"Then that's my bear's name, too," declared Alaska. He hugged the bear and examined its button eyes and pinched its soft little ears while America clattered about with the stove and pancake batter. As he poured the batter onto the smoking skillet, America stole glances at his son and Ivan-bear, and felt another pang.
His other children all knew their fathers (or mother, in the case of the half-dozen he'd had with Mexico); in fact, their other parents often quarrelled over them, bragging about who's children were the most beautiful, the smartest, the most talented. Only America played no favorites -- only he had to love them all equally. But it was only Alaska that he had to love enough for two.
It wasn't that he regretted keeping Russia away from Alaska -- what was he supposed to do, anyway? Let Russia rock Alaska's cradle with one hand while keeping the other hovering over the red button? But no matter how much America hated Russia -- hated his evil, paranoid, red red red politics -- he wouldn't turn Alaska against Russia. He wouldn't teach their son to hate him. He wondered if things had been different, if Russia would've been as considerate.
Alaska sat up eagerly in his chair as America approached with blueberry pancakes. Ivan-bear remained in his lap, the red bow adorning his neck. Even as Alaska grabbed for his fork, he asked, "You did send my papa my letter, right?"
"I sure did," America assured him, placing a stack of pancakes on Alaska's plate. "Santa Claus promised it'd get to him by his Christmas." Finland didn't particularly like carrying Alaska's yearly letters to Russia, but America trusted him to get them there.
Alaska rested his chin on his hand and pulled Ivan-bear close. "Do you think he'll write me back this year?"
"I dunno, kiddo," said America softly. "I know he wants to. But you know the Communists won't let him, just like they won't let him come visit you."
"But one day he will, right?" Alaska asked, looking up at his parent anxiously. "When the Communists are gone?"
"One day," America told him. After a moment he cleared his throat and said, "C'mon, dig in. Our pancakes are getting cold!"
Alaska smiled. "Not awesome!"
They ate their breakfast, America only half paying attention to his food. Instead, he studied his son, marveling that it had been eight years already. His little ones aged at almost the same rate as human children until their aging stalled out at about sixteen or seventeen (his eldest, Virginia, could pass for America's younger sister) but that meant was that childhood was as fleeting for their kind as it was for humans.
America had forty-nine other children living, and he knew every one of them in ways that only a parent could know them. With the memory of an immortal, he could recall exactly the scent of their skin as babies; the many scrapes he had kissed away for teary-eyed toddlers; and each and every first word. He even had abilities no human parent had ever been blessed with -- America had known the moment each of his children had been conceived, and even know, if he closed his eyes and concentrated, he could feel in his bones where each of them was standing on this earth.
But even so, this youngest son of his was, in some ways, a mystery even to him. From time to time Alaska would go quiet and tilt his head to the side, as though listening to the faraway sound of one of his Snowy Owls flying on hushed wings over the tundra. All of America's other children had been born roaring like lion cubs, waving their tiny fists in indignation, but Alaska had come into this world blue and silent.
A polite rapping at the door, and Alaska looked up from his plate. "I think that's Hawaii's dad," he said.
America checked his watch. "Right on time."
"I'll let him in," Alaska said, hopping from his chair and bounding for the door.
Alaska had always been fascinated with Japan, the only one among his siblings' fathers who visited their home regularly (in all fairness, this was because his other siblings lived in their own homes now, and were visited by their fathers there). At first, Alaska had thought Japan, with his delicate features and long kimono, was a girl and had called him "Miss Japan" until America, laughing, finally convinced him that Japan was Hawaii's dad and not her mother.
Sure enough, Japan was standing at the door. "Good morning, obo-chan," he told Alaska, with a polite nod of the head.
"G'morning, Mr. Japan," Alaska replied. "Are you here to pick up Hawaii?"
"I am," Japan replied. America waved at him, and Japan responded with a bow.
"Hey, let's go get dressed," America said, taking Alaska by the hand. "Japan is taking Hawaii for the day, so you and me are going ice-skating."
