Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia
I'm in the mood for something fluffier. The children now are 32 years old and look 10ish.
Chapter 28: Like mommy like son
Hungary's POV
Austria and I were sitting in his living room, enjoying ourselves one day while listening to our son Benedict practice on his father's piano in the next room. Only there had been no music coming out of the piano room for almost twenty minutes. Curious as to what he was doing, the two of us left to see him. As we peered through the door, the two of us found him reading a book with his face beet read. The two of us recognized the book immediately; it was one of my yoai diaries.
Austria stormed into the room and grabbed the dairy from Benedict's loose grip, all the while asking him why he was reading such a "distasteful" book. To this he simply replied, "I wanted to know what yoai was."
Just at the word 'yoai' Austria began to blush and watched as I gave my boy a hug for being a good boy curious about the right things. I knew he had to take after me in some way; after all, looks-wise the only things he has that are mine are his eyes, his love of having flowers in his hair, and my ears.
Austria however was not as pleased as I was, and decided to leave with the diary saying that he needed to put it someplace neither of us would find it and that Benedict should be focusing on more practical things like music. As we watched him leave, Benedict ran after him shouting, "But Vater, I want to know what happens next!"
"No you don't. Now go back to playing the piano," Austria said while turning around to look at his still-blushing son.
"But I played all of my songs," Benedict responded while frowning. In response to this Austria sighed and said, "I will give you something new to play after I find a place for this perverted book. Now go back into that room and play the piano like a good boy."
Benedict frowned and sulked back into the room. It was then my turn to try and get the book back. Catching up to Austria, I asked him back for my book. He kept a firm hold on it however, claiming that our son was too young to be reading such "smut-filled fantasies."
I pouted at his description of my work and replied, "They're not 'smut-filled fantasies.' Every word in those stories is one-hundred-percent fact! In fact if I remember correctly that volume contains the things I wrote down from the orgy which led to his birth."
Austria began to blush even more when he spluttered out, "That is certainly not something he needs to know about!"
"Why not?" I asked while continuing to try freeing my dairy, "The children have a right to know why their mothers keep dying off. I don't know about you, but I'd rather he found out about it now then have me die and he never figure it out."
I could feel tears begin to well up and my fingers tremble from the thought of my death as I continued, "And what's wrong with him reading about that kind of stuff anyways? Would you rather he wait to learn about how to make love until he's old and sucks at it?"
I looked at him in the eyes as angrily as I could, but Austria could see through that. He sighed and pulled me into a hug, keeping me there until the tears were gone. During that time he had loosened his grip on my diary, so I tried to grab it back.
Successful, I gave Austria a weak smile and left for the room I used while at his house; leaving him there to wonder what had happened. After I entered the room, I lied down on the bed and looked at the diary. It had been a long time since I read through it, so I opened it up to a page that I had dog-eared long ago.
As I began to read it, I almost missed the sound of someone knocking on my door. Calling out to the person to come in, the door opened to reveal Benedict. Sitting up a little, I beckoned him over and smiled.
He came over and sat down on my bed. Then when I noticed he was looking at the diary I asked him how far he had gotten into it. In response he told me, "I was about to read about the aftermath of that orgy-thing all you grown-up had when Vater opened the door."
I smiled at him and asked, "Do you want to know what happened?"
He was silent for a moment before giving a little nod. In response I pulled him into my lap like I used to when he was a toddler and began reading that passage to him aloud. After reading the passage, I looked at my son to see that he was staring off into space. At last he asked, "So us kids are the reason we keep losing our moms?"
I felt a little guilty now about reading it to him, so I told him, "In a way yes, but do you want to know something? None of us, not the mothers or fathers, have ever thought too much about it that way because to us you kids are the best things we have."
"So how much longer do you have?" he asked me in a quiet voice.
I paused for a moment, trying to think of something I could say to make him not worry too much. At last I told him, "Not for a long time."
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