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hetalia2011-12-08 11:17 am
starrdust411.livejournal.com) wrote in hetalia2011-12-08 11:17 am
Entry tags:
[Fic] Wonderful Complications (0/7)
Title: Wonderful Complications
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
starrdust411
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: France/England
Warning: AU, Slash, Mpreg, Human & Country Names
Summary: England's relationship with France takes a major shift after the events of one long summer. (De-anon from thehetalia_kink meme)
Prologue
England found that this New World wasn't very different from the old one that he had left behind and that thought was both a source of comfort and aggravation. For one thing, despite the fact that he had crossed a vast ocean just to reach this new continent, he still found himself faced with an all too familiar problem: France. He had been aware of France's settlements on this land well before his ships had set sail, but the other nation's presence and the endless fights that it resulted in were still an annoyance that he could do without.
Still England was determined not to let France's existence get in his way. When he looked out on this vast new land and its wealth of resources, he saw the boundless potential it held within its fertile soils and he was resolute in his desires to hang on to it at all costs. Yet if France excelled in one area then it was at disrupting England's plans.
England soon found his musings interrupted when one of his men approached him, trailed by a too familiar white bird.
"Sir?" The young man began, handing England a neatly folded slip of paper. "Message for you."
England groaned, glaring up at the chirping little bird fluttering above them before accepting the paper with grumbled thanks. The message was simple and to the point, directing him to follow Pierre in order to meet with France himself, and England could not guess what the reason behind all this was.
"Right then. I'll be off for a bit," he announced, carefully folding the paper back up and tucking it into his coat pocket.
"Will you be in need of any assistance, sir?" the man asked and England instantly shook his head. Loathe as he was to admit it, he knew France very well by now and he had always been able to tell when he was up to something and this situation seemed perfectly safe.
"No, I'll be fine," he assured, taking one last look at the group of men hard at work building houses and plowing fields. "Look after things here and keep the men moving."
The young man gave him a quick nod and England went on his way, following Pierre who proceeded to take off at a casual pace towards the north.
The site where France chose to meet him was a lake side clearing between the borders of their respective territories. He found France standing underneath a tree, staring out at the pristine waters in front of him with his arms wrapped loosely around his middle. He had his back towards him, but already England could feel that there was something off about his appearance, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.
France noticed Pierre first as the bird twittered to announce their approach before going to land in a low branch above him. France looked up at the bird, smiled, and then turned his gaze towards England. "You came quickly," he noted teasingly. "Eager to see me?"
England frowned bitterly at the smug grin and his mocking eyes. "Oh come off it," he huffed. "You're the one who sent for me. I just wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible."
France's smile widened as he turned his gaze away from England. It was then that he saw exactly what it was about France that had struck him as odd. Despite the smirk on his face and the playful tone to his voice, England was able to see that the usual confident air that France exuded was missing. He seemed uncertain, almost guarded and England couldn't recall a time in their history when France hadn't seemed to radiate self-assurance. Suddenly, he was very interested in whatever it was that France had to say. Not that he would ever let it show.
"Alright, France, out with it," England said, marching a few steps closer to France. He could now see the bags set under his eyes and the lines drawn over his usually smooth face. Something was troubling him and had likely resulted in the man losing quite a bit of sleep fretting over it. "What was it that you felt was important enough to drag me all the way out here for?"
France shifted again, adjusting himself so that his hips were now resting against the trunk of the tree and the shadows provided by the branches obscured his features. He had no doubt felt England's gaze studying his face and was doing his best to use the shade to help mask his flawed appearance. At least that seemed more like him.
"I wanted to tell you something," he began slowly. "Something… I found out not long ago."
"What is it frog? Have you run out of money and are planning to head back home?"
He watched as France's grip tightened around his waist, but he seemed to make a conscious effort to loosen his fingers and return them to hanging limply at his side. "I wish it were that simple," France muttered bitterly to himself. He then took a long, slow breath, considered his words and said "I… I am having a baby."
England didn't know why, but for just a moment he felt his heart clench and then sink in his chest at those words. He told himself that shock had caused it and that was also the reason why his face was burning and his hands were balling into fists.
"Well congratulations," he said tersely. "Where's the lucky girl? No doubt off crying her poor eyes out as we speak."
France's face fell and his eyes seemed to sink towards the ground. It wasn't the reaction England had been expecting. "England," he began again, speaking deliberate and carefully. "I am having a baby."
England felt his mouth open and then quickly slip shut as the true meaning of the words began to sink in. "Oh."