"Really?" Alaska's eyes lit up. "Can I bring Ivan?"
Japan's brow quirked slightly, which for him was a sign of great dismay. America chuckled softly and said, "Ivan is the name of the bear."
"I... see."
"Dad, can I?" pleaded Alaska, plucking at America's sleeve.
"He can ride in the car," America promised him as they made their way back upstairs, followed by Japan. "But he can't go on the ice."
"Awww," Alaska pouted. He patted Ivan-bear on the head, as though consoling him.
Japan disappeared into Hawaii's room, and a few moments later America and Alaska heard her shriek of delight. "Otou-san!" Although he couldn't see them, America knew that right now his youngest daughter had thrown her arms around Japan's neck, her little feet dangling as Japan lifted her out of her bed.
Alaska's pout had deepened into a frown, and he clutched Ivan-bear to him. America, who could read no one but for his children, saw the look on Alaska's face was not so much jealously as longing for something which he'd never had.
Quickly he caught the boy up in his arms, babbling something ridiculous about all the ice-skating they were going to do, and carried him into his bedroom to change. They bundled into scarves and mittens and coats (even Ivan-bear wore a tiny coat borrowed from one of Hawaii's dolls) and after exchanging good mornings and happy birthdays and goodbyes with Japan and Hawaii, they piled into America's car.
"Dad," Alaska said as America buckled him in, "if my papa can't come to see me, could I go to visit him?"
I'll explain more later, but basically, each state has its own personification, while native tribal groups that have been resident there long before the current era also have their own personifications. So in the case of Alaska there's Haida-tan, Inuit-tan, Aleut-tan, etc. co-existing with Alaska State-tan. I have not overlooked this, don't worry!
I <3 this fic so far! The beginning is brilliant! I really like America here, he's so warm and caring! He's such an awesome dad, and I like his thoughts on his children. And aww at Alaska, being the only one to not know his father. LOL at Miss Japan, and I like that Japan is Hawaii's dad, so cute <3 Ivan-bear sounds adorable. I also really like the line about santa sending Ivan his letters, that was really cute! All in all, I'm bookmarking this, and I can't wait for more!
OMG I was craving exactly this: state cuteness. Your children are so believable, author anon, and I say this as an odler sister of six! Alaska is adorable, but his silent pain for not knowing his father, and the fact that he's never had time for himself or much attention paid to him, make my heart clench. America is the most awesome father on the Earth, he has good reasons for everything, and a good heart, not wanting his kid to hate his other father no matter what. I love that he's so dedicated and loving that he can overcome his personality faults (oblivious lack of tact, immaturity and inability to read others) for them; and his special abilities to sense them and the moment they are conceived which sounded strangely adorable and intimate; does that mean that, the moment his partner has reached climax inside him, he knows he's been knocked up?. I can't wait to know in what circumstances Alaska was conceived! Will you go there? *eager*
Also, the relationship you asigned to the states and their other fathers was great...as was the implied visits of those fathers to America's main home until their kids have a house of their own. And the boast-bickering! god, I wish we could see one such argument between England, France, Spain, Mexico and co.
Your Japan was great; the appropiate levels of politeness and subtlety even while dismayed. And Hawaii's reaction at seeing him made me squee, SO CUTE <3
His little ones aged at almost the same rate as human children until their aging stalled out at about sixteen or seventeen (his eldest, Virginia, could pass for America's younger sister) but that meant was that childhood was as fleeting for their kind as it was for humans.
That made my headcanon in record time. It's so fitting and so sad ;_;
(wow, your state headcanon mirrors mine completely: Virginia as the eldest, the fathers bickering about who has the best children, America being such a good dad who tries to be fair all the time, and so tender, Hawaii as Japan's daughter, Alaska as the strange one -man, the differences to all his siblings' births was intriguing-, both living with their teen dad, the states' growth stopping in their teens...I'm gonna love this hard <3<3<3)
Awesome and very cute start! I'm so excited to see several stories on the kink meme with mpreg and state-tans going on right now, and all of them are handled so well! This was absolutely adorable, and I can't wait to see more state-tan cuteness, and how Alaska gets to his dad.
