[Kink Meme Deanon] The Kid: Chapter 8/24
Title: The Kid
Author/Artist: MoyaKite
Character(s) or Pairing(s): Mainly Prussia, Germany, and Freddy (little kid!OC), but almost everyone could end up in here eventually.
Rating: G (thus far)
Warnings: Fluff, discussions of mortality, potential for future character death
Summary: Deanon from the kink meme for the prompt:
Prussia, being a dad - After the unification of Germany, Prussia was left without much to do. Germany took care of all the official work, so all Prussia could do what get drunk or bother people. One day he decides to go backpacking across the country, and somehow through his adventures he ends up with custody of a small child (2 at the youngest, 5-ish at the oldest, and I would prefer that the kid was a boy too).
Anon would like something sweet and fluffy, where Prussia is actually a pretty awesome dad to this kid, even though nobody expects him to be good at it.
Bonus: All of the other nations think he will break the poor kid or something, so they try to intervene, but it turns out that Prussia is actually a better parent than them.
Bonus 2: The kid grows up and develops a crush on one of the nations, which gets blown out of proportion by daddy!Prussia trying to protect his little angel.
Author's Notes: The original is here. I'm extremely fond of this story, so it's likely to continue as long as people keep showing interest. The more comments I get, the quicker I'll update.
Prussia awoke to the smell of pasta cooking in the kitchen. Freddy was blinking sleepily, not quite awake enough to sit up; Prussia tried to push himself up, and his muscles ached. He twisted to crack his back, which relieved some of the pain. The human-feeling was almost overwhelming; he'd never woken up so exhausted and sore, not during any of the wars he'd fought in, not after any previous Papa and Me Day.
“I'm getting old,” Prussia chuckled, reaching over to ruffle Freddy's hair. Freddy butted his head against Prussia's hand, cat-like, and Prussia grinned. “It smells like Feli's making us dinner tonight, Freddy.”
“Mmmm,” Freddy managed, his eyes slipping closed. Prussia glanced at the clock; 6:00pm glowed on the screen. Prussia nudged Freddy again.
“You've gotta eat,” Prussia said, pushing himself up and then easing himself onto the bed. His muscles groaned. “Come on, kiddo. You love pasta.” And Italian, he thought to himself. He'd been encouraging the other nations to speak to Freddy in their native languages, and he seemed to be picking up on it, even though he hadn't said much other than nom in anything other than German.
Freddy frowned and grunted, pulling away from Prussia to bury his face in his pillow. Prussia grinned; Germany had never behaved like a proper kid-he'd gotten up on time even on the weekends when he had nothing in particular to do. Prussia crouched over Freddy, looking down at him.
“It's time to eat, Freddy,” he tried. Freddy just groaned, squirming further under the covers. “Food,” Prussia tried. No effect. He chuckled, then leaned down and snatched up Freddy's arm, nibbling on it while saying, “Om nom nom!”
Freddy shrieked with laughter at once, wriggling out from under the covers.
“Papa!” he said, a bit plaintively. Prussia nibbled his fingers, and Freddy retaliated by biting Prussia's arm-hard. Prussia yelped, releasing Freddy, then cracked up. Freddy grinned and grabbed Prussia's arm, gnawing on it a little more gently. “Om nom nom!” Freddy shouted between bites. Prussia laughed until tears filled his eyes-it tickled even though it hurt.
“Let go,” Prussia said, tapping Freddy's forehead. But Freddy just laughed and kept at it, slobbering as badly as any of the dogs. “Cut it out, Freddy,” Prussia said, a little more seriously, and Freddy hesitated, looking up at him.
“Om nom?” Freddy asked, a little confused. Prussia knew what he was really saying-that it had been Prussia's game in the first place. Of course the kid wouldn't know how hard to bite.
“Bite a little gentler if you're playing, okay?” Prussia said, turning around to let Freddy crawl onto his shoulders. Instead, Freddy dropped down off the side of the bed, rocked unsteadily on his feet for just a moment, and then smiled at Prussia, tugging on his shirt.
“Nom nom, Papa,” Freddy said, pointing toward the door. Prussia caught the scent of garlic bread from down the hall, and Prussia's stomach growled. They'd eaten a sack lunch at the playground, but that had been hours ago. Prussia got to his feet, cracking his neck to ease the ache a little.
