Thanks for reading! I decided to turn this into a series of one-shots per request. So... let's see where this goes. Shall we?
Rated M. I own nothing.
Huzzah for NorwayxAmerica. Does anyone actually ship this OTP?
OoOoOo
America had a touch of the 'baby bug'.
It really wasn't entirely her fault. She had just been introduced to Sealand, and the adorable little micro nation had America wanting one of her very own. Because, hell, if England got one then she should have on too. Although, hers would be way more awesome.
Her only problem was that she didn't know how to make one, and she didn't know who to make one with.
It was perplexing, and she didn't want to rush into anything. So she sat at the world meeting with a piece of paper and a pen. She looked at each of the nations with a shrew and calculating eye. Somehow she managed this while still appearing and feeling slightly bored.
Alright, more than slightly.
She started on her left, looking at France. Hm... she could almost picture it.
A girl with pigtails giggled happily as she spouted a mixture of English and French to her stuffed animals. The child's blonde hair had a single cowlick that France often fussed over. Her blue eyes were darker than America's more resembling her father nation.
France and America exchanged an amused look, their gazes filled with warmth and care. Fingers entwined, as France whispered words of affection in her ear.
The only problem America had was that France was overly attentive to their child. Much like he had been to a young her and young Canada. Or Italy. America felt slightly uneasy about the whole thing.
America wrote his name down on the paper with a question mark next to it. She would have to think on that one later.
She looked at England, trying not to make a face. She was slightly jealous that he had a brand new micronation, even if he wouldn't acknowledge it.
America wondered...
Large brows but a huge happy grin in place. He was undeniably adorable. The boy was very much his mother's son and it drove England to near madness. The child looked like him nearly every bit. However, his eyes were blue like his mother nation. America often had to chase him away from the woods nearby because he claimed to see things that she couldn't.
America blamed England for the supposed 'sprites' that lived near the house, or got the kiddo into trouble. England was extremely proud of him, but ignored his brother Sealand.
America did not like that, and it caused fights between them often.
Nah, that wouldn't be fair to Sealand. The, slightly irritating, micro nation deserved his spot in the lime light as England's son. She tapped the pen to her chin thoughtfully, and chose not to write his name down.
Next to England was Southern Italy, who was arguing with Spain.
Hm.
The little girl was a hellion. Her angelic face did not belay the demon temperament she could show. She had her father's mouth. America often thought it was funny, but they were asked to leave a few functions when their daughter started cursing everyone's parentage in Spanish.
Southern Italy often praised her for her outbursts, especially when it came to 'potato eaters'. America had to remind him that her people ate a lot of potatoes. Southern Italy countered that she had a large Italian population, so tomatoes were often consumed just as much if not more.
That is why they were so good together.
She had a hard time arguing with him, especially when their daughter with her brown hair and hazel eyes excitedly chatted about her wisp of hair that bounced when she did.
America wrote his name down on the paper. If they had a child together, she would be gorgeous when she grew up.
Of course, that meant she'd have to speak with Spain, even though Southern Italy no longer answered to him. It was more for the sake of politeness than anything.
Spain's green eyes caught her gaze. She smiled at him.
A little boy who loved tomatoes came stumbling up the path. Brown hair with a cowlick, and green eyes that were wide with childish glee. America grinned and squatted down with arms wide. The boy ran into her waiting arms. They embraced and she placed a kiss to his forehead as he told her, in Spanish-which she understood easily- about how Spain had taken him to see a bull fight for the first time.
She was fine with that. She'd taken him to see a rodeo last summer. Their little tyke had loved it. She looked at Spain who followed closely behind the boy. He declared that their son needed to step aside. America blushed, knowing that he would make it a point to kiss her passionately while declaring that they produced such wonderful children that they simply had to have more.
Spain was exceedingly fond of children.
America wrote his name down with a star next to it. A higher choice candidate than others. Of course, Mexico loved children too. She looked over to her neighboring nation. America could see a similar situation between the pair of them.
She put a question mark next to his name, concerned that it would blur their borders even more. She would have to discuss him with her President. However, he was a handsome nation with dark hair and eyes.
That brought her attention to Northern Italy.
She nearly squealed at the thought of a child between them.
A little boy with auburn hair, more red than brown, tried to catch butterflies in one of her fields. Northern Italy. A thick curl of hair off to his side, just like his father. Northern Italy helped the boy chase the insect around as they desperately tried to capture it without hurting it.
America laughed until tears rolled down her eyes when they both somehow managed to get stuck up in a tree.
She, being the hero, had to rescue them and they all smiled as they headed back home to enjoy some nice pizza. Northern Italy and America loved pizza. Their son was no exception. The boy ran as fast as his legs could carry him so that he could have his fill before America got to the table.