America stuck the key in the ignition, silently cursing Russia for putting him in this position, faced with a child's innocent question without an easy answer. "Kiddo, I don't think that's a good idea."
"Because of the communists?"
"Yeah. They won't let you see him, and even if they did, they wouldn't let you come back home. They'd make you stay there and use you for -- for propaganda." America slowly backed out of their driveway and into the street, glancing from the rear-view mirror to his son's face every few seconds.
Alaska's face crumpled. "Why do they have to ruin everything?" he said. "Why doesn't my papa get rid of them?"
"He's trying, he's been trying for a long time," America lied. "Communism is like an infection. It's like he's been sick for years and years, since even before you were born. That's why we have to be so vigilant when it comes to communism, because it spreads like a disease."
Alaska took a deep breath and held it for a few moments. "Okay," he said, and then in a softer voice that America couldn't hear over the traffic, "but what if the communists didn't know I was there?"
They parked beside a frozen lake surrounded by trees groaning under their burdens of snow. America was glad to see they were the only people there; his children liked playing with human kids, but being around humans always meant uncomfortable questions and having to remind his little states to call him "Alfred". One consequence of his eternal youth was that he didn't look old enough to buy a beer, much less be the parent of a school-aged child. Alaska looked and acted a year or two younger than he was, but even so America couldn't pass for his father. Long ago, back in 1822, when America had six children under the age of seven, he had tried growing a beard to look older, but only succeeded in looking like a youth with wispy facial hair.
Alaska was first on the ice, as always; he had the natural ability of one born to skate. America glided after him, laughing as Alaska skated circles around him and even slid through his legs. Alaska grinned ear to ear, his cheeks very red, clearly having the time of his life. The only sounds were their voices and the hiss of skates on ice.
When they were both too tired to skate any more, America and Alaska sat on the edge of the lake, side by side, tugging loose laces and pulling off one another's hats to see their hair stick up every-which-way. Alaska was so tuckered out that America ended up carrying him to the car, buckling him in next to Ivan-bear.
"Dad," Alaska said, then paused to yawn. "This was the best birthday ever."
"Thanks, kiddo," America told him, pinching Alaska's nose to see him wrinkle it in response. America had nightmares sometimes about Russia meeting Alaska and saying vicious, evil things to him, saying that Alaska wasn't his, that he didn't love him -- but God, Alaska even had Russia's nose. There was no denying him.
Alaska dozed off before he even got the car cranked back up, Ivan-bear snug in his lap, his pale lashes touching his cheeks. America sighed as he began the drive back home. Russia, you don't know what you're missing out on.
They pulled into the driveway to see a large box, almost ten feet high and six feet wide, sitting on the front lawn of America's house. Alaska yawned as America unbuckled him and woke him up, and then he gaped in amazement. "What's that?"
"Something Tony's been working on," America said, sitting Alaska down and prying open the front of the box. "It's an experimental weather balloon, using alien technology to make it undetectable by radar -- wow! Look at it!"
'It' was a cylindrical tube with an end that unscrewed to reveal a compartment filled with buttons and screens. This, America explained, was where all the specialized equipment would go eventually. "This is just the prototype," he said. "But it's amazing! Look, these tubes connect to this foil stuff here to inflate it -- that's the balloon. It'll go higher and stay aloft longer than any other balloon."
"But why does it need to be undetectable?" Alaska asked, peering inside. He was small enough to crawl into the compartment and examine all the buttons and levers.
"Because sometimes balloons like this fly into hostile territory," America went on. "And we don't want someone thinking its a spy plane and shooting it down... hey look, these vents allow us to control its movement. The onboard computer can make the balloon navigate! Tony really outdid himself with this one."
Alaska crawled back out of the compartment. "How far can it go?"
