Author's note:

PLEASE, FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY, READ THIS NOTE BECAUSE OTHERWISE THIS FIC WILL MAKE ABSOLUTELY NO SENSE!

Okay, so this fic is sample of a weird, crackish, little idea that my friend, Silver-WhiteKyurem, who is usually referred to simply as Silver, and I came up with a while ago. The basic premise relates to a fic she wrote: s/9182042/1/The-Awesome-Companion, which is a story about Prussia traveling with the Doctor. All of you should read it as it is very well written. Anyway, this story here correlates to what might happen after Prussia returns home.

Here is the basic premise:

1. Prussia and Russia start hanging out together.

2. They get very drunk one night and have sex on the couch.

3. Prussia, thanks to some weird alien stuff he drank on his travels, gets pregnant with twin girls, Siberia and Georgia.

4. Russia and Prussia get married (because honor and that kinda shit).

5. The twins, because wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey, can speak even though they are not born yet.

6. Siberia is very bubbly and occasionally a bit dumb.

7. Georgia is kinda snarky and smart ass-ish.

I wrote this to try and see how the ideas (which are bloody cracktastic) would look on paper. Comments would definitely be helpful for this fic because it will tell me if I want to write an actual story here or just leave it. Oh, and any Russian words here can easily be translated via Google Translate. Thanks and enjoy the random!


If there was one thing Russia loved it was homecomings.

Loved them.

Pulling up at his large, yet simple house after a long day of boring and tedious meetings was absolutely wonderful.

Oh, sure, there were others things that could beat it hands down: Prussia, sunflowers, Prussia, vodka, Prussia, scaring the Baltics, and Prussia, just to name a few.

But the gentle hum of shutting the car down, the keys jiggling cheerful as he turned them in the lock, the door warmly welcoming him in with a pleasant squeak of its hinges; those were sounds that he would not trade for anything in the world.

Today's arrival was just like any other, with the humming and jiggling and squeaking of his possessions announcing his entrance. Russia walked in and smiled a bit, the familiar scent of home washing over him like peaceful bathwater.

Any leftover stress from the conferences vanished almost instantly, as if it were fog in the sun. The nation really was a homebody at heart.

Funny, considering all the traveling he had to do for his job as a country.

His own thoughts amusing him, the statuesque man unclasped his beloved, old coat and hung it on one of the little hooks in the hall. The whole place was very quiet, the Baltics no doubt hiding from him somewhere and Prussia…

Well, he knew what Prussia was doing.

Russia was finished with work at around five and at that time every day since their marriage about 5 months ago, he would find his love engaged in one of two activities: raiding the fridge or, more commonly, napping on the couch.

It was not an unpleasant thing to come home to and the methodical man rather liked the routine.

Sure enough, as Russia sauntered into the living room, he could see Prussia stretched languidly across the sofa, his mouth slightly open and a blanket draped across his long body. The slightest of snores could be heard flitting from those parted lips and one, still lithe, arm was held protectively against his swelled stomach.

The small smile that had been making its way across Russia's face since he had first taken off his coat now grew into a full-fledged grin.

"Prussia," he said softly. "Prussia, I'm home."

His husband did not stir, but the nation had hardly expected him to. Even before the pregnancy, Prussia's sleeping had been comparable to that of a boulder. A low "hello" would never wake him, especially not now.

However, the greeting did not go unnoticed, and was almost instantaneously answered.

"Papa! Papa, you're back!" Came the happy, albeit disembodied, reply. The voices, speaking in perfect unison, were high and sweet, though somewhat muffled, a strange mixture of accents mingling in their speech.

And, to Russia at least, they were absolutely perfect.

"Privyet, my sunflowers." He said, speaking to his spouse's stomach.

The shock of finding out that his two unborn daughters could talk had worn off a while ago and he now just found it pleasing. Both children were bright, though one obviously more so than the other, and frequently showered their parents with affection.

Their birth had not even occurred yet and already for Prussia and Russia it was like living with two ten year olds.

Well, two ten year olds that were invisible and did not do normal, ten-year-oldy things, like beg to go and play outside or whine about chores.

"Finally, you're home." Growled Georgia, impatient as ever. "Can you please wake up Vati? His snoring echoes in here, so it's like being at a freaking opera!"

Russia bit back a laugh at that, the image of Prussia in a horned hat and metal brazier worming its way into his mind. Still, he could understand what his child meant.

The twins had long ago expressed that they possessed a strange sort of sense that allowed them to hear and understand the outside world, and it was for this reason that they could speak. This sense, rather like their conception, was sort of wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey and nobody had questioned it.

However, they were still tied to Prussia's form physically, so his voice always came in the strongest. The pregnant nation did his best to talk more softly than his usual bragging volume, as to not hurt his little girls' ears.

But for something involuntary, like snoring, it was a bit more difficult.

As if proving the point, Prussia let out a perfect snore, one that really sounded like that clichéd "zzzzz" noise.

Russia found it rather cute, but he knew his daughters, who probably heard it at double the ratio he did, would have other ideas.

"Yow! See?" cried Georgia, irritation evident. "Loud! And it's not fair that he gets to snooze all day, while we, the ones who actually need the sleep, have to listen to a one-man concert!"

Russia was not really sure how accurate her statement about the two of them only requiring rest was. After all, it was Prussia's body that had to deal with the stress of looking after both itself and the babies curled up inside it, while the twins themselves only needed to keep growing until they got to a good weight to be born at.

