Disclaimer: I own nothing but Ashley and Avery, everything else is not mine.
Author's note:
This one has been sitting on my computer for who knows how long. It's based on a MAD video on YouTube (Just search "Franada Papa Don't Preach" if you want to watch it.). This is probably the only time that England would actually care about Canada just because he hates France so much. =| Poor Canadia. Wait—that's not right. What's his name again? Only joking, but still.
Translations (in order of appearance):
(French)
mon amour: my love
Angleterre: England
mon ange: my angel
Canada felt his hands sweat as he waited patiently for England to answer the door. The Englishman was going to be so angry, but the Canadian had to tell him.
"Mon amour, it's going to be fine." France assured the younger, smaller blond upon sensing his tenseness; France rubbed circles into Canada's hoodie-clad back.
"I'm just worried." Canada replied and stuffed his hands into the front pockets of his jacket.
"I know you are, but remember that I'm here for you." He brushed back the younger nation's curls, kissing his forehead.
"Oh," England said after opening the door of his and America's home, "You're here, Canada. What's the frogdoing with you?"
"Angleterre, you don't have to be so rude to your guests." France responded to England's comment.
"Dad, we have to tell you something." Canada spoke up—it was as if he had been forgotten, but that would never happen.
"Don't tell me that you two are…together," The English nation said.
"It's worse, Dad."
"Well," England sighed, "Come in."
Canada could feel his chest feel light with nervousness. This couldn't be happening; he couldn't be telling England what had had him losing sleep for the last three weeks. No, this couldn'tbe happening.
"Mummy," A boy about eight years old came walking into the front hallway, "Daddy's being a twat again."
The boy had neatly trimmed dirty-blond hair and sparkling green eyes, a pair of glasses situated in front of them. He was wearing a blue sweater-vest with a white, long-sleeved polo underneath. He had a pair of khaki pants on with white socks covering up his feet.
England smiled and turned around to look at his son, "Ashley, you're a smart boy, now say 'hello' to your uncle and France."
"Dad, I thought we established that the boys called France 'Uncle,' also." Canada spoke up.
England scowled, but he knew Canada was speaking the truth and didn't bother to put up a protest, "Say 'hello' to your uncles."
Ashley smiled, running towards Canada and France, hugging their legs. France lifted the boy into his arms and Ashley hugged both Canada and France around the neck.
"Uncle Canada! Uncle France!" Another boy yelled.
A light-haired blond came running after his uncles, his dark blue eyes filled with glee; rather prominent eyebrows lay above the blue orbs. He was dressed in a simple T-shirt and denim shorts; he had a pair of Converse tennis shoes on, the laces on one being undone. The little boy of about three tripped over the loose lace and fell onto the wooden floor.
"Avery," England gasped, dropping to his knees next to his, now crying, youngest son. He kissed his son's forehead and drew him into his arms. He rocked back and forth in a calming motion.
"Hey, Mattie!" America greeted happily as he walked into the hall, "Hey, France! How are ya two?"
Canada smiled, "We're doing fine, thank you."
"That's good to hear." America replied. He then noted his youngest child was wailing in his mother's arms.
"He fell." England answered before America could question.
America nodded and turned his attention back to his brother, "What are you two doing here anyway?"
"Mathieuand I came here to tell you some good news." France answered.
"I wouldn't say it was that great of news." Canada muttered.
"Nonsense, Mathieu, this is wonderful news!" France insisted in unison as America said, "It can't be that bad, Mattie!"
"What is this news?" England asked, looking up from Avery.
"I'd rather not say it with the children in the room." Canada replied.
"Hey, Ashley, how about you take Avery outside and teach him how to play some great American football?" America asked rather loudly.
Ashley looked away from his uncles and to his father, his face scrunched up in disgust, "Do I have to?"
"You take after your mother too much. You need to lighten up." America replied. He walked over to the three by the door and took the eight-year-old into his arms, "Now come on."
America started towards the end of the hallway. He grabbed Avery's hand on the way to the backdoor, dragging the toddler with him.
"And don't come back in until Avery knows everything about baseball!" America yelled as he slammed the door.
"I thought you said that I had to teach him how to play football!"
England cringed at the sound of the backdoor being slammed. He stood up and walked over to his guests, "Let's go into the living room."
Canada and France nodded, following England into the living room. America came in after them; he jumped onto the couch next to England as if imagining that he was a ninja.
France and Canada were situated adjacent to the other pair on another couch.
"Dad, Al, I know that this is going to be a shock, but I'm not changing anything about this." Canada said, staring down at his lap. His hands were intertwined with France.
"I'm going to need your help." Canada continued, "This isn't easy to do, so please take it easy on me. Dad, please don't preach because my mind's made up."
"It's alright, mon ange." France whispered.
Canada took a breath and placed his hands on his stomach, "I'm…I'm pregnant. It's France's baby."
"That's great, Mattie!" America exclaimed, hopping off the couch, embracing his brother into a hug.
"You frog!" England yelled. He pounced onto the Frenchman, "How dare you do this to him? You've ruined him!"
"Dad! Stop!" Canada cried, breaking off his hug from his brother.
He tried to pry England off of his lover, but to no use. He sent a pleading look to the American nation. Being the hero and all, America was easily able to pull his husband off of the other nation.
"Let me go!" England yelled, squirming in America's grip.
"Dad, please calm down," Canada pleaded, his arms crossed over his stomach, "This stress can't be good for me."
"How can I calm down? You're carrying France's bastard child!" England argued.
Canada felt his hormones working up. He placed a hand over his mouth and squinted to try to hold back tears. He rushed towards the door, stopping to turn to England with teary eyes, "I'm keeping my baby." He ran out the door and collapsed down on the steps, crying into his hands.
"See what you did?" France asked bitterly, going out the door after his lover.
Author's note:
Don't worry the four of them will make up eventually. =D Reviews are love. ;)