“I can carry you, you know,” Prussia said, offering his hand to Freddy. Freddy took his hand but shook his head.
“Walk,” Freddy said. Prussia smiled a little as they started off toward the door.
“I like to walk,” Prussia agreed. “You sure you don't want to fly?”
“No fly,” Freddy said. He'd learned the word no earlier in the day, when Prussia had told him he wasn't allowed to have any beer yet. Prussia nodded understandingly.
“No flying, then,” Prussia said. He reached to open the door, but Freddy batted his hand away and opened it himself, then looked up at Prussia for reassurance. Prussia patted Freddy's hair. “You're a world class door opener, Freddy.”
Freddy beamed, strutting down the hallway toward the kitchen, where he'd eaten most of his meals. They caught a glimpse of Italy carrying a bowl into the dining room, where Prussia could hear the low rumble of Germany's voice.
“Hey, Feli!” Prussia called. “Hey, West!”
Italy stuck his head back into the kitchen, grinning widely.
“Ciao!” Italy called, wiping his hands off on his apron. Prussia was relieved to hear him respond to German in Italian; he'd bet a bowl of Italy's pasta that Germany had discussed the matter of Freddy's language acquisition with Italy while Prussia and Freddy had been napping. “Ah, Freddy!” Italy said, stooping down to look Freddy in the eye. “I've heard that you enjoy siestas!”
Freddy frowned for a moment, and Prussia was sure that he'd been caught off guard by the different language.
“He never misses a siesta,” Prussia said, hoping to jog Freddy's memory-he'd referred to Freddy's naps as both siesta and nap interchangeably. Freddy nodded with recognition, but drew a little closer to Prussia. “Is that a dinner for you and West?”
“Papa Day,” Freddy insisted.
“Today is Papa and Me Day,” Prussia clarified as Italy looked up at him. “I'm all his for the day.”
Italy's smile dimmed a little, slight creases forming on his brow.
“Well, Germany and I had meant to eat together, but when I saw how sleepy you were, I just increased all the portions,” Italy explained. “But you don't have to join us.”
“Do you want to eat with them, Freddy?” Prussia asked, stooping down so that all three of them were the same height despite the throbbing in his legs. Freddy looked over at the table, which was covered with foods that Freddy loved-Italy had been over for dinner five or six times in the two weeks since Prussia and Freddy had arrived.
“Nom,” Freddy said conclusively. Italy smiled.
“I see that...” Italy trailed off, having forgotten Canada's name-Prussia could forgive him, though. Prussia himself had only been able to remember Canada after he'd begun turning into a human. “Well, it's good for him to meet lots of people! He's a beautiful little boy. I wore dresses at his age.”
Prussia grinned, getting to his feet as Freddy looked impatiently at the dinner table. He swallowed his groan, though-no need to worry anyone with his aches and pains. Italy got up easily, and they headed to the table.
“Well, so did Al and Mattie,” Prussia said. “A hundred years ago, most toddlers wore dresses, didn't they?”
Freddy grabbed his booster seat before Prussia did, carefully setting it at the chair he'd chosen on his first day in the house, when Italy had thrown a similar feast in his honor. Prussia sat at the head of the table, right next to Freddy, and Italy and Germany sat across from each other at the other end of the table.
“You should thank Italy for the food,” Prussia said.
“Danke,” Freddy said, turning to Italy. Prussia was suddenly keenly aware of their habit of speaking German in the house; it made Prussia consider for a moment the idea that he and Germany should try speaking different languages, so Freddy wasn't spending almost all of his time speaking German. Italy smiled at Freddy.
“Prego,” Italy replied. Freddy frowned, looking up at Prussia.
“That means you're welcome,” Prussia said. “Why don't you tell him grazie for the food. That means thank you in Italian.”
Freddy bit his lip, then turned back to Italy.
“Grazie,” he said, a little timidly. Italy beamed.
“You're welcome,” Italy said, speaking in rapid, exuberant Italian. “Oh, he's such a smart little boy! You must be so proud, Gilbert!” Prussia smiled at the name; he'd only managed to convince Italy, America, and Canada to call him by name thus far.
“I am proud,” Prussia said, ruffling Freddy's hair affectionately. Freddy grinned. “Now, can we eat?” Freddy was waiting patiently. Italy leapt to his feet to serve the rest of them.
