Past-Part Fills Post 1 -- CLOSED
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...2 times the size of Texas...
420 times the size of Rhode Island...
-And he thought his 28th state was a long --painful-- struggle to bring into the world.
As predicted, Cielo and Roger (lil’ Rhodey) were pretty upset about their next sibling’s land size compared to their own, when the topic came up a few dinners back. But in the end, Rhode Island just lamely lay his head on the table, miserably shoveling more blueberry pie into his mouth, while Texas slumped back in her seat, hiding her pouting face underneath a dusty 10 gallon hat.
What scared America more than anything was that the child had not grown as much as anticipated by now. Sure his pants fit much tighter than last month, but even his elder states, with vastly smaller territories, had been fairly bigger once he’d reached this point. The kid almost never wanted to eat or forced its parent to reject dozens of unfinished meals (Alfred frequently mourned over unfinished burgers and fries he’d never see again). He tried mixing certain things together to satisfy his picky cravings, but very little could be done, other than filling up on bread and, for some strange reason, honey every now and then.
It also didn’t help Alfred’s level of stress that there will still a few members of congress, fighting tooth and nail against Alaska’s statehood. However, no matter how much pain he may enure, America was determined, that by the end of all this fear and uncertainty, he would have his healthy new state.
Bringing his knuckles up to catch the side of his bobbed head, the other hand traced the swirling grains decorating the table. America had been trying his best to kick his habit of constantly grazing his abdomen to catch movement of any kind (‘Almost all the other states had begun moving by now’ the pesky inner voice frequently reminded him). Instead he’d assure himself with a gentle sort of scolding, marveling at his own paranoia, with thoughts like ‘Don’t worry!’ or ‘Any day now ...’ and of course ‘...lazy kid...’.
Just as the country was ready to lose it and start negotiating with his next state for one measly kick, there was a hesitated knock at the door. Two soft slow ones grew with quick confidence to three loud and fast raps.
*Knock-knock*KnockKnockKNOCK*
‘Why is that asshole always so punctual!’ Before he knew it, Alfred found himself up against the door, feeling for the knob, as if the whole thing would burst in like a flooding dam. One more mili-second pep-talk popped up in his mind, like a heroic subliminal message before he sucked in a lung-full of air and slowly opened the door.
The tall, fair-haired man, filling the gap between the door and frame, didn’t readily look Alfred in the eye until the creaking hinges silenced halfway.
“Good evening America.” Violet eyes tried to smile past the obvious tension. It wasn’t chilly nor was it anxious. Perhaps just embarrassed and lonesome.
For a moment, Alfred thought, Ivan looked as nervous as he was, though the idea was completely absurd. Whatever the emotion, America widened the entrance, gesturing Russia must enter, or feel fit to seep through the floorboards and vanish forever.
Ivan immediately sat down before being asked, letting the chair scrape loudly against the floor to fill the absence of noise. Alfred gently closed the door, as if afraid any offending slam would prematurely unveil his secret.
“Want something to drink?” the American asked before he could stop himself, mentally punching at the godless forces that controlled his mouth. ‘CRAP! I was supposed to wait for him to ask! Crapcrapstupidcrap!’
Russia hummed, thinking over the consequences of his answer. “Da.” he pleasantly exclaimed, bringing some momentary relief to America’s pounding heart. Though it didn’t help that Ivan’s eyes never left his form as he walked to the fridge, retrieving the heavy and frosted jug.
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*THUNK*
A right boot, crusted with age, belonging to the leg of the seated Red, landed soundly on the table-top.
Despite concealing his start from the sudden bang, the vodka in Alfred’s hand had nearly been reduced to a river of crystal bits against the linoleum under his feet. Before he could roll his eyes and tell Ivan to go ahead and wiz all over the floor while he’s at it, because the renter was a jerk anyways, there was a second sound.
-A throb of metal clanking against wood rang in Alfred’s ears. He stared at the sacrificed Russian pistol from Ivan’s boot, lain there on the table, glowing in the ring of light from the hanging lamp above.
