Paring: PruCan 3
Warnings: Mpreg (Mommy!Canada),slight language, shonen-ai and OC children (child, more like…)
Sonja tugged on her father's arm impishly with a scowl. He looked down at her before cracking a grin, his hand falling onto her mussed mop of silver hair. His fingers danced through her smooth ponytails.
"Vati, since when could you play the piano?" she demanded, gesturing to the instrument. "I thought only Mr. Lame-O played!"
"Nah, I play sixty million times more awesome than him," the Prussian argued, slightly offended. "You wanna hear?" He chuckled when she nodded vivaciously and patted an empty spot on the piano bench. "Hop on up here, libeling and let Awesome Vati teach you how the awesome play."
The toddler stared up at him before reaching out her small arms. She jumped a little before scowling and stomping her foot with a long whine.
"I can't reach," she muttered darkly, crossing her arms and pouting cutely. She added a quick command—"Fix it!"
"Alrighty then," he replied, hoisting his daughter into his arms and setting her on his lap. "Better?"
Nodding, a huge grin spread across Sonja's face and she shifted around so she was facing her father's chest; she wrapped her tiny arms around his neck with her jubilant smile just as bright as ever.
"I love you, Vati!"
"Ich liebe dich auch, liebe," he laughed, pecking her softly on the forehead before adjusting her position on his lap. "Now here, put your fingers like this."
Placing his hands on the chilled ivory keys just so, Gilbert waited for his daughter to copy, but she simply stared up at him with wide eyes.
"Where do I put them?"
"Here," he offered, taking her small hands and positioning them atop his own, "Keep them there, and I'm gonna play it in another key, okay?" He slid his hand down to another group of keys, positioning himself. Her fingers began scuttle his way and he tapped them gently. "Nien. Keep them where they are."
"Okay…" Her lips jutted out in a pout of pure concentration before her violet eyes rose to look up to her father. "What do I do?"
"Geduld, mein Liebling," he laughed, kissing the top of her head with a grin, "Geduld."
"Fiiiiiiiine," she droned, soon impatient.
To save her from boredom, Prussia struck the first note.
"Copy me," he ordered softly, "Use your first finger and hit the key—no, no, nien. No too hard. Softly."
She mimicked the gentle pressing of the key, and the first note rang through the quiet house.
"Gut—sehr gut. Now play this."
"This?"
"Nien—this key here…see my finger? The one with the ring on it? Use that one."
Soon, he'd sailed her through the song a few times before she was finally ready to play it on her own.
"Hey, Vati, I know this song," the five year-old announced joyfully, bouncing in his lap. "You sing it to me all the time!"
"Do you remember the words?" he tested, ruffling her hair once more, a wide grin stretching his lips.
"'Course I do," Sonja replied, pumping her free fist in the air, "I'm awesome!"
And with that, she broke into the lyrics as her father guided her fingers through the accompaniment.
"Guten Abend, gute Nacht,
mit Rosen bedacht,
mit Näglein besteckt,
schlüpf unter die Deck!
Morgen früh, wenn Gott will,
wirst du wieder geweckt."
"Vati?"
"Ja?"
"What do those words mean?"
He thought for a moment, translating the words over.
"Good evening, good night," he began, "With roses adorned, with carnations covered…" He cleared his throat. "Slip under the covers. Tomorrow morning, if God wants, you will wake once again."
"Those are really pretty words, Vati," she said with a bright smile, "I like the other words too."
"Guten Abend, gute Nacht,
von Englein bewacht,
die zeigen im Traum
dir Christkindleins Baum.
Schlaf nun selig und süß,
schau im Traum 's Paradies."
"What do those words mean?"
"Uh…" Before he could even open his mouth, Sonja had begun to speak, slowly interpreting the lyrics.
"So it's 'Good evening, good night. By angels watched, who show you in your dream the Christ-child's tree. Sleep now peacefully and sweetly—see the paradise in your dream.' Right, Vati?"
Shocked, Gilbert grinned before swooping down to kiss her cheek.
"Right."
His daughter had ears like you wouldn't believe and she flinched when she heard a key slowly click into place at the front door.