But the children, regardless of their intelligence and intuition, really were just that: children.

And, as such, trying to make them see any other view besides their own was difficult.

So Russia left it alone and made sympathetic clicking sounds with his tongue to help boost their moral.

Prussia, unaware of any of these tidings, simply shifted slightly in his spot on the sofa. "Mmm, Russia." He muttered, mouth turning a minuscule amount upward.

Siberia groaned. "And the worst part is that he is dreaming about you, Papa. Makes things a little… hot in here, if you know what I am saying."

Oh, Russia did.

The babies were in tune with every tiny thing that their vati's body did. Stomach gurgling, cold shivers, even a headache; the girls could feel it all.

This, unfortunately, included when Prussia was aroused. The little ones may not have been able to hear his thoughts and dreams verbatim, but they could pick up on the emotions that they caused.

The fun and dirty images no doubt swirling around in the man's head were all but being broadcast right to his daughters, so it was no wonder that the twins, buried in their little home under skin and tissue, were feeling a bit too cozy.

Well, Russia had a way to fix that.

He chuckled good naturedly.

"Don't worry." He said. "I will wake him up."

The country bent over his sleeping spouse and naughtily nibbled on Prussia's ear, his warm breath ghosting over porcelain skin.

The albino nation did not awaken, but he did moan softly.

"Mmm… hot damn…"

Russia laughed again.

"Wake up, my sexy PreuBen." He whispered, using Prussia's name in the traditional German. "You can't have any fun if you're sleeping, da."

"Ngh." Prussia mumbled, turning and burying his face in the cushions. "Nein… sleeping…"

His snoring continued as if it had never been so rudely (and rather sensually) interrupted.

A sigh of annoyance could be heard from the resting man's abdomen. "I got it." Georgia said, frustrated. "Did not wanna have to do this because I know it hurts him, but I'm getting hungry."

Russia could not see or hear what his daughter's next action was, but a moment later Prussia sat up straight off the couch, totally wide awake.

"Ah!" he yelled. "Shiza! Mein Gott, zat hurt!" He wrapped his arms around his swollen torso, shaking slightly.

Russia understood instantly what had happened: Georgia must have kicked him in the ribs.

And hard.

Poor Prussia, he had his husband's sympathy.

The twins' movements did not bother him too much as a general rule and rarely caused him a too terribly large amount of pain, but a well-placed, intentional attack like that was different. Georgia's feet may be tiny and she was not exactly powerful yet, but the inside of a body is much more sensitive than it is on the outside.

So for Prussia, the internal kick was basically the equivalent of a good external beating from someone like America.

And Georgia no doubt knew this, which definitely explained her reluctance to do it in the first place.

"Sorry, Vati, but I couldn't think of any other way to wake you up." She answered, sounding ashamed.

Despite what her bitingly sarcastic demeanor might have implied to the contrary, the child loved her family dearly. She did not like to make them unhappy and, apart from teasing, treated them with respect.

Russia was very certain that she was going to grow up to be quite the daddy's girl.

For… both of her fathers.

Whatever.

Fortunately enough, her vati was well aware of all of this and most of the time was very lenient with his precious little ones.

Though, in all honesty, how one punishes a pair of unborn babies is in its own right a conundrum.

But that was not really important for this particular issue.

"It's… it's alright." Prussia huffed, stomach still stinging some. "Just… try somezing else next time."

Gradually, his labored breathing returned to its normal rhythm and he glanced around, in that slightly dreamy way that most people have after they have just awoken.

Russia waited, silently laughing, for his love to notice him.

It didn't take long: a quick turn of an ivory-haired head allowed its owner to see a pair of big, well-worn boots. Prussia blinked at them, then slowly coming to the realization that he was not in fact by himself, tilted his face up and up and up (Russia was very tall) to see his grinning husband.

"Oh, hello, liebe." He said, sleep making his voice just the teensiest bit distorted and his smile just the teensiest bit goofy.

That smile was too sweet not to touch, so, after a brief "privyet", Russia kissed it fiercely.

Prussia was startled by the intensity of the smooch, but only momentarily.

After all, most of their kisses were like this; deep and hot and hard.

Actually, if one were to get right down to it, Russia mused to himself, their whole relationship had been like that from the beginning.

First a sort of awkward friendship of watching Doctor Who together, then some very drunken sex, then some not-so-drunken sex, then "Russia, I'm pregnant", then a fast, but wonderful wedding, and now a "Honey, I'm home" marriage.

Russia could honestly say that his life was flawless.

When they finally pulled apart, Prussia hummed contently, crimson eyes shining.

"Damn. I'm hungry." was his only comment; Russia allowed his hidden laughter to bubble out and be heard.

As for Georgia, it seemed she was not going to waste an opportunity to express her need for sustenance.

"Ja and so are we. Can we please have dinner now?" she wheedled.

Prussia chuckled and gave a spot on his tummy, no doubt where the girl's tiny body was located, a loving pat.

"Of course, mein little awesome." He cooed. "Vat vere you thinking of?" He yawned and stretched, looking rather like an overgrown housecat.

Surprisingly, it was the other twin who answered.

"I want wurst!" she cried.

Prussia winced ever so slightly; Siberia must have been doing the little happy dance that she always did when she was excited for something.

But her vati just shook it off.

"Sounds fine." He replied, hoisting his altered form off of the couch.

