A/N: So this goes out to CandyCane460 (Guest) for being the 250th reviewer of my story "Breathe Me". Feel free to check that story out~ *hint hint nudge nudge*

The prompt was to write about nations reflecting on humans during a World Meeting, along with a little bit of mentioned RusAme (but my finger slipped and it turned out to be a little more than mentioned. Whoops! :P) Sorry this is so late and not mention a bit crackish too. *hides behind computer*

Anyway, I hope this fits (somewhat) to what you had in mind, Candy!

Disclaimer: Hahahaha noooooooooooooooo


"- And I was thinking that pasta –"

"While that's a very unique train of thought, Italien, it's time for a lunch break. We will return in an hour everyone!" Germany ordered, cutting North Italy off. Snapping his briefcase shut, he tried to shake off a certain clinging Italian, albeit half-heartedly.

America let out a whoop and exclaimed, "Finally! Dude I thought that'd never end!"

England glanced up at him. "Of course it would end," he pointed out. "It always does."

"But it was just so long."

"Maybe for you, since you have the attention span of a five-year-old on caffeine."

"Hey!"

The Brit smirked teasingly and stood up. Looking around the room, he made eye contact with Spain before waving to him. Then he turned back to America, his cheeks faintly pink, and said, "Well I've got to go now, old chap."

America rolled his eyes. "See ya."

So England went off to see Spain, leaving the other nation to pack up. Just as the hero was finishing up, though, two hands covered his eyes, totally scaring him witless. "Guess who~," someone sang.

America tried to pry the hands off his face. "Russia," he said, frustrated, "how many times do I have to tell you not to do that?"

Russia giggled before letting go. America turned around, intending to glare at the other, when he was caught off guard by a swift kiss on the lips. Instantly, almost all of the former irritation was gone. The Russian's kisses were heaven – not that the American would ever admit – and made him forget about his surroundings. Almost.

Breaking the kiss, America playfully shoved his boyfriend off. "Seriously dude, it kinda scares me. Especially at night."

A sigh. Then, "…Fine…"

Rolling his eyes, the glasses-wearing nation got up. He doubted it would ever stop. So he resigned to the fact that that would be the only response he would get. Grabbing the Russian's hand and tugging on it, he proposed, "I'm starving. Let's go eat!"

Russia let himself be pulled by America across the room and to the door. "No trash, Amerika. Please?" He begged.

"Pffft what trash? I ain't got no trash! Just good old-fashioned McDonald's!"

"That's what I'm afraid of…"

The blonde laughed and was about to say something, when he stopped abruptly. This caused Russia to run into him – or he would've had it not been for the fact that he also stood rooted to the spot. In front of the two lay a tiny baby; hardly more than four months. From the way it was swaddled up in a blue blanket, Russia deduced that it was a boy. The boy was awake and his big, brown eyes looked up at the two blankly. Instantly, America was all over it.

"Aww look at you!" The superpower cooed, picking it up. "Aren't you the cutest?"

"Um, Amerika…" Russia said nervously, glancing up and down the hallway in search of the baby's parents. "You might want to put him down, da?"

"Why?"

"Because we do not know where the parents are. And I don't think –"

"Oh chillax, Vanya. He's a baby. It's not like he'll hurt us or anything," America reasoned, rolling his eyes.

Germany walked through the door behind them just then. When he saw the child, he nearly had a heart attack. "What is this doing here?!" He exclaimed.

"Dunno, man. Russia and I just found him lyin' there on the ground. Pretty cute, amiright?"

Italy, who was trailing after Germany, gasped and zoomed over to America's side. "Ve~ look, Germany! Look! A little bambino! Ciao, bambino! I'm Italy – well at least the Northern half – and this is Germany, Mr. America, and Mr. Russia," the Italian introduced, pointing to his fellow countries.

A moment later, England walked out with Spain, both of them holding hands. The two were talking with each other about something when the Hispanic nation saw America holding the baby. "Inglaterra, look what your hermano is holding," he said, nodding his head in the direction of the small crowd.

The Englishman glanced over, was about to say something, then did a double-take. "What the devil?" He asked.

