England was back in his hotel at the pub or 'bar' as the Yanks called it with a rum in his hand, already partially drunk. The moment he got back from Hell or the World Meeting, he grabbed a bottle of rum and was now trying to drink the entire event away with very little success as his mind still wandered back to the revelation of the day. America had children? The notion itself was simply bonkers. Not only that, they were states. How did that happen (Okay, he knew how it happened)? Where did they come from? Did they appear when they were still his colonies? America said they started to come into existence when they became too different to be personified by one nation and yet it still didn't make sense. Frankly, he still didn't believe what he saw actually happened. And yet, the girl who practically destroyed their meeting, from her laughter to her smile to her enthusiasm was all America's. So maybe the revelation wasn't that impossible? Still. Fifty? England would be hard pressed to think America could raise a pet rock, much less children.
England threw back another drink of rum which burned his throat has the alcoholic beverage made its way down his esophagus. 'Ugh,' England thought. How was it that he could hold his liquor during his pirate years but couldn't now. He sighed as he head fell onto the wooden counter with the bartender rolling her eyes as she cleaned a cup. Pirate days. 18th century. 1700s. The Revolutionary War. The war where that ungrateful brat rebelled and turned in his thirteen colonies into his first thirteen states. Thirteen colonies. States. Kids. England sprang up. Even in his dazed state, he pondered about the thirteen. What do they think of him? Do they think he's a jerk like their father? Probably. Who knows what their father tells them and if they were around it's more likely they would.
England rubbed his face as his field green eyes that became heavy with intoxication. As his eyes focused a bit, he saw a bottle of liquor with the picture of a Polynesian girl with long black hair, a grass skirt, and a flower crown of tropical flowers. It was a pretty image that reminded England of someone he knew quite well. This, someone, was Ka'iulani, the Kingdom of Hawai'i. They had met when her father and mother had begrudgingly asked him to teach their child how to be a European-style country and with much reluctance, agreed. She was a sweet if a somewhat awkward and naive girl but was a diligent student who took to Western customs like a moth to a flame, and within a few years became a fine young nation. After she had become a teenager, they had still kept in touch through letter and she attended quite a few of the balls held at his house. However, after the overthrow of her queen, Lili'uokalani, the letters became few and far between before disappearing altogether. England groaned a dunked another drink of rum in his body as his mind wandered to another thought. What had happened to Ka'iulani? He had always assumed that she had lost her physical form to America, but with the revelation of the states, was she still alive? Or was she replaced by another Hawai'i?
'Bloody hell,' he muttered under his breath. He was far too drunk to be thinking like this. Maybe he'll find out when the little bugger lets them meet his...ugh...children.
Japan was drinking green tea in his hotel room, careful not to let a drop ruin the carpet. He, like the other countries, was quite shocked at the revelation that America was not only a father but a father to over fifty children. However, he refused to show it. It wasn't polite, especially with the obvious fact that America was extremely uncomfortable with revealing their existence. Taking another sip from his tea and gulping down the beverage, he turned his head towards the window that showed the busy streets of the American capital. The view brought back memories of the time when his people left for America's house. They mainly came to states such as California, Oregon, and Hawai'i. He remembers having visited them all. California was a truly unique experience from its sprawling beaches that seemed to span all the way to the sky to its towering redwoods that stood taller than some of the buildings in his country. He remembers the shining lights of Hollywood where actors and actresses lit up the silver screen and starry-eyed hopeful desperate for a chance to the hundreds of different people who walked on California's streets. As for Oregon, he had never seen more green in all his life. The way the sprawling blue mountains painted against the cerulean sky made Japan want to fall to his knees and draw the beautiful image before it passed. As for the last, Hawai'i had to have and continues to be his favorite. From it's green, lush mountains that cut the blue sky right down to its warm beaches where the blue runs across your feet before retreating. Yes truly beautiful.
Hawai'i actually brings back memories having met and nearly married the Kingdom's personification before negotiations fell through and she was never heard from again. And if there is a new personification then perhaps they will bond as well. Perhaps he could even meet the personifications of California and Oregon and see how the descendants of his immigrants are doing. Perhaps he might even bring over some manga and anime for them all to read and watch. Yes, it will be quite nice. Right?