“Of course!” he said, smiling brightly. “I was thinking that we might have Japan over next time. He's been overworking himself again.”
“It'd be great to see him,” Prussia said, knowing that Germany missed having Japan around. “Why not bring your brother, too?”
Italy hesitated slightly, resting the ladle just over Germany's bowl. Freddy stared hungrily at his food, waiting for the signal to eat.
“Go on,” Italy said, and Freddy seemed to remember this as a cue to eat; he started eating with gusto. Italy smiled for a moment, then returned to serving Germany his pasta. “I think that Romano is afraid to see you,” Italy said, a little quietly.
“Why?” Prussia asked around a mouthful of pasta.
“People already call me Italy,” Italy said, filling his own plate last before sitting down to eat.
Prussia didn't know how to reply to that-the implications made him nervous. It was true that Romano was generally ignored, and, when most nations thought of Italy, they thought of Feli. Prussia swallowed. He'd been able to assume the role of East Germany for a while, but it hadn't stuck. Was Romano at risk, too?
Prussia chewed thoughtfully on the pasta. He'd never gotten along too well with Romano, thanks to Romano's prickly personality. Spain had also jealously guarded him even while bragging about him to anyone who would listen, especially to his best friends-and Romano had remembered Prussia as Spain's friend, France's friend.
“I think that there's a strong South Italian identity,” Prussia said finally, aware that he'd taken too long to respond. Italy appreciated the gesture, though-he smiled brightly and started up a conversation to take their minds off things. Or maybe to take his own mind off of things.
Freddy was much better at eating pasta than he had been that first night, but he was still getting messy. Prussia wiped his cheeks with a napkin and laughed as Italy told a few anecdotes from his childhood. Italy avoided mentioning the Holy Roman Empire directly, for which Prussia was grateful. Freddy seemed to be getting the gist of the stories, or at least their tone; it was good to see him laughing with the rest of them.
Prussia was also unsure how to tell Italy that he'd found Germany on a battlefield, too injured to be recognizable, having lost all of his memories of a time before that. Prussia had raised him, even after realizing, some months in, that little Germany was surely the missing Holy Roman Empire.
He hadn't been able to give him back.
Freddy was nodding off in his pasta. Prussia roused him, then turned back to Italy and Germany.
“Thanks for the dinner, Feli!” Prussia said brightly. “We could have a whole party here before that conference finishes-you two can decide who to invite.”
Prussia pulled Freddy onto his lap and smiled as Freddy nodded off, slumping onto Prussia's chest.
“Grazie<, Feli,” Freddy mumbled.
“Prego, Freddy” Italy said, his voice tender and happy. “Oh, he's a beautiful little boy, Gilbert. Just beautiful.” Italy tilted his head to one side for a moment, pondering something. “When's his birthday?”
“No idea,” Prussia answered. “I was thinking of choosing some day in the spring.”
“Well, tomorrow is April thirteenth,” Italy mused. “It's as good a day as any, isn't it?”
“I'm not ready for Freddy to be three quite so soon,” Prussia laughed, but his heart constricted.
“The doctors think he was born in the spring,” Germany said. “Probably around now, if I'm not mistaken.”
“Wednesday's child is full of woe,” Prussia said, switching to English. Germany stared at him for a moment, and Prussia remembered to laugh; it was awkward and a little forced.
“As I recall, April 13, 2008 was a Thursday,” Germany said mildly.
“You would know that, wouldn't you,” Prussia sighed, adjusting the sleeping Freddy in his arms. “Thursday's child has far to go.”
“He's going places, that one,” Germany said, a little softly. “He'll need a birthday, brother.”
Prussia looked down at Freddy. It was true that he wasn't as small or skinny as he'd been when Prussia had found him; he looked older and healthier.
“I found him on December twenty-seventh,” Prussia said. “I haven't even had him for four months yet.” There was a long pause, and Prussia felt something in him give. “How about Saturday, then? The sixteenth?”
“The child that is born on the Sabbath day is bonny and blithe and good and gay,” Germany quoted, meeting Prussia's gaze. “As I recall, the birthday you gave me was a Sunday, too.”
“Coincidence,” Prussia muttered. “The poem didn't exist then, and your birthday is different now, anyway.”
