So. Havent really looked at this since i finished. Translations at bottom. Thoughts?
Ah, boredom, how it bred at these pointless world conferences. This month's was hosted in D.C., which no one but Alfred seemed to not mind, but he supposed that was because he was right near his home and didn't need to head to some hotel with brats running around every evening and horrible breakfast food. Instead, he went to his barely-qualifies-as-a-house-because-of-his-small-ass-capital and ate what everyone else saw as barely edible. Ah, McDonalds... Currently, everyone was going about the usual business of arguing to no end and getting nothing done, with England tossing a chair at France's face. God.
Alfred was, admittedly, a bit too tired and stressed for any of this, what with his government going haywire over the slightest move from something over the goddamn ocean, and a good chunk of his people complaining about the recent elections. Just what was he going to do if it was mostly republicans now? Blow up Congress? Actually, that sounded like a good idea, now that he thought about it...But that was beside the point. He was the host this month, and couldn't just up and leave, no matter how little attention the others were paying him.
So, to try and relax until the meeting for the day ended, he had gotten a coke from the vending machine and taken out his sketchpad. Well, not really his, to be honest, more of just a loan until he was allowed to stop drawing. Apparently it could serve as "therapy" or something, as if the awesome him needed that. But, as he started to draw more, he lost focus on the things around him, intent on the pencil strokes and shadows. So he didn't notice when the majority of those around him had quieted and were now looking at him expectantly.
"Alfred." No response.
"Alfred." A poke of his shoulder gained no response.
"AMERICA!" This time England slapped him on the back of the head, finally earning a yelp and glare of of the other nation. Alfred rubbed the back of his head, grumbling and setting the pencil he had been using to draw down.
"What?" He snapped. England gave him a look that clearly said what do you think, imbecile and crossed his arms, scowling uncomfortably.
"Have you been listening to a word we've been saying? We were asking about certain... rumours going around." Alfred blinked, and finally peered around at them all. England and a few other countries had distinctly unsettled airs about them, although some like France and Veneziano Italy were smiling the sun had started dancing. Germany and Switzerland were emanating sort of let's get this over with and never speak of it again airs, and Russia and China were... giving him distinctly creepy stares. As if they knew something. A feeling of resignation settled in his stomach as he guessed just what the rumours were. He chugged a bit of his coke for strength.
"And? What were they? I'm sure the tabloids have offered up so much valuable information." He bit out, setting it down and going back to his drawing. It was one he hoped no one really noticed, one he didn't really want to notice, but he'd be damned if he let that kid get on him for not doing it. He only had the expression left to do, and he'd be damned if that came out bad.
England shifted in his seat and averted his eyes, looking highly uncomfortable again. He opened and closed him mouth a few times, not really knowing how to phrase it, but was spurred into speaking by France's finger, which he immediately smacked away from his poor arm with a hiss that didn't sound like it should come out of anything humanoid.
"There's been sightings by some of the others that you've... had a.. child with you lately. And that you've supposedly been seen with him around the capital." The unspoken again passed unsaid, Alfred pushing away memories of old jeers about his many children. Damn a person if they "got around", huh?
It had somehow turned into what they saw as "procedure". Whenever he had another kid, he'd walk around with them, get to know them, and take them to the capital to, what the other countries assumed, have the tyke meet the president. In truth, most of the time, his kids stayed in their states when he first had or found them, and he'd show them their own capital. The ones he'd been seen around D.C. so much with were the ones he babysitted for old friends.
He gave a fake laugh, scratching the back of his head with a large grin. "Yeah, I guess they're right, then. Why do you ask?" England blinked a little, not really processing what he said, and Alfred could swear he heard Germany spluttering in the background, with someone snorting behind a hand.
"Why do I- Alfred, why do you think I would bloody ask? Did you have another kid? Is it true?"
"Ja, vwe have a right to know, America, especially if you are splitting up land or taking more." Germany cut in, frowning hard.
"Oh. Sort of. Not really. He's not much of a kid." Silence reigned as the others tried to make heads or tails of his answer, and he went back to his drawing, humming. It was nearly done, but he decided he would finish it at home, if only for convenience. He folded it away in his case, patiently waiting for the others to catch up. If they really bothered. This group's been known to brush off what they don't understand, after all.
"Alfred, mon fils, what do you mean by that?" Francis slowly asked, brows furrowed. "IS he yours or not?"
"Like I said, sort of. Look- it's hard to explain, and he's only really done half of that." Alfred replied, bemusedly shoving Texas farther up his nose, even if he didn't really need to wear them anymore. "If you want, I can bring him down and you can see for yourself. The house is only about ten minutes away, and he knows all the shortcuts." The other countries looked between themselves, muttering uncertainly. Some started to argue about it and power plays (mainly nations such as Iraq and Syria, who wanted to beat the ever-loving tar out of him), but most of the were for the idea or just didn't plain care. Nothing would get done during the meeting anyways.
"Why the hell are we even bothering with this?" Lovino Vargas called irritably from his seat, jabbing a turtle on the table with a pencil, "Who cares if that idiot had another?"