The pregnancy, now entering its final stage, was really taking a toll on his body. The babies were getting bigger every day and seemed to be using up all his available energy, even with him constantly eating; Russia could not blame him in the least for frequently sleeping the day away on that sofa.

Prussia stood up, placed a thin hand on his back to steady himself and waddled into the kitchen.

His love followed behind, giggling quietly at the sight of the once proud Teutonic Knights, who had so often beaten him up when they were kids, looking as ridiculous as any heavily pregnant housewife.

Due to it being rather larger than most, people sometimes teased Russia for his nose. They said that it could be seen five minutes before him, on account of it was so huge that it got to places before its owner. The insult was a stupid one and Russia usually just ignored the person who said it, thinking them foolish.

But Prussia was turning the old joke into reality, except instead of a schnoz being ahead, it was a stomach. Prussia's pregnant belly was enormous now and seemed to take up whatever space it was in.

Which was pretty ironic, considering that Prussia by himself had a tendency to do just that whenever he walked into a room.

The former empire opened up the kitchen's large refrigerator and started rummaging around in it for the desired wurst. Russia himself wandered over to the cupboard where all the alcohol was stored.

He removed the key, which had been hanging safely on a string under his ever present scarf, and placed it in the huge lock lodged between the handles. The mechanism opened with an audible click and he swung the doors apart.

The block to the booze had not always been there: a little ways into the pregnancy, Russia, deciding Prussia could not be trusted anywhere near drinks, had put it in place.

It turned out not to have been necessary, for as the pregnancy progressed Prussia had become rather sickened at the sight and smell of spirits.

A feat that had left many of the other countries completely speechless.

But Russia was still keeping the thing in place, just in case.

The nation pulled out his vodka and a shot glass before going to the table. Prussia was already sitting there, zestfully munching on wurst.

"Mmm, zis is gut." He happily hummed.

"Da." Siberia piped up. "Wurst is wunderbar!"

Russia chuckled to himself and poured a glass of his favorite beverage.

"It still amazes me" he said conversationally, "that you two, small as you are, can tell foods apart, da."

It truly did.

Yes, there were other, more extraordinary, aspects to his children, but for some reason the fact that they could differentiate foods really made Russia marvel.

Georgia, however, did not seem as awestruck.

"Pfft, of course we can tell foods apart, Papa." She barked. "We have taste buds, you know."

Indeed they did.

Not long after discovering that his lover, and then quickly thereafter fiancé, was pregnant, Russia had gone out and bought a book on the subject. Common knowledge and centuries of living had given him the basics (morning sickness, body changes, contractions, ect.), but this book had really helped him have an in-depth understanding of what exactly was happening to Prussia.

Or as much of an understanding as one can get when the pregnancy involved a guy whose insides had been slightly altered after traveling around with a mad man in a blue box.

Close enough.

But the idea that unborn babies can taste what their mother ingests is not uncommon for normal pregnancies. Russia had read that, apparently, the nutrients from the food go directly to their bodies via the umbilical cord, but the flavors from that food, particularly things like wurst that have strong spices, can get into the fluids surrounding the child.

There, the kid drinks them and, since their taste buds are fully functional long beforehand, can taste exactly what their mother is eating.

The process seemed to have been sped up a bit for Prussia's girls, but hey, what wasn't weird for this wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey pregnancy?

"Ja. You are smart little fraulines." Prussia proudly responded to Georgia's quip, still eating. "Zis is so delicious!" He positively purred in a way that would have given Ruscat a run for his money.

Or catnip.

Same thing, really.

Siberia giggled. "Have you always been this excited about food, Vati? Or only since we have been in your tummy?" she asked.

Prussia took his last bite and answered with his mouth still full. "I have alvays enjoyed food, but eating for three has made ze process even better."

His wurst now gone, the nation began gaily rubbing his distended belly, though if this was to aid the digestion process or to give some affection to the baby girls nestled within it, Russia did not know.

Perhaps a bit of both.

The twins had made it very clear after they had proven themselves capable of speech, that for as long as they were stuck inside of Prussia, they wanted to be touched.

Or as close as it could get with several layers of epidermis in the way.

They said that, despite the fact that they could converse with Russia and Prussia, it sometimes got lonely in their dark, wet, little hideaway. It is very easy to feel unloved when nobody can actually pick you up and cuddle you.

Even the children themselves were not completely able to offer comfort to each other, as a thin membrane separated the two, keeping them wrapped in their own individual cocoons.

Petting, kissing, and stroking the outside of Prussia's stomach: all good ways to keep the kids engaged and content, due to the fact that they were aware of when a hand or lips were placed there.

Siberia in particular loved it, since she was more subject to feeling isolated.

Speaking of whom…

"Ohoo!" she chirped. "Your food just reached us, Vati. Mmm, it is good."

Russia did not have to be touching Prussia to know that the little girl was wiggling around with glee, tasting all the flavors she could.

Prussia laughed. "Ja, your Uncle Germany made zat for us. He alvays vas a better cook than me."

The pale man had gained a faraway look in his eyes, probably reminiscing about the days when he had been in charge of looking after his little brother. Russia knew from his stories that those had been happy times indeed. Another reason the taller country was convinced that Prussia was going to be a wonderful parent to their daughters.

The daydreaming did not last long. After a minute or two, he shook his head to clear out any stray thoughts and said

"Alright. Ze three of us are fed and Papa has been… watered," He gave a playful nod to the, now empty, shot glass.