“Saturday it is!” Italy said, clapping his hands and startling Freddy awake. Prussia rocked him to soothe him as Italy continued. “I'll have to let France make his cake. Spain will probably bring some tomatoes...” Italy trailed off, tapping a finger against his lip. He suddenly seemed to remember that he had been talking. “I'll work on the guest list and dinner preparations, okay?” Italy asked, and Prussia nodded. “Can we have the party at my place?” Italy asked. “You said that he liked it there when you were traveling.”
“Sure,” Prussia said. “West can drive us.”
Nations had a funny habit of covering more ground than was physically possible when they were traveling; Prussia had only noticed it once the ability had left him.
“All right,” Italy said, grinning again. “I'll throw Freddy the best party!”
“Good night, brother,” Germany said, not quite smiling.
“Night, West,” Prussia smiled. “Night, Feli.”
“Good night!” Italy said. “Sleep tight. Don't let the bed bugs bite!”
Prussia chuckled and carried Freddy-who had at some point drifted back off to sleep-to bed, humming a lullaby under his breath.
((I do definitely plan on finishing this, and I think it's going to be continuing on for quite a while; I'm prone to updating when I get five or six comments, since I'm a... Well, I'm a sucker for comments. So please let me know what you think! Updates won't necessarily be this long, but I'll probably try to consolidate the chapters into as few journal entries as possible, like this section here.))
I'm deanoning this to let people know that I'm auctioning off a fanfiction commission here. Please take a look if you're interested; there are also many other writers participating at help_japan. I'm also offering a translation here, and abarero has kindly organized a list of Hetalia-related offers here.
Chapter Guide: ( Ch. 1) ( Ch. 2) ( Ch. 3) ( Ch. 4) ( Ch. 5) ( Ch. 6) ( Ch. 7) ( Ch. 8) ( Ch. 9) ( Ch. 10) ( Ch. 11) ( Ch. 12) ( Ch. 13) ( Ch. 14) ( Ch. 15) ( Ch. 16) ( Ch. 17) ( Ch. 18) ( Ch. 19) ( Ch. 20) ( Ch. 21) ( Ch. 22) ( Ch. 23) ( Ch. 24)
Author/Artist: MoyaKite
Character(s) or Pairing(s): Mainly Prussia, Germany, and Freddy (little kid!OC), but almost everyone could end up in here eventually.
Rating: G (thus far)
Warnings: Fluff, discussions of mortality, potential for future character death
Summary: Deanon from the kink meme for the prompt:
Prussia, being a dad - After the unification of Germany, Prussia was left without much to do. Germany took care of all the official work, so all Prussia could do what get drunk or bother people. One day he decides to go backpacking across the country, and somehow through his adventures he ends up with custody of a small child (2 at the youngest, 5-ish at the oldest, and I would prefer that the kid was a boy too).
Anon would like something sweet and fluffy, where Prussia is actually a pretty awesome dad to this kid, even though nobody expects him to be good at it.
Bonus: All of the other nations think he will break the poor kid or something, so they try to intervene, but it turns out that Prussia is actually a better parent than them.
Bonus 2: The kid grows up and develops a crush on one of the nations, which gets blown out of proportion by daddy!Prussia trying to protect his little angel.
Author's Notes: The original is here. I'm extremely fond of this story, so it's likely to continue as long as people keep showing interest. The more comments I get, the quicker I'll update.
Prussia awoke to the smell of pasta cooking in the kitchen. Freddy was blinking sleepily, not quite awake enough to sit up; Prussia tried to push himself up, and his muscles ached. He twisted to crack his back, which relieved some of the pain. The human-feeling was almost overwhelming; he'd never woken up so exhausted and sore, not during any of the wars he'd fought in, not after any previous Papa and Me Day.
“I'm getting old,” Prussia chuckled, reaching over to ruffle Freddy's hair. Freddy butted his head against Prussia's hand, cat-like, and Prussia grinned. “It smells like Feli's making us dinner tonight, Freddy.”
“Mmmm,” Freddy managed, his eyes slipping closed. Prussia glanced at the clock; 6:00pm glowed on the screen. Prussia nudged Freddy again.
