Memories of a Different Time

(disclaimer: no, I don't own them. But fannon is it's own reward.)

oO-Memory of the Awesome Babysitters-Oo

England stood at his mirror, brows furrowed. He studied himself—he was wearing a simple brown suit, long black paints, and dress shoes. A floppy brown hat lay on the dresser, waiting for England to put it on. England scowled. If only he could straighten the tie, it would be perfect. The tie was crooked, and no matter what England did, the tie would not straighten. He continued to struggle with the tie, aware that he was wasting time.

"Arthur, mon cher, if you don't hurry up, we're going to be late. The babysitters are already here." France's voice called from downstairs. England twitched, his scowl widening.

"Why do we have to leave Peter here?" he called back, brows furrowed.

"Because Peter's bedtime is in an hour and the movie we're about to see is, how shall I put it, not appropriate. Now come, we need to leave now."

England twitched again, and—leaving the tie crooked on his suit—walked down the stairs to find that the babysitters France had hired standing in front of the door, and froze in horror.

Prussia and Spain stood in the doorframe. France was talking animatedly with the two.

Noticing England had finally come out from his room, France smiled. "Ah, England—"

"Francis! Are you kidding me?" England shouted, pointing at the Spaniard and Prussian. "You hired these two?"

France frowned. "They said they would do it for free."

Prussia turned to Spain. "Wait, we're not getting paid for this?"

Spain laughed and shrugged his shoulders in response. "Guess not. After all, we live to serve Francis." he replied jokingly.

England grabbed France's shirt, pulling him closer. "You could have paid someone, anyone, more reliable then these two!" he hissed, sending glares at the other two countries, who now were completely disregarding the blondes, off in their own world while arguing good naturedly on whenever they were getting paid or not.

France pouted. "But they wanted to come over anyway. It's only for one night, Arthur. Won't you let this slide?"

England pulled France closer so the two were almost touching noses. "No! And do you know why? Number one! Prussia is on the Axis! Or did you forget?"

"He's Gilbert, mon cher. He wouldn't try to do anything sneaky while we were away. It's not his style—not awesome at all." France replied, using his hands for emphasis, though England was too close to France's face to notice the gestures.

"Number two! You hired a pedophile!" England's raging eyebrows furrowed.

"Non, non, you see, that's where everyone makes a mistake." France wagged his finger in the air. "Toni is not a pedophile—he only does that to Romano. See, you have nothing to worry about, Arthur!"

England turned up to look at the other two, who were currently staring at the blondes, bemused. England scowled. "If so much as one thing happens—"

Prussia rubbed the side of his silver-clad head, already tired of being lectured. "Yeah, yeah, you'll have the skins of our asses. We get it, Artie!" He started to push the two forcefully out of the house. "Everything will be fine! Go have fun, will ya?"

Spain smiled. "Yes, you can trust us." he added as he closed the door.

England was still fuming as the door practically slammed behind them. France frowned, noticing England's tie was askew. "Ah, mon cher, your tie." Immediately, the Frenchman set about straightening the crooked tie. "You were never very good with these, were you?" he asked, unnoticing of England's flushing face. When he fixed the tie, France straightened up. "Let's go on our way, no?"

England looked away, hoping that the darkness of the night would hide his blush. "Fine, let's...let's just go already."

—oOOo—

Prussia turned to his Spanish friend as soon as the door closed. "Okay," he began, wagging his finger around. "On a level of one to awesome, this is most defiantly awesome. Francis gets to go on a date with Artie, and we get to hang out with Petie." he pumped his fist. "Nothing can stop us now!"

Spain laughed. "Si, si."

Already impatient, Prussia began to tug at Spain's sleeve. "C'mon, Toni! Let's go see what Petie is doing! We're gonna party all night long with the kid!"

Spain glanced back at Prussia as the silver haired man started to push him up the stairs. "Si, but just make sure you don't break anything, okay? And that includes me, y'know."

Prussia grinned wily as the two made their way to the top of the stairs. "Ah, right, I'm supposed to let Romano try to do that, am I right?" he opened the door to the child's room and stopped cold.

The walls were painted a very light blue, with large white blotches—Prussia could only assume that they were clouds—pained all over them. The ceiling a very pale yellow, and almost looked as if it was filling the room with light. There was a child sized bed pushed into one corner—away from the window, Spain noted—a nightstand placed next to it. The floor was covered by a very plush, very white rug. And in the middle of that rug sat the blond child in question—playing happily with his toy boat.

The two stared in awe at the room. It was a child's room, no doubt about it—and very much out of place in England's house.

Peter glanced up at the opening of his door, and his smile widened. "Toni! Gil!" he exclaimed, running over to the two older countries and into Prussia's arms. "Jii got you too to baby-sit me?"

Prussia squeezed the lad into a tight hug in response, and Spain laughed wholeheartedly. "Of course he did! And it's nice to see you too, Peter." he said, patting the child's head.

The silver haired man grinned. "Francis would have nothing less awesome then me babysitting you, after all, Petie!"

Peter looked up at Prussia, then at Spain, then back to Prussia, already excited. "What can we do? I've never been babysat before."

Prussia's lips pursed. He hated planning. The red eyed man looked up to Spain, expectantly. "Well, what are we going to do?"

The auburn haired country stroked his chin thoughtfully for a moment. "Well...I suppose we can have some snacks first. And after that, we can do whatever we want—perhaps coloring or jumping on England's bed." he grinned gleefully.

Peter gasped, his bushy eyebrows raising. "England said I'm never supposed to do that!"

Prussia clamped his hand on the child's head in response, ruffling his golden locks. He snickered. "Well, guess who isn't here, Petie?