Russia just stuck his tongue out at him.

"Vat should ve do now?" he finished.

Siberia, unsurprisingly, was the first to respond.

"I want Papa to cuddle us!" she cried, joyfully.

Russia felt a sudden surge of love flow into his fragile heart. He had been worried that, when the little ones had first begun to talk, they would not want him around themselves nearly as much as he wanted to be close to them.

After all, they were connected with Prussia in ways that he could never be and since they could speak, who was to say they would not tell him to go away?

But the twins had surprised their papa a great deal: not only did they enjoy his company, they seemed to crave it.

When he had questioned why, Georgia had laughed and explained that they loved equally the two people who had made them. The difference was that they were constantly near their Vati purely by happenstance, while having Papa close was a treat.

Of course, that would all change once they were born, but so would a lot of things.

Regardless, Russia was going to enjoy snuggling his babies both before their birth and after.

Prussia nodded. "Zat we can do. To ze couch zen? Ve could watch some Doctor Vho as vell."

As moving was getting more and more difficult for him, Prussia had taken to watching lots of T.V. True, he and Russia had been watching Doctor Who together long before he had even become pregnant, but as time wore on, it had become a more common occurrence.

Georgia answered for herself and her sister: "That sounds perfect. Just as long as one of you holds us tight."

There was the slightest squeak to her tone that had not been there before.

Hmm, was Georgia feeling insecure? Russia debated to himself.

That was not like her at all.

Her self-confidence was like Prussia's in its power, though perhaps not displayed as ostentatiously. Fear was completely out of character for her.

Well, asking her directly would do no good; she would just get chaffed and deny anything that potentially was wrong.

They could sort this out later.

Prussia attempted to get up from his chair, but it seemed he was unable. His legs, due to his changed center of gravity, did not want to corroborate with the rest of his person.

He tried again. And again, each time sinking back down like a balloon that had lost some of its helium, his rounded stomach really adding to the effect.

Finally, on the fourth go, Russia gave up his position as a spectator of this amusing display and took his husband by the hand, pulling him up in a single strong swing. The child heavy nation rocked back and forth, his balance still off, but regained his composure after a moment.

He gave Russia a quick peck on the lips in thanks, before making his way back to the living room, his husband on his heels.

Russia strolled over to the sofa, picking up the TV remote off the coffee table and the fallen blanket from earlier. He removed his boots and spread out his big body onto the couch, patting his thighs for Prussia to join him.

Easing himself down as best he could, the retired country settled into Russia's lap, squirming around to make himself comfortable.

However, the act itself was far less pleasant for the pseudo-pillow, as all the movement around his crotch had made things a bit… interested.

Thank goodness he was wearing loose fitting pants.

Russia playfully glared at Prussia.

Чертенок.

He was probably doing all that grinding on purpose, just to get Russia all hot and bothered. He could not see it of course, but Russia got the feeling that his love was smirking.

"Ouch!" Came a cry from within Prussia.

"Vati," Siberia grunted. "Don't twist around like that. You made me hit my head on your ribcage."

Her carrier chuckled at the remark. He stopped shifting and bent his back just enough to place a soft kiss below his ribs "Sorry, little one. I'll try to be more careful."

Having successfully found the right spot on Russia to plant his butt, Prussia settled in and leaned his back against the man's rather broad chest, sighing contently.

True to their promise to the girls, Prussia rested his arms around his full belly and Russia did the same with his own limbs, both gently stroking the stretched skin through the shirt fabric with their thumbs.

Sensing that neither nation was going to be moving for a while, Russia tossed the blanket over their intertwined bodies and handed the remote to Prussia. A press of a button later, and the scarlet Netflix logo twinkled to life, Doctor Who already waiting for them.

Prussia scrolled through the episodes, searching for something of interest.

"Hope this one does not have the Weeping Angels, da." Russia said, thoughtfully.

Though he would never admit it to anyone but his husband, the country found those particular villains to be very frightening. The fact that they were moving statues was bizarre enough (Russia had quite a lot of those in his cities), but their immortality was the true cause of the terror.

This might have seemed a tad odd for a being capable of living hundreds of years, but Russia was no fool; countries did not exist forever.

His own father had been murdered, right in front of him, at the hands of the Mongol Empire. A nation's lifespan relies solely on the lives of his or her people and Kievan Rus' had been no exception.

He was dead and nothing could bring him back.

All things die, it only takes time and the right method.

So the idea of something being… well, unkillable, no matter what one tried, really freaked the man out.

Thankfully, Prussia's next comment soothed his nerves.

"I don't zink zey are in zis one." He said, reading the summary. He hit play and the familiar whee doo wee sound filled both of their ears.

Russia hummed a bit to himself, basking in the comfortable familiarity of Prussia's warm body and some well-written television.

But it appeared not everyone was ready to watch.

"Siberia," Georgia huffed. "You're blocking my view! Move back to your own side!"

Russia felt a bit of fluttering beneath his fingers as his daughter scooted over to the right side of Prussia's belly. Her papa patted her head gently with two fingers, expressing sympathy.

The last ultrasound Prussia received revealed that, simply by genes and luck of the draw, Siberia was a bit bigger than her sister. As a result, she had a tendency to splay out all over their little home, something that drove Georgia absolutely nuts.

Still, the mistake was usually rectified with the larger girl being literally kicked back into her own space by her smaller, but more aggressive, sibling.