“You've gotta eat,” Prussia said, pushing himself up and then easing himself onto the bed. His muscles groaned. “Come on, kiddo. You love pasta.” And Italian, he thought to himself. He'd been encouraging the other nations to speak to Freddy in their native languages, and he seemed to be picking up on it, even though he hadn't said much other than nom in anything other than German.
Freddy frowned and grunted, pulling away from Prussia to bury his face in his pillow. Prussia grinned; Germany had never behaved like a proper kid-he'd gotten up on time even on the weekends when he had nothing in particular to do. Prussia crouched over Freddy, looking down at him.
“It's time to eat, Freddy,” he tried. Freddy just groaned, squirming further under the covers. “Food,” Prussia tried. No effect. He chuckled, then leaned down and snatched up Freddy's arm, nibbling on it while saying, “Om nom nom!”
Freddy shrieked with laughter at once, wriggling out from under the covers.
“Papa!” he said, a bit plaintively. Prussia nibbled his fingers, and Freddy retaliated by biting Prussia's arm-hard. Prussia yelped, releasing Freddy, then cracked up. Freddy grinned and grabbed Prussia's arm, gnawing on it a little more gently. “Om nom nom!” Freddy shouted between bites. Prussia laughed until tears filled his eyes-it tickled even though it hurt.
“Let go,” Prussia said, tapping Freddy's forehead. But Freddy just laughed and kept at it, slobbering as badly as any of the dogs. “Cut it out, Freddy,” Prussia said, a little more seriously, and Freddy hesitated, looking up at him.
“Om nom?” Freddy asked, a little confused. Prussia knew what he was really saying-that it had been Prussia's game in the first place. Of course the kid wouldn't know how hard to bite.
“Bite a little gentler if you're playing, okay?” Prussia said, turning around to let Freddy crawl onto his shoulders. Instead, Freddy dropped down off the side of the bed, rocked unsteadily on his feet for just a moment, and then smiled at Prussia, tugging on his shirt.
“Nom nom, Papa,” Freddy said, pointing toward the door. Prussia caught the scent of garlic bread from down the hall, and Prussia's stomach growled. They'd eaten a sack lunch at the playground, but that had been hours ago. Prussia got to his feet, cracking his neck to ease the ache a little.
“I can carry you, you know,” Prussia said, offering his hand to Freddy. Freddy took his hand but shook his head.
“Walk,” Freddy said. Prussia smiled a little as they started off toward the door.
“I like to walk,” Prussia agreed. “You sure you don't want to fly?”
“No fly,” Freddy said. He'd learned the word no earlier in the day, when Prussia had told him he wasn't allowed to have any beer yet. Prussia nodded understandingly.
“No flying, then,” Prussia said. He reached to open the door, but Freddy batted his hand away and opened it himself, then looked up at Prussia for reassurance. Prussia patted Freddy's hair. “You're a world class door opener, Freddy.”
Freddy beamed, strutting down the hallway toward the kitchen, where he'd eaten most of his meals. They caught a glimpse of Italy carrying a bowl into the dining room, where Prussia could hear the low rumble of Germany's voice.
“Hey, Feli!” Prussia called. “Hey, West!”
Italy stuck his head back into the kitchen, grinning widely.
“Ciao!” Italy called, wiping his hands off on his apron. Prussia was relieved to hear him respond to German in Italian; he'd bet a bowl of Italy's pasta that Germany had discussed the matter of Freddy's language acquisition with Italy while Prussia and Freddy had been napping. “Ah, Freddy!” Italy said, stooping down to look Freddy in the eye. “I've heard that you enjoy siestas!”
Freddy frowned for a moment, and Prussia was sure that he'd been caught off guard by the different language.
“He never misses a siesta,” Prussia said, hoping to jog Freddy's memory-he'd referred to Freddy's naps as both siesta and nap interchangeably. Freddy nodded with recognition, but drew a little closer to Prussia. “Is that a dinner for you and West?”
“Papa Day,” Freddy insisted.
“Today is Papa and Me Day,” Prussia clarified as Italy looked up at him. “I'm all his for the day.”
Italy's smile dimmed a little, slight creases forming on his brow.
“Well, Germany and I had meant to eat together, but when I saw how sleepy you were, I just increased all the portions,” Italy explained. “But you don't have to join us.”
