Disclaimer for the story: I do not own Hetalia or any such characters in this story. This is merely a work of fanfiction.
The day had started out a fairly ordinary Saturday. America woke up early (11:36 am) and stretched for a minute or two before immediately curled back down into his nice warm bed and drifting back into sleep until around twelve thirty. It was then that his body's needs took over and he reluctantly and sluggishly crawled out of bed to go to his bathroom. When he was done peeing, he fixed his hair a bit and stretched one more time before beginning to walk down his steps to his downstairs floor, yawning at least three times along the way. By the time he'd reached his first floor he noticed Tony, his (alien) friend reading a magazine called Seventeen. America ignored the scene as it was common for Tony to read those types of magazines. He didn't understand why, though. He thought he remembered something about Tony saying he was 'studying humans' or something of that sort…
America grabbed his keys and walked out of the house, not even bothering to change first out of his tee-shirt and grey sweatpants. It wasn't really much of a problem because some Americans considered this type of dress perfectly appropriate for public and wore such things every day. And besides, this is Florida (where he was currently taking a mini-vacation from his work) and nobody gave a damn what one wore. The place was full of old people, after all.
Anyway, America entered his car and drove to the closest McDonald's (which wasn't very far at all) and ordered his usual lunch from there (Five Big Macs, two large fries, a medium coffee with lots of sugar packets, and a large diet Coke because he didn't want to get fat) before driving home to begin his meal. He ate in silence because he was still more than half asleep, but by the time he'd finished he was wide awake and he hopped to his feet before running to brush his teeth and then do his next set of lazy Saturday activities now that his morning preparations were done.
He ran and and took a flying leap onto his couch (which groaned in protest at the abuse and sent Tony a few feet in the air only to have him land perfectly and unruffled in his previous position) before turning his television on and starting up his Xbox 360. The next few hours were spent playing various videogames including Call of Duty, Halo games, and other related games. By the time six o' clock rolled around it was time for his dinner. Feeling too lazy to actually drive down to McDonald's again, he dropped his game controller (which Tony promptly took over playing) and made his way to the kitchen, only stopping to pet Mr. Whale. He then set to work creating a nice stir-fry.
It was then that his perfectly normal lazy Saturday was ruined.
The doorbell rang. America pulled his finger out of his mouth, from which he'd been tasting the sauce to see if he liked it, and walked over to his front door in curiosity. He opened the door without bothering to look through the peek-hole. Standing outside was France, who smiled upon seeing him. America grinned back.
"What's up, France? You never come to see me." He asked.
"Ah, Amérique, well it appears that an urgent matter has occurred that I could not deal with without you." France said, a small frown on his face that any actor would die to be able to master. It was a pout that killed the ladies and made men instantly aroused.
America -immediately buttered-up by the comment of needing his help- asked, "Sure! What's up?"
France looked away for a moment, as if calculating how to word an extremely difficult sentence, and said, "It involves mon cher Angleterre." The last comment was unnecessary as France had already had America's attention, but now the man was at full attention, slightly more serious than before.
"What happened?" America asked.
A small smile played on the French man's face and he half-stepped to the side with a slight flourish and said, "See for yourself." There, clinging to the hemming of France's shirt was a little kid that could be no older than four. He wore what allowed America to immediately recognize that the boy was a nation by the white dress-like outfit he wore with a red ribbon tied around the neck. All young nations were born with an outfit such as that or similar to(with some exceptions). He wore a deep green cloak the color of forest trees with its hood overtop his head. From the hood a pair of wide emerald green eyes glared at him, large bushy eyebrows furrowed in distrust and defiance.
"Oh god, don't tell me England had another ocean barge become independent and now is dumping the kid off on me." America said, gazing at France in displeasure. The kid certainly looked like England (from what he could see from under the hood) and he was extremely cute (despite the glare), but America didn't want to have to take care of the kid if England was perfectly capable to.
"Non, non, Amérique. This may shock you, but this is Angleterre."
America looked at him in shock. "What? No way."
"It's true." France chuckled and leaned down to scoop up the child (who looked a little displeased at that) and pulled back the kid's hood. A crop of messy, short blonde hair was exposed. The kid looked exactly like England, except for his age and size.
"England?" America gaped. England glared at him and struggled in France's hold.
"Who are you? How do you know my name? France, why have you brought me here? I want to go home now!" England fussed.
"What the hell happened to him?" America asked, still staring at chibi England.
"I am not too sure myself." France said as he placed England back down. The boy immediately dashed behind France's legs and glared at America from his 'hiding spot'. "I merely entered Angleterre's house (Why was he in England's house? America wondered) and discovered this boy. I could only assume by the overly large clothes he was wearing, the magic pentacle that was smoking, and the fact that he was treating me somewhat civilly that he had been accidentally reverted back into his younger years."
"What does that mean, then? He doesn't recognize me."
"Apparently he lost his memory as well. He still doesn't completely hate my presence and seems to have no memory of you." America frowned as he felt a little sting in his chest. He didn't like that England had forgotten all about him.
"So why did you bring him here? You could've just told me over the phone instead of flying over."
"Well," France smiled in a way that set America on guard, "that's just the thing." He picked up England again and dumped him into America's arms. "You're going to take care of him."
A/N: Hello and welcome to my new story! First, before I say anything else,
DESPITE THE RATING, THERE WILL BE NO SHOTA.
This story will not have America having any sexual relations with chibi!England. The rating is set for much later on in the story. I might even change the rating to T later if I decide not to do the more graphic stuff.
ANYWAY. This is the prologue to my new story 'Daddy America'. I just wanted to post this to see if I should continue the story or not. Tell me what you think and your opinions, please!