"The truth isn't quite the sort of thing one tells to a nice, sweet, refined gentleman."
– Oscar Wilde (paraphrased)
Having resolved to make the lie a reality, America no longer felt guilty about accepting England's constant doting. After all, he was almost pregnant. He deserved some TLC! Emphasis on the loving. England had let him pick whichever positions felt most 'comfortable' the night before, and America had taken full advantage of the offer and England's insatiable appetite to make love so many times and in so many ways that England was still snoring as morning sunlight poured into America's patriotic bedroom.
He smiled as he tried to imagine what their lives would be like with a baby. England would sew adorable itty-bitty clothes, of course, and America would build an awesome treehouse, and they would all go out for ice cream cones every weekend. The only potential danger came from England's cooking… but their child would have to be immune to English cooking, right? And it wasn't like anyone called Social Services over burnt scones.
Pushing aside unpleasant thoughts of nasty food, America returned to his favorite pastime of watching England sleep. He so rarely had the opportunity, given that they lived an ocean apart. Before long, England's eyes fluttered open, making America's heart flutter too.
"Good morning, sunshine."
"Morning. You weren't expecting breakfast in bed, were you?" England asked drowsily.
"Nope! I want you here where I can cuddle you."
"Mmm." England snuggled closer. "I think I can manage that request."
Cuddles turned into kisses as America relished in the sweet taste and gentle touch of his lover. He breathed in England's scent and sighed contentedly. As much as he enjoyed having England around for wild romps between the sheets, he was equally happy just to cuddle.
As they moved closer, England slid his hand down America's stomach and caressed his tummy. "So how long will the pregnancy last?" he asked.
"Dunno," America admitted. "Could be a while," he said, just to give himself some wiggle room in case his research went slowly. "Or it could be quick. Tony didn't really stick around long enough to explain the details when he heard you were coming over."
"Hmm." England rubbed his chin thoughtfully. His eyes began to gleam with the excitement that appeared on his face whenever he spent time thinking about their child. "If you're not sure of the timeline, we'll have to start by preparing the nurseries. At least one here and another in London."
England rolled out of bed and grabbed a piece of paper, excitedly jotting down all of the items that they would need for the baby's room. It looked like it would turn into a very long list indeed, including every toy and safety device imaginable. America watched in amusement and shook his head fondly. "Well, babe, I'll let you handle that. I've got some work to do."
The Englishman arched an eyebrow. "It's Saturday."
"Yeah, but I kinda fell behind because I didn't do anything last week."
With his excuses made, America wandered down to the kitchen and made himself a bowl of cereal. He plopped down with his laptop and created a new document to list out all of his possible ideas to make his fake pregnancy a reality. He was the land of Hollywood, so it wasn't hard to come up with a few ideas.
Ways to Get Preggers
Alien technology
Adoption
Cloning
Kidnapping (probably illegal?)
Time travel
Robots (cute ones, not killer ones)
Whatever they did in 'Junior'
America nodded to himself, pleased with his efforts. It was a solid list of ideas, although he'd been trying to work on time travel and cloning for years and he still wasn't having much luck. Adoption and kidnapping were much easier, except that he'd soon end up with a child who was older than him, and that would be really sad. America had learned his lesson after adopting a couple of dogs. That's why he stuck to hanging out with his alien friend and his shockingly long-lived whale. Speaking of which, he reached for his phone and called Tony.
"It's ―ing early," the alien complained.
"Sorry, dude! How's it going with the NASA folks? Also, do you think you can hook me up with some alien gizmo that would let me have a baby?"
"What the ―ing ―ck?"
"Come on, help me out here," America whined. "I wanna be eatin' for two."
"You already do," England teased as he walked into the kitchen and began preparing his morning cup of tea. America nearly jumped out of his chair. He closed his laptop and smiled at England, grateful he hadn't said anything incriminating as his boyfriend walked into the room.
"You mean with that ―ing limey?" Tony demanded on the other end of the line.
"Well, duh," America said with a roll of his eyes. He waited a few moments for Tony's response and heard nothing. He glanced at the phone and saw that the call had ended. Hmm.
Okay, maybe relying on alien technology wouldn't be the best solution.
America was ready to move on to the next item on the list, but instead he found himself dragged along on England's shopping trip for baby supplies and decorations. He didn't mind. It was worth it just to see the happy look on England's face as he picked exactly the right shade of green to paint the room. America thought the color was perfect because it matched England's eyes. He was already hoping for a tyke with pretty green peepers and he hadn't even figured out how to get a baby yet!
"Ooh, do you prefer the trees or the fairies?" England asked as he closely examined the store's supply of peel-and-stick wall decals.