She jotted down Northern Italy's name just because they would be a good parent couple. And the kid would be freaking adorable! There is no way it couldn't be. Come on. America and Northern Italy? It would be almost too cute. Not that there really was such a thing.
America glanced next to Turkey, who was busty speaking with Israel.
Hm...
The boy demanded to play with Cyprus, his tone authoritative. Far beyond his few years. Turkey beamed out her proudly. Their son had dirty blonde hair, and Turkey's brown eyes. Her son had his olive skin, and it was a gorgeous contrast to his lighter hair.
For his latest birthday, Turkey had gifted their child with a green coat that matched one he wore long ago. America laughed as Cyprus tried to agree to their son's demands for a sword fight. Turkey warned the boy that it he was not to hurt Cyprus too much.
America nodded her agreement, the boy did have some of her unusual strength.
But if it were Greece, America thought, it would likely involve cats. She was indifferent to cats, but she could see Greece insisting on getting one.
Greece brought home a kitten, and America shook her head trying not to snicker. She knew this was going to happen one day. The orange tabby was one of her domestic species. Greece was very thoughtful, America admitted easily.
They were happy with each other. The kitten mewled against his chest, and Greece smiled at her softly,
Their daughter came out of the kitchen her teal eyes widened. A delighted and loud squeal escaped her. America covered her ears, laughing. Greece beamed with pride. The brown haired girl, with her white hat on, rushed over to her father with hands already reaching.
America knew there would be no arguing about keeping it. She was outnumbered. Her daughter was just as stubborn as she was.
It was a sweet thought that had America practically melting. She nodded and grinned as she wrote down their names. She would be okay with a cat, but Greece was changing the litter box.
She skipped over Austria, though she could imagine their child.
Brown hair with a large cowlick, and blue eyes. He was such a serious little thing, and America adored him all the same. He was gifted in music, much like his father. However, he often chastised her in his father's tongue. It was not the piano he loved, but the guitar.
That entertained America to no end because he would play songs that he made up just for her.
Hungary would kill her though, and she did not think Austria would ever even consider it. She shrugged and continued on.
China glared at her when she stared at him.
America tried to get her daughter to play. The girl insisted that she did not have time for her mother's foolishness. China praised the girl heavily, and scolded her even more when he felt she was slacking for even a moment. Which she hardly ever did. However, when it happened it was somehow America's fault.
it was strange, because her dark hair and brown eyes made her nearly a miniature copy of China. However, her feminine features and occasional stubborn streak were wholly from the United States. She even had glasses, and China bemoaned the fact.
The blonde nation thought the child would be cute, but with her current status of debt to China, she didn't want the child getting caught in the middle of any bickering between them.
Her blue eyes wandered toward a head of blonde hair and an imposing nature. Russia? Dare she even consider?
Well, her mind gave her no choice.
A little boy with sunflowers and golden hair. His violet eyes were wide in delight as Russia picked him up and swung him on his shoulders. He had a matching beige coat, and a scarf America had made. She could knit, despite what others said. She was actually quite capable of crafts when she wanted to be.
The thought made her smile. The boy in her head was simply adorable. So much so that she was staring at Russia happily. The taller nation felt her stare and looked at her, his creepy smile on his face. However, America was too lost in her thoughts to even notice. She just smiled wider, her eyes warm with sweet daydreams.
Their son called for her as they walked through a gentle snow fall. The white flakes clung to his hair, and Russia was laughing as the boy told him about America's fields of flowers. America walked beside them, her breath visible in the air, and Russia's violet eyes looked over at her.
She smiled, her cheeks red from the cold. Russia grabbed her hand with one of his. She blushed, but their son took no notice.
She didn't realize that she was still widely smiling at Russia. He looked confused, but also a little delighted. There were no insults exchanged or dirty looks. It was America beaming at him as if they were the best of friends.
America wrote his name down, knowing that it would likely cause all kinds of conflict, and made a squiggly line next to it. She'd have to talk with her boss about this one too. However, the image of their potential child made her want to giggle.
She supposed she such an event would make him 'Father' Russia, instead of 'mother'.
Australia was laughing next to Russia. He caught America's gaze and winked.
It was known from her birth that their daughter was a flirt. Her light green eyes and dirty blonde hair were complimented by her obvious cowlick. She'd inherited it from both parents. She had Australia's smile and flirtatious nature. She had America's laugh and mischievousness.
Australia wrapped an arm around America and kissed her on top of her head, grinning proudly. Their daughter made Seborgia blush and stutter. America shook her head, wondering if she'd be forced to chase the boy away with the real promise of shooting him.
