Regrets, Discovery & a Small Pink Box
Denmark rolled over onto his side and groaned he had a splitting headache. But it was worth it, from what he could remember about the previous night. The large man groaned again and reached out for the warmth he knew should be there. But he found nothing, annoyed he lazily began to search, refusing to open his eyes. The big man may not have seemed like the type, and he would most certainly deny it if anyone ever even hinted at it, but he loved to cuddle. Well more along the lines of he loved to steal others body heat. Totally different.
When his search turned up nothing but an empty bed Demark unwillingly opened his eyes. He knew he had slept with someone last night he remembered the tight delicious heat even through his pain fogged mind.
Sitting up Denmark looked around. This wasn't his room, but judging from the some embroidery he noticed on the bedside table it was probably Arthurs. Did he sleep with Arthur than? No, he decided it wasn't the Briton. The other had been way too tight. Virginal tight, something that was always a rare pleasure. So that left him to wonder who it was.
A small whimper drew his attention to the foot of his bed. There in the corner farthest from him was a little ball of sheets that had some wavy golden locks sticking out. Fuck. Francis. Now he'd have to get himself che- that could not possibly be Francis. First of all he was once again too tight to be that whore nation. Second of all if he was France he wouldn't be curled up in the corner whimpering. He would be beside him offering a nice round of morning wake up sex.
Denmark sighed he was sick of trying to figure it out. He leaned over the ball to see who it was.
Shit. Shit shit shit shit SHIT! He fuckin well knew who it was now! How could he not! This was Gilberts fucking Birdie and Arthur's be dammed son! The fuckin Prussian never shut up about him drunk OR sober. He was all so one of Arthur's most beloved sons! Even if the dammed Brit always forgot his name he was still a possessive bastard. He all so always complained that Alfred should be more like Matthew when he was partly drunk. Even if he couldn't remember the boy's bloody name when he was sober he would happily kill Denmark for daring to lay his hands on one of his 'precious' colonies.
In the name of fuckin' Thor! He had messed up big time! He had just managed to fuck somebody special to his two favourite gods be dammed drinkin buddies! Gilberts crush and Arthur's son. FUCK!
All the same it would be better if he wasn't there. If Arthur came back and found the boy like this with him here, he didn't want the crazy bastard to go colonial on his ass. His headache was pounding too much for him to deal with it.
Denmark stood up and quickly got dressed. He didn't want anyone to come in and find him in here with the boy curled up in the bed like that, dried blood staining the sheets around his ass.
When Denmark left the room he didn't look back.
The boy didn't come down to the meeting that day. Denmark knew, he kept an eye on the door watching for the head of blond hair that was one friends crush and the others son. He wanted to be the first to see him, to know if the boy would give anything about last night's escapades away. He needed to know, if he would have to run or fight an angry Brit and Prussian. But the boy never came. He didn't show up in the cafeteria during supper or the next day and since he was confronted by neither, an angry Arthur or a furious Gilbert he decided it would be best to forget the whole incident.
Gilbert was drunk. He knew he was drunk so that could only mean one thing. PANCAKES! Yummy delicious, scrumptious Canadian pancakes made by an equally yummy looking little Canadian. Mhmmm birdie covered in pancake batter that would be sooooooo good!
Gilbert stumbled towards Matthew's home humming drunkenly to himself while he imagined his birdie in several rather dirty positions, some involving an apron all involving pancake batter. His thoughts on his sexy little birdie and the many uses of pancake batter (how good of a lubricant would that stuff make?) were interrupted by the sound of someone banging on the door and yelling in a very familiar and vary worried voice.
"Mathieu, mon patit lapin open the door for papa please!" Francis begged hammering on the door, his usually silky voice ruff with use. "Please! Mon patit bebe, papa's getting worried!"
Gilbert considered very slowly backing away hoping that Francis wouldn't notice. If Francis thought for one moment that Gilbert had any intentions towards his precious bebe he could kiss his 5 meters goodbye. After all Francis was the main reason Matthew was still a virgin. And Gilbert was rather attached to his fabled five.
Gilbert slowly took one step back, then another and again. Crunch. He froze as Francis head snapped towards him. Stupid littering bastards he cursed the idiot who had thrown the soda can on the side of the street.
"Gilbert?" Francis questioned, too late to run the pervy Frenchman knew where he lived. "What are you doing here?" Francis voice held an air of suspicion.