"Trees," America replied. "And let's do clouds on the ceiling!"
They piled soft blankets and plush toys into their cart, earning knowing smiles from the other shoppers as they wandered the aisles. The crib was a harder choice. America really wanted the one shaped like a train, but England convinced him to go with an elegant hardwood design. When they were finally done, England tried to carry everything to the car himself, but after nearly dropping the crib onto his foot, he had to give in and let America help.
"I'm preggers, not helpless," America said with a laugh as he loaded the crib into the trunk.
They spent the next week decorating one of the guest bedrooms until it was absolutely perfect. England handled the painting and arranged the wall decorations while America assembled the furniture. The work went slowly, mostly because they took plenty of breaks for food, movies, and hanky panky.
"So, have you thought some more about baby names?" England asked that evening as the two nations lay curled together on America's plush couch. In the background, the credits rolled for America's latest superhero movie. England had put his foot down in saying 'no' to a horror movie, but he hadn't complained about the ridiculous superheroes. In fact, whenever America glanced over at his boyfriend, he'd seen a contended smile on England's face. It really suited him.
"Well, I think the baby should have one," America replied cheerfully.
England snorted and swatted him lightly on the shoulder. "Be serious, dear. I was thinking Alice or Abigail for a girl. Maybe Albert for a boy. We could call him 'Little Al.'"
"'Little Al' sounds nice, but wasn't Albert one of your kings?" America pouted. "I thought we'd agreed on no kings and no presidents."
"Technically, Albert was a prince consort, not a king. One doesn't become king through marriage, although, oddly enough, queens do. Unless you're thinking of Belgium's king, she had a King Albert..." England rambled into a random discussion of European royalty, and America tuned him out until he returned to baby names. "Regardless, we could always do 'Alexander' instead."
"Alex." America grinned. "Yeah, I like it."
"And for a girl's name?"
America wrinkled his nose at England's earlier suggestions. "I dunno. Alice is a little too you and Abby is a bit too me. I think we need something that really connects us both. Something pretty and sweet."
"I am partial to flower names," England admitted with an adorable blush.
The gentle pink of his boyfriend's cheeks brought one flower immediately to America's mind. It was the obvious choice. "How about Rose?" he suggested.
"Rose Jones-Kirkland," England murmured to himself. "I'm not sure. I feel that her first name should be a little longer." He knitted his brows together in concentration before suggesting a slightly different flower. "Rosemary Jones-Kirkland."
"Beautiful," America agreed. "Especially the Jones-Kirkland part."
He wrapped his arm around England and happily spent the rest of the day watching sappy movies and cuddling. When his boss called, he just said that he was improving international relations. His boss was a smart guy—he always stopped asking questions at that point.
As the week progressed, America began to worry that he still hadn't figured out a way to get a bun in his oven. Hoping to have some time to research his options without England underfoot, he went in to work one day and called in his government's top scientists. Unfortunately, the scientists told him that cloning technology was still in the earliest stages and that cloning a human (or, in his case, a nation) would be highly unethical.
Stupid ethics, always ruining America's plans!
With alien technology and cloning crossed off the list, he moved on to robots. And he knew exactly who to call: Japan, the master of all inventions robotic. He had heard about Japan's hyper-realistic sexbots. He just hoped his friend also made something more G-rated.
"America-san, it's good to hear from you. Is this about your party?"
"What party?"
"Eto..." Japan paused. "Your Chrismasu party?"
America laughed. "Dude! It's way too early to start planning for Christmas. I haven't even had Thanksgiving yet."
"Oh, I see... did you have another reason for calling?"
"Yeah! I wanted to ask you about robots."
"Robots," Japan replied, his voice even flatter than usual.
"Yep. Do you have any kid robots? Something that looks super realistic."
"Apologies." Japan sounded embarrassed. "My robot industry is more adult oriented."
"Oh, okay. Well, domo arigato, Mr. Roboto." America sighed and crossed another item off the list. He didn't realize it was so hard to have a child! He was starting to worry that he would never be able to give England the baby he so clearly wanted. And if months passed without any changes in America's appearance, the other nation was certain to grow suspicious.
America was still feeling depressed on the drive home to his D.C. house. He considered confessing to England. Yes, his boyfriend would be mad, but he would forgive him eventually. And the more days that passed and the higher he built his tower of lies, the angrier that England would be when he finally learned of America's deception. It would be best to make a clean breast of it, and hope that England forgave him before Christmas.
As America opened the door, still thinking about how he was going to break the news, he was shocked to discover that his whole house had been redecorated with pastel balloons and banners.