Germany was doing what he usually did to calm down. Clean. From the windows to the floors to the table, he was cleaning. Sure it was strange to march up to a housekeeper and ask for cleaning supplies when it was their job but he just needed to clean after the disaster that was the world meeting. Sure, world meetings were never the greatest experience for anyone, but today...Germany still couldn't help but growl at the memory. His shin still kind of hurt from when that brat kicked it. Scrubbing furiously into a particular spot even though you could practically see your face in it, he remembered those two children. If America really is a father, you would think he would teach some manners. Then again it is America, so them knowing basic things like not interrupting important meetings was quite low. America being a father. What a thought. It was barely fathomable to him. America, the hamburger-loving dummkoff was the father of fifty children. Well, if they were anything like those two at the meeting, then may God help them.
After a few more wipes, Germany finally stepped away and turned to the TV that looked like perfectly clean but in Germany's need to clean, he saw it as the filthiest thing in his hotel room. Marching over, spraying the cleaner onto a new piece of cloth, and beginning to wipe the glass. As he watched his hand wipe the television, his mind wandered back to the children and their lack of discipline. Doesn't anyone teach their children discipline anymore? If those kids were his children then they would know better than to interrupt an adult-only meeting. He growled at the thought. Why can't people just understand discipline anymore? Why can't parents teach it anymore?
Has he rubbed and rubbed into the screen, when he heard, "You know, West. Scrub any harder we'll have to pay for a new television."
Germany turned to see his cackling older brother standing there. "Oh, East, when did you get back?"
"A few minutes ago. Man, Toni was not happy with America," Gilbert replies, pulling off his jacket. "You really should've been there. It was hilarious."
"I wish I could but...after today, I would probably make them go out of business" Germany replies as he turns his attention to the bed that he had already made seven times. Make that eight times as he undid the bed only to remake it once again.
"Geez, you must be really pissed off," Prussia said. "I mean I hate things being filthy as much as the next guy but geez," as he stares at the borderline sparkling hotel room, "this excessive. Luckily, your awesome big bro knows exactly what you need." With that Prussia pulls out two full bottles of German beer and hands one to Germany.
Germany turns to his brother and smiles. "Danke schön," and takes one.
"You don't have to say it, I know I am the most amazing big brother," Prussia replies, taking a long swig of beer.
"I did-"
"Just say it," Prussia replies.
"Fine. You are a great older brother," Germany replies before uncapping and gulping down a large amount of beer. "I just can't believe America would hide something."
"Well, he might have his reasons you know," Prussia replies, almost defensively. "Besides its none of your business
Germany looked up, "What do you mean?"
Prussia's eyes widened before taking another long swig of the alcohol. "Nothing. Nothing. Just that maybe it's wrong for us to get involved with this."
"It's still a security risk," Germany grunts.
"They're kids," Prussia replies.
"You sound like you know them," Germany says, skeptically.
Prussia's eyes widened again, "No I don't."
"Hm..." Germany doesn't believe him but all he wanted was to drink the cold beer in his hand.
Russia was alone in his room after he had just finished pushing out Belarus from his room so he could finally get some sleep without her watching him (again). He sighed as he collapsed onto his bed. The states were personified? How cute. America may have been right to keep them from him. America. His rival and sometimes enemy. Hm...It will be interesting to see how it plays out. However, it does bring to mind the time he had actually tried to stake a claim in America's future. From Hawai'i to California were his attempts. Oh and Russian America as well. Those attempts had failed but perhaps they remembered him and would like to chat. Maybe not, but worth the shot. They could even be friends. Friends. That's nice. So long alone in the cold, freezing to death over and over, he never had friends. Too cold for most humans. Maybe these 'states' will be his friends. He pulled the duvet over his body and shut his eyes before muttering, "Friends."
