Title: Bloody Frog Summary: Aidan Bonnefoy has always lived in an odd family. Honestly, he was used to leaving in the make-up of himself, his younger sister, his mum and his papa, and he'd learned not to question the fact he hadn't ever really... met any extended family. But secrets had been numerous, rooms were commonly blocked off in their homes, and they were always moving when something bad would happen, always around Europe.
Rating: M
Warnings: Undertoned smut, language, MPreg, teen drama, slight gore
Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia!
However, he does get curious one afternoon, and goes searching to see if the patterns of his parents match up with any others... and once again the internet pays off. There's a forum for kids just like him that's dying, with two members that post their findings every couple weeks. And he's decided to revive it, and attempt to uncover what's been hidden from him for years. Little does he know the consequences of opening up such a world of pain, loss, anger... and maybe even a few friends.
In case you're unfamiliar with the original of this story, I highly recommend you don't read it. It was, perhaps, my first serious fanfiction series, and definitely my one with the highest reviews until Brit Next Door. However, I wrote it back in my recovering weeaboo days, back when I was obsessed with yaoi and Mpreg, and it was a complete rip-off of stories just like it.
So, I decided, out of embarrassment and a little bit of longing to write it again that I was to trade in my doitsu and numerous MPreg with no good reasons in for a more solid plot, way less couples with children, and human names used throughout.
I hope you enjoy this way more than the other one!
Arthur's heart was racing. His breath was slow and agonizing. For one of the first time's in his life, he was truly at a loss for words. Nothing could really compare to the feeling right now. There was only one word to describe the endlessly confusion joy throbbing in his mind.
Love.
"Arthur, you're one in a kind," Francis glided out. Smoothly... like cream. That's what he always reminded the Brit of. Soft cream pouring through a cup of brown coffee, creating beautiful pattern in each inch it touched. The metaphore seemed to describe the flirt perfectly as he continued. "A precious jewel to be admired from afar. Like a jewel, you really do seem to appear to be tough on the outside. But with a bit of buffing and shining, he gorgeous insides that fill you echo out. Je T'aime, mon lapin. Tu es mon belle bijoux."
Arthur felt a bit inferior to those sparkling blue eyes staring at him expectantly, with a grace no other could carry. Hot breath brushed across the palm of his hand, hovering and warming a specific spot in the middle of the skin.
"I'd like to carry your beauty by my side for as long as you'll have me," Francis breathed out. From his pocket, he retrieved a small box, simultaneously working himself to one knee. This caused Arthur to squirm, knowing exactly what was coming next. He'd already had his moment of surprise. Now it was time to get his bliss.
"Arthur James Kirkland, would you do me the ever so graceful honour of wedding me?"
"Francis..." He breathed out, hardly loud enough to be heard. His knees wobbled dangerously, threatening to collapse any second as he worked it all out within his mind.
"Just say yes, Art!" Alfred butt in from the back of the room, outgoing and brash as ever.
"Francis, I'd love to!"
Cheers and applause erupted in a sudden frenzy from across the room, though Arthur had his mind on other things than the witnesses that desperately wanted to congratulate the newly engaged couple. The emerald-eyed male was swept into the arms of his older lover, a gentle and loving hug embracing him tightly.
"Must you go so far out to make a point?" Arthur whispered into the Frenchman's ear, letting his forehead rest on the other's shoulder delicately. "Planning all this;... the dinner, the hundred guests... even the band?"
"You're worth it." He answered back, plain and simply. "You're worth all the efforts and more."
"Hey, Francis! You get him for, like, ever now. It's my turn to spend some time with my own groom to my best man." And there was Alfred, the helpless romantic that chose just the right times to prove his interest in the lovey-dovey scenarios he wasn't supposed to be a part of. Arthur was forcefully pried from his fiance, forced into a conversation with the other.
"What could you possibly want?" Arthur grumbled, folding his arms in irritation. "Could you not have waited until we made last call for the animals?"
Alfred laughed sarcastically, bringing in his shorter ex-care-taker to rustle his hair under a tight grip. "Oh, come on. Do you have to be such a bitch on your own wedding day? I just came to say congrats, dude."
"That's rather unexpectedly sweet of you, Alfred..."
"Yeah, but I also came to bother you."
"Should I have expected less?"
"Haha, of course not!" Alfred grinned, folding his arms in content and releasing the other. "So, what now? The big-bad Mr. Pirate stuffy king is gonna finally settle down? Adopt some kiddies?"
Arthur's face was coated in red as he pushed the other in retaliation. He didn't necessarily know why the situation seemed embarrassing, but he wasn't used to being paired with someone in such a way.