“Do you want to eat with them, Freddy?” Prussia asked, stooping down so that all three of them were the same height despite the throbbing in his legs. Freddy looked over at the table, which was covered with foods that Freddy loved-Italy had been over for dinner five or six times in the two weeks since Prussia and Freddy had arrived.
“Nom,” Freddy said conclusively. Italy smiled.
“I see that...” Italy trailed off, having forgotten Canada's name-Prussia could forgive him, though. Prussia himself had only been able to remember Canada after he'd begun turning into a human. “Well, it's good for him to meet lots of people! He's a beautiful little boy. I wore dresses at his age.”
Prussia grinned, getting to his feet as Freddy looked impatiently at the dinner table. He swallowed his groan, though-no need to worry anyone with his aches and pains. Italy got up easily, and they headed to the table.
“Well, so did Al and Mattie,” Prussia said. “A hundred years ago, most toddlers wore dresses, didn't they?”
Freddy grabbed his booster seat before Prussia did, carefully setting it at the chair he'd chosen on his first day in the house, when Italy had thrown a similar feast in his honor. Prussia sat at the head of the table, right next to Freddy, and Italy and Germany sat across from each other at the other end of the table.
“You should thank Italy for the food,” Prussia said.
“Danke,” Freddy said, turning to Italy. Prussia was suddenly keenly aware of their habit of speaking German in the house; it made Prussia consider for a moment the idea that he and Germany should try speaking different languages, so Freddy wasn't spending almost all of his time speaking German. Italy smiled at Freddy.
“Prego,” Italy replied. Freddy frowned, looking up at Prussia.
“That means you're welcome,” Prussia said. “Why don't you tell him grazie for the food. That means thank you in Italian.”
Freddy bit his lip, then turned back to Italy.
“Grazie,” he said, a little timidly. Italy beamed.
“You're welcome,” Italy said, speaking in rapid, exuberant Italian. “Oh, he's such a smart little boy! You must be so proud, Gilbert!” Prussia smiled at the name; he'd only managed to convince Italy, America, and Canada to call him by name thus far.
“I am proud,” Prussia said, ruffling Freddy's hair affectionately. Freddy grinned. “Now, can we eat?” Freddy was waiting patiently. Italy leapt to his feet to serve the rest of them.
“Of course!” he said, smiling brightly. “I was thinking that we might have Japan over next time. He's been overworking himself again.”
“It'd be great to see him,” Prussia said, knowing that Germany missed having Japan around. “Why not bring your brother, too?”
Italy hesitated slightly, resting the ladle just over Germany's bowl. Freddy stared hungrily at his food, waiting for the signal to eat.
“Go on,” Italy said, and Freddy seemed to remember this as a cue to eat; he started eating with gusto. Italy smiled for a moment, then returned to serving Germany his pasta. “I think that Romano is afraid to see you,” Italy said, a little quietly.
“Why?” Prussia asked around a mouthful of pasta.
“People already call me Italy,” Italy said, filling his own plate last before sitting down to eat.
Prussia didn't know how to reply to that-the implications made him nervous. It was true that Romano was generally ignored, and, when most nations thought of Italy, they thought of Feli. Prussia swallowed. He'd been able to assume the role of East Germany for a while, but it hadn't stuck. Was Romano at risk, too?
Prussia chewed thoughtfully on the pasta. He'd never gotten along too well with Romano, thanks to Romano's prickly personality. Spain had also jealously guarded him even while bragging about him to anyone who would listen, especially to his best friends-and Romano had remembered Prussia as Spain's friend, France's friend.
“I think that there's a strong South Italian identity,” Prussia said finally, aware that he'd taken too long to respond. Italy appreciated the gesture, though-he smiled brightly and started up a conversation to take their minds off things. Or maybe to take his own mind off of things.
Freddy was much better at eating pasta than he had been that first night, but he was still getting messy. Prussia wiped his cheeks with a napkin and laughed as Italy told a few anecdotes from his childhood. Italy avoided mentioning the Holy Roman Empire directly, for which Prussia was grateful. Freddy seemed to be getting the gist of the stories, or at least their tone; it was good to see him laughing with the rest of them.
Prussia was also unsure how to tell Italy that he'd found Germany on a battlefield, too injured to be recognizable, having lost all of his memories of a time before that. Prussia had raised him, even after realizing, some months in, that little Germany was surely the missing Holy Roman Empire.