She did not want to have to literally beat the boys off her darling daughter with a baseball bat. America tsk-ed to herself, but did not write his name down. It would not do well for relations if she went around beating others to a bloody pulp.
America skipped past Switzerland and Lichtenstein. That was never going to happen. She could only imagine an angry blonde child that pestered her to be neutral or was kicked out of his father's nation for being too much like her.
Luxembourg caught her eyes.
A child that worked as hard as she played. Their daughter often followed her father to work, yet found time to spend with America in Hollywood for the special effects the child adored.
She had light brown hair and blue eyes that seemed to scream 'elegant'. So, she had little in common with her mother. America smiled fondly at her serious child.
Well, maybe a question mark next to his name. She did want something in common with any child of hers. It wouldn't do if they were polar opposites.
Belarus and Belgium were out of the question. Belarus was more inclined to kill her if anything, especially if she found out that America was considering Russia as a father to her potential child. Belgium wasn't keen on doing much with America right now.
Next to them, South Korea argued with Picardy over something. That was not anything new. Nations argued all the time.
Oh... South Korea.
Their child looked strangely like Hong Kong, except he did not have the massive eyebrows. He was a fun-loving but hard working child. Black hair, like his father, but lighter eyes. America and South Korea had reached the point where they had to team up to beat him in anything video game related.
South Korea smiled at her, and America winked at him. Their son groaned, not oblivious to his parents affections toward each other. America teased him that if he thought that was bad, she'd kiss South Korea just to traumatize him.
South Korea played along, waggling his brows and nearing America. Their son darted from the room yelling at them in two languages.
They laughed.
Oh yes, that would be fun. America wrote his name down with a star next to it.
She turned her attention to Picardy. From what she knew of him, he was honest and hard working. However, if she wasn't mistaken, he was friendly with France.
A little girl who was completely honest when she told people she adored America's food, refused to leave her father's side. Picardy smiled proudly as the other nation's blanched.
America glared at them. Her daughter took offence too, not having much patience. Her green eyes flashed as she told them all to go to hell.
England complimented America on how well she was raising her 'young lady'. Picardy gathered their daughter in his arms as America punched England.
He needed a question mark next to his name.
America looked over, and noticed that Denmark was watching her curiously. She felt her heart skip at the thought of their kid.
Blonde hair and bright blue eyes. An attitude that could have made even the most sour person smile. The boy carried an axe around proudly, Denmark had given it to him. America adjusted his Captain America sweater, as he excitedly bounced.
It was the first time America had agreed to let him come.
Their son strutted into the meeting behind her, proudly declaring that he was the next superpower. Denmark laughed and gathered him up in a hug. Then he proceeded to shout to Norway and Finland to come greet his son.
America waved to everyone, nearly bursting with pride. She ruffled their son's hair, so much like his father's, and Denmark set him down.
Denmark winked at her, murmuring that he was glad to see her. He pulled her close and kissed her soundly.
Their son told everyone about his axe, and swung it around. America ended up having to pay for a new table.
America grinned as she jotted down his name with a star. That kid would be a force to be reckoned with. Denmark smiled back at her.
She winked at him. He winked back.
Good times.
America looked at the next nation. Iceland was glaring at Norway.
Their daughter had white hair. America thought it was gorgeous. Prussia often insisted on buying the girl presents, proclaiming that white hair was enough to make her awesome. It helped that she was America's daughter too.
Iceland often took the girl around to see the hot springs in his nation. America enjoyed the times when they sat in his home as a family. Their daughter's blue eyes were as wide as Iceland's when she started speaking his language.
The two were self-conscious of their accents, but America thought that is always sounded lovely. She giggled as they played Scrabble, trying to figure out how to spell half the words.
Her daughter helped her cheat under the table. Iceland never guessed how America and their daughter always seemed to win.
She laughed quietly at the thought. Iceland was a sweet nation, honestly. A bit of a recluse, but very sweet. However, she knew that Norway was fiercely protective of him.
Speaking of Norway...
The fall air was growing crisp, and America waited with their son on a hill. His blonde hair ruffled in the breeze, and America smiled as she sat down, watching as he proclaimed that the trolls were asking her to drink with them.
She nodded in a motherly fashion, and graciously accepted. His blue eyes were slightly duller than hers, but brighter than his father's. America readily produced a water bottle, and they took turns drinking. Their son poured a little on a rock claiming 'the troll was thirsty', in an exuberant manner.
America asked if the troll would like some soda, their son solemnly replied that the troll would not, but he would. America tucked his stray wisp of hair that seemed to float freely, behind his ear. It sprang back as it always did.