"Hey, but if ol' beard-face gives you any trouble, I guess I'm here, 'kay? I don't want to see you crying or anything. What a gross sight." Alfred muttered, turning his nose up in the mocking fashion Arthur did, snickering all the while in a posh accent.. "I do say, it's rather unsightly!"
The next moment, Arthur's fists were upon him, and blocking himself, Alfred spun and covered his head, letting the other pummel his back.
"Arthur-san!" Kiku's fingers grabbed his right fist, catching it in mid-air heavily. Arthur turned his attention to the ancient man close to him, stopping himself in the wake of punching the other's eyes out.
"Thanks, dude!" Alfred cackled and took off in the other direction. Kiku watched him depart, sighing at his constant antics.
"Yes, I can see why you'd be hitting him," The Japanese man breathed out, before completely turning his attention to Arthur. "Anyways, I'd like to say congratulations."
"Thank you." Arthur nodded with a gentle smile. "I'm glad you're being sincere... and not... well... Alfred-ly."
"I'd also like to wish you the best of luck with your rather... touchy husband." Kiku nodded to himself.
Arthur knew it was obviously the wrong word, though he understood exactly what he meant. Francis had always been a flirt. Though he had a love for the human body itself, not just the sexual side of things. It didn't seem as if that was understood by the nations. Of course, Arthur admitted Francis certainly did enjoy sexually oriented topics or actions.
Speaking of the Frenchman, where was he?
"Francis!" Arthur practically shrieked, spinning on his heels. He laid a rather rough slap to the other's cheek, face burning up in anger and humiliation. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing, and the other was terribly likely to repeat his actions, but did he have to touch Arthur's ass in the middle of a big crowd?
Francis winced from the pain pulsing in his cheek, but otherwise seemed unscathed. He stood erect, instead slipping a hand around safer areas as his waist, and drawing him in close to his body. "Oh, come now. It's not as if anyone but dear Kiku bore witness, ma chatte. Even then, I think it very well demonstrates my love for you."
"And every other damn nation..." Arthur grumbled under his breath, refusing to look up at the other.
"Hmmm?"
"You know exactly what I mean!" Arthur protested, clenching his knuckles into a tight fist. Francis couldn't pretend. He knew everything. Maybe not book-wise... but somehow he read Arthur like a book. "No more sleeping around, or I'll have your head."
"I promise to only love you," Francis vowed, running a gentle hand across the other's cheek. "No one-"
"Ludwig!" Feliciano's shrill voice rang over the bustle of the very huge crowd. Soon, the duo appeared, the smaller boy attempting to drag Ludwig over as fast as he could go. Though he was much too small to make a huge difference. "They're over there. Hurry!"
"I see them. I know." Ludwig sighed. He'd unhook his arm, but he got the feeling the smaller leech would simply cling to him again. "They aren't going anywhere, Feli."
"But we need to get there before anyone else does. I have to tell something important to Arthur!"
Arthur's eyes widened as he realized he was the running man's target. Between the time it took to unwind himself from the Frenchman, and to begin escaping the scene, he was completely tackled. The only thing to keep him upright was a nearby wall, as he was trapped between that, and a clingy Italian boy.
"Arthur! I'm really happy for you," He beamed, taking in the other's expression and pushing off his look of shock to the side. "Trust me, it's really nice being married to the one you love. Ludwig and I have been together for... 15 years now. But every day, he still wakes me up the same way he did when we first got married. It's like I fall in love with him anew each day."
The Brit truly hadn't expected such a sweet phrase to come out of the other's lips, and it took him by surprise. He blinked up at the brunette, letting a small smile come onto his face. "That sounds very sweet."
"It is! And I can't wait for you and Francis to be that way. Instead of fighting every second."
Arthur turned his eyes to his fiancé, spotting him in conversation with Ludwig. the Frenchman spared glances back to his lover every so often, signalling he was indeed talking about him. Probably nothing good.
"I don't think that's going to happen..."
6 months later, Arthur found himself looking rather dashing in a tux. His hair was combed, his very slight make-up to touch up his face was complete, and he'd dug out his best pair of shoes to complete the outfit.
Originally, he'd been asked by his soon-to-be husband to sport a frilly dress he'd picked out in a catalog but the idea was shot down with crude words, which came from both of them. In the end, Arthur had simply worn a clipped flower on top of his hair, that fell over his face in a veil. Quite the feminine addition to his outfit, but he doubted the other would let him escape without remnants of it.
