voice advised.
On the other side of the world, Arthur felt his heart skip a beat. Maria? As in, the Philippines?
"Arthur?" He closed his eyes at the sound of her voice and released a breath he didn't even realize he was holding in. "Are you there?"
"I'm here," he assured her as he took a seat on the edge of his bed. "Are you alright?" he asked carefully. "Your brothers sounded angry." A small whimper escaped her lips and he frowned as he heard it. "Maria?"
"Arthur," she began hesitantly. "Do you remember what we did in June?"
He couldn't help the smile that graced his face. It had rained almost ninety-percent of his time there, but it hadn't bothered him. It only made it easier for him to remain indoors with her.
"Of course, my dear," he assured her intently. "How could I possibly forget?"
"Okay...," she seemed to accept. The Philippines bit her lower lip. "And...you know...that we...you know...."
He smiled lopsidedly. "I remember," he told her. "And promised to come back again this summer to...er...repeat our experience," he added, cheekily.
"Oh...well...that's nice," she replied. He tilted his head to the side, confused. Usually, if he tried to flirt with her in such a way, she would tease back and laugh. She wasn't laughing now. "I know it's a bother...but do you think you can come a little bit earlier?"
He furrowed his brows, looking confused. "I suppose...is there a problem?"
"Well....no...yes...no," she contradicted herself and shook her head, trying to focus on what needed to be said. "No," she asserted. "This is not a problem."
"Maria," Arthur frowned, concern filling his voice "What's going on?"
"I'm about five months along," she broke the news as casually as she could, though her voice shook with each word. "If the doctors are right, then conception was about a week before you left," she let out a slight, nervous laugh. "Arthur," her voice choked out, filled with fear. "I'm pregnant."
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Her lips were so soft. He could remember the first time he felt them; a chaste kiss on the cheek. He had still blushed like a schoolboy as he stood rooted in place, watching her go into his bedroom for the night before she closed the door behind her. He insisted she stay the night and take his bed. After she fed him and kept him company, he wasn't about to send her home in a storm. Although in truth, he didn't want to send her home at all.
He loved the feeling of her lips on his more than the feeling of them on his cheek. It was an accident, really. They were caught up in the moment, during one of several brown outs that happened during his stay there. She was looking for candles, he was trying to help her light them. They literally ran into each other while trying to find the other and tumbled to the floor.
Even when they both apologized, he didn't roll off of her and she didn't push him off. They sort of lay there for a while longer and one thing eventually lead to another.
He grew accustomed to her body laying beside him when he awoke in the morning. She grew tolerant of the burnt pieces of food he considered 'breakfast in bed'. He would listen to the rain outside as he played with her long strands of hair. She would listen to the sound of him complaining as her hand gently rubbed his stomach, as if to calm him down.
He thought that they had gotten close. Not just physically, but emotionally. He would email her every day once he returned to England and he would receive replies in return. Long ones, not just brief messages. Yet, not in any of them had she told him that she was pregnant.
Arthur closed his eyes and leaned back against the seat of the airplane, replaying every moment with her in his mind. He did remember her mentioning how she hadn't been feeling well a few weeks after he left and that she had gone to see a doctor. Afterwards, he realized, she never mentioned it again.
That was probably why she didn't blame him when he grew angry and demanded to know why she hadn't told him. He wanted to know if she ever planned to. Maria had sobbed that she did, it was just she didn't know how and that she was scared and that she was sorry.
How could he be angry at her? It wasn't her fault and he could only imagine what she had gone through when she discovered that she was pregnant. The fear, the uncertainty, the pressure. Perhaps he was angrier with himself for not knowing and not being able to share in those burdens.
"Is there anything you want from London?" he had asked as he listened to her cries subside. "Anything at all. Name it and I will bring it," he had told her.
"Bring it?" she had asked, still choking back cries. "You're coming?"
"Of course," he had stated proudly, his cheeks warming up. "You're pregnant with my child! How can I not be at your side?" She had started crying again and at one point, he heard her reassure Vietnam that she was fine and was just emotional due to the pregnancy.
"Anything?" she had choked out, sounding almost happy. He smiled at that small hope in her voice.
"Anything," he had smiled softly. There was a thoughtful pause on the other end of the line before her unexpected answer.
"Can you bring me some of that Marmite?"
The smile it brought to his face didn't leave him until he arrived at the airport in Manila and rolled his bag out of the airport, into the area outside the international terminal where crowds of people were waiting for relatives and friends.
