The Battle for Alaska 6/?
anonymous
July 29 2011, 05:03:11 UTC
Francis nodded, a calculating look on his face. “I shall join you then.”
There wasn’t any innuendo there, well no more than usual when Francis was concerned, but the words went straight through him and he felt a pleasant stirring in his body.
“I really don’t-” but Francis was already had a waitress packing things up, and he wondered just how France got the money to do such things, but then again, this was France. He dropped several bills onto the table, which Francis did not refute.
Back in his room, Francis was giddy with excitement, far too interested in Alfred to even flirt with the room service waiter, which should have set off warning bells, but Alfred was too tired to really care.
“Is this more to your liking, chéri?” he asked as he revealed a rather well done imitation of a burger. He knew that it wasn’t obviously going to be what he was used to, but his stomach wasn’t rolling with nausea any longer.
“What happened to the other food?” he said as he looked over at Francis’s one plate of something.
“I had it delivered to Angleterre.” Alfred forced himself to swallow the lump in his throat. “He wishes you’d speak to him more, you know.”
“Uh...Francis. I just-I can’t. I try but-”
“He thinks that you view him as weak.”
“No, no! It’s just-”
“It hurts to see him hurting, non?”
Alfred crumpled, pushing the food aside.
“Can we not be serious, please? I have this conversation with Mattie often enough. And the fact that Arthur wasn’t able to visit when-”
“The fact that we could not visit our bébés précieux was painful to all of us, do not think otherwise. But we know that despite your faults, and believe me chéri, you do have a few, you are a wonderful father to your states.”
Alfred swallowed as he turned away, face burning and eyes stinging. He knew he loved his children but most people (and certainly not Francis) ever really commented on it. He was so not in control right now.
“Francis,” he said, a warning or a plea, he didn’t know. And he sighed as he felt those hands on him this time, because right now he didn’t want to think.
Francis was quite talented at making Alfred not think.
As the body was above him, murmuring sweet French nothings into his ear, Alfred could feel the tension relaxing in his limbs. He’d really been cooped up in himself for too long, McCarthyism had done a horrible number on his relations with his fellow countries, even if the official political statuses hadn’t changed much.
“Ah, mon chéri, you have got to be a bit more careful, non?” Alfred blinked as he digested France’s words.
“Why? What’s up with this conversation? You usually don’t ask me-”
“You are usually not pregnant, ma chère Amérique. I may not be-”
“Pregnant? Are you stupid?!”
“Non. I have gone through this a number of times with you before, chéri. Did you think I wouldn’t recognize-”
Alfred pushed the blond off him, half tripping as he went to the mirror and looked at himself in profile.
There wasn’t really much there, he’d had muscle to gain back and weight to lose, but there was the definite slight curvature that had defined him a number of times before.
His hand pressed into the mirror until spider webs crackled along its surface and France had to pull him away.
“You didn’t notice?” his voice was full of surprise.
“With the recession and the tornados and the times I was really nauseous were in the South, and the Civil Rights movement is really picking up there and-fuck! What the fuck am I supposed to do about this!? My boss doesn’t know that I have my states! It’s been over forty-five years since the twins, I thought I was done!”
“It isn’t that much of a problem, you’ll just have to inform Mexique-”
“It isn’t Mexico.” he stated, the fight dropping out of him as he crawled into bed, Francis curling up beside him, realizing that no sexing was going to occur with Alfred this night.
“Then Matthieu, non?”
“I wish.” he moaned quietly, even as he thought back to those violet eyes, so much deeper than his brother’s. He didn’t wish that, not really, no matter how much easier it may have made things for him.
The Battle for Alaska 6b/?
anonymous
July 29 2011, 20:04:12 UTC
Aw shit. I forgot these few pieces. My bad, guys.
“You didn’t with Angleterre-”
“No! I wouldn’t not when he’s...like that...”
“Then who is it Amérique? A neutre?”
“Ah, fuck- I can’t handle this right now. My boss is going to kill me. Fuck, fuck, fuck.” he groaned, flinging his arm over his eyes and relishing the blackness.
“Francis?”
“Yes?”
“Can you get Mattie for me? I need to talk to him. And try to keep it between you and Arthur for now please? I’ll talk to the other one tomorrow, everyone’s supposed to be here, yeah?”
Francis agreed before slipping out of the doorway.
And there was silence for a while before a slight creaking announced Matthew’s presence. Alfred didn’t need to see his brother, he could feel him as the body moved into the bed beside him.
“Francis said you needed to see me?” he questioned and Alfred sighed.
“I’m pregnant, Mattie.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
There was silence, heavy and uncomfortable between them, but Mattie wasn’t one to push and like always, Alfred broke first.
“It’s Ivan.” he whispered, stupidly afraid that saying the name was going to make it real. Not that it could get any realer than being pregnant for fuck’s sake.
“Oh.” Mattie breathed, his breath caught. “When did-”
“The earthquake. We met there and-”
Canada hugged him from behind, pulling his back flush against his chest, and America relaxed into their borders, trying not to cry.
“This is such a bad time, Mattie.”
“Alaska didn’t seem to think so.”
“Do you think he’ll fight me for him?” his hand traveled to cover his stomach possessively, already hell bent on protecting his child. His future state.
“Do you want me to say that it’s mine?” Matthew asked, his hand coming down to meet Alfred’s. “It wouldn’t look out of place, you know.”
America considered it. For a moment he really did.
But then he thought of those violet eyes, the ones that helped bring him back and shook his head.
“It wouldn’t work. He’d know.” He always knew when Alfred was lying. “And my first states do have an uncanny tendency to look like their father. It’d be unfair to him.”