Though, right now, the outfits didn't matter. Arthur felt his back connect with a dipping surface, as fabric engulfed his being. The springs below him squeaked multiple times, but the sound hardly interrupted Arthur's mission. Instead, he pulled the body hovering between his legs closer, and began unbuttoning the white shirt that remained. When, at last, he pulled it free, it was tossed to the side. His fingers immediately began running across his milky, nearly flawless, skin, wanting to drink up the feeling.
He, himself, was already nearly-nude. Francis had done a number on him in the hall, until the only thing left was his under-shorts. It wasn't necessarily a fast thing, nor a crazy thing. In fact, it had been going quite slow and gentle. Despite this, their venues weren't exactly the most romantic places, but it soothed their erotic needs the both of them shared.
"Je t'aime," Francis said in a hushed voice, fingers cupping his cheek. He trailed kissing starting from his forehead, leading all the way down his chest. "Je t'aime du fond de mon coeur."
Arthur shivered from the butterfly-like sensations fluttering down his torso, staring up to the man holding him in place. "I love you, too." He whispered, his heart jumping. What a perfect night it had panned out to be.
And through the darkened night, the two moved and gasped and clung to each other with deep satisfaction, completing their entire romantic connection, body and heart.
Arthur felt his stomach curling. He felt like he was to hurl at any moment. The food he'd taken in hours ago seemed to suddenly appear, and he felt it settled on the walls of his stomach, gears within him turning to show he needed to release it.
Francis noticed the change in his face, and the faint green tint that overcame his face. Just in time he'd seized the nearest trash-can, holding it firmly in place as the contents of the Brit's stomachs were dumped into the bowl-shape of it. He whispered calming words into the other's ear, his heart beating and mind whirling just the same. Only it luckily wasn't happening to he. It was selfish to be thankful that it was instead placed upon his lover, yes, but only by luck had he escaped this fate. Unless it was something only Arthur could really manage to do...
"If you'd like a few minutes to talk over your options, I'll be back in a few minutes." The doctor pardoned, feeling quite uncomfortable in the tense atmosphere that had settled across the room. Francis nodded his thanks, turning back to Arthur with a gentle frown gracing his delicate features.
"Mon chere, Tu vas bien?" He whispered, trying his best not to aggravate the sickened male. He took in the other's hand, running a gentle thumb across the skin his palm. "Do you need anything?"
Arthur suddenly snapped up his eyes, head dropping lazily from the nausea inside of him. His eyes were red from what appeared to be anger, and in a second he'd snatched his hand back to his own body. "Of course I'm not alright, you dank-brained rat!" He shouted with unexpected intensity. It stunned Francis for moments. "Do you think after... that I'm going to march out of here like everything's dandy?"
Francis sighed heavily, irritation rising up the back of his throat. Being scolded with such ignorance wasn't his strong-point. "Arthur, I'm not asking you to. But since we can't change this, would you please let me at least try to accommodate your needs?"
Arthur stayed quiet, and he silently slouched back into his own body, holding himself to protect a warmth that didn't quite matter in the summer heat. It remained quiet for some time, neither of the two having anything they needed to say, each lost in their thoughts of worry and bemusement.
Then, quietly, Arthur raised his voice.
"I'm not saying I'm scared," He said bravely, distilled stubbornness edging his words. "But... Francis... I don't want this..."
Francis studied his expression for the longest time, searching for a sign of what his words had exactly intended to mean. "...Are you suggesting we get rid of them?"
Arthur took moments to respond. As he did so, he raised his head and looked at the man in worry and anxiousness. "Of course I couldn't just... kill a child!" He hissed. "But... dammit... I really don't want this to happen..." As if on instinct, his hand found his abdomen. It felt alienated to simply press his fingertips to the soft skin, feeling it's warmth radiating through his shirt. He prodded the area, testing for any kind of sign that proof was there. But it felt the same. The only change was mentally.
He sat back against the wall, eyes closing tightly. He simply wished he could block out the rest of he world. It seemed vile and cruel. Arthur had seen much suffering and turmoil in his days- indeed causing quite a bit of it- though it all seemed to come tumbling back in this unheard fate he'd never quite imagined. After all... he was supposedly... pregnant?
Around that same day, 1 thought had been haunting Lovino throughout the morning. In fact, it had occupied his mind and gone unsaid until now. The Italian pulled himself away from Antonio's tight grasp, turning to face the other with an angry look in his eye. "I swear I'm going to punch you in 5 seconds," He growled and folded his arms. "If you don't tell me what Francis said on the phone earlier."