His green eyes scanned the crowds behind the metal dividing rails hoping to catch a glimpse of the soon-to-be mother of his child. He had told her when his flight was arriving and wasn't sure whether or not he wanted her coming to pick him up in her condition. Thus, when he didn't see her, he felt both disappointment and relief.
When he instead saw an angry looking Brunei alongside a waving Thailand, he felt a rush of terror.
"There he is," Brunei growled as he narrowed his eyes.
"Ah...England!" Thailand smiled, trying to give him a friendly face. "Maria asked us to come and pick you up."
For a moment, he wanted to ask if they were planning on driving him elsewhere and then killing him, but quickly shook the ridiculous thought out of his head and thanked them. Despite Brunei's death glare, he got into the hired car with them and clung on to his bag as they wove through the insane death traps that were Philippine roads.
By the time they stopped in front of a large, old house, he was sure that he had narrowly escaped death. Carefully, he stepped out of the car and looked at the iron gate of the house they had arrived in front of.
"So, this is where she lives...," he said quietly. Brunei gave him another sharp glare.
"You don't even know where she lives," he spat out, disgusted. England resisted the urge to shrink back at the venom in the other island's voice.
"I'll get your bags," Thailand said. "Why don't you go inside? Vietnam was helping the Philippines cook something in preparation for your arrival."
"Thank you, Thailand, I'll do that," England gave him a curt nod and continued to hold on to the bag that had had been carrying on his lap. Quietly, he followed the brooding Brunei through a door in the gate and then up the cement and brick path to the front of the house.
"Maria," Brunei called out. "He's here!"
England heard the sound of rapid footsteps and quickly looked towards the direction it seemed to be coming from. He held his breath as shuffling could be heard and a woman appeared at the head of the hall.
She was dressed in a simple floral print dress with thin straps that cascaded over the slight bump on her stomach. Her hair was tied back in a loose pony tail and she stood in house slippers. She was wasn't dressed at all to impress, but to him, she was the most breath-taking woman in the world.
His eyes softened immediately. Silently, he dropped his bag on the floor and began to cross the room. He watched as her eyes widened and her lips began to tremble as he approached her. Arthur's arms opened as he reached her, wanting nothing more than to pull her into his arms and keep her with him always. Before he could bring himself to, he stopped in front of her and met her eyes.
"Hello," he greeted stupidly as he swallowed a lump in his throat. "You're looking well."
If he could've slap himself, he would've. His arms were still hovering at his sides, wanting to hug her, but unable to move.
She offered him a smile and crinkled her wet eyes. "So do you."
He continued to stare at her. "I'm scared," he stated suddenly. She immediately looked worried, but he continued speaking. "I want to hug you...but I'm afraid."
She looked at him, confused. "Afraid of what?"
"I don't know," he admitted. "What if something happens if I touch you?"
"Oh, I think it's a little late to be concerned about that," a snarky voice commented. Maria's lips pursed as she turned around and shot Vietnam a glare.
"Ate," she growled.
"Sorry, sorry," the older female said as she lifted her hands and stepped back into the kitchen. "Continue with your awkward moment."
"Ate!" Maria flushed.
"Ahem, well," Arthur coughed, his face even redder than hers. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make this more awkward than it already is."
"No, no," she insisted as she reached forward and grabbed one of his arms. "Thank you for coming, Arthur. You didn't have to-"
"What are you talking about?" he frowned as brows knit together. "Of course I had to come! Maria, you're going to have my child," he reiterated as his hands rose and cupped the sides of her soft face. "I will be with you as long as you'll have me." He didn't mean it to come out as the oath it did, but it had...and he found himself meaning it.
"Arthur...."
A few seconds later, the Philippines began crying all over again.
.oOo._____ .oOo. _____ .oOo. _____ .oOo. _____ .oOo. _____ .oOo. _____ .oOo.
"You can touch it, you know," Maria chuckled as she lay on her bed, propped up with pillows and with remote in hand as she flipped through channels. Crouched precariously on the other side of her bed was a pale-faced, terrified England. One hand was lifted and just above her protruding stomach. Every time he lowered it to touch the swell, he would freeze and then jerk his hand up before he made contact.
"Are you sure it won't...hurt?" he asked hesitantly.
She chuckled and shook her head. She lifted her free hand and rested it gently over her stomach, giving it a gentle rub. "It's not going to hurt."