“Then what are you going to do?”
“I don’t know Mattie.” Alfred said quietly. “I just don’t know.”
There wasn’t any innuendo there, well no more than usual when Francis was concerned, but the words went straight through him and he felt a pleasant stirring in his body.
“I really don’t-” but Francis was already had a waitress packing things up, and he wondered just how France got the money to do such things, but then again, this was France. He dropped several bills onto the table, which Francis did not refute.
Back in his room, Francis was giddy with excitement, far too interested in Alfred to even flirt with the room service waiter, which should have set off warning bells, but Alfred was too tired to really care.
“Is this more to your liking, chéri?” he asked as he revealed a rather well done imitation of a burger. He knew that it wasn’t obviously going to be what he was used to, but his stomach wasn’t rolling with nausea any longer.
“What happened to the other food?” he said as he looked over at Francis’s one plate of something.
“I had it delivered to Angleterre.” Alfred forced himself to swallow the lump in his throat. “He wishes you’d speak to him more, you know.”
“Uh...Francis. I just-I can’t. I try but-”
“He thinks that you view him as weak.”
“No, no! It’s just-”
“It hurts to see him hurting, non?”
Alfred crumpled, pushing the food aside.
“Can we not be serious, please? I have this conversation with Mattie often enough. And the fact that Arthur wasn’t able to visit when-”
“The fact that we could not visit our bébés précieux was painful to all of us, do not think otherwise. But we know that despite your faults, and believe me chéri, you do have a few, you are a wonderful father to your states.”
Alfred swallowed as he turned away, face burning and eyes stinging. He knew he loved his children but most people (and certainly not Francis) ever really commented on it. He was so not in control right now.
“Francis,” he said, a warning or a plea, he didn’t know. And he sighed as he felt those hands on him this time, because right now he didn’t want to think.
Francis was quite talented at making Alfred not think.
As the body was above him, murmuring sweet French nothings into his ear, Alfred could feel the tension relaxing in his limbs. He’d really been cooped up in himself for too long, McCarthyism had done a horrible number on his relations with his fellow countries, even if the official political statuses hadn’t changed much.
“Ah, mon chéri, you have got to be a bit more careful, non?” Alfred blinked as he digested France’s words.
“Why? What’s up with this conversation? You usually don’t ask me-”
“You are usually not pregnant, ma chère Amérique. I may not be-”
“Pregnant? Are you stupid?!”
“Non. I have gone through this a number of times with you before, chéri. Did you think I wouldn’t recognize-”
Alfred pushed the blond off him, half tripping as he went to the mirror and looked at himself in profile.
There wasn’t really much there, he’d had muscle to gain back and weight to lose, but there was the definite slight curvature that had defined him a number of times before.
His hand pressed into the mirror until spider webs crackled along its surface and France had to pull him away.
“You didn’t notice?” his voice was full of surprise.
“With the recession and the tornados and the times I was really nauseous were in the South, and the Civil Rights movement is really picking up there and-fuck! What the fuck am I supposed to do about this!? My boss doesn’t know that I have my states! It’s been over forty-five years since the twins, I thought I was done!”
“It isn’t that much of a problem, you’ll just have to inform Mexique-”
“It isn’t Mexico.” he stated, the fight dropping out of him as he crawled into bed, Francis curling up beside him, realizing that no sexing was going to occur with Alfred this night.
“Then Matthieu, non?”
“I wish.” he moaned quietly, even as he thought back to those violet eyes, so much deeper than his brother’s. He didn’t wish that, not really, no matter how much easier it may have made things for him.
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“You didn’t with Angleterre-”
“No! I wouldn’t not when he’s...like that...”
“Then who is it Amérique? A neutre?”
“Ah, fuck- I can’t handle this right now. My boss is going to kill me. Fuck, fuck, fuck.” he groaned, flinging his arm over his eyes and relishing the blackness.
“Francis?”
“Yes?”
“Can you get Mattie for me? I need to talk to him. And try to keep it between you and Arthur for now please? I’ll talk to the other one tomorrow, everyone’s supposed to be here, yeah?”
Francis agreed before slipping out of the doorway.
And there was silence for a while before a slight creaking announced Matthew’s presence. Alfred didn’t need to see his brother, he could feel him as the body moved into the bed beside him.
“Francis said you needed to see me?” he questioned and Alfred sighed.
“I’m pregnant, Mattie.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
There was silence, heavy and uncomfortable between them, but Mattie wasn’t one to push and like always, Alfred broke first.
“It’s Ivan.” he whispered, stupidly afraid that saying the name was going to make it real. Not that it could get any realer than being pregnant for fuck’s sake.
“Oh.” Mattie breathed, his breath caught. “When did-”
“The earthquake. We met there and-”
Canada hugged him from behind, pulling his back flush against his chest, and America relaxed into their borders, trying not to cry.
“This is such a bad time, Mattie.”
“Alaska didn’t seem to think so.”
“Do you think he’ll fight me for him?” his hand traveled to cover his stomach possessively, already hell bent on protecting his child. His future state.
“Do you want me to say that it’s mine?” Matthew asked, his hand coming down to meet Alfred’s. “It wouldn’t look out of place, you know.”
America considered it. For a moment he really did.
But then he thought of those violet eyes, the ones that helped bring him back and shook his head.
“It wouldn’t work. He’d know.” He always knew when Alfred was lying. “And my first states do have an uncanny tendency to look like their father. It’d be unfair to him.”
“Then what are you going to do?”
“I don’t know Mattie.” Alfred said quietly. “I just don’t know.”
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