America and Canada find a pair of twins and decide to raise them as their own little brothers. Until they start to wonder if the boys are actually intended to be their replacements.

Will become more of an adventure story after a few chapters or so. But for now, cute family fluff. :)

Disclaimer: Hetalia's not mine


"We're...we're there! I can see it!" Canada pitched forward onto the grass and inhaled deeply. Some clover went up his nose, but he didn't care. His feet were no longer moving, that was all that mattered.

America just threw back his head and laugh. The creep wasn't even winded. "Yeah! The cabin looks nice."

"There's the road, right over there. Why did we have to walk all that way?" Canada pushed himself into a sitting position. A nice hike to their cabin had sounded like a good idea at the time, but that had been before he'd known how many miles were involved. He ran a hand through his damp hair, and blew the long curl out of his face. "Need water." Thank goodness they had had their baggage delivered.

America squatted in front of his twin, grin turned up to 100 watts. He leaned over and kissed Canada's nose. "We used to walk everywhere together!"

"That was a long time ago."

"You sound like an old man! You're sounding like England."

"Quiet, you." Canada gave him a half-hearted swat. With another laugh, his American brother hopped to his feet.

It was true, though. They had wandered everywhere together, once. That was one of the reasons they were currently spending every non-busy moment they had touring their countries together: to relive old times. The memories, though, had only resurfaced in recent years. They couldn't explain why. Starting a couple years ago, memories that had been tickling both of their minds had suddenly surfaced, one bit at a time. The puzzle pieces of their childhood were slowly fit back together.

They had been together. Every moment. Back in the days before European colonists had come or borders had separated their land, they had spent their time wandering, hand-in-hand, in constant contact. They explored every inch of their combined lands, from the frigid arctic north to what would someday be called the Florida Keys, and everywhere in between. They were perfectly at peace, truly happy. But then it had happened. An instinct, an invisible drive, drawing them apart: one south, one north. And they had gradually forgotten about each other, unable to remember even when England introduced them. The loss aspect didn't alarm them, it was common for memories of the first years of life to be lost.

Why the floodgates had opened, restoring long-buried memories, they would probably never know. They were simply glad it had happened. And they had tried to recreate those days, traveling together whenever they had some free time. They had reconnected as brothers. And even more, finding new ways to grow closer, blur the borders between them. It was hard to even think of themselves as lovers—what they had went beyond that, there wasn't a proper word for it. They truly were two halves of one whole.

"Come on!"

Canada's musings were interrupted when he was rather rudely hauled upright. It did not end there, however, and he found himself swept up into America's arms like a maiden in a cheesy romance story. "Al! What are you doing?"

"You were tired! So I'm lending a hand, like any good hero."

"Put me down!" Canada squirmed. "This is embarrassing."

"Nobody's here!" America laughed again. "Hey. Stop wiggling."

"No! Put me down."

"Never! Seriously, though, stop wiggling! Ack...!" The mighty hero lost his balance, and they both went tumbling. A stupidly convenient hill sent them both rolling faster, further, the scenery becoming a blue and green blur as sky and grass tumbled around Canada. He soon rolled to a stop, groaning and cursing his luck that he had inherited all the brains in the family.

"Ow." Canada rubbed his head, wincing. Where the hell had his glasses ended up? If they were broken...Not that he was too worried. If they could take one of America's hurled baseballs, they could take anything. "You big, stupid, burger-brained...Al?" His brother was sprawled on his back a short distance away, not moving. "You okay?" His own aches and pains forgotten, Canada crawled over to him. America had lost his glasses, too, and his eyes were shut. Heart hammering, Canada leaned closer. "Al?"

He gave a startled yelp when America's arm suddenly sprang up and gripped Canada by the hair, dragging his face down and mashing their lips together. The idiot chuckled into the kiss, and Canada jerked away. "I hate you."

"You love me!"

"Yeah, I love you. So don't do that, it's mean."

"I am offended that you think a tiny hill could kill me!" America tugged Canada again, and he toppled over on top of his brother. "That's better."

"Oh yes? Are you sure I'm the one that belonged to France once?"

"Pff. If I'd been raised by France, you'd already be naked."

He had a point. "Shall we get up and go investigate the cabin?"

"So soon?" America waggled his eyebrows, snaking a hand around to squeeze Canada's butt.

"What, here? We're outdoors! In public!"

"There's nobody here," the American scoffed.

"What about public indecency laws?"

"We're in America! I can be as indecent as I want on my own land."

"Your people freak out if they see a boob on television!"

"So we should start desensitizing them!"

"You insist on outdoor sex?"

America nodded firmly. "I insist. We must christen the land."

"Fine." Canada leaned over to kiss him, caressing the other man's lips with his tongue. While he was preoccupied, America grabbed him by the wrists and rolled them over, until he was pinning Canada down. "What are you doing?"

"It's my turn, of course!" He gave his northern brother a cheery smile and a wink.

