A/N: Wow, two reviews, 5 faves, and 9 follows already! I love you people! (: Anyway, here's the second chapter of my new fic. Next chapter will feature the insanely adorable Chibi America! Thanks guys! You guys really know how to encourage an author.
I held a crying baby Germany in one arm as I used my free hand to knock on the door of Arthur Kirkland, otherwise known as England. I remembered that England had recently taken in a small child named America, who's supposed to grow up to be a nation. From what I've heard, the kid is still alive and healthy, so England must be doing a fairly good job. So I, being the awesome me, had the brilliant idea to ask him for advice on raising Germany.
The door swung open and England appeared in his pajamas and nightgown, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "Bloody hell, who's waking me up at this hour?" He opened his eyes and raised his bushy brows. "Oh, hello, Prussia." His eyes narrowed. I was, well, for whatever reason, known as being annoying. Of course, you and I know I'm awesome, but England found me more of a headache to deal with. "What are you doing here so late?" And then his green eyes traveled down to see baby Germany, who was now asleep. "Oh… oh dear, you'd… better come inside."
England invited me to sit down on the couch beside him and gave me some hot tea. "So tell me, who's this little bloke?" he asked, reaching out his arms in hopes of holding Germany. I let him rock my baby brother, who seemed pretty calmed by the more affectionate, tender and less awkward, gruff embrace.
"His name is Germany," I replied, "Fritz found him last night. Apparently he's my baby brother, and he's a nation." I was never what one might call "England's best friend" and kind of had to suck up some of my awesome pride, but I figured that, to raise little Germany, it was worth it. "I, ah- I guess I thought that since you've been raising America, you might know more about taking care of kids than I do."
England sighed, and I could guess that he was thinking of the long and difficult road ahead for me. "Let's see," he finally murmured, half to himself, I think, "where is that milk?" He rummaged through his cupboard and pulled out a glass bottle, pouring some fresh cow's milk into a baby bottle for Germany. He tucked my baby brother into the crook of his arm and began feeding him. Instantly, upon his lips making contact with the bottle, Germany began to suck on it until he had his fill. After drinking, he gave a squeaky little yawn and fell asleep. I had to admit, the kid was pretty darn cute.
"You'd better spend the night, then," England told me after a moment's pause. "You can sleep on the sofa. I'll put Germany in America's old cradle." I followed him into his bedroom, where a now empty cradle lay. America was now in a crib, according to England, and soon to graduate to a toddler bed.
I watched as he tenderly laid my baby brother down to sleep, and I covered the little guy with a blanket. He was such a small, soft child. How would he ever become a mighty nation? But I guess we all start out as babies, don't we?
I gave Germany's forehead a little kiss and whispered, "Good night, Germany," before heading off to pass out on England's couch.