France had just finished dumping a fuming Spain into his bedroom and was now making his way to his own room which was quite below his standards. If he wanted, to be frank, it was rather sad and shabby Then again what can you expect from a country that had been raised by England? Raised. It does bring to mind today's revelation. And in all honesty, he felt no dread, just excitement. He too had colonies in the New World with one example being Louisana who, along with the rest of Louisana Purchase, he sold to America during the reign of Napolean and frankly he couldn't wait to meet them. There was simply no way that his fabulous genes had gotten lost in a mere 200 years. He had palaces that still stood that were older than that. Maybe they had inherited his exquisite cooking skills? Or his ability to spread love to all? Oh, he was giddy just thinking about.
And that wasn't even the only news. His sweet little Canada was a father which meant he was a grandpa (a wonderfully young grandpa and yes that is true)! He had always wanted a large family and now he had one. Oh, how he would spoil his petite-enfants! He was also thrilled that some of his French charms had rubbed off and had combated the black sheep's horrifying wooing skills. Speaking of him, France hoped that in the time since the Seven Year's War when he had lost Canada to Eyebrows, that the latter's influence didn't weight to heavily on the children that even the teeniest tiniest part of his culture and heritage were still alive in them. Which brought up the question of their looks. Did they look like Canada with his soft, blonde locks and violet eyes? Or perhaps they had a shade of blonde that resembled his or England's. Perhaps they had crystal blue eyes like him or they had green like the black sheep's. Welp, he will meet them soon.
Oh, he's at his hotel room already.
Spain was in Conquistador mode, ranting and raving the whole time as he remembered the day. Not about the states. He could frankly care less about that but what that damned American said about him deflowering his baby brother. How dare he take his baby brother's virginity?! Especially when they were intoxicated! Just the thought of Mexico having se- sleeping around made him want to puke. And why did have to be America?! The same guy who he helped get his independence only for him to stab him in the back by taking the remains of his empire. Sure, he wasn't the 'nicest' person back then, but well, excuse him for trying to put good Catholic ideas and discipline and not teach them the world was going to end if you didn't rip people's hearts out.
Angrily sighing, he collapsed onto his bed, trying to keep himself from breaking everything in the damn room with very little success as he squeezed his fingers into his palms until the nails broke his tanned skin before thinking back to the two girls. They really were cute, almost bringing a nostalgic tear to his eyes when he saw how much they looked like Mexico when he was still small and cute. However, it still wasn't fair. Why did America have to be their father (or second father?)? Couldn't Mexico found anyone else? Or at least not have been drunk when he did it?
Rolling over he stared up at the ceiling. Mexico. For as much as he gives off a goofy aura, he knew his former colonies hated him, especially Mexico, whose last words were 'I never want to see you again, puta!' Sure he was strict with Mexico and the other Latin American countries but that was the way he was treated and he was fine. Sighing, he pulled the covers over his still clothed body. He needed a siesta to deal with the incoming headache, but just as he was about to shut his emerald green eyes a thought came to him. Would the Latin American states hate him too?
The Italy brothers had just finished a large plate of pasta pomodoro with extra tomatoes and glasses of wine and were winding down for bed. Or as much as they could with Italy Veneziano's excitement over the states.
"Oh, fratello! Isn't it exciting!?" he cried as he flopped onto one of the beds while Romano was punching his mattress for being 'too damn hard'.
"What the hell are you blabbing on about idiota?" Romano said, pausing his epic battle with his bed.
"America's babies!" Veneziano cried, hugging a pillow.
Romano just rolled his eyes. "Who cares what that hamburger bastard does? Frankly, I don't give a fuck."
"Come on fratello," Veneziano said, sitting up a bit still squishing the pillow against his chest. "Aren't you the least bit excited? He might even have Italian babies!"
Romano fell face first onto his bed before turning his head a bit so his head wouldn't be muffled by the comforter. "I reiterate, I don't give a fuck."
"Not even a little?" Veneziano whined as Romano flopped onto his side, away from his brother.
"What part of 'I don't give a fuck' do you not understand?" Romano defensively said before throwing a pillow at his brother before going to sleep.
Veneziano for his part just stared at his brother, even after he went asleep. As much as he could pretend, he knew their relationship wasn't good. He knew that they weren't that close in comparison to his relationship with Big Brother France and Big Brother Spain. Between the hundreds of years they spent apart to Mussolini's oppression of South Italy, they never really had the chance to grow closer and well it broke his heart. He made him wonder if these states were able to close with each other? Maybe they were true siblings. Or maybe they were like him and fratelli, doomed to never be close no matter how much he prays to God to be. Either way, it'll still be exciting to meet them.