"I… I wanted to tell you…" France began, but England was quick to interrupt him.
"You must really think I'm stupid."
France looked up at him then and the confusion shining in his blue eyes clear even from his place in the shade. "Quoi?"
"Honestly, old man, did I really beat you so badly last time that you'd come up with such a pathetic story just to get me to go easy on you?" England scoffed, shaking his head at the very idea. "I'm sorry, but you'll have to do better than that."
"You think that I am making this up?" France asked and to his credit he sounded genuinely affronted.
"Of course you are!" England huffed. "Who would believe something so ridiculous? I'm not a bloody child France."
"I am not lying, England," France snapped, stepping out from underneath the tree and if England were honest with himself, he would say that he was able to spot the slight swell of France's stomach when he moved his arms from their place covering his abdomen. "I would never lie about something like this."
England turned away from him, because it was the only way for him to tear his gaze away from France's stomach. "Well, let's say that I did believe you," he began, squeezing his eyes shut in hopes of erasing the image from his mind. "Why the devil are you telling me this?"
"You are stupider than you think I think you are," France sighed wearily. "It is your baby, imbecile!"
"You… you…!" England began, stuttering uselessly to get the words out, but they were caught in his throat. His head felt light and he didn't know if it was because of the way his heart was beating frantically in his chest or the way the world was currently twisting and turning beneath his feet. "You can't expect me to believe that!" he spat at last. "You of all people! The number of men you've been with alone-"
"I do not care if you believe me or not," France cut it, "but it is yours. I am certain."
"You're a liar and even if it was true then… Well I still wouldn't care, because I wouldn't want to raise as much as a barn with you let alone a baby!"
"I am glad to hear it," France huffed as he smoothed out the front of his shirt before adjusting the cuffs of his sleeve. "Because I did exactly what I wanted to do: I told you. Now you will never have to hear about it ever again."
France made to storm off, Pierre fluttering down from his perch to fly after him, but England was determined to get the last word in. "Fine. Good luck raising your imaginary bastard child you delusional twit!" he hollered. "And don't come bothering me with your ridiculous stories ever again!"
England stood back and watched after France's retreating form, staring after him until the other nation disappeared over the horizon. He silently assured himself that this would be the last time he gave any thought to the matter even as the still lingering image of France's swollen stomach shifted through his mind.
Chapter 1
Author:
starrdust411Rating: PG-13
Pairing: France/England
Warning: AU, Slash, Mpreg, Human & Country Names
Summary: England's relationship with France takes a major shift after the events of one long summer. (De-anon from the
hetalia_kink meme)Prologue
England found that this New World wasn't very different from the old one that he had left behind and that thought was both a source of comfort and aggravation. For one thing, despite the fact that he had crossed a vast ocean just to reach this new continent, he still found himself faced with an all too familiar problem: France. He had been aware of France's settlements on this land well before his ships had set sail, but the other nation's presence and the endless fights that it resulted in were still an annoyance that he could do without.
Still England was determined not to let France's existence get in his way. When he looked out on this vast new land and its wealth of resources, he saw the boundless potential it held within its fertile soils and he was resolute in his desires to hang on to it at all costs. Yet if France excelled in one area then it was at disrupting England's plans.
England soon found his musings interrupted when one of his men approached him, trailed by a too familiar white bird.
"Sir?" The young man began, handing England a neatly folded slip of paper. "Message for you."
England groaned, glaring up at the chirping little bird fluttering above them before accepting the paper with grumbled thanks. The message was simple and to the point, directing him to follow Pierre in order to meet with France himself, and England could not guess what the reason behind all this was.
"Right then. I'll be off for a bit," he announced, carefully folding the paper back up and tucking it into his coat pocket.
"Will you be in need of any assistance, sir?" the man asked and England instantly shook his head. Loathe as he was to admit it, he knew France very well by now and he had always been able to tell when he was up to something and this situation seemed perfectly safe.
"No, I'll be fine," he assured, taking one last look at the group of men hard at work building houses and plowing fields. "Look after things here and keep the men moving."
The young man gave him a quick nod and England went on his way, following Pierre who proceeded to take off at a casual pace towards the north.
The site where France chose to meet him was a lake side clearing between the borders of their respective territories. He found France standing underneath a tree, staring out at the pristine waters in front of him with his arms wrapped loosely around his middle. He had his back towards him, but already England could feel that there was something off about his appearance, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.
