Vamp: I recently got into Hetalia and I am absolutely obsessed with it. To be honest it was only a matter of time before I wrote a fanfiction for it. So now I'm back into writing after a 6 month dry spell. This beautiful plot bunny came to me while I was watching an amv. The amv is [APH] Baby Mine – An England, America, Canada AMV, and it's on YouTube. The uploader is CygniBlack. I recommend watching it immediately, as not only is it simply ADORABLE, the song is also the one England sings. I listened to it about fifty billion times while writing this. As it is with everything I write, I do not own Hetalia. If I did, I would die of shock and WAY too much fangirlism. My only warnings... BEWARE DA FLUFF! Enjoy people!
~Baby Mine~
England sighed contently as he sipped his chamomile tea. It was very late, and as soon as he finished his soothing tea, he would be heading to bed. He had put America to bed hours ago, and the lad was sleeping soundly, probably dreaming of his pet bunnies and their new baby bunny. England smiled fondly at the thought of his tiny charge. He was so happy that his dear Alfie had chosen him over France that day, just a scant two months ago. Alfred was truly a joy to be around. He spent as much time as possible with the little tot, but unfortunately that wasn't much. His boss had been trying to drown Arthur in work, and he spent much of his time completing it. It often kept him preoccupied deep into the night, long past when he should have been asleep. England sighed at the reminder of all the work he still had to do. Noticing that his teacup was empty, he stood and took it and the saucer to the kitchen. Arthur rinsed his dishes out and put them aside for the servants to handle in the morning. Stifling a yawn, England stumbled back to his bedroom as quietly as possible so as not to wake dear Alfred. He changed into his nightclothes and blew out the candle lighting his room. Arthur slipped gratefully into his bed, snuggled into the soft sheets, and let his eyes slip closed.
Almost immediately after he closed his eyes, a loud wail echoed through the large house. Arthur bolted up in bed and jumped to his feet; that was Alfred wailing! England quickly reached the little boy's nursery – it was only a door down from Arthur's bedroom. Even before he opened the door, England could hear sniffles and sobs coming from inside.
He opened the door and slipped into the room, asking in a concerned voice, "Alfred?" The little boy wailed once more and reached out for his father figure, crying, "Engwand!" Arthur gathered America into his arms as he sat on the small bed. "Alfred, whatever is the matter? Did you have a bad dream?" England questioned as he grabbed a handkerchief from Alfred's bedside table and began cleaning the child up. "Uh-huh," Alfred muttered as he snuggled closer to England, seeking the warmth and comfort the larger body offered. "What was it about?" England murmured as he stroked America's wheat-blond hair. America sniffled and said something that was muffled by England's pale blue nightshirt, which the toddler's small hands were clutching in a death grip. "What America?" England asked gently, "I couldn't hear that, sunshine." America looked up at England with watery baby-blue eyes and whispered, "In my dream, you didn't want me anymore."
England's eyes were wide with shock. "Wh-what?" he choked out. Alfred, his baby-blues clouding with more tears, continued, "We were playing with the bunnies in the field, and you told me you were going to go get some carrots so I could give them to the baby bunny. You asked me to promise to stay where I was, and I promised, and then you left." America sniffled, and England brushed some tears away. "I waited and waited but you didn't come back! And then, the scary man you told me to stay away from came – Mr. France! Mr. France told me that you went back to your island, and that you were giving me to Mr. France because you didn't want me anymore! And I ran from him to find you, but he caught me! And he carried me away from the bunnies and no matter how much I called, you didn't coommmmeeee!" America burst into a fresh round of tears, and England automatically began comforting the young lad. The story had pulled at his heartstrings and he felt like someone and punched him in the gut. What had he done to give a child who had only been in his care two short months abandonment issues? Arthur resolved to talk to his boss immediately. Even if they did rule him, the Royal Family were still his citizens, and they would cave if he pushed hard enough. Their inability to delegate work to people other than him was keeping from what should be his first priority; Alfred.
