A Year of Surprises 2
Pairing: UKUS
Rating/Warnings: M for language, eventual sex, mpreg, and angst
Word count: 1134
Summary: Nations in times of prosperity are capable of reproducing. Of course there's a problem with this: when they do go into heat it doesn't stop until they conceive. This is the story of America's first pregnancy.
Chapter One
July
America still wasn't quite used to the idea of having England around again. Maybe it was because it felt different than the other times they'd lived together. There was some sort of tension, drawing America deeper but forcing him away at the same time. Maybe he'd just forgotten about it? Twenty three years wasn't a long time for England, but that was almost a quarter of America's whole life. It made it really, really hard to tell…
All he knew was that it was fantastic and agonizing at the same time to be with England. As they sat across from each other, eating, America was consumed by both the desire to slide next to England and lean on him and to stay where he was because he was scared to get that close. All he knew was that he couldn't take his eyes off of him, watching his mouth as he brought a piece of meat to his lips, the almost harsh line of his jaw as he chewed, and the chords of his neck as he swallowed. Of course, there was good reason to be watching him. England was right across the table and they were talking. Still, he was sure he had never before noticed all those little details, like the way that his thin, long fingers carefully handled his fork and knife. He wondered why on earth he hadn't, because he had been missing out on a great show.
"Are you alright, America?" England asked standing and coming over to his side. He placed a hand on America's forehead, "You look flushed and you're just staring blankly at me."
America blushed redder more because of the touch than the embarrassment. He wanted to shove England away and pull him into his lap at the same time. He looked up to meet England's eyes. Did he want to shove him away and insist he was fine or ask what was wrong with him and why he'd started feeling so queasy?
When they made eye contact, England startled. He pulled his hand away and knelt down to be at America's level, "America, love, as soon as we finish eating you should go up to your room. Rest. Don't worry about this, you'll be alright." He lovingly brushed America's bangs. America frowned. Usually England kissed his forehead or hair. Maybe he just didn't wanna get sick?
After dinner he dutifully laid down in bed, but there was no way he could sleep. It was still light out! He looked out the window instead, watching the grass and tree branches beyond move in the wind, and traced random patters on his pillow. All he could think of was England, remembering them sitting and playing out in that field and hunting and riding in the forest.
He rolled onto his back. He wanted to go out and play with England. Since he'd come he'd always put up a fight about that, saying that America was too old for that nonsense, and he was far too distinguished to comply in the first place. America smiled; he could always get him to go with it anyway. A few days ago he'd even talked him into wrestling.
It had been a lot of fun. It felt so good to go against someone who he actually had to work to keep up with for once! True, he was stronger and had a longer reach now, but England was fast and flexible. America would grab him one second and he'd be free again the next. And he was really distracting too. Whenever America touched him he felt a shock course through his entire body.
So there was a really good reason that he lost! That must have been why he didn't mind that England had managed to shove him to the ground and pin him, or even that he gloated a little by grinning wolfishly down at him and saying "My, my, America, you've gotten much stronger than last time but you're still no match for me!"
But now why when he thought back to that day was he putting more emphasis on the way the sun shone through his even messier than usual hair, the flush of his cheeks, the almost wild look in his eyes, and why did that make his stomach tighten and roll?
It was then that his subconscious truly betrayed him. He imagined England closing those green eyes and leaning down to kiss him, not on the temple as he actually had, but on the lips. Their mouths opened and their tongues pressed together hot and wet and-
What. The fuck.
America rolled over onto his stomach and buried his head under the pillow. What the hell was he thinking? This was England he was talking about, his teacher, his friend. He was practically his father!
"Practically," He thought, "But not actually."
"Shut up!" He told himself, pressing the sides of the pillow down against his ears as though that would block out the voice in his head.
It was too late, far too late. He'd opened himself up to the torrent of images, touching England, being touched by England, fucking him, being fucked by him… Why?
He knew what sex was. His teachers had taught him the basics, how animals and humans procreated. Then Canada had passed on what he'd learned from France about men having sex with other men, and even more importantly how nations would have sex with nations they were close to when they were grown, no matter how they had felt about each other as children.
He sat up and pulled his knees close. No, that couldn't be true. After all, France had said that someday he and Canada would be attracted to each other, and that was just gross!
It… It was still gross, right?
He tried to imagine himself kissing his brother, but it still felt wrong. Well, so did kissing England, really, but that was a good-but-bad-at-the-same-time wrong and kissing Canada was just-plain-gross wrong.
He rested his cheek on one of his knees. He still had time. If France was telling the truth nations didn't touch children. It seemed pretty likely because he hadn't tried to do anything to either him or Canada and England said he'd molest anything with a pulse. America sighed and lay back down. It was okay for now. He still had years to think it over, to decide how he felt about England.
For the time being, he was safe.
Chapter 3