"To what? Oh, right. Well, I don't recall reading any rules that we have to take turns."

"I'm telling you about the rule right now. It's my turn, and I want to do you."

"Well I want to do you!"

"Tough." America kept him firmly pinned.

"Please?" Canada pouted, batting his long blond eyelashes.

"Oh, don't do that, no!"

"Pleeease?"

"Dammit!" America relaxed his grip, and allowed his brother to roll them back over. "But hurry up, my turn's next for sure."

"Oh, I never hurry," Canada purred. He leaned in close, and was just about to start biting shirt buttons off and expose golden skin when he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye. He jerked away from America with a gasp.

"What is it? Change your mind? Done already? Before you ask, it was not good for me."

"Shh. Um, who's there?" Canada stared at the innocent row of bushes. He could have sworn he had seen something there. Something brownish. "It was probably an animal. But I definitely saw something move."

"You're just paranoid. Get back on me, or lose your turn."

"Just hold on." Staring wasn't doing anything, so Canada found a nice long stick in the grass, and carefully poked at the bushes. No animal would be interrupting them. He was rewarded with a yelp.

America rolled upright, gaping. And they both let out involuntary "Awwww"s when the intruder—or, rather, intruders—emerged from their hiding place. It was a pair of teensy little boys! The cutest little boys Canada had ever seen! They were identical, with chubby angelic faces framed by soft hair that hovered between dark blond and light brunet. Their impossibly large eyes were a dewy, warm brown. And they were dressed in matching white gowns with red ribbon tied around their necks, feet bare and grass stained.

"And where did you come from?" America asked, adopting the high pitched tone of voice some people insisted on using when addressing pets and babies. "Do you live nearby? Are your mama and papa around?" The boys shook their heads, and he frowned slightly. "Are you lost?"

"Al..." Canada pursed his lips. "Look at them. Can't you see it? Or feel it? They're...like us."

"In a relationship? That's a bit unusual for human twins. Especially ones so young."

"No." He felt he should be the one called a hero. For his superhuman patience. "I mean, they aren't human. They're like us."

"Oh." America's eyes widened. "Ohhh. Oh! They're...wow!"

One of the boys held out a hand, the hand that wasn't clinging to his brother's. Canada stepped forward and accepted what was offered. It was two pairs of glasses. "You found those? Thank you." He tossed one in the general direction of his own brother, and restored the other to its rightful place.

"Hey! If you break Texas, you pay for it."

Canada ignored him. "Who are you boys? Where are you from?" He got a dual shrug in response. "You have no idea? You must be from somewhere...I haven't heard of any new countries popping up or being discovered."

"Maybe some other idiot built a micro-nation, like when England made Sealand," America mused.

"I suppose that's possible..."

"Though we found them here. Hey! Maybe a couple of my states are thinking about seceding! Oh, that wouldn't be good, it sure sucked the first time..."

"Wouldn't you know about that by now?"

"Yeah. So maybe a couple of your provinces are seceding. Is one of you Quebec?"

Canada rolled his eyes. "I'd know about that by now, too."

"Fine. Micro-nations it is." America strode forward and scooped the small boys up, one in each arm.

"What are you doing!?" What was this obsession with picking people up today? "We need to get in contact with the other nations, figure this out."

"But they're cute! Can't we keep them? If one of the others reports a couple of missing micro-nations, we'll give them back."

"They're not lost cats! We can't keep them!"

"Why not? England kept me!"

Canada blinked, the implication of that finally hitting him. "You want to adopt them as our little brothers?" He had to admit. The thought was appealing. He hadn't been around when all the European countries got to colonize the new world and everywhere else. He had been the new world and everywhere else. He never got a little brother of his own. It was not especially fair.

"Just until somebody calls us up wondering where they ran off to." America nuzzled the hair of the child in his left arm. "I'll call this one Sam."

"You're naming them already? I get to name the other one. Sam?"

"After my uncle!" America beamed.

"You don't have a...oh. Never mind. Fine, Sam it is." Canada gazed at the other boy. What did he look like? "Pierre."

"Pierre. As in, France's birds?"

"I like Pierre."

"Okay, Sam and Pierre. Do you boys like those names?"

"Yes," said Sam, and Pierre mimicked him.

"Wait, don't put them down yet." Canada stepped closer and plucked at the ribbon around Pierre's neck.

"I wasn't going to. What are you doing?"

"So we can tell them apart, before we get to know them better." He stuffed the freed ribbon into a pocket.

"As long as they don't purposely switch places to mess with us."

"Why would they do that?"

"We did it to England."

"Yeah, but they seem better behaved than you were."

"Me?"

"You." The boys in America's arms giggled briefly, and Canada smiled. "So, you like your new names. Is this okay? If you stay with us? For now?" The pair nodded. "Good! We're staying in that cabin over there. We were a lot closer to it, but the genius holding you decided we needed to go for a little ride down the hill. As you probably saw." Oh man, they had probably been watching the whole time. But the young twins just giggled again.