"This prototype can manage an Atlantic crossing, or at least that's what Tony thinks," America said proudly as he closed the box again. "We'll be able to track hurricanes in the ocean!"
America with his super-strength easily carried the box into the garage for safe-keeping, and with that safely stored they headed inside the house.
In the living room, they found Japan and Hawaii on the sofa, watching Captain Kangaroo. Or at least they had been, as Japan and Hawaii had fallen asleep in one another's arms, Hawaii sprawled across Japan's lap, her head tucked under his chin, Japan curled around her protectively. In sleep, father and daughter had the same serene expressions.
America tiptoed over and turned off the television, then felt a little hand plucking at his sleeve. Alaska took his hand and whispered, "I love you, Dad."
"Hey," America said, with a fond crooked smile. "Ditto, kiddo."
OVERLOAD OF CUTENESS! lmao an alien weather balloon, eh? I'm guessing that little Alaska's going to try and use it. And I love that you included all the comments aboout communism and it being like a disease. So America! Obviously this is during the Cold War, but when during it exactly? P.S Does Alaska have a human name?
"Because sometimes balloons like this fly into hostile territory," America went on. "And we don't want someone thinking its a spy plane and shooting it down..."
I DIED, RIGHT THERE. Oh anon, I love your characterization, and if this is going where I think it's going I might have to pledge my undying love to you. Just warning you. America is the best dad ever. ♥
Bawww, poor Alaska! I love how he subtly needs to reafirm his stance with his dad when he sees his sister curled up with her other dad...and the skating <3<3<3 (I hope for some skatings later on when he meets Russia...)
You balance America really well; he's a great dad (that moment when he feels sad Russia's missing out on everything), but he's also a teen, with his enthusiasm about the balloon...and we all know what that balloon's gonna do now that Alaska knows its posibilitiesXD
I found it interesting that America worries about Russia denying Alaska's paternity, since the Russian doesn't even know the child exists...it's so cute to know he looks so much like Russia! That's my headcanon too ^^ wait, he has the nose, right? what else? Does he have the ashen-blond hair, the violet eyes...? he's apparently small for his age, so he obviously doens't have the build...
Long ago, back in 1822, when America had six children under the age of seven, he had tried growing a beard to look older, but only succeeded in looking like a youth with wispy facial hair.
This is so cute it deserves a fic! Maybe I'll request something about it later on...
AuthorAnon
anonymous
December 24 2010, 06:17:51 UTC
Thank you! The next chapter should be up shortly after Christmas.
Russia is aware of Alaska's existence. We'll find out more about what happened to those letters Alaska sent to him in care of Finland/Santa Claus later.
The state-tans still do age a little slower than human children, but not by much. Alaska's the approximate equivalent of a six-year-old human child, although he's chronologically eight. I felt too bad for America to leave him with babies that stay in diapers for 30 or 40 years. :) As for his appearance, we'll be seeing him through Russia's eyes soon.
"Ivan."
"Then that's my bear's name, too," declared Alaska. He hugged the bear and examined its button eyes and pinched its soft little ears while America clattered about with the stove and pancake batter. As he poured the batter onto the smoking skillet, America stole glances at his son and Ivan-bear, and felt another pang.
His other children all knew their fathers (or mother, in the case of the half-dozen he'd had with Mexico); in fact, their other parents often quarrelled over them, bragging about who's children were the most beautiful, the smartest, the most talented. Only America played no favorites -- only he had to love them all equally. But it was only Alaska that he had to love enough for two.
It wasn't that he regretted keeping Russia away from Alaska -- what was he supposed to do, anyway? Let Russia rock Alaska's cradle with one hand while keeping the other hovering over the red button? But no matter how much America hated Russia -- hated his evil, paranoid, red red red politics -- he wouldn't turn Alaska against Russia. He wouldn't teach their son to hate him. He wondered if things had been different, if Russia would've been as considerate.