Apparently a fairy came by, telling her son that Norway was looking for them. America declared they would simply stay put and wait for him. Their son told the 'fairy', which looked like a floating seed on the wind to America.
It did not take long for Norway to show up, his hand outstretched for their son to take. It was times like this she often wondered if they really did see things, because how else would he know where they were? She glanced at Norway, intrigued, he held his other hand out for her.
She clasped it, noting that it was warm despite the chill in the air.
Oh my goodness. The little boy would be simply gorgeous. She nearly giggled in excitement and scrawled his name down with a star next to it.
Germany yelled something at Poland, causing America to startle and look up. She frowned for a moment.
No nation knew what their child's gender was at first glance. America often had to talk with Poland about it. Poland seemed unperturbed by the fact that their daughter dressed like a boy so much that even Hungary thought she was a 'he'.
Poland responded to her concerns by cross-dressing in female clothes and telling her it really didn't matter.
However, he was not the one that had to deal with England's questions about which one of them had actually given birth to their daughter.
Nope. That was not happening. The child in her head was cute though, but maybe a little confrontational.
Germany though, America could easily see a child with Germany. However, he was so awkward when he spoke with her about anything other than work. America leaned her head against her hand, with her elbow on the table. She contemplated what a child with him would be like.
Germany tossed a laughing boy into the air. The blonde cowlick bobbed and swayed, but it only stood up occasionally. America laughed and took two beers out of the refrigerator, noting that Germany had made a point to keep her favorite drinks stocked up.
She nearly cooed at him for being so thoughtful.
Germany looked at her, blushing slightly as America neared. She kissed him on the cheek, watching him flush with pleasure. Their son reached for her, and she happily handed the beers to Germany to hold their son. He looked so much like Germany, but he had her 'American smile' most of the time.
Italy doted on the boy almost as much as they did.
Germany was a very good father, often encouraging their son through touch decisions and forcing him to consider many aspects as a result. America often teased Germany about his serious nature, especially in light of the fact he enjoyed baking sweets for America and their son.
America really enjoyed his baking.
She set their son down, and pulled Germany close for a kiss. Their son made gagging noises in the background. Germany blushed and scolded her for kissing in front of 'the child'. She laughed loudly. Secretly, she knew he loved it.
Yep, his name was definitely going on the list. With a star. She added that with a small flourish. Perfect. Man she was amazing.
Almost more awesome than Prussia. Oh, Prussia!
She had white hair, and nearly violet eyes that gleamed with barely-suppressed glee. America and Prussia took their daughter to an amusement park, and were forced to chase after her as she got into one kind of mischief. And then another.
Prussia laughed the whole time, blaming America's side for any wrong doings the child did. All awesomeness, of course, came from his side.
America poked him in the side with a pout, and that made him smile wickely. Their daughter was busy harassing the Hutt River, who was visiting with Austria. Prussia crowed loudly about his approval of her choice of 'target'. America huffed that their daughter was simply being a hero by pointing out that the Hutt River would not take the larger roller coasters well.
Austria even agreed.
Prussia grabbed America about the waist and kissed he. His red eyes gleamed with pride and happiness.
They still ended up being banned from the park for Three years after an incident involving the Free Fall, cheese, and someone making threats against Daffy Duck.
That would be awesome! America thought to herself as she waved at Prussia happily. The dissolved nation grinned at her, clearly curious as to why she was waving at him. America gave him a toothy smile and put a star next to his name.
Wow, she had a lot of good candidates already!
Internally she danced with happiness. Just about every nation made an adorable kid with her. Of course, she was America... the hero.
Japan glanced at her curiously.
Their son was the brightest little thing when it came to technology. He adored any type of sets where he could build something electronic. America patted his dark hair, and smiled at Japan. Their son was like his father, calmer and more accepting.
However, he was known to have his mother's fiery temper when he became angry. It was rather amusing to the other nations, because their son was otherwise a very serene child. He did enjoy gaming with his mother and Father though.
America was dragged to every festival, and Japan thought it was highly appropriate considering the times she'd forced him to attend her parties.
She also did not tell him that their son and she snuck out often to McDonalds.
He was her son too after all.
Japan was her friend, and a sound option. She also thought he was rather cute, and their child would be such an sweet little thing. She wrote his name down.
Relations between her and Taiwan, who was next to him, were not as great as they could be. Still, America thought they would make a pretty cute child. Or her and Vietnam... if the other country wasn't still so mistrusting of her.
America skimmed over them to the next nations.
Thailand blinked back at her.
A little girl tumbled around the corner, running to hide as America chased after her. The girl's hair was light brown, but she had her father's golden eyes.