"Yes, I do not see how Amerika's promiscuity is a matter of concern." Russia agreed, smiling that irritating smile all the while. That glint was still in his eye though, the creep. America flipped him the bird in retaliation, not really caring about the other's animosity at this point. 23 years make some grudges fade, after all. Right now, he was busy pulling out his phone and dialing. The others watched as he waited for it to stop ringing, and he tiredly smiled when it clicked, a panicked voice filling the speaker.
"Hey Laticima, how is- hey, hey, calm down what- oh, no, don't worry about that, as long as he puts it back together it's fine, he's done worse- look, don't worry about it, I'll put it back together or get a new one, I promise, I don't blame you, no hay de que, but could you bring him down here? Down here, to the building. It's by the Denouement. The others in my meeting want to meet him. Just tell him friggin' 'Kelvin', he'll understand. Maybe. If he causes any trouble, I'll pay you double, alright? Thank you." He snapped it close with a smile, gazing easily back at the others. "Ten minutes tops. That good?"
"I suppose." Germany said resignedly, taking back to his seat from where he had been yelling at North and South Korea for fighting again. France and England swarmed around Alfred when the chaos settled in once more, each taking a seat and momentarily glaring at the other.
"Tell me mon cher, who is the other parent? I have no seen you close to any of the others lately, are you hiding an illicit affair from us? Forbidden love only by the moonlight?" France teased, fluttering his eyelashes dramatically. England scoffed across from him and whapped his arm.
"Don't be ridiculous, Frog, of course not. It's just some alliance gone strange, isn't it Alfred? I still remember that incident with Israel." Alfred twitched at the memory of it (and of the names it brought up- ah, Amaris, Abraham-) before shaking himself out of it and giving the other man an exasperated roll of the eyes.
"No, I'm definitely sure he isn't from anything like that. He just... I just.. found him." He finished lamely, fiddling with his sleeve.
"Ah! As I found Mathieu and Angleterre, you!" Francis crowed delightedly. "Then he must be of you. I wonder, are you splitting, Alfred?" He shrugged, and probably would have muttered something in the negative, but England interrupted again.
"We'd know of something like that, wouldn't we? Governments don't exactly hide secession." He griped.
"Ah, but sometimes it is better to stay in the shadows, mon cher, to be subtle, not that you would know anything of that. After all, isn't your secret service completely out in the open?" France replied primly, a small smirk on his face as he boredly examined his nails.
"Why you-!" Arthur choked out, reaching across Alfred's space to throttle the Frenchman. Said Frenchman jumped up, babbling something in French- Alfred though he heard a "bunny" in there at some point- before blowing a kiss and hurrying away to hide behind Canada. England followed him, shouting and shaking a fist.
"Francis, Arthur, can we not do this again?" He tiredly called, sighing when they ignored him and instead started another chair fight. He hoped no one tried to make him pay for those.
It's a wonder the world isn't in shambles, Alfred thought absently, To hell with the conference, man. Maybe I can slip out and grab a burger before they get here? McDonald's isn't that far...
Alas, he could not carry out his burger-snatching, because he ended up having to rescue Canada from his occupation as a human shield. He was sort of doubting England would really notice the other boy, knowing his tendency to disappear unless oil came up. He shoved the boy to the side right as the island nation jumped at Francis, screaming obscenities in what might have been Gaelic or pure gibberish. Canada gave him a grateful smile and they plopped down into their seats, Canada's being across from Alfred.
"S-so, how have you been lately, Al? I know things have been a little bad with ISIS and all.." Matthew asked, giving his brother a smile. Alfred snorted in response, taking a swig of his coke.
"Mattie, you wouldn't even believe what's going on anymore. I swear, either I'm getting criticised for that or for something the Senate's doing or for some plane crashing or some idiot refusing to be quarantined because who knows anymore. It's like they think I actually have any power! I'm like a second president here, I fill out paperwork! I can't even override Congress anymore!" The nation cried, throwing his arms up in exasperation. The Canadian snickered, used to his brother's behavior.
"I'm guessing that's why you're not laughing or shouting every minute?" He asked gently, sighing when Alfred gave him a confused look. "You've practically been worse than Arthur today, Al. I'm surprised you didn't bite off his hand when he hit you."
"O-oh. I didn't know I was that bad." Alfred replied sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. "No one's annoyed more than usual, are th-" A loud knock on the room doors interrupted him, and he jumped up. Some of the others who heard it stopped their activities, watching with interest as he rushed over and cracked it open, smiling at the small woman who was shifting from foot to foot there.
"¡Laticima! ¡Gracías para miràndolo! Lo siento para algo hizo. I know I wouldn't be able to keep my house in one piece without you." He exclaimed warmly, giving her a half-armed hug as she passed him a bundle of flowers.
"It is alright Mister Jones. Nothing he was I could not take." The woman replied, although her smile was a bit shaky. Alfred gave her a knowing look, and she deflated, running a hand over her face.