Russia yawned, staring at the screen. The episode already was turning out to be a good one, with the Ood making an appearance at the beginning.

The nation allowed himself a tiny smile; he rather liked the Ood and with good reason. Any group that threw off the shackles of slavery to a corrupt, bloated system and returned their rightful freedom was alright in his mind.

A gleam of triumph shown in violet eyes.

Take that, Czars. You evil ублюдки.

A man had now a come onto the show's set, his face youthful and chocolate brown eyes completely mad. Russia felt his husband's heart rate increase immediately.

"Nein…" Prussia whispered, fear clouding his voice. "Nein… not him…"

Russia knew who the guy was and held his love closer. Prussia had met the Master during his own travels with the Doctor and was scared shitless of the insane Time Lord.

Not that Russia blamed him in the least: the man's mind was twisted in ways that even Russia could not fathom.

Though, in this current form, he rather resembled Prussia himself. The very light hair, sharply angled jaw line, and cocky smirk all contributed to the image.

That and the fact that he was eating everything in sight.

Of course, Russia was not going to point out these comparisons to Prussia; not unless he wanted to be sleeping on this couch for the next twelve years.

A whimper sounded off from Prussia's stomach.

"I don't like him." Siberia sniffled. "He scares me."

Like father, like daughter. Russia thought.

The baby girl wiggled around so that she was no longer facing the T.V. and, thus, did not have to watch. Russia felt pressure against his palm and glanced down, a small bulge just visible beneath Prussia's clothing.

Russia smiled, petting the protrusion that was Siberia. His daughter had buried her face in the side of Prussia's tummy, seeking comfort and attempting to block out the sounds from the T.V.

Examining the round little bump with his fingertips, Russia marveled that he could feel the general shape of his baby's head. Details such as a nose or mouth were impossible to detect; they were too small and the layers of flesh too thick.

But he could distinguish a few basic structures, like the face itself and the tiny fists balled up close.

Russia got a tingly feeling to be this close to his child.

Though the twins frequently made their presence known by talking and kicking, it often felt surreal, like a dream or a movie he was viewing.

So, somehow, holding Siberia like this made the whole thing feel more real.

The rest of the episode continued in a whirl of action, violence, and witty banter. The conclusion approached and it seemed like everything was going to have a happy ending.

Then there came four successive knocks.

"Nein…" Prussia breathed, knowing what was to come. "Nein…"

The last moments played and, in a dance of ethereal lights, the Doctor changed.

Before, a handsome man of average height and fluffy brown locks had stood, agony obvious in amber eyes.

Now, in his place, a much taller man, possessing a rectangular forehead and child-like expression, was standing.

Prussia turned his face to Russia's torso and sobbed.

"He's gone." He bawled quietly. "The man I travelled and fought and loved vith. He's gone and a new man valks away in his place…"

Russia leaned down and kissed his hairline. "I'm sorry, моя любовь." He murmured. "I know how much he meant to you."

His husband did not answer, just cried a bit more, misery evident. Russia cupped Prussia's chin and gazed into burgundy, tear-filled eyes.

"But even if he is not the same man you knew, the memories the two of you made together will never change. He is still your friend and he will always care for you."

Prussia returned his head to Russia's chest, nodding. "I suppose so…"

He did not seem too convinced though.

The girls, who had been still and silent for the last little while, abruptly began moving. Siberia, who had been resting peacefully beneath Russia's hand, suddenly squirmed away, twisting until she was high in the left side of Prussia's sternum. Russia followed her with his fingers, curious.

"Don't worry, Vati," she pleaded softly. "We are here for you."

She moved her bitty arm up and down, attempting to pet Prussia's heart.

Though she was not touching it directly, there was too much skin in the way, the child was still so close to the organ that Prussia would receive a strange sort of brushing sensation.

And Russia's would bet his entire vodka collection that his husband did not enjoy it.

"Eek!" Prussia squealed.

Called it.

"Nein, nein! I appreciate the kind vords. But please… leave mein heart alone!" He placed one slim hand over his breast, ruby eyes gone very wide and mouth panting a bit.

"I'm sorry, Vati," Siberia muttered meekly, sounding hurt. She slowly began to sink lower and lower into her vati's abdomen, until she reached the very base and sat unmoving. "It's just…" she began "The heart is where we are supposed to store love. So I wanted to put the love I have for you directly into it."

She squirmed uncomfortably, seemingly working to make herself smaller from embarrassment.

Prussia's expression softened gently and he ran his palm over the lump where his child was trying to hide.

"Zat is very sweet, Siberia." He said, voice overflowing with adoration. "Thank you."

The little one did not seem all that consoled.

"I just have so few chances to show you or Papa how I feel about things." She whispered, more to herself that her parents. "I can talk, but words only go so far. I smile all the time and you two don't even get to see it!"

Her tone was rapidly becoming upset.

"I want to be held and kissed and cuddled! But most of all, I want is to be out of here!"

The skin-covered shape shook slightly as a powerless child thrashed around in frustration.

Prussia gasped, the force of his daughter's kicks no doubt discomforting.

Still, he bit his lip and ignored the strain on his stomach, instead rubbing soothing circles on the site.

"It's alright, mein baby." He hushed. "Only a month to go."

He smiled, pearly teeth winking in the light of a nearby lamp. "You have been snuggled up inside me for almost eight months now. Zis last one will be done before you know it."