He hadn't been able to give him back.
Freddy was nodding off in his pasta. Prussia roused him, then turned back to Italy and Germany.
“Thanks for the dinner, Feli!” Prussia said brightly. “We could have a whole party here before that conference finishes-you two can decide who to invite.”
Prussia pulled Freddy onto his lap and smiled as Freddy nodded off, slumping onto Prussia's chest.
“Grazie<, Feli,” Freddy mumbled.
“Prego, Freddy” Italy said, his voice tender and happy. “Oh, he's a beautiful little boy, Gilbert. Just beautiful.” Italy tilted his head to one side for a moment, pondering something. “When's his birthday?”
“No idea,” Prussia answered. “I was thinking of choosing some day in the spring.”
“Well, tomorrow is April thirteenth,” Italy mused. “It's as good a day as any, isn't it?”
“I'm not ready for Freddy to be three quite so soon,” Prussia laughed, but his heart constricted.
“The doctors think he was born in the spring,” Germany said. “Probably around now, if I'm not mistaken.”
“Wednesday's child is full of woe,” Prussia said, switching to English. Germany stared at him for a moment, and Prussia remembered to laugh; it was awkward and a little forced.
“As I recall, April 13, 2008 was a Thursday,” Germany said mildly.
“You would know that, wouldn't you,” Prussia sighed, adjusting the sleeping Freddy in his arms. “Thursday's child has far to go.”
“He's going places, that one,” Germany said, a little softly. “He'll need a birthday, brother.”
Prussia looked down at Freddy. It was true that he wasn't as small or skinny as he'd been when Prussia had found him; he looked older and healthier.
“I found him on December twenty-seventh,” Prussia said. “I haven't even had him for four months yet.” There was a long pause, and Prussia felt something in him give. “How about Saturday, then? The sixteenth?”
“The child that is born on the Sabbath day is bonny and blithe and good and gay,” Germany quoted, meeting Prussia's gaze. “As I recall, the birthday you gave me was a Sunday, too.”
“Coincidence,” Prussia muttered. “The poem didn't exist then, and your birthday is different now, anyway.”
“Saturday it is!” Italy said, clapping his hands and startling Freddy awake. Prussia rocked him to soothe him as Italy continued. “I'll have to let France make his cake. Spain will probably bring some tomatoes...” Italy trailed off, tapping a finger against his lip. He suddenly seemed to remember that he had been talking. “I'll work on the guest list and dinner preparations, okay?” Italy asked, and Prussia nodded. “Can we have the party at my place?” Italy asked. “You said that he liked it there when you were traveling.”
“Sure,” Prussia said. “West can drive us.”
Nations had a funny habit of covering more ground than was physically possible when they were traveling; Prussia had only noticed it once the ability had left him.
“All right,” Italy said, grinning again. “I'll throw Freddy the best party!”
“Good night, brother,” Germany said, not quite smiling.
“Night, West,” Prussia smiled. “Night, Feli.”
“Good night!” Italy said. “Sleep tight. Don't let the bed bugs bite!”
Prussia chuckled and carried Freddy-who had at some point drifted back off to sleep-to bed, humming a lullaby under his breath.
((I do definitely plan on finishing this, and I think it's going to be continuing on for quite a while; I'm prone to updating when I get five or six comments, since I'm a... Well, I'm a sucker for comments. So please let me know what you think! Updates won't necessarily be this long, but I'll probably try to consolidate the chapters into as few journal entries as possible, like this section here.))
I'm deanoning this to let people know that I'm auctioning off a fanfiction commission here. Please take a look if you're interested; there are also many other writers participating at help_japan. I'm also offering a translation here, and abarero has kindly organized a list of Hetalia-related offers here.
Chapter Guide: ( Ch. 1) ( Ch. 2) ( Ch. 3) ( Ch. 4) ( Ch. 5) ( Ch. 6) ( Ch. 7) ( Ch. 8) ( Ch. 9) ( Ch. 10) ( Ch. 11) ( Ch. 12) ( Ch. 13) ( Ch. 14) ( Ch. 15) ( Ch. 16) ( Ch. 17) ( Ch. 18) ( Ch. 19) ( Ch. 20) ( Ch. 21) ( Ch. 22) ( Ch. 23) ( Ch. 24)