"What about the baby?" England continued. "Are you sure it won't hurt the baby?" The female island nation let out a heavy sigh. She turned off the television and placed the remote on the nightstand beside her bed before reaching over and taking one of his hands. It didn't take a genius to know what was planning on doing. "Maria! No!"
"Stop being such a baby," she said as she carefully placed his hand on her swollen belly. "There!" she stated. She turned to look at him. "See? Was that so hard?" She crinkled up her eyes as the would-be father remained frozen in his spot, seemingly unable to move. "Arthur?"
She looked back at his hand as she felt it tensing against her. "I...I...," he choked out. "I can feel it...I mean...," he shook his head and smiled weakly. "Him...or her...?"
Maria raised a brow, but smiled. "The baby is a her," she clarified, relaxing as she saw the elated expression on his face. "But she's not moving yet...that's just your hand shaking."
His cheeks flooded with color. "Oh...."
"It'll be a few more weeks before she starts kicking," she assured him as she carefully released his hand. "Believe me, I'll know when she does."
Arthur kept his hand on her stomach. "It's not going to hurt, is it?" he asked worriedly.
"She's going to be kicking my insides," Maria laughed. "It's going to hurt at least a little," she assured him. "But it's nothing I can't handle."
"I have to admit," he began. "You're taking this far better than I am. I'm not the one carrying her and I'm terrified that I'll do something wrong."
"You're not going to do anything wrong," she assured him. "You'll be a wonderful father." His hand stopped moving across the swell.
He lifted his eyes and met hers with damp green ones. "You have no idea how relieved I am that you have that much faith in me," he whispered. "I don't have that much faith in myself at the moment," he admitted.
Her gaze softened and she reached out and stroked the side of his face gently. "I don't see why you have any reason to doubt yourself. I think you'll be a marvelous father." Her smile faltered. "Even before I told you, I knew you would be."
His eyes crinkled up as his free hand cupped hers and brought her knuckles to his lips. "Then why didn't you tell me?" he asked, sounding somewhat hurt. "You answered all my emails. You wrote about your days, but no where in them did you say you were pregnant."
"I'm sorry." Her eyes dropped and she pulled her hand away. "I didn't mean to hide it from you. And I did mean to tell you," she insisted. She lifted her eyes and gave him a pleading look. "I even wrote down that I was pregnant in several emails, but decided against it. You deserved to at least get a phone call from me -not some emotionless text."
"But you didn't call," Arthur persisted, a wounded look on his face.
"I think," Maria began as she narrowed her eyes and looked out past the bed. "That maybe that is why I went the family's New Years party...because I knew that if I went, then they would notice and that they would call you. Then I'd have to tell you."
He let out a small scoff. "A hell of a way for a man to find out he's going to be a father," he mumbled.
"You're mad," she whispered in a strained voice. "Aren't you?"
He closed his eyes tightly and looked away. "I could've been at your side the last six months," he told her. "I could've helped take care of you...made it so you didn't have to lift a finger."
"I don't mind working," Maria insisted. "You know that."
"But I could've helped," Arthur insisted as he gathered her hands in his. "When you told me, I couldn't believe it. I was surprised and then happy and then angry that I couldn't be there...that's why I took the first flight I could find here. I wanted to be here with you and the baby."
"I know," she acknowledged. "But eventually, you will have to go back."
"And eventually I will return," he assured her. "And if you are willing, you and our child can come visit me for long periods of time. I'm not going to make you move there or anything, but I'd like for our child to see where Dad's from."
Maria chuckled slightly. "Dad, huh?"
"Do you think that's too informal?" he cringed slightly. "Father seemed a bit much and I never cared for 'Papa'."
"No, I think that Dad fits you," she squeezed his hands. "You'll be a wonderful dad."
His eyes softened. Arthur carefully moved and lay down beside her. He put one arm around her shoulder and rested his other hand over her stomach as she nuzzled his shoulder. "And I know you'll be a wonderful mom."
.oOo._____ .oOo. _____ .oOo. _____ .oOo. _____ .oOo. _____ .oOo. _____ .oOo.
He didn't want to say it aloud, because he knew it would only annoy her to hear it, but he thought she looked cute when she was waddling around pregnant. Arthur lowered the newspaper he had been reading and quickly took in the sight of Maria making her way outside, into the dirty kitchen, to ask one of the hired helpers to buy more pan de sal for the house. She didn't look beautiful when she was waddling.
She was beautiful when she was still, usually with a pensive look on her face, but not when she was in her third tri-mester and walking. No...when she was walking -waddling -he could see the way her rounded hips move and the swell of her tummy beneath her loose dress, making him just want to gather her in his arms and hold her. She looked cute...like a baby unicorn.