Arthur slipped his fingers underneath Alfred's chin and tilted the lad's face up and away from where it was buried in England's chest. He looked into the baby-blues and said gently, "Alfred, I would never give you away to anyone, much less France of all people. Why would you ever think that?" He had a sneaking suspicion that he knew the reason, but he wanted to hear what America thought. Alfred sniffled and said, "Cause you're always working! We never get to play, not like me and my brother used to with the Indians! And you said that you're gonna go back to your place soon! You said so!" England briefly wondered who this brother was (perhaps he was the northern lands that France had taken, or the southern islands and jungles that Spain claimed?), and his thoughts lingered on how the Indians had treated Alfred (did he get enough food and love from the savages?), but soon he pushed those thoughts away. "I know I've been busy lately," Arthur began, "But that doesn't mean that I don't love you, or that I want to give you away! I love you very much America, and I want you to stay with me forever. Soon I won't be so busy, and then we can play more, okay sunshine? And how about this, you can come with me on my trip home! How does that sound, hmm?" He tapped Alfred on the nose as he asked, making Alfred giggle out a "Good!" The pair fell silent, with England cradling America in his arms. Alfred was still crying, however. England stroked his hair; Alfred could never stop crying after a particularly bad nightmare. The poor lad just cried until he fell asleep, or until one of England's fairies took pity on the innocent child and put him to sleep. It always distressed England that he couldn't help ease his suffering.
One of his fairies was flying around them now, in fact. A young girl name Lia, who glowed with a yellow light. England asked in a whisper low enough that Alfred couldn't hear, "Lia, will you help put him to sleep?" Lia shook her head, but she flew up to England's face. He went cross-eyed trying to look at her. "You already know how to do that, remember?" she whispered before flying away. England wracked his memories and suddenly remembered something that his mother, Britannia, had done for him when he was a very small child and his brothers had been teasing him about a nightmare. He smiled, and began to rock America in his arms. As Alfred looked up at England, he quietly began to sing.
"Baby mine, don't you cry.
Baby mine, dry your eyes."
England pulled the now-curious child closer to him.
"Rest your head close to my heart,
Never to part,
Baby of mine."
America's tears were slowing. England smiled and continued the lullaby.
"Little one, when you play,
Don't you mind what they say.
Let those eyes sparkle and shine,
Never a tear,
Baby of mine."
By now, Alfred had stopped crying all together, and England felt his heart warm at the sight of Alfie's peaceful young face.
"If they knew sweet little you,
They'd end up loving you too.
All those same people who scold you,
What they'd give just for the right to hold you."
England smiled as Alfred stuck his thumb in his mouth, eyes drooping sleepily.
"From your head down to your toes,"
America gave a sleepy giggle as England tapped his nose, then tickled one of his tiny feet.
"You're not much, goodness knows.
But you're so precious to me,
Sweet as can be,
Baby of mine."
America was obviously struggling to stay awake now. His grip on England's shirt loosened.
"All those same people who scold you,
What they'd give just for the right to hold you.
From your head down to your toes,
You're not much, goodness knows.
But you're so precious to me,
Sweet as can be,
Baby of mine.
Baby of mine..."
England smiled down at the sleeping toddler. The song had soothed America to sleep, just as it had done to him so many years ago. England carried Alfred back to his room; he would sleep with him tonight. He placed his young child down in the bed and slipped in beside him. Alfred curled up against England, and the country put an arm around his baby. Arthur kissed Alfred's forehead and whispered, "Goodnight, dear Alfie, baby of mine..." England drifted off to sleep, still holding America. There were no more nightmares that night.
~Baby Mine~
Vamp: A little more angst than I intended, and a little less fluff, but I think it still manages to be cute. I've always thought that America probably has some abandonment issues that England has never noticed, but that's not important right now. What is important is what you guys thought of it! This is my first time trying to do this sort of fic, so I really need you guys's feedback! I love Daddy or Big Brother!England. He's so sweet! The song is Baby Mine by Alison Krauss. I hope you guys liked it, please review!