With this thought, Veneziano flops onto his back and falls into a deep sleep.
Netherlands was smoking on the balcony, gazing absent-mindedly out at the American capital, remembering the days when he had controlled part of it. Remembering the days when he was the largest known trading company along the Atlantic and Pacific. Remembering the days when he was strong and powerful with colonies of his own. Why is he thinking like this all of a sudden? It was ages ago. Yet with the revelation of these states, he can't help but wonder...No, it's nothing. Nothing
"Big brother?" He heard from the back and he turned around to see Belgium drinking the last of drops of her beer. "What are you thinking about?"
Netherlands turned around, taking the pipe from his mouth to blow some smoke into the cool, crisp night air. "Nothing."
"Is this about those 'states'. I'm sure you have nothing to worry about," Belgium remarked, standing up to join her brother.
Netherlands glanced over before taking inhale before exhaling. "Just made me a bit nostalgic."
Belgium chuckled a bit before turning to her brother and said with a smiled, "I never thought I'd see the day. You know I can't help but feel curious. Maybe they even have New Ame-"
Netherlands looked over and glared. New Amsterdam had been his colony before England had taken it but he had barely paid attention to the colony as anything other than a trading post. When he lost it, it wasn't the end of the world other than the fact that he lost a major pose in the New World. When America became his own nation and New Am- New York had been absorbed into him, he thought that was the end of it. Yet, there were states. Was New A- New York part of them? Did they know of him?
He shook his head. Why does it matter if they were or not? It didn't not to him. Not to him.
'Alright, papa. See you soon.' Canada had just finished up a Skype with one of his provinces, Ontario to be exact, before cautiously closing the screen. Canada groaned and covered his face with his hands. Why did she have to run in today? Why didn't someone stop her beforehand? Why couldn't she have just waited for a few minutes? Why can't America give his kids some boundaries instead of letting them run around all over the place? Don't get him wrong. He loves his nieces and nephews and all, but they could be very rambunctious and borderline reckless at times and now look at where one of their recklessness has got them. And now not only were the states revealed but his provinces too. Of all the times to be noticed, why did it have to be then?
Rubbing the bridge of his nose as he tries to think of his children's reactions at meeting France and maybe even some of the other countries. Maybe Quebec would be happy at meeting France since she's always admired him, but what about the others? Canada groans again as his head smacks into the wooden table. Why does he always have to get dragged into these sorts of things? Why did he have to have been involved in this mess?
America was in his room, undoing the buttons of his dress shirt before flopping onto his very patriotic bed. Why does stuff like this always happen to him? Why do the other countries insist on seeing his little angels so badly? It doesn't even make sense. Why are they also trying to bring so much attention to them? Don't they know how many countries like Iraq and China want him dead and would use his babies to do that? And don't they know he doesn't need yet another mess to clean up?
America groaned before forcing himself off the soft sheets to toss the dress shirt into his star-spangled hamper when he heard a tiny voice. "Papa?" said the tiny voice and he looked over to see his 2nd/3rd youngest child and also the one who thought it would be good to show off a dragonfly in the middle of a world conference.
"Arizona," America replies. "Aren't you supposed to be in bed, kiddo?"
"I'm sorry, papa," the usually feisty and adventurous state muttered, ignoring her father's former question as she played with the hem of her pajama t-shirt with her flag printed on it. "I know I caused you a lot of trouble."
"Yes, you did," America bluntly said which caused Arizona to turn scarlet at the drastic change in her father's usually cheer attitude. Seeing this, however, America stood up and walked over to Arizona and bent down to mess up her short, ebony locks. "But can't change what happened. Besides your heroic dad will fix everything!"
He then wrapped his arms around her and she proceeded to do the same. "However, you are still grounded."
"But pap-" Arizona began to whine.
"No buts," America replied. "Now off to bed with you. We're going to have a long day tomorrow."
Arizona nods as she let's go of America and running off to her bedroom on the fifth floor, leaving America alone. He knew what he had promised but could he protect his kids from the world outside?