Alaska sat up eagerly in his chair as America approached with blueberry pancakes. Ivan-bear remained in his lap, the red bow adorning his neck. Even as Alaska grabbed for his fork, he asked, "You did send my papa my letter, right?"
"I sure did," America assured him, placing a stack of pancakes on Alaska's plate. "Santa Claus promised it'd get to him by his Christmas." Finland didn't particularly like carrying Alaska's yearly letters to Russia, but America trusted him to get them there.
Alaska rested his chin on his hand and pulled Ivan-bear close. "Do you think he'll write me back this year?"
"I dunno, kiddo," said America softly. "I know he wants to. But you know the Communists won't let him, just like they won't let him come visit you."
"But one day he will, right?" Alaska asked, looking up at his parent anxiously. "When the Communists are gone?"
"One day," America told him. After a moment he cleared his throat and said, "C'mon, dig in. Our pancakes are getting cold!"
Alaska smiled. "Not awesome!"
They ate their breakfast, America only half paying attention to his food. Instead, he studied his son, marveling that it had been eight years already. His little ones aged at almost the same rate as human children until their aging stalled out at about sixteen or seventeen (his eldest, Virginia, could pass for America's younger sister) but that meant was that childhood was as fleeting for their kind as it was for humans.
America had forty-nine other children living, and he knew every one of them in ways that only a parent could know them. With the memory of an immortal, he could recall exactly the scent of their skin as babies; the many scrapes he had kissed away for teary-eyed toddlers; and each and every first word. He even had abilities no human parent had ever been blessed with -- America had known the moment each of his children had been conceived, and even know, if he closed his eyes and concentrated, he could feel in his bones where each of them was standing on this earth.
But even so, this youngest son of his was, in some ways, a mystery even to him. From time to time Alaska would go quiet and tilt his head to the side, as though listening to the faraway sound of one of his Snowy Owls flying on hushed wings over the tundra. All of America's other children had been born roaring like lion cubs, waving their tiny fists in indignation, but Alaska had come into this world blue and silent.
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America checked his watch. "Right on time."
"I'll let him in," Alaska said, hopping from his chair and bounding for the door.
Alaska had always been fascinated with Japan, the only one among his siblings' fathers who visited their home regularly (in all fairness, this was because his other siblings lived in their own homes now, and were visited by their fathers there). At first, Alaska had thought Japan, with his delicate features and long kimono, was a girl and had called him "Miss Japan" until America, laughing, finally convinced him that Japan was Hawaii's dad and not her mother.
Sure enough, Japan was standing at the door. "Good morning, obo-chan," he told Alaska, with a polite nod of the head.
"G'morning, Mr. Japan," Alaska replied. "Are you here to pick up Hawaii?"
"I am," Japan replied. America waved at him, and Japan responded with a bow.
"Hey, let's go get dressed," America said, taking Alaska by the hand. "Japan is taking Hawaii for the day, so you and me are going ice-skating."
"Really?" Alaska's eyes lit up. "Can I bring Ivan?"
Japan's brow quirked slightly, which for him was a sign of great dismay. America chuckled softly and said, "Ivan is the name of the bear."
"I... see."
"Dad, can I?" pleaded Alaska, plucking at America's sleeve.
"He can ride in the car," America promised him as they made their way back upstairs, followed by Japan. "But he can't go on the ice."
"Awww," Alaska pouted. He patted Ivan-bear on the head, as though consoling him.
Japan disappeared into Hawaii's room, and a few moments later America and Alaska heard her shriek of delight. "Otou-san!" Although he couldn't see them, America knew that right now his youngest daughter had thrown her arms around Japan's neck, her little feet dangling as Japan lifted her out of her bed.
Alaska's pout had deepened into a frown, and he clutched Ivan-bear to him. America, who could read no one but for his children, saw the look on Alaska's face was not so much jealously as longing for something which he'd never had.
Quickly he caught the boy up in his arms, babbling something ridiculous about all the ice-skating they were going to do, and carried him into his bedroom to change. They bundled into scarves and mittens and coats (even Ivan-bear wore a tiny coat borrowed from one of Hawaii's dolls) and after exchanging good mornings and happy birthdays and goodbyes with Japan and Hawaii, they piled into America's car.