"He is very bad, Mister Jones. He would not stop breaking the electronics in the house, and would have taken the flowers if I did not grab his shirt." He sighed, casting his eyes upward in a silent prayer, before snapping them back to the woman, realising something.
"Where is he by the way? I don't see him with you." Laticima froze, twirling around and frantically running over to the nearby corners. Her long skirt fluttered behind her. The longer she couldn't find him, the more she panicked.
"Oh Diós mio, dònde estàlo!? Niño!" She called, flitting from side to side. Alfred watched her for a few moments, bemused and only slightly worried, before hearing a quiet cough to his side. Glancing over, he was hardly surprised to see their missing brat curled up on the wall with a faintly guilty look on his face.
"Sa tore'ri tvai tor. Sa vesh'zungor." He said quietly, giving Alfred a pleading look. The nation sighed and scratched at his head again, calling for Laticima to come back before she went too far. When she turned around and saw the "boy", a relieved expression passed on her face before an angry one encompassed it, and she stalked up to him, grabbing his ear with a hand.
"Què piensas hacer? Tuve miedo!" She exclaimed, giving his ear a harsh tug. He winced and gave her puppy dog eyes, opening his baby blues as far as they would go, knowing she couldn't resist. And right he was, because she glared at him for a bit more before huffing and letting go, smoothing his hair down with a fond hand. "Please do not do that again, niño. It gives me stress." He dutifully nodded his head, not wanting to anger the kind woman again, and she gave a few parting words to him and Alfred, trotting back to her own home in the city. Alfred gave him a sharp look of his own, to which the brat sheepishly shrugged and made a what can you do gesture. Finally, he guided the "boy" into the room, where the others were eagerly waiting to find out why there had been shouting in English and intermittent Spanish for about five minutes.
They stared as the two walked in, put off by the... uncanniness.
Alfred certainly wasn't lying about the child, but they didn't expect him to be so... similar. With sun-kissed blond hair, cornflower-coloured eyes that seemed too bright and too off, and a face that spoke of many pranks in store, it was almost like they were just looking at a smaller Alfred with cropped hair.
"Is this your little one? He is so adorable, Alfred, and just like you!" France cooed, bending down to smile at the boy at eye level. "But I must ask, why have you dressed him in those horrid rags?" The man said disapprovingly, roving an eye over the boy's attire.
He was wearing a white button-up sizes large for him, something more fitting for an adult, and jeans rolled up at least five times on his legs. A pair of headphones hanged around his neck, the cord disappearing into his shirt. When France mentioned it, he uneasily shifted from foot to foot, glaring at Alfred again.
"Hey, don't blame me!" Alfred protested, raising his hands, throwing an agitated glance down, "I actually bought good clothes for him once I knew he was actually alive, he just threw them at my head and stole from my dresser. And hasn't stopped doing it."
"Lau-sa trasha?" The boy said in return with an agitated tone, "Sa tor'ri aitlu ne-tor be'lai."
"Oh my God no, you suffer with me. And speak in English, not everyone's a nerd like you." The boy glared at him again and whacked the older man in the leg, earning a snicker.
"Are we even sure he's like us?" Switzerland suddenly said, creeping towards the front of the crowd, "For all we know, you could have made a stupid mistake and thought he was one of yours, America." He held his gun protectively, and Alfred really, really hoped he wasn't capable of shooting a child just to prove a point, because then he just might hate Switzerland a fuck of a lot and have more nightmares about that which he just could not handle.
"Ai ya, does that really matter, Switzerland?" China said impatiently, eyes shifting this way and that, edging closer to the boy, "What is more important, what is this little one's name? What do you call yourself, boy?"
"Well, I suppose we could get both out of the way." The boy finally piped up, speaking English in a dry, annoyed tone. "It can be a present to the only damn person who's addressed me in first person in the past ten minutes. Can I do it, Al?" A grin spread across America's face as he considered what the "boy" was proposing, and he nodded after a few seconds, chuckling with a smirk.
"Why not?" The "boy" smirked, and wordlessly began to stalk towards Switzerland. The nations around him watched in fascination and slight disgust as limbs snapped and reformed, skin and muscle stretching, clothes filling out. He stopped a foot away from the small nation, knowing full-well he was in his personal space, six feet flat and smirking as if he knew how to make the world turn tipsy.
"You can call me NASA, CNSA, RFSA, or Jim Kirk, although I prefer the last one." The now-man purred, leaning in until Switzerland arched back and fell over.
And then all hell broke loose.
Mon fils - my son
mon cher - my dear
no hay de que - It's nothing
Gracías para miràndolo! Lo siento para algo hizo - Thank you for watching him! I'm sorry for anything he did.
Oh Diós mio, dònde estàlo!? Niño! - Oh my God, where is he!? Boy!
Sa tore'ri tvai tor. Sa vesh'zungor - I did not mean to do that. I was only tired.
Què pensas hacer? Tuve miedo! - What do you think you were doing? I was scared!
Lau-sa trasha? - Can I leave?
Sa tor'ri aitlu ne-tor be'lai - I do not want to be near them