Arthur momentarily drew his thoughts back. A baby unicorn? That was the best analogy his mind could come up with? He shook his head and quickly lifted the newspaper up as she returned.
"Nana is going to the bakery," she said as she made her way towards the table where they were eating breakfast. "Do you want anything specific?"
"Do we have any more of those en-say-mad-as?" he asked. He butchered the word with his accent, he was sure, but it wasn't as if Spain were there to have a heart attack at the horror. He had been in the tropical islands for a few weeks now and he found that he still couldn't pronounce words correctly.
"Oh, you're right, we're out...," Maria nodded. She turned around and began waddling back, making Arthur chuckle to himself as he watched her. "Nana! Ensaymadas!"
When she returned she lifted up one of the last pieces of pan de sal -a sort of all-purpose bread roll, he learned, and cut it open with a butter knife before reaching for a jar of Marmite. He honestly didn't know where she had heard of the yeast extract or asked why she liked it, but he couldn't help but smile every time she carefully spread a thin layer of the dark mixture on to something.
He briefly wondered if that was a pregnancy craving. "So...we're going to see the doctor today?" he asked casually.
"Yes," Maria said as applied a layer of Marmite to a buttered pan de sal. "We get to have an ultra sound today."
"Is that when you get to see the picture of a baby inside you?" Arthur asked hopefully. She nodded as she bit into her bread. Once she swallowed, she smiled.
"I'm going to take a picture and send it out to my friends," she said. He nodded proudly then suddenly realized something.
"Speaking of friends," he began. "Aside from your family, who else knows?"
She paused in mid-bite. "I asked my siblings to keep it quiet," she admitted. "At least until I told you. I don't think they've told anyone yet." She sat up straight and put her food on her plate. "But it isn't as if I'm ashamed or anything!" she asserted. "I just didn't want the rest of the world to know before you!"
"I understand, I understand," he told her calmly as he reached over and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "I only wanted to know because I'm sure sooner or later, others will begin to ask-" The sound of a phone's ring tone filled the dining room and Arthur sighed. He gave her an apologetic look before reaching into his pocket and taking out a phone. "Hello-"
"Where are you?" a French accented voice demanded. "Wait, no...just tell me if you are in England or not."
"Francis?" Arthur snorted. "What the hell do you want?"
"Don't take that tone with me!" the other nation snapped. "I am being a good neighbor, your antisocial buffoon! I'm calling to warn you."
"Warn me?" England scoffed. "Of what?"
"Of several nations not pleased that you got the Philippines pregnant!" France told him truthfully. "China has been telling everyone who is willing to listen that his little sister has been taken advantage of by you!"
"Taken advantage of!?" Arthur choked out. "I did not such thing! I would never do something so unthinkable!"
"Arthur," Maria frowned as she moved her hand across the table and reached for his hand. "Arthur, what's wrong?"
"Nothing, Darling, nothing," he assured her quickly as he gathered her extended hand and brought it up to his lips for a quick kiss. "It's just France being France again." He released her hand and pushed his seat back. "Pardon me for a moment."
He tired not to dwell on her concerned look as he turned around and quickly made his way to another part of the house. "Several of the Asian nations are not pleased that you have...shall we say, dipped your fingers into the Philippines, but they are not the ones you should be worried about."
"What do you mean?" Arthur frowned. "The Philippines' business is her own and-"
"You have pissed off America," Francis told him curtly. "He considers her in his sphere of influence."
"Well, that's too damn bloody bad," England retorted as he paced one of the parlors at the front of the house. "He is neither her boss nor mine!"
"And Spain is furious."
"A...what?" England stopped pacing and crinkled his eyes. "Spain?"
"Yes...Spain...you know...former empire, loves football, loves his former colonies just as much with a near fanatical obsession?" Francis reminded him coolly. "He knows...and is very, very displeased."
He forgot how well loved by others she was. Of course there would be others who wouldn't find news of her pregnancy, especially with his child, pleasant. It was unexpected, unplanned...shocking. Arthur narrowed his eyes and shook his head. But it wasn't any of their business! It was theirs!
"So what?" he scoffed defiantly. "I'm not afraid! What's the worst he can do to us? He's half a world away!"
"I am just telling you to be prepared," France stressed.
"No need to concern yourself," England replied proudly. "I can take care of myself and my family just fine." He hung up the phone and gave a small 'humph' before shoving the device into his pocket and stepping out of the parlor.