France noticed Pierre first as the bird twittered to announce their approach before going to land in a low branch above him. France looked up at the bird, smiled, and then turned his gaze towards England. "You came quickly," he noted teasingly. "Eager to see me?"
England frowned bitterly at the smug grin and his mocking eyes. "Oh come off it," he huffed. "You're the one who sent for me. I just wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible."
France's smile widened as he turned his gaze away from England. It was then that he saw exactly what it was about France that had struck him as odd. Despite the smirk on his face and the playful tone to his voice, England was able to see that the usual confident air that France exuded was missing. He seemed uncertain, almost guarded and England couldn't recall a time in their history when France hadn't seemed to radiate self-assurance. Suddenly, he was very interested in whatever it was that France had to say. Not that he would ever let it show.
"Alright, France, out with it," England said, marching a few steps closer to France. He could now see the bags set under his eyes and the lines drawn over his usually smooth face. Something was troubling him and had likely resulted in the man losing quite a bit of sleep fretting over it. "What was it that you felt was important enough to drag me all the way out here for?"
France shifted again, adjusting himself so that his hips were now resting against the trunk of the tree and the shadows provided by the branches obscured his features. He had no doubt felt England's gaze studying his face and was doing his best to use the shade to help mask his flawed appearance. At least that seemed more like him.
"I wanted to tell you something," he began slowly. "Something… I found out not long ago."
"What is it frog? Have you run out of money and are planning to head back home?"
He watched as France's grip tightened around his waist, but he seemed to make a conscious effort to loosen his fingers and return them to hanging limply at his side. "I wish it were that simple," France muttered bitterly to himself. He then took a long, slow breath, considered his words and said "I… I am having a baby."
England didn't know why, but for just a moment he felt his heart clench and then sink in his chest at those words. He told himself that shock had caused it and that was also the reason why his face was burning and his hands were balling into fists.
"Well congratulations," he said tersely. "Where's the lucky girl? No doubt off crying her poor eyes out as we speak."
France's face fell and his eyes seemed to sink towards the ground. It wasn't the reaction England had been expecting. "England," he began again, speaking deliberate and carefully. "I am having a baby."
England felt his mouth open and then quickly slip shut as the true meaning of the words began to sink in. "Oh."
"I… I wanted to tell you…" France began, but England was quick to interrupt him.
"You must really think I'm stupid."
France looked up at him then and the confusion shining in his blue eyes clear even from his place in the shade. "Quoi?"
"Honestly, old man, did I really beat you so badly last time that you'd come up with such a pathetic story just to get me to go easy on you?" England scoffed, shaking his head at the very idea. "I'm sorry, but you'll have to do better than that."
"You think that I am making this up?" France asked and to his credit he sounded genuinely affronted.
"Of course you are!" England huffed. "Who would believe something so ridiculous? I'm not a bloody child France."
"I am not lying, England," France snapped, stepping out from underneath the tree and if England were honest with himself, he would say that he was able to spot the slight swell of France's stomach when he moved his arms from their place covering his abdomen. "I would never lie about something like this."
England turned away from him, because it was the only way for him to tear his gaze away from France's stomach. "Well, let's say that I did believe you," he began, squeezing his eyes shut in hopes of erasing the image from his mind. "Why the devil are you telling me this?"
"You are stupider than you think I think you are," France sighed wearily. "It is your baby, imbecile!"
"You… you…!" England began, stuttering uselessly to get the words out, but they were caught in his throat. His head felt light and he didn't know if it was because of the way his heart was beating frantically in his chest or the way the world was currently twisting and turning beneath his feet. "You can't expect me to believe that!" he spat at last. "You of all people! The number of men you've been with alone-"
"I do not care if you believe me or not," France cut it, "but it is yours. I am certain."
"You're a liar and even if it was true then… Well I still wouldn't care, because I wouldn't want to raise as much as a barn with you let alone a baby!"
"I am glad to hear it," France huffed as he smoothed out the front of his shirt before adjusting the cuffs of his sleeve. "Because I did exactly what I wanted to do: I told you. Now you will never have to hear about it ever again."
France made to storm off, Pierre fluttering down from his perch to fly after him, but England was determined to get the last word in. "Fine. Good luck raising your imaginary bastard child you delusional twit!" he hollered. "And don't come bothering me with your ridiculous stories ever again!"
England stood back and watched after France's retreating form, staring after him until the other nation disappeared over the horizon. He silently assured himself that this would be the last time he gave any thought to the matter even as the still lingering image of France's swollen stomach shifted through his mind.
Chapter 1
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