The spin off of the 'How I met your Mother' fic I wrote.
Disclaimer: Hetalia doesn't belong to me!
It was a stormy night in Europe. There was a vicious thunderstorm blowing. In the room of Alfred F. Jones-Kirkland Bonnefoy the young boy was shivering under his covers.
"Heroes don't cry . . . heroes don't cry . . ." he chanted to himself, tears pricking his eyes. A large flash of lightning came followed by the load boom of thunder. Alfred decided he needed to go to his mother, to make sure she was ok of course.
Alfred slowly crawled out of bed and walked through the dark halls and toward the Master bedroom. He pushed the semi open door of the bedroom open. Another flash of thunder came across the sky.
"Ma? You awake?" Alfred asked in a small quivering voice. He walked up to his parents' bed side and tugged at the covers.
"Hmm? Alfred what's wrong?" Abigail said rubbing her eyes.
"I-I couldn't sleep" he said looking up at his mother. Abigail's gaze softened. She pulled up the covers.
"Well come on now" She patted the spot next to her. Alfred quickly scrambled to the top of the bed and snuggled into his mothers' side. Abigail started stroking his head lovingly.
"How bout a story to help you sleep?" She asked the still shaking Alfred. Alfred nodded.
"Can you tell the one of how you and papa met." He said softly. Abigail looked down and smiled.
"Of course. Well you see it all started . . ."
In the country now known as England an extremely young figure sat alone in a clearing. The figure had long dark blonde hair that was extremely messy; an oversized hooded green cloak covered the rest of the body. Said young figure was playing with a bow and arrow. Now who would ever give a young child these things we will never know. The arrow shot threw the air and hit the stem of an apple which promptly fell to the floor.
"Yes!" said figure exclaimed. The short figure ran up to the apple and grabbed it and set it down to join four others on a piece of cloth.
"One more." She looked up with determination in the big green eyes. She grabbed the last arrow and aimed ready to fire, sadly it had missed and gone way off course. Then a slight scream was heard. She quickly followed the sound pushing though a thick bush to it's origin to see a tall man, to little green eyes anyway, with golden blonde hair frantically reaching for a sword. Looking around for the arrow and finally spotting it she grabbed it and tried to get away without notice. Then a hand grabbed the hood of the cloak and pulled the poor thing back, making the figure fall to the ground, who quickly got up to turn around and glare at the man.
"What was that for!" She screamed, extremely miffed at the man.
"For attacking me, vous mioche!" He glared at the short creature.
"What does vu myoshe mean?" She asked, staring up with wide eyes, somewhat intrigued at the new language.
"It means 'you little brat'." He stated, unintentionally smiling at the little one. She frowned.
"What is your name little one?" He inquired.
"I'm England!" She said with a smile. The man looked down eyes wide.
"Who're you?" she asked.
"I am the human personification of the great nation of France. You can call me Francis." He said bowing, now just about face to face to England.
"Oh, well I should get going. Big brother Fang said not to talk to that 'queer ol' frenchmen' if he ever comes by. So, Bye!" She shouted back happily and ran away with her arrow.
- The Next Day -
England glared at the figure in front of her, pushing unruly dark blonde locks out of her face. She had an argument with her dear big brothers and was a little moody at the moment
"What do you want frog?" She asked Francis, messing with her hair even more.
"Frog?" Francis asked looking shocked.
"Well?" She glared again.
"I was wondering if you'd like me to help you with that hair of yours." Francis asked her.
"What's wrong with my hair!" England asked, grabbing onto a stray lock.
"It is obviously in your way mon ami. I could cut it for you" Francis said kneeling down to Abigail's' eye level.
"My big brothers said not to though." She stated.
"Well it is your decision mon ami. You would look much better with shorter hair though." Francis stated.
"Really? Well . . . ok!" England happily agreed. .
"Good choice Angleterre." Francis said. Abigail felt herself being lifted up and set back down in front of Francis and then felt scissors cutting away at her hair.
- A few minutes later -
"Done!" Francis yelled. Abigail was handed a mirror and she took a look at herself.
"What do you think?" Francis asked. Abigails' small hands grabbed onto the mirror.
"It's wonderful! I gotta show big brother." England yelled joyfully, getting up and running towards home. She paused.
"Thank you!" Abigail yelled then continued running home.
Her brothers weren't to happy when she got home.
- The Next Day -
"Fang! He didn't do anything!" Abigail yelled hitting her brother on the shoulder.
"You come home with yer hair chopped off, and ya say he didn't do anything?" Fang answered angrily letting out a few curses under his breath. Her other brothers who were just as angrey nodded. Abigail just hid her face in his shoulder.
"I wanted to cut it." Abigail mumbled.
"I don believe that fer a second." Fang answered. More curses flowed out of his mouth, and then he spotted a mop of blonde hair under a tree. He went through the bushes to see Francis, he grabbed Francis's' collar and pulled him to stand up.
"What did you do to Abigail!" Fang yelled in Frances' face.
"What are you talking about? Who is Abigail?" Franics asked.
"This would be Abigail." Fang said. Abigail saw her brothers point at her.
"Angleterre, you're a girl?" Francis asked in a confused voice. At the sound of his voice Abigail turned to face Francis.
"Mmm hmm I'm sorry I thought you knew." Abigail said making a noise of confirmation and nodding, jumping off Scotland with difficulty.
"I'm sorry I cut off your hair." Francis said kneeling down and grabbing her small hand.
"It's alright. If you like it then I like it" Abigail said giving him a small smile, blushing. She felt a kiss to her forehead. Abigail fell to the ground. All she heard and saw were her brothers getting in front of her.
"She's to young to be thinking bout' boys . . ." Fang began.
"Besides her brothers. You damn pervert! Patrick and Paul finished.
Pervert! C'mon let's wash his icky germs off ya." Abigail felt herself being lead somewhere else by Wynne as she stumbled along.
"And that's how I met that bloody. . ." Abigail cut herself off. The storm was long gone and Alfred had long been lulled to sleep. The story might have put Alfred at peace but now she was missing her dear hubby even more. A tear slowly made its way down her cheek; she wiped it away and sighed. The peaceful breathing of her son lulled her into a restless sleep, full of memories of the past.
Done! Ok that's it for this short two shot. :3 please review!
Please excuse the probably wrong translations of incorrect use. I do not speak any of the languages included into these fics . . .
vous mioche = you little brat
Angleterre = England
mon ami = my friend