Thailand would be home from work soon, but they had at least a few minutes to play until dinner. She had been trying to perfect cooking his food. It was harder than it looked, but she'd come up with a decent product.
America pretended she had no idea where their daughter went as giggles erupted from behind a curtain. The scent of foreign spices lingered in the air.
Maybe... she put a question mark down. She skipped past Cuba. It was best not to poke a hornet's nest if she did not have to. Canada was her neighbor.
They called her America's daughter because they could not remember her name. Canada, however, they all knew. It was just that their daughter was so quiet. Her blonde hair was long, and she could curse like a New Yorker, but no one really knew that outside of her parents.
America tried to get her into sports, but she preferred staying at home and painting. Canada did not mind, and America did not want to pressure her.
America shook her head to the negative. It would be a cute little girl, in her opinion, but too quiet and America honestly didn't want to overshadow any child of hers.
She skipped past Sweden. He just would not go for that. He liked America well enough, and she deeply respected him, but he still was in love with Finland. She did not want to interfere with that.
Finland was nice enough, though, but she would have to forgo him. Once again, because Sweden was still in love with him.
America continued down the line. Estonia adjusted his glasses, and America grinned at him.
A little boy with a slightly narrow face and blue eyes that showed his intelligence looked back at her from above a computer screen. America asked what he was doing, and he promptly informed her that he was helping update his Father's blog.
She smiled, and asked if he'd practiced the piano today. He whined, and adjusted his glasses, trying to get her to let him finish. She laughed and closed the laptop gently.
He frowned at her. She pinched his cheeks.
Question mark. Next! She thought happily. Her blue eyes locked on India.
Honey kissed skin and dark brown hair. A little girl with hazel eyes that made more than one nation stop and stare at her beauty. India was rather proud of his quick-witted daughter. Though America knew that he might have secretly preferred a son.
India smiled at her, and she grinned back. Their daughter continued to recite parts of their combined history. America agreed that history was important.
Freaking gorgeous child! Well, mental image of a child anyway. America scrawled his name out below Estonia's.
She hardly noticed the time. America continued to grin and daydream.
OoOoOo
The meeting had ended, and some nations were already leaving. America hurried to scribble down the last few names, desperately not wanting to leave any possibilities out. She could reduce her heroic nature by ignoring a great chance for a child.
A shadow loomed over her, blocking some light. America looked up to see blue eyes and blonde hair.
"Why were you staring at me?" Norway asked, without menace in his words. They were calm, as he usually was.
Her mind flashed back to the imagined son between them. She tilted her head and regarded him with a warm smile.
"You know, we'd make a really pretty kid together," America said absently.
Norway paused, looking at her with a blank expression. His eyes trailed over her face for a moment. As if he were seeing her for the very first time, or contemplating what she was actually saying. The normally stoic nation stared at her. The corner's of his mouth gave the barest hints of a smile.
"I suppose we would," he said in a monotone voice.
America chuckled to herself, glad she hadn't inadvertently angered him. It was hard to tell what Norway was thinking, but you always knew when he was angry. There was a certain look he'd get. Mostly reserved for Denmark, but that was another story.
She glanced down at her paper, and made a star next to his name.
"What is that?" Norway asked, his dull blue eyes focused on her paper.
"Hm? Oh," America said happily. "It's a list."
Norway remained silent, waiting for her to continue.
"You know, of what countries I would make good kids with."
He blinked.
"You want children?" He asked, his tone unchanging.
"Well," America said with a slight blush, "a kid."
He didn't laugh at her, or get upset. The male nation merely held out his hand expectantly. America blinked at him, then realized that he wanted the paper. She shrugged and gave it to him.
"It's not finished." She warned him.
His darker blue eyes skimmed over the paper and her scrawled writing. It was not hard to decipher the symbols next to certain names, nor the meanings behind them. She often used the same marks for her reports.
His gaze flicked up to hers.
"Any particular order?" He asked quietly.
"No, I went clockwise." she answered honestly. "I'll go over it tonight and work on it some more." She stated proudly.
Norway nodded. America expected him to give her back the paper. Instead he started ripping it.
"Hey!" She cried indignantly, "You don't have to destroy it. Come on dude!"
He ignored her, and tore away a section of the paper. crumpling the rest and throwing it in the nearby waste bin.
"I improved it for you," he told her bluntly as he handed her the scrap of paper.
America watched him, bemused, as he promptly left her to gape after him.
What the hell was his problem?
She narrowed her gaze at the door, and then looked down at what he'd handed her. There, in her own writing, was a single name.
Norway*
America blushed, clutching the scrap tightly, as she started to laugh heartily.