England smiled to himself and went to sit down at his desk with his needle and thread, beginning the process of loosening America's waistband. He'd have to make new clothes for him soon enough. He wrinkled his nose. America wouldn't even appreciate it, probably. When he saw how big they'd have to start he'd throw a fit, even though England would take both the top and bottom in by a mile. The boy simply didn't understand the cost of cloth, not to mention how conspicuous it would be to keep having to go back and buy more. England sighed. And how would he even estimate how big America would be when he was due? He knew how massive he himself got, but America was built very differently, and England had never compared to anyone else in the first place. It would probably be better to overestimate and deal with America's whining than have to make a new set or let him wander around naked. Although, really, he was due in late May so maybe it would be alright to do the latter…
Oh, how he longed for the days when a long tunic and hose were an acceptable fashion. It made the whole child-bearing business a lot easier. Hell, even though it was far out of vogue, England would switch to them once he went into hiding. He had the feeling that America would throw a fit, though, saying that England was trying to humiliate him by making him dress like a girl. What a little brat pregnancy had turned America into! Although, hadn't he always been prone to tantrums all along?
"God," He thought, "Why couldn't Canada have gone into heat instead?"
He shook his head and went back to work. There was no point in lamenting over that now. He made his bed and he would have to sleep in it now. He'd promised America and he would do his duty as a man and as an Empire and fulfill that promise.
He tried to pretend that his dream meant nothing and his word was all that held him.
By the time the church service had ended America was practically bouncing in their pew. England couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm. He was almost inspired by the boy. He still actually paid attention. It probably didn't help that England had been through enough services when he had been infatuated with religion that he could probably rattle off the readings for every day of the year in perfect Latin and they didn't get any more interesting when he became Protestant and the prayers switched to English. He didn't even have the lovely lilt of Latin then. But America was so attentive, drawn in with his people. England wasn't sure if it was a virtue or a vice, really, but it would no doubt work itself out in time. Of course, now that the time for prayer was over, there was only one thing on America's mind.
"Oh man, the festivals up here are so awesome! I guess people get better at partying when it's really cold. I saw Mrs. Brown cooking all these little cakes the other day and I hope she's sharing them!"
He blathered on and on about all the food he'd smelled cooking and all the musicians he'd heard practicing and how he really, really wanted to dance and Lucy Cooper kept looking at him so maybe he'd have a partner, and- England tuned him out and watched the other people slowly filing out of the church and into the village square. All he really wanted was some hot buttered rum to get rid of the chill that always leaked into churches this time of year and then to maybe see if any of the craftspeople were selling any little baubles he liked. His brothers and America might have taunted him for it, but he did appreciate finely made decorations. They were beautiful and far too easy to overlook in a world of war and hunger and strife. Besides, if he was going to be living in that house for the next twenty years he would his curio cabinet to look a little less desolate.
A Year of Surprises [7b/12]
England smiled to himself and went to sit down at his desk with his needle and thread, beginning the process of loosening America's waistband. He'd have to make new clothes for him soon enough. He wrinkled his nose. America wouldn't even appreciate it, probably. When he saw how big they'd have to start he'd throw a fit, even though England would take both the top and bottom in by a mile. The boy simply didn't understand the cost of cloth, not to mention how conspicuous it would be to keep having to go back and buy more. England sighed. And how would he even estimate how big America would be when he was due? He knew how massive he himself got, but America was built very differently, and England had never compared to anyone else in the first place. It would probably be better to overestimate and deal with America's whining than have to make a new set or let him wander around naked. Although, really, he was due in late May so maybe it would be alright to do the latter…
Oh, how he longed for the days when a long tunic and hose were an acceptable fashion. It made the whole child-bearing business a lot easier. Hell, even though it was far out of vogue, England would switch to them once he went into hiding. He had the feeling that America would throw a fit, though, saying that England was trying to humiliate him by making him dress like a girl. What a little brat pregnancy had turned America into! Although, hadn't he always been prone to tantrums all along?
"God," He thought, "Why couldn't Canada have gone into heat instead?"
He shook his head and went back to work. There was no point in lamenting over that now. He made his bed and he would have to sleep in it now. He'd promised America and he would do his duty as a man and as an Empire and fulfill that promise.
He tried to pretend that his dream meant nothing and his word was all that held him.
By the time the church service had ended America was practically bouncing in their pew. England couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm. He was almost inspired by the boy. He still actually paid attention. It probably didn't help that England had been through enough services when he had been infatuated with religion that he could probably rattle off the readings for every day of the year in perfect Latin and they didn't get any more interesting when he became Protestant and the prayers switched to English. He didn't even have the lovely lilt of Latin then. But America was so attentive, drawn in with his people. England wasn't sure if it was a virtue or a vice, really, but it would no doubt work itself out in time. Of course, now that the time for prayer was over, there was only one thing on America's mind.
"Oh man, the festivals up here are so awesome! I guess people get better at partying when it's really cold. I saw Mrs. Brown cooking all these little cakes the other day and I hope she's sharing them!"
He blathered on and on about all the food he'd smelled cooking and all the musicians he'd heard practicing and how he really, really wanted to dance and Lucy Cooper kept looking at him so maybe he'd have a partner, and- England tuned him out and watched the other people slowly filing out of the church and into the village square. All he really wanted was some hot buttered rum to get rid of the chill that always leaked into churches this time of year and then to maybe see if any of the craftspeople were selling any little baubles he liked. His brothers and America might have taunted him for it, but he did appreciate finely made decorations. They were beautiful and far too easy to overlook in a world of war and hunger and strife. Besides, if he was going to be living in that house for the next twenty years he would his curio cabinet to look a little less desolate.