Antonio glanced up in surprise, coming out from his once lethargic state and frowned at Lovino. "Lovi, sorry, but I can't! It was a secret, first of all, and I hardly even know what's going on." He twiddled his thumbs across his lap, refusing to acknowledge the angry stare he was receiving. "Come back onto my lap! We can relax together, si?"
The Italian instead folded his arms, refusing to be touched like a child until he got what he wanted. "Never."
"Lovi..."
"No. Not until you stop keeping secrets from me!"
"But..."
"..."
"Fine," Antonio sighed in exasperation, running a hand through his hair. "Eyebrows was... sick this morning. And has been for a while. Francis thinks it's something like the flu... but he's been having troubles lately within his economy... so they're not quite sure."
Lovino shrugged, settling back into his arms and brushing off the news without much thought. "Serves that idiot right."
Just one month following the doctor's visit, Arthur found his situation in a flip. He was stuck bed-ridden through every week, forced to remain the guinea pig to tests by scientists that visited and left, never to be found again. Needles were shoved into his arms, ultrasounds were conducted, and the one-and-a-half-month-developed child was already having its future planned before it had been born.
Francis remained at Arthur's side the entire time, delivering everything he needed when it was called. Their regular bickering and quarrelling had been banned for the time, as the risk of getting Arthur too stressed was high with all the chemicals and surgeries being done on his body. If Francis added any more to it, doctors were afraid the child might be harmed, and with a situation such as this, it was a terrifying thought that might happen.
In the beginning of the epidemic, an unsaid question hung in the air, tense. It drove them near madness, and each of the two refused to talk until it was answered.
Do they keep the child?
Eventually, a conversation was indeed forced, and while Arthur still stuck by his answer of not killing a child... he had certainly swung into the thought of the baby being just a... a thing in him. A thing that could kill him.
It took Francis an entire night of yelling and research until Arthur had agreed that he wouldn't get an abortion, though the idea of it was still fresh in their minds.
Arthur's voice was hoarse and tired as he spoke to the Frenchman in the corner of the room. "Francis, would you mind getting me tea?" He mumbled, his eyes heavy. He'd been given sedatives earlier, and he was quite exhausted from the after-effects. "And.. a pot. I feel queasy."
The blond man stood, nodding with a gentle smile, and quickly left to fetch the items. He glanced back towards his husband, sighing with a great deal of stress also placed on himself. It wasn't easy being the errand boy for everyone who needed him, and not getting much sleep himself... he was near the brink of passing out.
Though, of course, talking with Antonio every day about it was helping. Luckily, the cheery Spaniard wouldn't dare tell anyone. He had clear trust in the man.
The room of the meeting was teeming with life as always. The micronations ran free, playing tag with one another and disrupting the talk of the unfortunate adults that happened to invite them. The taller nations who believed themselves to be the best fought their dominance with each other, while their quieter followers settled about around them to watch. Alfred and Ivan battled off in the corner, Yao intervening and throwing fits to keep the bitter nations off each other. Matthew struggled with a drinking Gilbert and his brother, keeping up a good conversation where he could, but not quite understanding when they'd switch to German. No one but Feliciano quite noticed... but there were 3 countries absent from the room; Francis, Arthur, and Lovino. Indeed, Antonio was here, but remained quiet and glum in the back-side of the wide meeting space, denying all conversations that were forced upon him. Others watched him carefully, hardly trusting he didn't have some kind of plot up his sleeve. Any time the bubbly man was silent, bad things were going to happen.
Francis slipped into the room, though hardly any but Antonio noticed. The brunette raised his head, eyes widening, and he frantically waved his arms above his head to get Francis's attention. Francis did spot him, throwing him a smile, and mouthed something over his shoulder. In a few moments, Francis stepped through, a bent-over Arthur under his arm. Strewn over his shoulder was a very long, thick coat, bunched up and tied around his middle. It didn't take any more of a genius than Antonio to figure out why, and briefly he settled back into the chair and looked on. The couple made their way over to the table, Francis drawing out a chair and forcing Arthur to sit. The Brit kept his vision off of Antonio, and there was a clear awkwardness between them, both from Arthur's embarrassing secret and their past angers.
"Merci for saving our seat, Toni," Francis said with a half-smile, too much building on his shoulders for it to be genuine. "Where might Lovino be?"
"Bathroom," Antonio muttered and pushed his hand through his head. "He keeps running off in the middle of things. But he's been drinking a lot more liquids... so I suppose it's nothing bad..."
Francis squeezed his shoulder comfortingly, and took his place by the Englishman on his right. "We'll only stay as long as possible. If you need to go for some reason, we can go."