The boy paused, studying the two for a moment. "Does that mean I can do whatever I want?"

Spain grinned in response. "Of course! What would you like to do?"

"Yeah! You've got your two fun loving, awesome uncles here to grant your every wish, not that stuffy old big brother of yours." Prussia lifted the child into the air. "And you know what? We're gonna make sure you have an awesome night, and it's gonna be so awesome that England will have no choice but to let us come over whenever we want!"

Peter giggled. He was having fun already. "Can we have snacks first?"

"Ah! Speaking of snacks..." Spain started to dig through the black bag that was slung over his shoulder. "I brought some really sweet stuff for you to try, Peter."

Prussia made a noise, almost dropping Peter. "You brought snacks, Toni? Your desserts are some of the best in the world! Why didn't you say you had some sooner? Give 'em here!" he stood, still holding Peter firmly in his arms, hopping from one foot to the other. "I love your snacks!"

Spain continued to laugh, producing some of his famous sweets from the bag. "Eat up."

Red eyes lit up at the sight of the colorful snacks. "Bwa ha ha! They're so mine!" he shouted, grabbing a large handful, still juggling Peter in his arms. Then, glancing down at the small boy, grinned again. "Ha! I call dibs on feeding the kid!"

Spain made a small whine. "Aww, no fair."

"Suck it, Toni. You snooze, you lose." Prussia stuck out his tongue as he started to force-feed the overwhelmed child. He grinned. "Eat up, Petie, there's plenty more where this awesome stuff came from!"

Spain swallowed. "Uuun, you should slow down, Gil. This reminds me of that time you tried to feed Roma-chan as a kid. We don't want Peter to choke."

Prussia blinked. "Oh, crap, that's right. I remember that." he slowed down, allowing Peter to actually chew the sweets. "We sure as hell don't want to repeat what happened then."

Peter swallowed, and his eyes lit up, pleased with the wonderful tastes. "Ohh! That's good!"

"See, Petie, I told you that these snacks were awesome!" Prussia exclaimed, taking one of the snacks for himself. "Now eat more!"

Spain laughed good naturedly as the two in front of him gobbled down his homemade snacks. "Ha ha ha...looks like we're not going to sleep once that sugar rush kicks in, you know? So what should we do?"

Prussia swallowed his food with a loud gulp. "KESESESE! WE SHOULD TOTALLY HAVE A PARTY!" he yelled. "THAT WOULD BE TOTALLY AWESOME!"

Spain's eyes lit up. "Si, we should! We can invite everyone and have a fiesta! And by everyone, I mean America and Roma-chan. And by fiesta, I mean fiesta."

The albino began to jump around the room. "Yeah! And Matt, too!" he added.

The Spaniard blinked. "Who?"

—Much later...—

"Oh hon hon—Arthur, mon cher, how did you like the movie?" France asked his companion, his arm draped over England's shoulder as they walked through the London neighborhood, heading back to England's home. "It was very good, no?"

"...I don't know if I will ever go to see a movie with again." England swallowed, trying to get France off of him. "I swear, you have the worst tastes ever. Next time, I chose."

France laughed. "That means there will be a next time, no?"

England's face flushed, but then he caught sight of his home, and his face immediately dropped, turning pale white. All the lights were on, the windows open, and loud yelling coming from inside. France looked up at the house, too, and his mouth dropped open. Silently, they looked at each other.

England immediately raced to the door and burst it open, infuriated. America was lying on the couch, beer in hand, Canada next to him, face flushed red due to the alcohol.

"Hei, Iggy, welcome home!" America called, jumping up and running to England, trying to give the country a kiss. England smacked America over the head.

Canada hiccupped. "Ahh...I-I'm Canada." he said, face flushed.

England's face was beet red from all the blood that was pushed into his face from the sheer anger he was experiencing. "Where. Is. Peter."

America laughed. "Ah, I'll tell ya, but only if ya...if ya gimmie a kiss first—"

England smacked down America again. "Denied!"

He ran up the stairs, two at a time, only to find a drunken Prussia at the top, singing a drunken song. Prussia giggled at the Brit. "Oh, craps, I'm screwed, aren't I?" he slurred.

England grabbed the albino's collar and lifted him up, shaking from anger. There were no words that would be able to describe how infuriated he was at that single moment. "You're damn right you are. Where is my child?"

Prussia hiccupped. "'s with Toni and Roma." he replied, giggling.

England dropped the silver haired man, disregarding Prussia's cries of pain as his head slammed onto the wooden floor, and dashed through all of the rooms, the worry growing with each empty—if trashed—room. When he wrenched the door to Peter's room open, his eyes widened in response to seeing Spain and Romano—perfectly sober—sitting on the floor, the blond child nuzzled in Romano's lap, sleeping peacefully. Romano gave a glare at the racket that the Englishman was making.

England let of a sigh in relief. His angel was safe. Then, remembering why he was so causing a ruckus in the first place, he frowned. "What the bloody hell happened here?"

Spain grinned. "Ah, hombre, why don't you sit down with us? Peter missed you."

England nearly fell as he ran to the child, grabbing him from Romano's lap, and cuddling the boy. "What am I supposed to say about this?" he whispered, breathless, at the Spaniard.

"I don't know, man, but I really don't feel like being yelled at. Things got a little out of hand downstairs, so Roma-chan and I decided to take Peter to bed." Spain ran his hand through his hair. "So whatever's going on downstairs has nothing to do with me, okay?"

England didn't reply, too busy making sure Peter—his child—was alright. Spain smiled gently at the sight of the doting man.

"You're a really good brother, England."

~chapter nine end~