A Year of Surprises 8
Pairing: UKUS
Rating/Warnings: M for language, sex, mpreg, and angst (Only the last two in this chapter)
Word count: 1174
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
January
America paced back and forth across England's bedroom, one hand placed protectively over his belly. He stopped to look out the window for the twentieth time in half as many minutes, eyes fixed on the road to town. England wouldn't be coming back down that road for nearly a week, but it wasn't him America was worried about at the time. No, he was waiting for someone else entirely.
Finally, he saw her rounding the bend on her father's white horse. He was glad she'd brought her; Carrot would finally have some company out in the stables. Although it would still be a few minutes until she actually reached the house, America ran downstairs and stood eagerly behind the door. It would be so nice to see someone other than England again, especially her. He'd missed her so bad while he'd been cooped up inside.
After what felt like an eternity, she knocked on the door. America wanted to throw it right open and hug her until she couldn't breathe. He knew he would have to take it slowly, though. He didn't want to scare her too much.
"Hi, Lucy," He said, opening the door just a crack.
She was biting her knuckle through her leather gloves and staring at him concernedly, "You've been sick in bed for a month and now I get a letter that just says to come over as soon as Arthur left town. What's wrong, Alfred? You don't even look sick."
"You're right," He said, smiling a little for her, "I'm not sick."
"Then why haven't I heard from you since December?"
He bit his lip, "This'll be easier if you don't think of me as Alfred for a little bit. I'm America right now, okay?"
"Alright," She said slowly.
"Okay, good. Now remember how I told you nations do some things differently?" She nodded, "Well, this is one of those things." He opened the door.
She wrinkled her brow, "I don't understand."
"You will. Come in." He led her to the salon and had her sit on the couch. He took her hands in his in case she panicked and ran.
"Alfred, please, what is going on?"
He took a deep breath, "Lucy, I- I'm pregnant."
She didn't run. She just stared at him blankly, "You're… what?"
"I'm pregnant. That's why I've gained all this weight," He said, gesturing to his swollen belly.
"But you're a man."
"I know. Hey, if you don't believe me now she'll probably start kicking again soon."
"So then how…?"
"No one really knows," He said, placing his hand back on his stomach, "Sometimes nations just go into heat and it doesn't stop until we have a kid."
"So who's the- the father?"
"England," He said, smiling at the thought of his lover.
"Your brother?"
"H-he's not really my brother." America said quickly, "We just say that because it makes more sense to humans."
She sat still for a moment, clearly thinking the situation over. Her eyes raked all over America's body, from his hands to his stomach to his face. He just tried to be still and let her read what she needed to.
"Well," She said finally, "God made all kinds of creatures differently. If He made men who live forever, I suppose He could have them carry children too."
America smiled, glad beyond words that she understood.
"Will you stay with me?" He asked, "I mean, I like England and all, but I get tired of only being around him sometimes."
"I'll visit you when I can," she said, "I have to help around the house, you know. I mean, except for my mother I'm the only woman in the family."
"Good. Just- just don't tell England."
"Why not?"
"I don't think he trusts you. He's been a little overprotective of me lately. I don't want him to get mad at you."
"Is he alright? I mean, he's not mistreating you, is he?"
"What? No." America sat back, getting a bit more comfortable, "He's being absolutely fantastic. He's sweet and gentle and he takes really good care of me. It's just-"
"Just what?" She probed, leaning towards him.
"He treats me like such a kid sometimes. Sometimes I don't think he realizes I'm actually an adult, even with all this. Hell, there are plenty of times that it feels like he's just going with the 'give America whatever he wants' ideas when he takes me upstairs and-"
Lucy cleared her throat loudly. America blushed and looked away.
"Sorry," he muttered.
There was a moment of tense silence before Lucy spoke up again, "So how… how far along are you?"
"It was five months on Tuesday."
"You know the exact date?"
America chuckled, "Trust me, I'm pretty sure what day it happened. Anyway, it was kind of neat because that was when she first started kicking."
"How do you know it'll be a she?"
"Well, I've been craving sweet things and Arthur say's I'm carrying higher than he usually does, and from what I've heard that means it's a girl, right?"
Lucy laughed, "My mother was told I was another boy. That's not foolproof."
"She feels like a girl, though."
"What are you going to call her?"
"I'm not sure, yet. England and I were waiting to see what she was like to give her a name. I wanted Erin because it's a nice name, but he said he'd rather die than name his daughter after his sister. Right now we're thinking of Adrianna." As soon as he said the name, the baby delivered a harsh kick to his insides, "God! Do you like that or hate it?" He spared a glance at Lucy and found her staring at his belly. "You want to feel, don't you?"
She turned bright red. "I- that won't be necessary."
"It's alright. You know you can't lie to me. You're one of my babies too, you know."
"I know," She murmured, "it's still embarrassing."
He pulled his shirt out of his breeches, "Come on, don't worry about it. When are you gonna have the chance after you go to the convent?"
She smiled and reached out, "I suppose so."
Her hand felt weird. Only he and England had felt his bump before (well, them and Carrot, but her nuzzling didn't really count) and her hands were so different, smaller and pleasantly warm instead of ice cold or burning hot with nothing in between. Her touches were light and unsure, not at all like the comforting or possessive ones that he and England both used. He wasn't sure if it was Lucy or the cold air that sent the shiver down his spine, but as soon as that happened she pulled away.
"I'm still me, you know," He said, pulling his shirt down, "You don't have to be worried."
"I'm not."
America just smiled at her, knowing it wasn't true, "Come on, then, let's get something in you to warm you up and you can tell me what I've really missed in the last month."
Chapter Nine