Russia's mind went slightly numb at his spouse's words.

He was right of course: nearly eight complete lunar cycles had whizzed by and the due date was fast approaching.

It would not be long now; not at all.

Russia's chest tightened a teensy bit in both excitement and trepidation.

He was to be a father soon.

The old nation could not say he wasn't nervous.

Siberia, on the other hand, seemed to be perking up, just a little anyway. "You… you promise?" she quizzed hopefully.

Prussia's scarlet eyes shown with worship for this tiny, unseen creature he was conversing with.

"I promise." He affirmed

Her nature naturally rather relaxed, the girl was calmed by the assurance, enfolding herself contently in her vati's stomach wall. Russia smiled inwardly, believing that the daily dramatics from his daughters was done for now.

But, rather like his commitment to communism, it was short lived.

Georgia, who had been rather taciturn for nearly an hour, chose that moment to open her mouth.

"Well, I don't ever want to leave Vati."she lipped. "Not now, not in a month, not ever."

Her inflection was serious, but her parents found it funny. After all, Georgia was usually the one who complained the most about being subject to the whims of her vati's body.

However, any sort of amused reaction would be a bad idea, as Georgia was much more inclined toward violent outbursts than Siberia.

"I'm sorry, little one." Prussia soothed. "But you have to come out. If your sister leaves, then so do you."

Georgia scrunched herself into a ball, clearly sulking. "Nein. I don't wanna leave, Vati." She whined. "It's warm and safe in here."

Contrariness was also frequently found in the smaller child, much to her family's misery. Obviously, a new tactic was going to be needed. Prussia tried again.

"But don't you want to see the world?" he queried, reaching out in an attempt to console her.

But Georgia was having none of it.

She scurried away from the searching digits, digging like a mole deeper into her father's core. "Nein! I don't want to! I am… close to you here, Vati." Her voice trembled. "I get to do everything you do. Everything you eat, I eat. Everything you feel, I feel. Your heartbeat is constant music drumming in my ears. If I leave, then I lose that closeness."

She burrowed herself even farther into Prussia's bowels until she was almost no longer visible.

"And I don't think I am brave enough to face the world without it."

There came a soft thump. Russia looked down and found that his heart, still beating furiously, had fallen unceremoniously into his lover's lap.

Prussia started, unsurprisingly, well… surprised, but did not scream. Russia's main source for pumping blood leaping from his chest cavity was not exactly common, but it was far from completely out of the ordinary.

The snow-cloaked nation had, due to harsh weather and even harsher political rulers, acquired an ability to remove his heart completely when any sort of emotion became too strong. It was a defense mechanism, just as an animal who had suffered an equal amount of abuse might develop.

Recently, as his life had gained a great deal of hope and happiness within the last few years, the event had become less and less frequent.

However, now it seemed his baby's frightened words had unintentionally broken the good streak.

Russia whispered a low apology to his husband and gingerly picked up the displaced organ, roughly shoving it back into his breast.

He scooted his hips to the right, a silent message for Prussia to get up. Which he did, though with a great deal of labored grunting involved.

Russia then removed himself from the couch and traversed into the kitchen. There, he retrieved a personal-sized bag of potato chips and a chocolate bar, before padding back into the living room.

Prussia had already returned to the couch (standing was becoming a tiring operation for him). He arched an alabaster eyebrow at his husband's choice of food items, but did not comment.

Russia set said snacks on the floor and climbed down until he was on his knees in front of Prussia. His love grinned, poppy-colored eyes lighting up like heated embers and mischief on his mouth.

Clearly, he believed Russia had planned something naughty.

The larger nation chuckled to himself and shook a flaxen-haired head. He had a better idea.

Instead, Russia took the edge of the oversized shirt his spouse was wearing. One of his own, actually, now that he looked closely enough.

Eh, whatever.

He pushed the garment up until it only covered the very top of Prussia's ribcage and higher, exposing the full stomach beneath.

The milky skin was stretched tautly, nearly to the point of being translucent and looking like it was going to rip open at any second.

Which, Russia supposed it really was in another few weeks.

He mentally shook the image away; that was something to worry about for later.

Prussia was gazing at him curiously, having absolutely no clue what his husband was going to do.

And, really, Russia did not either; just a vague idea.

But most of his schemes worked like that, so it was hardly anything new.

He placed two wide hands on Prussia's tummy and spoke softly. "Georgia?" he whispered. "Georgia, мой подсолнечника, its Papa. Can you hear me?"

Nothing moved beneath his fingertips, but there was a response none the less.

"Da, Papa." Georgia said, voice tiny. "I am listening."

Russia petted Prussia's belly. "Tell me, beautiful, are you really as frightened of leaving Vati as you say?" he questioned.

The little shape shook with a shrouded nod. "Da." was the only answer.

"Alright." He said. "I appreciate the honesty, little one. So thank you." He hummed peacefully. "I cannot force you to do anything that you do not wish, but I will ask for a favor. Can you do that for me?"

A pause, then "Mhmm."

Russia gave a nod of his own. "Good, da." He shifted a bit to let his stinging knees have a rest.

"Okay, so you said that you are able to receive all the experiences you need because Prussia can have them. Do you still believe that?"

A squeak of approval.

"Well, then I propose an experiment. Will you hold your hands together for me?"

The little girl didn't say anything, but a few jabs from a pair of pointed elbows punctured Russia's palms.