"Surprise!" a multitude of nations yelled, popping out from hiding places behind the plants and furniture.
"Uh, guys? My birthday isn't for like eight and a half more months," America said as he looked around, confused to see half of the world in his living room.
England smiled and shrugged apologetically. "That's because this is a baby shower, love, not a birthday party. I started by inviting your friends and… that one nation, whats-his-name… but I'm afraid it got a little out of hand."
"Hey, the more the merrier, mate!" Australia interjected with a big grin. "Look, I got a stuffed koala for the tyke. Much softer than the real thing." The evil koala on his shoulder glared, proving Australia's point.
"Uh, thanks," America replied, feeling his heart sink as he looked around the room. It was obvious that he couldn't tell England the truth now. Not without admitting his lies to the entire world. He was just going to have to find a way to become pregnant, no matter what the cost. America faked a grin and tried to enjoy the party as he accepted everyone's congratulations and gifts.
"Do you know the sex yet, America-san?" Japan asked politely.
"Nope! I'm just hoping for ten fingers, ten toes, and normal eyebrows."
"Oi!" England protested.
"Amérique, I assure you, Angleterre was very cute as a child," Francis interjected. "Just do not let the child grow long hair—England always looked like a terrifying caterpillar."
"Says the man who always dressed like a girl."
America laughed and pulled England away from France before his boyfriend could restart the Hundred Years' War. While his boyfriend swapped decoration tips with Poland, America made his way to the buffet table and grabbed a slice of cake. It was delicious (clearly not England's cooking) and the inside featured green mint swirls amidst chocolate cake. England must have shared their plan to buy green clothing and toys with the other nations. America continued to hope that the baby had England's green eyes. And to be honest, big eyebrows would be cute. Pictures didn't exist when England was a child, but America had always wanted to see little England. Having a little child to raise with England was going to be the next best thing.
Thinking of his hypothetical child, America didn't even notice Sweden and Finland approach.
"H'w?" Sweden asked with a terrifying look on his face.
"W-what?" America managed to respond. Sure, it wasn't the most brilliant response, but he'd like to see other nations keep calm in the icy cold face of Sweden.
"Sve-sve, there's no need to scare him," Finland gently chided. He turned to face America and smiled softly. "Don't worry, Sweden simply wants to know how you became pregnant."
Caught between Sweden's fierce gaze and Finland's hopeful one, America didn't know what to say. "Uh, it's a secret, er, classified," he mumbled. He quailed in the face of Sweden's intimidating gaze. "But I'll see if I can get you clearance, yeah?"
"Oh, that would be marvelous!" Finland chirped.
A thought occurred to America. "Don't you guys already have a kid?" he asked.
"Yes, and Sealand is a dear, but we'd always hoped to have one of our own."
"I see." America bit his lip. "So... how did you get Sealand?"
Finland shrugged. "We bought him on Ebay."
"You can do that?" America gaped, his heart leaping with joy. He couldn't wait for the party to end, because he now had the best plan ever for finding a child. Honestly, it should have occurred to him much earlier to use the internet.
When the party finally finished, England cleaned up while America relaxed on the couch. He fully intended to milk his fake pregnancy for all it was worth.
Because now he had a plan. There weren't any children listed for sale on eBay, but thinking about Sealand had made him realize that it was easy to create a miniature nation. What was a nation other than some land, some people, and an idea? As a representative of the U.S. government, he had plenty of land. And the internet had plenty of people and ideas. All he needed was an idea that was a blend of both him and England.
With his impressive searching skills, America landed on the perfect website much quicker than he expected: The so-called Dominion of British West Florida.
It was like someone had invented a micronation just so it could be his and England's child. According to the self-styled "Duke of Florida," a portion of Florida had reverted to the British crown due to poor wording in a treaty between Britain and Spain. As a result, the Duke challenged the authority of America's annexation of Florida. The history made America's eyes glaze over, but the important part was that British West Florida was a mixture of American and British culture.
Of course, that left only one problem: not every micronation had its own personification. They needed their land, no matter how small or how disputed. But America had a solution to that problem. He would just 'borrow' some land from the Federal government and soon he would hear the pitter-patter of tiny feet.
"Whew, that's the last of the rubbish," England said as he plopped onto the sofa. "How are you feeling? You seemed a bit down during the party. Is everything all right?" he asked, gently resting his hand on America's belly.
America beamed at him. "Everything's great, darling," he replied.
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Author's Notes
The Dominion of British West Florida is a real micronation (well, as "real" as a micronation can be) and I thought it sounded like a great USUK love-child. I like the idea of nations having kids by intentionally creating a micronation :)