"Mommy's home," she whispered, alert and ready to fly to the door. And with that, she was gone , red dress fluttering as she dashed into Canada's arms as soon as the door was open even a crack. "Mommy! Mommy, Mommy, mommy!"
The Canadian laughed, gathering the small girl in his arms; he swayed with her gently, burying his nose in her syrup-scented hair.
"Mommy, Vati taught me how to play the lullaby on the piano! He's much awesome-er than Mr. Lame-O!"
Although the blonde didn't exactly approve of his fiancé's disdain for Austira having been passed on to their daughter, but he simply laughed and squeezed her tighter.
"Now, now, you know it isn't nice to give people mean names like that, Sonja."
"Sorry, Mommy, but Vati started it. He's dumm."
Gilbert released a loud gasp from the piano.
"Sonja! Schätzchen! What was that for? Ich bin nicht dumm, ich bin genial!"
He quickly snatched the child away from her mother and enveloped her in a huge bear hug: the kind with squeezing and growling and laughing.
"Es tut mir leid, Vati!" she cried in surrender, squealing as he spun her around quickly. "Es tut mir leid!"
"Okay, I guess I forgive you," he laughed, setting her on the ground. He suddenly changed his mind and gathered her into his arms again. "No, I don't!"
He squeezed her and swayed with her, their hearty laughs filling the front hallway until the enthusiastic pair was exhausted enough to stop.
"I forgive you now," he concluded, crossing his arms with a satisfied huff, and Sonja crumpled dizzily in a silver and scarlet lump at her father's feet.
The blonde giggled at the sight of his giddy family, wobbling around with crossed eyes; it seemed nearly like a blessing to have them at all, and he crossed the room to peck his partner sweetly on the cheek.
"That was a lame kiss," the former empire whined, dragging his feet as he followed the red-donning man into the kitchen, "Do it agaaaaiiiin, Birdie!"
"Nope," he replied simply, seizing his rosy pink apron and beginning to drape it over his shoulders ,"You get what you get."
Matthew fumbled with the tie for a while, sighing heavily is annoyance as it refused to knot at his waist.
"Need some help?" Nimble fingers quickly shoved his own out of the way, looping them together in a professional bow.
"Wow, Gil, I had no idea you were so good at tying."
"Yeah I'm just that awe"—
"I never considered how gay you were until now," the Canadian mused, holding a finger to his lips. His boyfriend's jaw hit the ground from behind him. "Wow, I'm just…Just in awe," he joked.
"You should, 'cause I'm so aweso"—
"And I mean, you had an empire? An empire? You're just as girly as Rodreich, you know…"
He knew exactly how vexing he was, how cruel, how crushing his words were.
"Birdie, you're mean…"
The indigo-eyed nation took his lover's face in his gentle hands, kissing him in a soft way that seemed almost nonexistent. It was light and sweet, nearly like a feather on snow.
"Better?"
Although the silver-haired man would've preferred a ridiculously rough make-out session, but there was some sort of moment stirring between them, and he didn't want to ruin it; it was a sort of mist over them, a fluffy, romantic happening, but as soon as it was there, it was gone.
Although he didn't say it aloud, Gilbert treasured those instants in which they were the only two on earth—it gave him the idea, the notion, and the hope that their marriage wasn't going to fall in shambles like Liz and Rodreich's . Unlike them, they would always love one another; they didn't get married because they had to, or because they thought they were in love. They were. And they were never falling out of it.
That was what made them different from the other couples: there was a snowball's chance in hell of falling out of love. They hardly argued, but never went to bed cross. There was no angry sex and no makeup sex—just talking and holding and hushed apologies. He always thought he'd be perfect in a sex-oriented relationship, but that was before he met Matthew.
Once the two of them shook hands (well, more like he came to terms with the way he felt), a little family life seemed like what he'd always wanted. It was a sort of awkward realization, really, finding out that everything you thought you wanted—sex, money, glory—was all wrong and that you finally found what you wanted in the most unlikely person in your life.
"You're my best friend," he mumbled, hugging his fiancé from behind and burying his face into his shoulders. It was true; Matthew was the true love he never knew he wanted.