"You don't have to tell me how it felt, but I do need you to keep it in your mind." He ordered. "Now, I want you try and hold hands with Siberia. Снежинка, will you please assist her?"

"Sure, Papa. I can do that for Gigi." Siberia peeped. She wiggled around until she and Georgia were face to face, then proceeded to give the desired hand holding.

A feat performed with a great deal of finger twitching involved.

"Now what?" Siberia asked, task completed.

"Your job is done, sweetie. Спасибо." Russia returned. "Lastly, Georgia, will you try and hold my hands? Keeping in mind both of your other tries."

After a moment, Russia felt fists, no bigger than coins, press hard against his outstretched hands. The teensy digits unclenched, poking and prodding in an attempt to grab Russia's big hands through layers and layers of flesh. Finally, they gave up and settled.

"Okay, Papa, I did what you said." Georgia remarked.

Russia smiled and gave his baby's location a rub. "Well done. Now, did you keep how all of those felt?"

"Da, I did."

Russia's grin grew. "So tell me about them. Did they feel the same? Different? What is in your head?"

Georgia was reserved for a short while, seemingly trying to forge a result.

"Well," she started out slowly. "Holding my own hands was really easy. Trying to hold Siberia's was harder. The membrane got in the way."

Russia gave up entirely on trying to make his tired legs comfortable and sat down on the carpet instead. "And how did it stop you from holding your sister's hand?" he asked. "You two are sitting right next to each other, surely it would not be a problem, da?"

Georgia snorted, thinking that her father had lost his mind. "Nyet." She uttered. "Hand holding requires two hands to completely wrap around each other, right? How could I have done that if there was something blocking?"

Russia smirked; his plan was working perfectly.

"Well, then what about my hands? Was holding them any easier?" he pressed.

Again "Nyet"; his daughter was getting somewhat fed up with her parent's apparent stupidity.

"Yours were even harder to grab. I could feel the outlines of your hands, but there was a wall in-between us. Trying to hold them was damn near impossible!"

Russia's lilac eyes gleamed.

"Exactly. And until you are born, none of that will change."

He placed a kiss on his child's position. "You are living in stasis, my dear. Everything that reaches you is filtered, even the things you receive from Vati. Voices, food, emotions, and, most importantly, experiences. Stuff may seem intimate between you and him, but you two are still separate. He gets to see and hear and taste in real time, what you get is just the aftermath."

Russia lay his cheek to Prussia's belly, lazily drawing shapes on the circular surface with a finger.

"I love you very much, Georgia. More than you can even imagine. That is why when it is time for you to come out, I hope you will be happy about it."

He nuzzled her. "The world is so full of wonderful things and it makes me sad to think that my baby wouldn't be able to have any of them."

Georgia was speechless, completely awestruck at her father's words. She scooted around until Russia could feel the curved shape of her face pressed against his.

"But, Papa, there are some things that I don't want to experience." She whispered. "Sorrow, hatred, misery. If it's true that I only receive a fraction of what Vati is feeling, then at least I am only getting a little of those bad emotions."

Russia felt a jiggle that might have been her stifling tears.

"I am protected from more than just cold and hunger in here: I am protected from pain."

Russia sighed. He had anticipated that she might say something along those lines. Still didn't really like hearing it though. Phase two would now begin.

"Those things are true, подсолнечник." He responded, sitting up. "Life is full of suffering. It is hard and it rarely ever gets any easier."

Russia's hand reflexively reached underneath his scarf, running calloused fingers over the many, many scars covering his neck.

Presents from past leaders.

The oldest were from the Mongols and then the Czars and lastly Stalin. There were fewer that belonged to him, but the ones that were there were by far the deepest.

Сын сука.

"However," he finished. "there is something about life that I would like to show you. Are you opposed to another experiment?"

Georgia hummed a negative.

Russia picked up the discarded foods, ripping the wrapper off the chocolate and breaking the bar into two halves.

Prussia was looking longingly at the candy, like a dog might his master's steak; Russia just smirked at him.

"Gigi," he said. "I am going to give your Vati some food. Each time I do, I want you to hold the individual tastes in your mind, just like you did when you held our hands. Da?"

"Da."

"Perfect."

Russia passed one of the chocolate pieces to Prussia, who shoved the whole thing in his mouth and chewed contently, like some sort of hungry beast.

Which, considering the man's appetite these last few months, was not too big of a leap.

He swallowed noisily, then leaned back onto his pillows, licking colorless lips with a satisfied tongue.

"Okay, so when the flavors reach you, take a bunch of big gulps, just so you can have a complete picture." Russia dictated.

"Yeah, like I don't already do that." She said, sarcasm dribbling everywhere. Prussia snorted down a laugh. He loved it when Russia was the butt of the twin's jokes, instead of himself.

After a moment or two, both girls quieted down, drinking in the coco-flavored juices. No slurping sounds could be heard: Russia suspected that the children's "voices" were projections from their minds, rather them actually speaking. However, it was very obvious that they were enjoying the food regardless.

"Done?"

"Yep."

"Lovely."

Russia placed the chips in his lap and squeezed the bottom, forcing all the air upwards. That air then exploded out of the top with a sound like a gunshot, effectively opening the bag.

Russia giggled like one of his kids; he had always enjoyed that noise.

He tossed the snack to Prussia, not even worrying about spilling the contents. In all honesty, he did not like handing foods larger than candy to his husband lately. Mostly because he was more than a little worried that he was going to accidently lose a few fingers in the process from Prussia's America-esque enthusiasm for edibles these days.