Spain shrugged.

"Oh hey England!" America exclaimed, waving one hand and walking over. "Bro look at what Russia and I found! Isn't he just adorable?"

England let go of Spain's hand so that he could move the blanket away from the baby's face. When he made eye contact, the baby gurgled happily, reached a hand out, then grabbed England's finger. Said country's face turned slightly red when Spain put a hand on his shoulder. "I didn't know you liked children, mi querido." He teased.

England shrugged him off. "Sod off. I don't."

"Could have fooled me~"

"Where are his parents?" The Brit asked the American, pointedly ignoring the Spaniard.

America shrugged. "I don't know," he answered sheepishly. "He was just…there."

"No note?"

"No…?"

"None?"

"None."

"Blimey."

"I know right."

Germany cleared his throat awkwardly, making everyone there turn to him. Rubbing a hand on his neck, he began, "I think maybe we should hand him to someone."

America's eyes widened. "Dude why?"

"Well, he is just a child and we're countries –"

"- Who take care of our children just fine."

Russia interjected just then, saying, "He's not talking about our people, Amerika. He's talking about the baby."

"Oh." America's face fell. He looked down at the child, a frown falling over his face. As much as he wanted to, he knew he couldn't take care of the baby. Why? Because soon the kid would grow older and age, and America himself wouldn't age, and then the questions would start forming. And before the American knew it, he would be attending a funeral. No, it was best not to take care of this tiny human.

Italy started to tear up. "Germany, why not? He needs us!"

"Because, Italy, he will grow up like a normal human being. We won't even age due to our immortality. Even if we do, it's over decades."

"Immortality sucks," America lamented. "I wish I could be human."

Russia nodded in agreement, flashbacks of Anastasia going through his mind. "Da, but there's nothing we can do," he pointed out.

The baby started to fuss, so the American swayed and spoke to him in English. England's eyebrow twitched and a moment later he said, "You aren't doing it right! Give him here."

Once the baby was securely held in England's arms, the Englishman started to walk around with a slightly bounce. "Rock-a-bye baby on the tree top," he sang in his native tongue. "When the wind blows, the cradle will rock~"

It took a few minutes, but eventually the baby settled down and fell asleep. By then, Spain had his hands clasped together and was looking on with admiration. The rest of the countries looked astonished, but before any of them could say anything, England cut them off with a withering glare. "A word of this to anyone," he threatened, "and I will hex you to oblivion."

Italy saluted. "Aye aye, sir!"

"That was so cute!" Spain gushed. "You never said –"

"Shut it, Spain!"

"Lo siento."

"Sooooo," America started slowly, "What're gonna do about this little fella?"

"Giving him to an orphanage would be best," Germany advised.

"NO!" Russia exclaimed. Upon seeing the strange looks cast his way (and the harsh glare England gave him that said Don't-You-Dare-Wake-The-Baby) he blushed and fiddled with his scarf. Orphanages that he had visited hadn't been the best of places; children cried and screamed, the staff would sometimes get stressed out, some children barely got by, and babies didn't receive the proper TLC. While he knew not all orphanages were like that, a queasy feeling still washed over him just thinking about it. "No orphanages. Anything but orphanage."

"Well where else do you have in mind?"

"Um…"

"Ve~! I have an idea!" Italy said, jumping up and down. "We can take turns raising him! Just until he gets old enough to walk and talk! Then when we can give him to a foster home!"

America high-fived the Italian. "Dude yes! Awesome thinking!"

Germany thought about it. "I don't know…It's risky."

Spain chimed in, saying, "How come? He won't remember anything."

England nodded in agreement.

Looking at them, Germany sighed. They all had valid points. "It is a big responsibility," he pointed out. "And what about the languages?"

"We each teach him a little of our own," America supplied. "England and I will teach him good-old-fashioned English; Spain here can teach him some Spanish; Italy will talk to him in Italian; you in German; and Russia in Russian."

"Nein. Too many languages. He'll get confused, not to mention speech impaired."

"Well shit."

"America! Language!" England reprimanded. "There is a child here!"