"Dad," Alaska said as America buckled him in, "if my papa can't come to see me, could I go to visit him?"
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So cute! I love it and feel sorry for Alaska.
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Ivan-bear sounds adorable.
I also really like the line about santa sending Ivan his letters, that was really cute!
All in all, I'm bookmarking this, and I can't wait for more!
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America is the most awesome father on the Earth, he has good reasons for everything, and a good heart, not wanting his kid to hate his other father no matter what. I love that he's so dedicated and loving that he can overcome his personality faults (oblivious lack of tact, immaturity and inability to read others) for them; and his special abilities to sense them and the moment they are conceived which sounded strangely adorable and intimate; does that mean that, the moment his partner has reached climax inside him, he knows he's been knocked up?. I can't wait to know in what circumstances Alaska was conceived! Will you go there? *eager*
Also, the relationship you asigned to the states and their other fathers was great...as was the implied visits of those fathers to America's main home until their kids have a house of their own. And the boast-bickering! god, I wish we could see one such argument between England, France, Spain, Mexico and co.
Your Japan was great; the appropiate levels of politeness and subtlety even while dismayed. And Hawaii's reaction at seeing him made me squee, SO CUTE <3
His little ones aged at almost the same rate as human children until their aging stalled out at about sixteen or seventeen (his eldest, Virginia, could pass for America's younger sister) but that meant was that childhood was as fleeting for their kind as it was for humans.
That made my headcanon in record time. It's so fitting and so sad ;_;
(wow, your state headcanon mirrors mine completely: Virginia as the eldest, the fathers bickering about who has the best children, America being such a good dad who tries to be fair all the time, and so tender, Hawaii as Japan's daughter, Alaska as the strange one -man, the differences to all his siblings' births was intriguing-, both living with their teen dad, the states' growth stopping in their teens...I'm gonna love this hard <3<3<3)
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"Because of the communists?"
"Yeah. They won't let you see him, and even if they did, they wouldn't let you come back home. They'd make you stay there and use you for -- for propaganda." America slowly backed out of their driveway and into the street, glancing from the rear-view mirror to his son's face every few seconds.
Alaska's face crumpled. "Why do they have to ruin everything?" he said. "Why doesn't my papa get rid of them?"
"He's trying, he's been trying for a long time," America lied. "Communism is like an infection. It's like he's been sick for years and years, since even before you were born. That's why we have to be so vigilant when it comes to communism, because it spreads like a disease."
Alaska took a deep breath and held it for a few moments. "Okay," he said, and then in a softer voice that America couldn't hear over the traffic, "but what if the communists didn't know I was there?"
They parked beside a frozen lake surrounded by trees groaning under their burdens of snow. America was glad to see they were the only people there; his children liked playing with human kids, but being around humans always meant uncomfortable questions and having to remind his little states to call him "Alfred". One consequence of his eternal youth was that he didn't look old enough to buy a beer, much less be the parent of a school-aged child. Alaska looked and acted a year or two younger than he was, but even so America couldn't pass for his father. Long ago, back in 1822, when America had six children under the age of seven, he had tried growing a beard to look older, but only succeeded in looking like a youth with wispy facial hair.
Alaska was first on the ice, as always; he had the natural ability of one born to skate. America glided after him, laughing as Alaska skated circles around him and even slid through his legs. Alaska grinned ear to ear, his cheeks very red, clearly having the time of his life. The only sounds were their voices and the hiss of skates on ice.
When they were both too tired to skate any more, America and Alaska sat on the edge of the lake, side by side, tugging loose laces and pulling off one another's hats to see their hair stick up every-which-way. Alaska was so tuckered out that America ended up carrying him to the car, buckling him in next to Ivan-bear.
"Dad," Alaska said, then paused to yawn. "This was the best birthday ever."