In true form, Prussia began shoveling down the fried potato slices as if his life depended on it. He all but stuck his head inside the bag, like a horse might a sack of oats.

A vacuum cleaner inhaled less.

Still, the disgraceful lack of manners was not exactly a bad thing in this case: the salty treats would get to the children faster this way.

Again, Russia waited for the babes to finish, lying comfortably with his back to the couch and playing with a loose thread on his sweater. He really did need to go shopping. Especially since most of his wardrobe had been shared with Prussia these last few months, as the knocked up nation insisted that he had no desire for maternity clothes.

Russia snickered. Hungary and Poland had attempted to warm him up to the idea around his second trimester with comments about his weight.

They had started out kind and usually were something along the lines of "But you look so cute now and we need to emphasize that."

Then Hungary, after about the millionth try, had gotten completely fed up, slamming her fist on the table and barking: "You're fat, dipshit! Face it like a man and go shopping godammit!"

Prussia had been angry, but after sulking for a few days like a toddler, he had forgiven her. After all, she had been his best friend for as long as either of them could remember; over the centuries, far worse things had been said than fat jokes.

Unfortunately, (and hilariously in Russia's opinion) Hungary was well aware of Prussia's mercurial moods. So, when he had called her up to grudgingly apologize, she had pounced on opportunity like the fearsome warrior she was.

Prussia was invited for an outing with her and Poland, under the pretense that they were going out to eat. But, upon arrival at the intended restaurant, Prussia's companions had dragged him into the maternity clothing place next door, with a great deal of yelling and kicking involved.

His reluctance, apparently, stemmed from the fact that buying women's clothing was "unmanly"; even if he did desperately need them.

All this had been proven when Prussia, after seeing a hideous pink and frilly top Poland had picked out for him, had run screaming from the business, shouting "I AM NOT A FRAU!" at the top of his rather impressive lungs.

Russia had nearly peed himself laughing when Hungary had recounted this tale to him a few hours later.

The girls had had their own thoughts on the matter that they gladly shared, Georgia in particular. Her opinions usually included the phrases "bloody clothes squishing us", "find something else to wear", and "Vati is a moron".

Prussia had, thankfully, taken the middle ground. He abandoned his own clothes, shoving them to the back of this closet, in favor of some newer and larger models (all in men's, of course), as well as stealing a great number of Russia's every once in a while.

A low clearing of the throat pulled Russia from his garment-themed daydreams. He peered up to find Prussia wagging an empty potato chip bag at him. Not long after, Georgia let him know that she was done with a simple "Finished, Papa."

Russia did not respond, just lay his face on Prussia again and handed said headrest the remaining chocolate chuck. His love did not even bite it; rather his jaws opened wide (much like a snake with its unhinging trick) and he swallowed the whole bit… well whole.

"Gigi," her father said "when you taste this chocolate, compare it to the first chocolate you had a little while ago, da?"

Georgia agreed and the two (four, if one counted Prussia and Siberia into the equation) waited for the final experiment to be completed.

Two minutes later, Georgia piped up. "Okay, I have my analysis, Papa."

"Хорошо." He praised. "What did you find?"

Though he obviously could not see it, Russia knew that his child was playing with her fingers, a habit of hers for when she was thinking hard. "The first chocolate was sweet, the chips were very salty, and second chocolate was also sweet." She answered.

"So, the two chocolates tasted the same then, da?" Russia's voice gave away nothing.

"Nyet," she disputed. "The second piece tasted much sweeter than the first. Though I am not sure why. They were from the same bar, right?"

Russia grinned in triumph, running strong fingers over Prussia's flesh. "Da, they were. So why was it that they tasted different?" Georgia shrugged beneath exploring digits. "No idea."

Lesson time.

"Because, немного подсолнечного, you were unintentionally engaging in comparison." He said. "When you ate the chocolate the first time, you had nothing else on your tongue. So the chocolate tasted as sweet as it was going to. But you had had something salty in your mouth when you got the second piece. Because of this, your mouth went into a slight shock and so the new chocolate was sweeter to you."

"Experiences are like this too, little one. There will be bad ones, like you fear. But they do serve a purpose." Russia's grin melted into a gentle smile. "They act like those potato chips, bringing out the best in good times. Otherwise, life would be much blander, like the first chocolate piece: good, but never improving."

No sounds were made after Russia stopped speaking. Prussia seemed to be waiting with bated breath for what their child was going to say. And, he supposed to some degree, Russia was as well.

Finally: "I… I understand, Papa." Georgia said, voice shaking.

"And will you be happy when it is time for you to leave?"

There was no pause.

"Da."

Prussia sighed in relief, relaxing muscular shoulders and leaning back into the cushions. He seemed to have been more worried about this then he had let on.

Russia sat down, assuming his position again as body pillow and wrapping big arms around a swollen waist. Prussia leaned his heart-shaped face into Russia's neck.

Nothing was said and nothing was needed.

Russia felt something warm rest atop his hand. He glanced down and found Prussia's own smaller hand squeezing it. Russia looked over and let all the love he had for this man shine in his heliotrope-colored eyes. He intertwined their fingers and the girls shifted around until both of them were directly underneath the digits.

The four of them just sat there together like that for a long while, basking in the light that was their lives. Russia let his tired lids softly fall.

He loved homecomings.