“You are surprised?” Russia said, tilting his chair back on two legs and his head to the side, “I believe we agreed to ‘just’ talk.”
Though Ivan was never one to put on a performance, Alfred still couldn’t tell if he was playing a sleight of hand or not. Cautiously, the bottle and a cup joined the gun at the center of the table, pushed slightly closer to Ivan than the former. Not sure how to put his response into words, America slowly lifted his own leg onto chair (always certain he looked like Roy Rogers whenever he did this), and pulled a polished Smith&Wesson from his left boot.
“What about your pipe?” Alfred asked casually, laying his gun down next to it’s distant relative. The two guns made a diamond shape, both barrels kissing the drastically different handle they met. It was a pleasant shape and calmed Alfred a considerable amount. As for Ivan, that feral, yet soap-soft grin hadn’t left his face, already having helped himself to a mouthful of vodka. He reached under the hem on his coat, to his thigh for the infamous pipe. He let it too fall with a terrible steely clatter, nearly chipping the table’s polished finish.
“Hang on.” America said, pulling a Swiss Army knife from his back pocket, placing it down by its distant weapon-cousins (twice removed, in the pipe’s case).
“Ah, how cute.” Russia smirked, reaching into his coat, pulling out a rather large, sheathed combat knife from his breast pocket, “Mine is bigger, I’m afraid.”
*Clack* Into the pile it went.
“Hey, mine’s plenty big and at least it has more than one use,” America retorted, defending the gift Switzerland gave him a few decades back, patting around for something else to add to the menacing collection. “Besides, you couldn’t open a can of beans with that slab.” he added, remembering a side pocket on the inside lining of his coat. Alfred reached under, careful not to tug his jacket up and over his stomach.
A small hand tomahawk, tied at the end with leather and a single turquoise stone, joined the cultural immersion of metal. He’d never let England or France know he still carried it around. Though it was exhausted by age and some minor adjustments over time, the blade was strong enough to chisel stone without a scratch. “Wait, one more.” Alfred said, feeling a well missed, happy little thrill, reaching up his sleeve for a snub-nosed little hand-gun strapped to his right forearm (Not one of his shining favorites, since a device of a similar design had been used to assassinate his beloved Lincoln so long ago. But nonetheless, the trinket was handy to carry around for safety precautions.).
Alfred smiled and sat down, the same old ‘beat that’ look painted on his face.
Russia stared into the pile of shared contributions, his lips forming an ‘O’ to whistle through. He nodded with a serious and deliberate slowness, to allow the glinting metal to flash in his purple irises. Putting his hands behind his head, Ivan hummed heavily, so deeply, in fact, America could swear he feel a slight vibration tickle him across the table.
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The armed nation inspected his blade, nearly long as his arm and clean as freshly lain snow, practically singing like a siren in the light. “Ach, it seems to have come loose from it’s case.” Ivan said, rising to remove his coat and unstrap the belts tightened over his shoulders.
“Whu-hut’s...uh...” America said, bumbling any commentary he’d preserved, about Russia totally unsheathing a fuckin’ sword from his back, and found he was unable to brand this as really cool or flat out terrifying.
“Oh, forgive me.” Ivan said with that quaint country boy smile, that made Alfred want to flip the table up in his face. He pushed the sword back into its holder, gently placing it down in a neat, horizontal dividing live between the two countries, as part of it’s introduction, “A shashka. Light as a feather in travel, yet deadly as wolf fangs in combat.” America wouldn’t find out until decades later, that Russia too disliked carrying the particular weapon for personal reasons, but did so for the same purpose as his rival. Protection.
Alfred blinked away from the sword, with the rustle of Ivan’s khaki-colored overcoat, folded gently next to the deadly chimera of weaponry. He looked up, certain the scarf was still in place, wrapped around his rival’s neck.