"I'll be fine!" Arthur snapped irritably, his arms tightening around his abdomen protectively. "...Did you bring anything for nausea?"
"Merde...non. I left it out in the car."
"Godammit."
"Something wrong?"
"I'm just... sick. But I can make it through."
Francis nodded and planted a firm kiss on the Brit's palm, massaging it between his warm hands carefully. "I'm sure-"
"Everyone, take your seats!" Ludwig shouted, his words echoing off the walls of the crowded room. The nations complied, pushing past each other to find their spots in a flurry. Though the ancients eventually settled down, most paying close attention to what the German was going to say, while the others either continued hushed conversations, or zoned out completely. "For today's topic, first we'll discuss the latest problem of global warming...!"
Antonio cast a glance at a moving figure in the background, as Lovino hobbled into the room with his head low. He caught the Italian's eyes, drawing him into his arms as soon as he got close enough and settling him down into the vacant chair. "Lovi, where have you been?"
"Sick." He said briefly with an angry voice, his hands massaging at his head. "I don't want to fucking be here."
"You got invited by Feli. Of course you couldn't let him down!"
"...But I feel like shit..." Lovino grumbled and layed down against the chair-back, his eyes closing. "Wake me up tomorrow."
"Hey, Francis, Lovi's sick... do you have any ibuprofen?" Antonio whispered as he leaned over, capturing the attention of the blond.
"Oui, in my bag... just a moment-"
"Francis, get me the trashcan." Arthur demanded in his other ear, his voice quivering and urgent. "Right now."
"Just a second, mon amour." Francis nodded, continuing to dig.
"Antonio, my head fucking hurts!" Lovino snapped in the background, crawling over his lap and glaring at Francis. "Give me the damn medicine."
"I know, Lovino. I'm looking."
"Francis." Arthur hissed.
"Hold on, Arthur!"
"Cocksucker, look faster!"
"Francis, Lovi's getting really antsy..."
"I need the dust-bin, Francis!"
"I'm searching for the medicine!"
"Francis..."
"Ta bouche!" Francis threw his bag on the table, angered beyond what he could normally handle, and folded his arms as he sat back with a huff. "Get your own things! I'm done!" He turned his blue eyes up, realizing quite a few people stopped to see what was happening. When Ludwig noticed, he turned fiery eyes towards the 4, glaring at them with heavy eyes. "What's happening over there?"
In an instant, Arthur fell out of his seat, and practically crawled over to the nearest black trash can. His face disappeared, and retching noises echoed out through it and disturbed many of the others. Francis felt a sort of guilt for denying him, and slipped down into a sitting position by his lover, patting his back helplessly. "Désolé..." He murmured calmingly, eyes tired and apologetic. "Just let it out, mon lapin."
"Artie?" Alfred frowned, also appearing a few seconds later to support the hurling Brit. "Hey, y'okay?"
"Just d-dandy." Arthur choked, and wiped at his mouth with the sleeve of the coat. "It...must have been something I ate..."
"Well, if you're 'kay then I'll just, like, clean up this stuff or something." Alfred grinned, and began picking up the contents of the bag. Francis nodded his gratitude turning back to the Brit. "Merci...-"
"Alfred!" Arthur croaked, suddenly remembering the contents. "Wait!"
"What the hell are these?" Alfred frowned, pulling himself onto his knees. In his hand was a bottle, a clear picture of a baby on the front. "'Prenatal vitamins?' Arthur, you carry some stupid shit! There's, like, everything in here. Pregnancy tests... back-pain cream... did ya get someone knocked-up? I thought you two were so 'hopelessly devoted to each other,' or something like that."
"That's my bag," Francis defended, snatching the contents back and tucking them away under the table. "That's enough."
"So it was you!" Alfred gasped, amused by the plot development in this situation. "Wow, Francis! I thought you were the country of love, not cheating! Now who was it? Liz?"
"Alfred, this can be dealt with later."
"But I wanna know now."
Elizaveta wasted nothing but a moment heading over to the side of the table, and she took the time to watch over the Brit, brushing his hair from his eyes and glancing over his pale face. It took her but moments to process the information... and when the connection had been made, his eyes widened in shock, and she fell back away from Arthur, followed by a disbelieving stare. Her eyes trailed from Francis to Arthur, to all the other witnessing and quiet men and women and children around the room.
"That's impossible..." She mumbled, and poked at the other's cheeks for effect. He glared up at her, his face burning red. He fumbled to pull the jacket closer around himself, hiding his face within the fabric. If he had tried to speak, no sound came out anyways. "Arthur..." She said in a hushed voice. "...Are you... pregnant?"