Chapter Text
How was he supposed to do this? How was he supposed to deal with the fact he was harboring a miracle- something he didn’t even think possible? Stressed-worn green eyes stared down at his flat stomach. It contained a small seed that was planted within his core- going to grow and blossom a fruit that he’d bring to the world. A miracle. For he never heard of this happening- none of the other countries had been able to achieve such a thing. Was it a joke? Was it chosen for him by God for some unknown reason?
Pain surrounded his heart as he remembered the face of the man no longer a boy who did this to him. Who loved him so thoroughly they were able to create something beautiful together- only to throw it all away. Used. How was he supposed to do it all alone? How was he supposed to give their child a life they deserved when England himself didn’t know how to lead a proper one either. What about work? Showing his face to everyone- everyone seeing the state he was left in by the newfound United States of America… Impossible. That kind of humiliation would not stand.
But where would he go? Where was home? Where was the place he could make his for a while? Where could he be safe?
Then it hit him. Though it wasn’t something he really wanted to think of for too long. If being exposed in his pregnancy against every world government was humiliating this just might be even worse… Though…
His hands settled over the thin fabric covering his stomach- fingers trembling as he tried to process everything that was going through his head. His reality. The most humiliating thing… would be worth it. For this child.
And so that was how he was standing face to face with his brothers. All three of them looked at him with varied degrees of emotion. Wales was always the more excited to see him- the picture of a doting brother who also loved to tease him. The one who looked the most like England. Then there was Nire, North Ireland, the red head who often liked to make England miserable but not in an entirely mean way. Underneath all the taunting and playful demeanor resided someone who cared about him. Their family was just strained which was ironic because the three brothers always seemed to be together.
Okay maybe their relationship with England was the one that was strained. The one England had the most strained relationship with was standing in the middle with a cold expression in his Kirkland green eyes. The tallest and most intimidating, especially with how the man clearly did not like England as a person and only defended him simply out of family obligation and the worry that he’d be associated with that.
The most humiliating task to do, was to inform his brothers that he was pregnant and needed somewhere to stay. To ask them to take care of his duties. To ask so much of them when they never got along in the first place.
England shrank under their stares, his throat felt tight as he tried to get out the words. But it was so hard. His chest felt heavy and his tongue felt too big for his mouth. Tears did end up pricking his eyes after all- even though he tried so hard not to appear weak and pitiful.
When the first of those tears fell, the brothers tensed up considerably. The great and prideful England that refused to succumb to their taunts and other people’s threats- the country who was spoken shit about all his life but just lifted his chin higher and ignored them… Was crying in front of them?
Well, okay, they knew England was a crybaby. He was easy to get riled up and spiral into a temper tantrum. It was funny. His pouting and angry tears weren’t news to the brothers- but this was something else.
They hadn’t heard from him in months since they last heard about the utter failure of the revolutionary war. Some new territory that England was particularly fond of had grown up and declared independence. They hadn’t met the lad- not caring about whatever new land England’s bosses were desperate to claim much like their own.
Now he was standing before them, tears of pure sadness and shame pouring down his cheeks as he tried his best to ask them something. Something. Eventually the weight of his own question kept him from standing and suddenly he was on his knees- bowing on the floor begging them for their forgiveness.
Scotland raised a brow. Forgiveness for what? All the shit he put them through? What odd timing and surely not something that England would even have the bruised ego to do. It had to be something else.
“Forgive me… I-I can’t do this on my own…” England sobbed, his fingers digging into the wooden floors- the overbearing feeling of being pathetic in front of them was too much. But it had to be done. He’d lower himself, humble himself, anything he had to do to get their help.
“Cariad, what’s wrong?” Wales approached, kneeling beside his younger brother with concerned eyes- a plush rabbit tucked to his side, which he just pulled out to make the rabbit’s paw poke the crying England’s head, “don’t cry don’t cry~”
The youngest of them just hiccuped- not able to bring himself to lift his head. It wasn’t until he heard the heavy footsteps of Scot’s that England tensed even more. Trembling at just the idea of the man staring down at him. Hoping that Scotland would just get it out of him somehow so he wouldn’t even have to think about the words he was desperately trying to confess.
“Albion-”
“-I’m pregnant.” England immediately blurted. So much for the prompting, but it was harder to actually word things eloquently around the eldest.
All the air in the room seemed to be sucked out like a vacuum as soon as those words were spoken. England still couldn’t meet their expressions. But it was so quiet. So cold. He was so terrified to look up and see them looking at him in disgust. In disappointment.
Still, he didn’t expect to feel Scotland’s warm hand on his head and hear him utter out the word “fuck.” Full of breath and disbelief for his brother. “Look at me.” England shook his head no. “Damnit- look-” Scotland pulled England up by the blonde locks of his- albeit in a relatively almost gentle way.
England’s face was crimson and soaked with tears and spit from his bawling- the imprint from the floor made his forehead an even deeper shade of red. “I-I’m sorry! I-” His words were caught in his throat when he saw all three of his brothers looking at him- not with judgement… but something else entirely that the country hadn’t seen from them before.
“How?” Nire questioned, he was squatting on the other side of England with his thumb pressed against his chin in thought, ginger bangs falling in his face before he flicked them away. “I mean I haven’t even heard of that being possible.”
Wales looked wary, but he shrugged his shoulders, “I think it is, we’re here… and micronations pop up randomly all the time… Is your child going to be a nation?” Perhaps something was going to happen to England’s land because of this?
England looked horrified for a moment- he hadn’t even considered that, but before he could even stutter a word out, Scot let him go and just heaved a sigh, “it doesn’t matter what it is. What matters is ye gotta keep it to yerself. Within this family. It might start shit with the rest of the world if they find out countries can in fact reproduce and we can’t let that happen.”
“Who’s the daddy?” Nire asked bluntly.
“Nire!” Wales scolded, though he was also desperate to know as well.
“What? You’re ALL thinkin’ it too!” Nire looked at England whose expression looked torn, “oh god please don’t tell me it was France.” Absolute apprehension for the man caused the room to shiver. They all saw how he was with anything that breathed- namely their baby brother as well who was often the target of his advances.
“A-Absolutely not!” England screeched in denial, rubbing his face clean from his tears with his sleeve. This… Wasn’t going as horribly as he had expected. “Am… America.” Just saying his name had his chest feeling like it was being stabbed.
Scotland’s eyes narrowed, “that punk, huh?” His hands curled into fists. What he wouldn’t give to knock the man’s lights out. Freshly a man by country standards taking advantage of England just to gain independence? If the victim weren’t his brother he’d actually be impressed. Though he also looked… Strangely at his mess of a brother.
What about that stupid American he heard a lot about managed to sway the heart of England’s? Gritting his teeth- he kept that question to himself… But he steeled himself with the knowledge he’d be taking control of the situation now.
“We’ll find ya a place in the countryside. The three of us will go to meetings in yer stead and act as yer face. The bosses won’t be happy, but they can give us yer paperwork and we’ll go over it with you. If need be they can come to the house under sworn secrecy punishable by whatever necessary to keep it safe- everyone understand?” Scotland spoke, shoulders square as he thought about every scenario that could happen. Their countries were tense… but this was family. A standstill on the tension would have to be an absolute must if this were to work.
Everyone nodded their heads, and Scotland hummed, “good. Now let’s get ya cleaned up. Ye look a fuckin’ mess.” At England’s squawk of protest and angry reaction- Scotland found himself relaxing a tad. Normalcy.