Before he could reach the dining room, where he had left his pregnant lover and their breakfast, he heard a familiar, and somewhat foreboding, voice.
"I demand to speak to him immediately!" a male voice demanded. "Let me speak to him!"
"Not until you've calmed down!" Maria yelled.
"I am calm!" the male voice insisted, obviously anything but.
"Shut up, bastard! You're upsetting her!" another male voice said. "Maria, don't listen to him-"
"What's going on here?" Arthur said as he stormed into the dining room. Maria was being seated back on her chair by a concerned looking South Italy. In front of them, closest to him, was a tall, angry looking tan-skinned man with burning green eyes.
"You!" the Spaniard's face twisted with fury. Before Arthur could even ask what they were doing there, he heard Maria scream and then a sharp pain against his face.
.oOo._____ .oOo. _____ .oOo. _____ .oOo. _____ .oOo. _____ .oOo. _____ .oOo.
"I think she looks like her daddy," Maria gushed as she looked at the ultrasound against the backlit screen.
"No, no, Mija," an affectionate voice assured her. "She looks just like her mama."
Romano narrowed his eyes and squinted at the monochrome ultrasound. He honestly couldn't tell what was baby and what was random blur. Even when the nurse pointed out the baby's head and limbs, he still couldn't make the child out. And even if he could, no one could really tell if the baby looked like the Philippines or the country with the black eye standing beside her.
"I hate to have to agree with him, my dear," Arthur said as he held her hand. "But I do believe she looks like her beautiful mother."
"Aww...," Maria leaned against him and smiled softly as he caressed the back of her head and gazed at the ultrasound.
It was a miracle they actually made it to the hospital in time for Maria's appointment. After Antonio struck Arthur, Maria had burst into tears -which seemed to be the only reason Spain didn't throttled the father of his daughter's child. It took some time to calm her down, with Spain forced to apologize to an irritated England.
Then, instead of staying behind, Spain insisted on coming to the hospital with them, much to England's chagrin. The hired driver arrived and Romano was forced to listen to Spain's numerous threats and the Philippines' even more numerous pleas for him to leave England alone.
It only stopped once they were in the actual hospital and the image of the child growning inside of her was displayed on a dark screen. The room had gone quiet as all eyes settled on the baby.
"She's mine?" England's voice had been hoarse and barely a whisper. "That beautiful little angel...? She's mine?"
The nurse had chuckled. "Yes, sir," she had confirmed. "This is your daughter."
Romano watched as England grasped the Philippines' hand tightly in his and squeezed it. He brought her hand to his lips and seemed to whisper something into them as he closed his eyes. Part of the Italian was sure the Englishman was trying not to cry.
Before anyone else could notice, Spain began to cry and Romano took it has a cue to get him to leave the room to leave Arthur and Maria alone. She gave him a thankful smile as he slipped out of the door, pushing Spain out with him.
They returned a few minutes later, calmer, and waited with the couple for the picture of the ultrasound to be prepared.
"I forgot my camera!" Maria gasped as the nurse handed her the photo. "I was going to take a picture and email it to everyone! Arthur!" she cried as she reached for him.
"Don't worry, Darling, I've got it," he assured her calmly as he reached into his pocket and took out a small little black camera. "I saw it sitting on the table before we left. I want everyone to see in the most amount of megapixels available just has adorable our baby is."
Maria beamed and has the nurse remount the ultrasound so that Arthur could take a picture. After numerous shots, just in case one didn't come out well, the group took the ultrasound photo and left.
It was pouring rain outside and, seemingly always prepared, England had an umbrella. He held it over Maria as lead her to the waiting car. As Arthur helped her into the car, taking great pains to make sure she was comfortable and safe, as well as dry as she could be, he rounded the vehicle to get to his seat. Before he could take it, Romano stopped him.
"Hey, English bastard," the Italian said. England frowned. "I'm counting on you to take good care of her and her baby, si?" he said in a stern voice. "She is famiglia."
Arthur glanced into the car, where he could see Maria and Antonio looking at the ultrasound once more, then turned to Romano and extended his hand. "They are my famiglia, too."
Lovino nodded and instead of shaking Arthur's hand, craned his neck upwards and gave him a kiss on each cheek. "Shaking hands are for acquaintances," the brunette snorted as he rounded the somewhat horrified Englishman and got into his seat. "Beci are for famiglia."