As the new family started on their voyage back to the cabin, America filled the boys in. "So the country we're in is America. That's me. You can call me that. Or Alfred, or Al, or Big Brother, or Bro. The country north of us is Canada, that's him. He's also your big brother. Or Matthew, Mattie, Matt, or various other names depending on how our hockey teams are doing."

"You're probably hungry," Canada said, pushing open the cabin door. "Oh, it's nice in here!" It looked like a good old fashioned rustic cabin. Only with modern conveniences.

"It is! What a relief."

"You bought a cabin without seeing it?"

"The description sounded nice." America let the boys slide down.

"We have to go back to work in a week, remember," Canada said as they located the kitchen. "Hey, there's food in here."

"I sent someone to stock it. And I know we do. We had to be left alone all the time when we were colonies, too, they'll be fine. And you and I will be a lot closer than England was. Is."

"That's true. Wait, no syrup?"

"Why would I have the place stocked with my syrup when I knew you'd be bringing some of yours?"

"Stop stereotyping Canadians! We don't bring maple syrup with us wherever we go!"

"Well our luggage should be waiting for us in the bedroom, shall I go look?"

Canada hung his head in defeat. "No...I brought four bottles."

"Mattie."

"Five."

"Mm hm. So let's see..." America poked his head in the fridge, and Canada peered over his shoulder. Burger meat. What a surprise. And cheese, tomatoes, lettuce, onions, pickles... Well, at least burger toppings could also make a nice salad.

Canada reached over his brother's shoulder and snatched the brick of cheddar cheese. "I'll make them a sandwich. That's a childhood classic."

"You know grilled cheese? I thought you only put cheese on nasty gravy fries."

"Go entertain the boys."

"You don't want my help?"

"Do I ever? Nobody who learned to cook from England is allowed to help."

"Fine." America swung the fridge door shut and turned around to kiss Canada's neck. It sent a tingle down his spine. It always did, and always would. He was almost disappointed with how easily the American relented and headed back to the living room. The boys seemed well-behaved, they might not be curious about loud sounds coming from the kitchen, like bangs and crashes and groans and—Stop it! Channel out the France, Matt, channel out the France. Oh, who was he kidding? Their horniness was all them. The fact that their bodies were perpetually teenaged didn't help. But still, it was different, when they were together. Their physical relationships with past lovers hadn't been anywhere near as passionate, intense, loving. Whether it was due to their relationship itself, or some nifty little aspect of their geography, they didn't know nor care.

Canada pushed thoughts of sex aside, focusing instead on this new family of his. The sudden appearance of two new possible potential nations was strange. But the thought of raising an adorable set of twins as his little brothers—with America!—was like a dream come true. Kids! A family! Never in a million years would he have imagined that. Not notifying the other nations about these two was undoubtedly wrong, but...

Well, whatever. Even if it was only for a short time before England the greedy colony collector stole them, at least they would have this for a little while.

In due time, Canada emerged from the kitchen balancing four plates of sandwiches. "Lunchtime!"

"You boys are lucky!" America plucked the plates out of his brother's grasp and distributed them around the table. "The one who raised me was unintentionally poisoning me with his cooking. Mattie's not quite so bad." He took a bite of sandwich, and apparently decided it was acceptable. "I think it was unintentional, anyway."

"Who raised you?" Pierre wondered, sampling his own sandwich.

"England. He's an island nation far away. Off the map."

"Not off normal maps," Canada muttered.

"He raised both of us, though France also raised Canada some. It's a long story."

"Who's France?" This time it was Sam, assuming they hadn't swapped ribbons already while they were in the kitchen.

"A man who is nice enough, but don't let him touch you. Ever. Or get close, even."

"Why?"

"Adult reasons."

"Oh."

"Hey, we should go play a game!"

Canada rolled his eyes. "Let us finish. Not everybody eats as fast as you."

"You're too slow."

"Go start without us."

"I'll go get a fort set up!" Grinning broadly, America bolted from the table, stopping only long enough to dump his plate in the sink. It was kind of endearing.

"Sounds like we're going to be playing cowboys and cowboys," Canada said. "Or something like that." As the rest of them ate at a more leisurely pace, he told the children various stories; about himself and his brother, about other countries, about Kumawhosit, who was being cared for by some Canadian friends while he was traveling (the idea of a talking polar bear greatly excited the boys). They were still laughing over something said when they joined America in the living room. Which had now become an impressive fort of cushions, pillows, and blankets.

Rather than giving them the proud, idiot grin Canada had been expecting, America just smiled lightly. He almost looked on the verge of tears, gorgeous baby blues sparkling behind his lenses. Canada hurried closer. "Hey, are you okay?"

"Fine." America shook his head. "Just... you. And them. Laughing together, and being cute. And you're my family."

"Aww." Canada shooed Sam and Pierre into the fort, then pulled his twin into a hug. "I know what you mean. It may not last, but for now at least we can have this."