"P..pa...pancakes..." he managed to squeeze out around the lump of fear in his throat.
Normally it would be unawesome to be afraid but he had been there to help support Francis when he had had to hand Canada over to Britain...He still had nightmares.
There was a short silence, in which Francis's eyes narrowed suspiciously, but the moment ended and Francis turned back to start hammering on the door and calling out to his son.
In for a penny in for a pound, Gilbert thought as he slowly approached his distressed friend. "So, um what, what's up?" Gilbert asked his voice unawesomely wavering, but hell he would rather face a charging Calvary unarmed then Francis when he thought his baby was threatened.
"Mon Mathieu won't let me in!" Francis sobbed, "I, I do not know what is wrong! I came over for our weekly supper and he simply would not open the dooooooor!" Francis broke into full blown sobs.
"Well did, did you try just opening the door?" Gil suggested curious as to what was wrong despite the threat to his awesome self.
Francis looked at Gilbert as if he was an idiot. "OF COURSE I DID! He, he locked it!" Francis turned back to the door and began to pound on it again. "MATHIEU! MON BEBE! OPEN THE DOOR PAPA'S WORIED!"
Gilbert glanced at the door noting how the wood was bending and listening to it groan he wondered how much longer Matthew's much abused door would last. CRACK! Not much longer apparently. Before Francis could totally destroy the door however it was pulled open. Francis who had been just about to deliver the final blow to the door stumbled forward and into the house.
"Who?" asked a small fluffy bawl of white.
"Kumajiro, Where's mon Mathieu?" Francis cried grabbing the chubby polar bear.
"Who?" Kumajiro asked cocking his head to the side.
"CANADA!" Francis shouted shaking the bear harshly. "THE ONE WHO FEEDS YOU!"
"Oh" the bear said not at all disturbed by Francis's rough treatment of him. "Sleeping, Hung-"
Francis chucked the bear and dashed up the stairs to see his baby.
Gilbert wasn't sure if he wanted to follow Francis right now or leave him alone with Matthew. A tugging on his pants leg caused him to look down into beady black eyes.
Francis ran up the stairs as fast as his legs would carry him. Turning with the aid of the most unfortunate wall at the top of the stairs he pelted into his bebe's room. It was empty and the bed stripped of all coverings. Francis looked around, searching for anything that would give him a clue to his doux patit ange was. The door that led to the small bathroom attached to the room was open and the light was on.
Opening the door Francis saw his Mathieu curled up in a nest of blankets, sheets and pillows in front of the toilet, his eyes were red rimmed as if he'd been crying. The next thing he noticed was a small pink box, open on the counter. For a moment he stared at the offensive thing. What was it doing here; his bebe wasn't in a relationship with anyone. So what was the horrible thing doing here!
Very slowly Francis began to scan the room looking for the small stick. Eventually he saw it, lying on the floor in front of the counter where it had been dropped earlier by Matthew. Very slowly he approached it, bending down he gently picked it up. He stood there for a moment looking at the dreaded plastic tool. So much trouble from such a little thing.
Matthew woke to the sound of the pregnancy test braking. Sitting up he looked over at a very calm looking France white plastic bits scattered about him.
"Pa-Papa?" he whimpered quietly.
France looked over at his sweet little bebe, he looked up at him from his nest of blankets fresh tears swimming in his red rimmed eyes.
"Oh mon patit bebe," He cooed, gliding over and wrapping his sweet ange in a gentle hug. "It will be all right mon bebe, everything will be all right."
After nearly an hour Prussia decided it was time he checked on the two upstairs. He slowly climbed up the stairs dreading what he would find and that his friend would for some reason blame him. When Gilbert got to the top of the stairs he heard a soft sobbing and followed it to the bathroom attached to Matthew's room, he stopped in the door to see Francis holding a sobbing Matthew on the floor, and scanning the bathroom he noticed a small pink box.
I have no excuse for why I haven't updated this story this chapter has been done for more then...2 or 3 months. I did lose it when my computer got a virus but amazing tech ppl got it back for me, sooooo yeeeeaaaaah.
Translations i forget too lazy to look them up if there wrong blame google, I think, THINK the mean baby, my, my sweet little angel, angel I don't know if there's anything else.
Ok more bad news as some of you have probably realized I have some other stories on the go, I'm gonna try and finish Beauty and the beast before I update this one any more (probably) so it will be a wait...sorry. thnx for reading reviews mean love and possibly a faster update.