.oOo._____ .oOo. _____ .oOo. _____ .oOo. _____ .oOo. _____ .oOo. _____ .oOo.
"And then he kissed me," Arthur told her in a shocked voice as he sat on his side of the bed, crocheting needles in his hands and he prepared what would become a bonnet for his daughter, once she was born. He had been working on it for some time now, but was never satisfied with the pattern and would end up unraveling it to start over. "Are you sure that this is what they do?" He hadn't expected Spain to kiss him on the cheek, as well, that night. It seemed at the closer Maria's due date, the more his former rival warmed up to him. Perhaps he had finally taken notice of how much England cared for his daughter...or realized that he could never get rid of him now.
"You're just not used to it," Maria assured her calmly as she flipped through a small book. Outside, another storm was raging, but she didn't bat an eye. "What do you think about Elizabeth? That's a nice name, don't you think?"
"Whatever you want to name her is fine," he assured her as he created another loop of his needle. "I know you'll give our daughter a beautiful name."
Maria raised an eyebrow. She glanced at the corner of their room, where a pile of presents from other nations had been stacked. Pastel pink and white boxes seemed to dominate one corner of the bedroom along with an obscenely large stuffed panda, a crib, and various gift bags.
"And if I wanted to name her Antonia, after Spain?" she asked coolly. He nearly dropped his crocheting needles. "I thought so."
"Well, Darling, if you really wanted to name her...Antonia," he forced himself to say, earning him an amused grin from the nation beside him. "I...I don't see anything wrong with that."
"I'm just joking," she assured him as she closed the naming book and held out her arm. "Help me up. I need to use the toilet again."
He chuckled and put his things down to help her. "That's the third time since we retired."
"I'm pregnant! It's normal!" she insisted with a huff as her face reddened. Arthur rounded the bed and smiled as he dutifully helped her.
"Do you need me to go with you?" he offered as she began to head towards their attached bathroom.
"No!" she insisted as she waddled inside and turned on the bathroom light. "I'm perfectly capable of-"
Her voice cut off and he turned around. "Maria?" he called out after her. She didn't answer and he frowned. "Maria?" he said, a bit louder.
"Arthur!" she shouted from the bathroom. The blond felt his heart slam against his chest as he raced across the room.
"What's wrong!?" he gasped as he reached her and nearly slipped on the puddle over the tile. "Ah!"
"I think we're going to need that name soon," the pale female gripping the counter told him. "My water broke." She was shaking...suddenly terrified. She had just been so calm a moment ago that is surprised him how quickly she had changed moods. Not that it mattered to him. He knew what he had to do.
Arthur carefully stepped forward. He wrapped his arms around her and pressed his face against the top of her head. "It's alright, Darling," he whispered against her as her hands curled into his shirt. "Come on...let's get you to the hospital."
"Arthur," she choked out as he carefully lead her out of the bathroom. "Arthur...I'm scared...what if something goes wrong? What if there's a complication or we don't get to the hospital or-"
"Maria," his voice was calm as he grabbed her robe and wrapped it around her. "Hold my hand," he told her. She did as she was told, nearly crushing it in her fervor. England didn't show the smallest bit of discomfort. "Better?" he asked.
She nodded her head. He shouted for help and was pleased to see that one of the helpers hadn't left for the night yet. The old woman immediately began calling for a car. Arthur lead Maria out into the porch, making sure to keep her away from the rain that was coming down in buckets. As they stood there, grasping each other tightly and listening to the sound of the rain, Maria seemed to calm down.
"Don't let me go," she whispered as they saw the car arrive.
He squeezed her hand back as an umbrella was held over their heads. He gave her a warm smile. "Never."
.oOo._____ .oOo. _____ .oOo. _____ .oOo. _____ .oOo. _____ .oOo. _____ .oOo.
A.N. -Thank you for reading! Fanfic response to a request. I apologize for how short and choppy this is. The request for a pregnant Maria was rather sudden and I didn't really have much time to plan. I think that could've gone into a multi-chaptered fic, but I was lacking in time. I hope this will suffice, at least for now. I wish I could've done a better job and do apologize for the lack of detail. It would've been nice to draw out and elaborate on the UKPiri romance at the beginning. It know it seems more England-centric, but I didn't have time to write out the extended Philippines-pregnancy scenes that I would've preferred. I'm very sorry for any disappointment! If I just had more time...T_T. I also asked one of the LJ artists if she could do a quick drawing of the story to add to the fanfic. I hope it's okay and at least makes up for some of it.