"Thanks, kiddo," America told him, pinching Alaska's nose to see him wrinkle it in response. America had nightmares sometimes about Russia meeting Alaska and saying vicious, evil things to him, saying that Alaska wasn't his, that he didn't love him -- but God, Alaska even had Russia's nose. There was no denying him.
Alaska dozed off before he even got the car cranked back up, Ivan-bear snug in his lap, his pale lashes touching his cheeks. America sighed as he began the drive back home. Russia, you don't know what you're missing out on.
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"Something Tony's been working on," America said, sitting Alaska down and prying open the front of the box. "It's an experimental weather balloon, using alien technology to make it undetectable by radar -- wow! Look at it!"
'It' was a cylindrical tube with an end that unscrewed to reveal a compartment filled with buttons and screens. This, America explained, was where all the specialized equipment would go eventually. "This is just the prototype," he said. "But it's amazing! Look, these tubes connect to this foil stuff here to inflate it -- that's the balloon. It'll go higher and stay aloft longer than any other balloon."
"But why does it need to be undetectable?" Alaska asked, peering inside. He was small enough to crawl into the compartment and examine all the buttons and levers.
"Because sometimes balloons like this fly into hostile territory," America went on. "And we don't want someone thinking its a spy plane and shooting it down... hey look, these vents allow us to control its movement. The onboard computer can make the balloon navigate! Tony really outdid himself with this one."
Alaska crawled back out of the compartment. "How far can it go?"
"This prototype can manage an Atlantic crossing, or at least that's what Tony thinks," America said proudly as he closed the box again. "We'll be able to track hurricanes in the ocean!"
America with his super-strength easily carried the box into the garage for safe-keeping, and with that safely stored they headed inside the house.
In the living room, they found Japan and Hawaii on the sofa, watching Captain Kangaroo. Or at least they had been, as Japan and Hawaii had fallen asleep in one another's arms, Hawaii sprawled across Japan's lap, her head tucked under his chin, Japan curled around her protectively. In sleep, father and daughter had the same serene expressions.
America tiptoed over and turned off the television, then felt a little hand plucking at his sleeve. Alaska took his hand and whispered, "I love you, Dad."
"Hey," America said, with a fond crooked smile. "Ditto, kiddo."
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lmao an alien weather balloon, eh? I'm guessing that little Alaska's going to try and use it.
And I love that you included all the comments aboout communism and it being like a disease. So America! Obviously this is during the Cold War, but when during it exactly?
P.S Does Alaska have a human name?
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This fic starts out January 3, 1967, Alaska's eighth birthday. And Alaska's human name is Aleksei.
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I DIED, RIGHT THERE.
Oh anon, I love your characterization, and if this is going where I think it's going I might have to pledge my undying love to you. Just warning you. America is the best dad ever. ♥
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You balance America really well; he's a great dad (that moment when he feels sad Russia's missing out on everything), but he's also a teen, with his enthusiasm about the balloon...and we all know what that balloon's gonna do now that Alaska knows its posibilitiesXD
I found it interesting that America worries about Russia denying Alaska's paternity, since the Russian doesn't even know the child exists...it's so cute to know he looks so much like Russia! That's my headcanon too ^^
wait, he has the nose, right? what else? Does he have the ashen-blond hair, the violet eyes...? he's apparently small for his age, so he obviously doens't have the build...
Long ago, back in 1822, when America had six children under the age of seven, he had tried growing a beard to look older, but only succeeded in looking like a youth with wispy facial hair.
This is so cute it deserves a fic! Maybe I'll request something about it later on...
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Russia is aware of Alaska's existence. We'll find out more about what happened to those letters Alaska sent to him in care of Finland/Santa Claus later.
The state-tans still do age a little slower than human children, but not by much. Alaska's the approximate equivalent of a six-year-old human child, although he's chronologically eight. I felt too bad for America to leave him with babies that stay in diapers for 30 or 40 years. :) As for his appearance, we'll be seeing him through Russia's eyes soon.
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