“As you can see,” the Slavic country said spinning in a blithe yet fearless twirl, like a music box dancer, “I am hiding nothing.”
The black t-shirt and suspenders, tight against Ivan’s broad chest and thick shoulders stretched with each bend and flex his body made as he leant against the back of his chair. If he was big-boned in any shape or form, it was in all the right places, America remembered almost fondly. ‘Almost’, meaning he was biting the inside of his cheek to drive away any thoughts that would make his situation more complicated than it already was.
Too bad it had already reached that climax.
-In drama, truth had that uncontrollable power to end the plot as a tragedy or a comedy. Until then, no one knows what will come in the finale and America was no exception.
Russia stood poise behind his vacant chair, fingers drumming the back support. He was waiting, wanting America to not follow his lead, but challenge and counter his every move. As was always. “Well.” he said at last, still smiling patiently, posing as the very portrait of diplomatic posture. “Liberate me from my suspicions...dorogoy.”
The man’s, who’s voice felt worlds away from him, had never had a too-deep baritone octave, but Alfred felt as though he was calling up to him like a booming echo from the bottom of a well. Or was Ivan was calling down to him, a quaking stupid ripple?
‘I’m so fucking tired of this.’ Alfred deflated, his inner voice agreeing wholly.
The eyes staring him down were saturated brightly with light from above, their pupils reduced to pinpoints. America pulled into them as he stood up, and before he could change his mind, yanked the zipper down on his jacket.
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TBC...soon!
Seriously it will with a part II! I just wanted to post now because A.) This chapter is already getting very long, B.) I’ve already spent enough time on it and C.) I love cliff-hangers, cuz I’m an evil bitch like that. Word.
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Ha! I laughed at the landmass bit. My mom still believes Texas is the biggest state >.> Sorry Alaska
Uwah! Baby bump! XD I love Al with a baby bump, so cute~!
I cant wait for the next part!
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I love so much about this -- America worrying over his new state, trying not to constantly check to see if it's kicking yet, references to the other states, the TOMAHAWK (and what it symbolizes), and just EVERYTHING.
You know, I just updated my own fill too when I saw this update. That's like, a reward for my updating I think. WOHOO!! God loves me and shows me by giving me mpreg Hetalia ficcage!
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this part is amazing, especially when they start competing each other lolz
I love cliff-hangers too, when the continuation is promised <3
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Me: Eh? What is this, 'Blue-screen death you speak of computer?
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Poor America, there's a lot to worry about with Alaska, between the state's father, the fight over statehood, the earthquake, and further on, the high drug and crime rates.
Aw, America, don't you know? Russia missed you :)
I love his thought processes, especially when Al is trying to avoid looking week as much as possible.
Oh my, the history you put/imply about the weapons...I think I am in love with you.
I never thought of disarming as sexy before...and now it's stuck in my head. In a very good way :)
"Liberate me..." Oh Ivan, hehehe.
Evil cliff hanger! (But I understand your reasons, and when you are not on the wrong end, it's fun. )
I am so looking forward to the next one, this so made my day.
(P.S I'm the anon who scared her roommate squealing at the one with Hawaii. I am really glad she's not around today because I would have really scared her with this one.)
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And GAH DO NOT STOP THERE DAMMIT. D< Loved the whole disarming competition, though. Russia and the sword = ♥
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I'm beyond happy to see this update.
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And the image of Alfred and Russia having an arm race right there in living room? PRICELESS. My jaw also dropped open when Russia pulled that shashka out of nowhere. These two were just full of surprises for each other this day, weren't they? :D Of course, Alfred still had one more surprise for Russia...
I think Russia is going to be happy... he may or may not show it, but he is going to absolutely love his kid nonetheless. He is Mother Russia after all :D And I can see how he's probably going to be protective about America and the baby to the point of possessive... let's hope the parents won't start a custody battle before Alaska is even born...
recaptcha: glassy Jr
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Just like... everything is so perfect and well-written and so entertaining to read.
Please update soon!
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