"Well, thanks," he giggled from the stove with a pinkish tint to his face. "You're my best friend too." Turning in position, he pressed another small kiss to Gilbert's cheek and with a laugh, added, "Now go away so I can finish cooking."
"Here, how about I do it?" he offered, nuzzling his jaw up against the blonde's slender neck, "Schätzchen missed you today—more than she usually does."
The Canadian frowned.
"I feel awful," he murmured miserably. "Maybe I should stay home with her…"
"No, Birdie—your people need you."
"But…but I…" He hung his head, tears bubbling in the corners of his midnight blue eyes. "I'm just never there for her...to see her grow, to play with her, to just talk to her, Gil…!"
"Hey now, it's not your fault," the Prussian tried, but when he saw the shocked, saddened look on his lover's face, there was nothing more to say. There were several occasions when he opened his mouth to speak, but closed it almost instantly.
"Mommy! Mommy!" A small voice floated though the kitchen, followed by a small cry.
"Honey? What is it?" he asked frantically, struggling with the apron before finally tearing it from his body and tossing it to the floor. "Sonja!"
There she was, sprawled out on the rug, fists against her cheeks to catch falling tears.
"Sweetheart, what happened?" Matthew crouched down next to her and pulled the sobbing toddler against his chest, rocking her gently to calm her tears.
She sniffled.
"Mommy, I fell!"
"Aww, Honey," he cooed, kissing her head and holding her in his lap. "You've gotta get better with your balance, eh?" She nodded and leaned further into him, making herself comfortable in her mother's arms.
"I love you, Mommy…"
That practically broke him down. The Canadian burst into tears, hugging her so close that she was a part of him again; they had the same connection in that moment than they had when he was expecting her. It was a familiar feeling, really, this closeness, this bond.
It wasn't until he swayed her gently, her small head resting against his heartbeat did he realize that it was always there.
"I love you too, sweetie, and I will forever and ever."
She stared up at him with watery blue eyes.
"Promise…?"
"Of course," Matthew murmured, brushing a drop of moisture from her splotchy, tear-marred cheek. "I promise."
He carried her into the living room and the duo collapsed upon the sofa in a mess of tried tears and joyful sniffles. She nuzzled into his chest and she stroked her hair.
Soon enough, they'd fallen asleep, and as Gilbert left the kitchen with a repetitive cry of "food's on", he caught them in the act of napping at six-thirty at night. With a peaceful smile, the kind of softened look one got during such a warm moment such as this, he shifted his weight from foot to foot.
The scarlet-eyed man's tender smile was replaced by his usual grin, and he gently draped a red blanket over his boyfriend and daughter, ruffling their silver and blonde tresses of hair affectionately.
"Guten Abend," he began with a small chuckle, "Gute Nacht." Seating himself on the arm of the sofa, he let his pale eyelids flutter over his ruby eyes. "Mit Rosen bedacht, mit Näglein besteckt…"
Lyrics began bleeding into one another, jumbling and tumbling as even he, the "awesome" and energetic non-nation, became a victim of drowsiness. The rested his head against his fist, slowly plummeting into a peaceful sleep.
Yes, he'd been wrong about what he wanted back in the imperialist days of pointless fucks and hollow glory. This was what he wanted. This was what he had.
…And he wouldn't change anything about it.
(A/N: This was such a fucking bitch to write…stuck in my head…not going away….Grrrr. So yeah, the song is Brahm's lullaby, which we're singing (in German, of course) in choir. When we first started working on it, this little idea was conceived. Okay, let's get the important shit over with. I don't own the nation parents, but Sonja is my creation (:
I modeled her slightly after Yotsuba, of the super cute manga Yotsuba&! That's SO not the point, though. I'm planning on adding more chapters and making an all-out multi-pairing fic. Mpreg ahoy! HahahahahaNO.
I'll be using DenNor (hint, hint, nudge, nudge), USUK, Rochu, Giripan, SuFin, Turkey/Egypt, Gertalia, Spa/Ro and I think I might do some request chapters if I get enough readers…which I probably won't…because this sucks XD
I don't know how often I'll be able to update since I'm going to be going on vacation, so it might be a while.
Much love-a, Darlings!~
~Ricey~)