"I wish we were all just human," Russia stated sadly.

"We all do buddy," the American said, giving his boyfriend a hug.

"It's not fair – this immortality. Humans, they can make mistake and get away with it. Nations, when we make mistake, the world knows and we have to live with it. Forever. What's more, we can't have families."

"But Russia," Spain interjected. "Our families are our children – our people."

"And our fellow countries," Italy added. "We're all one big family!"

"But what about the wars?" Russia wondered, not thoroughly convinced.

America looked at him. "Dude are you kidding me? All families fight."

"It wouldn't be normal if they didn't," England pointed out.

"Some fights," Germany said, "are just worse than others."

"And to be a family doesn't mean we have to be blood-related either," America further explained.

Russia became quiet as he processed this.

England, never one for touchy moments, coughed nervously and readjusted the baby to his other arm. "Yes well that's all good and right, but what about the baby?" He asked, changing the subject.

The Germanic nation ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "Italy's idea would've worked, but there's the language barrier."

Suddenly a light bulb went off in England's head. "Or," he said, "We can have only two languages. Children grow up bilingual all the time."

The Hispanic nation looked confused. "No sé. There's six of us, not two."

"I'm getting to that. What I mean is that, for example, if America and Russia were to take care of him, then they'd speak in English. Same goes for you and me. While if Germany and Italy were to take care of him, they'd speak in either German or Italian."

Italy let out a cheer and jumped up and down, while the rest of them thought it over. It really didn't seem like a bad idea. However so many things could happen within a year and a half. And the traveling in between wasn't the best for a baby this young. Finally, after a few, quiet moments, it was Russia who voiced these concerns.

America made a face. "That's true…how about every six months we rotate?"

"How about not rotating at all and just giving him human parents?" Germany piped up.

The Slavic nation frowned. "We should find the little one's real parents before doing anything."

"He was left all alone out here, Russia. I'm pretty sure he was abandoned," the American deadpanned.

"Not abandoned. Forgotten."

"That makes it even worse!"

"Humans are like that. What more can you expect?"

"Whoa there, sir. What happened to you wanting to become human?"

"I changed my mind," Russia said, crossing his arms.

"No really?" America bit back sarcastically.

"If you two will just shut up and stop bickering, we have a problem here!" Germany exclaimed. "All in favor of giving him to an agency, raise your hand."

Russia, England, and Germany raised their hands. This was met by annoyed – if not disappointed – looks from the rest of the group. Putting down his hand, the German then demanded, "All in favor of raising him no later than the age of two, raise your hand."

America, Italy, and Spain all raised their hands.

"It would be fun," Italy pointed out.

"How about a compromise? We hand out flyers, file a report, and if no one gets back to us within three months then we raise him. Deal?" The Englishman proposed, looking at his peers in a challenging stare.

Everyone begrudgingly nodded. Germany mumbled something, but otherwise didn't object, and so it was decided then and there. Seemingly pleased, England nodded curtly and said, "Well I'm going to put Hamish down before my arm falls off. See you back in the conference room." Then he turned and walked away.

Spain waved good-bye at the rest of the group before following his partner, smiling the whole way.

"Ve~ Germany, let's go get gelato!" Italy exclaimed, latching onto the taller country's arm.

Germany sighed. "Sure," he agreed, "why not. Do you two want to join us?"

America and Russia glanced at each other. "Um, no thanks dude. We're good. See ya later," the American declined.

The two watched both European couples walk away in opposite directions silently. After about a moment, Russia slowly asked, "Hamish?"

America laughed. "I don't even know, babe. C'mon, let's go file some missing reports. Then we'll get some food, 'kay?"

"Okay."

And that's exactly what they did.


Translations:

Inglaterra – England (Spanish)

Hermano – Brother (Spanish)

Mi querido – My dear (Spanish)

Lo siento – I'm sorry (Spanish)

No sé - I don't know (Spanish)

Ciao – Hello (Italian)

Bambino – Child [Male] (Italian)

Da – Yes (Russian)

Nein – No (German)

Italien - Italy (German)