The Aftermath of War [Hetalia RusAme]

Chapter 7 - America, the mother

A.N. The moment you've been waiting for! And longest chapter so far

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"Just, shut up and g-get me to the bathroom..."

"The bathroom? Why?"

"The baby's coming..."

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Alfred moved as fast as he could towards the restroom, with help from Matthew. Once inside, Matthew locked the door and turned towards his brother. "So, now what? Do you even know how the baby is going to, you know...come out?"

Alfred, leaning against the wall for support, shook his head. "Not a clue. All I know is that it's going to be extremely painful. I just hope the little fucker doesn't get stuck..." he cursed.

Matthew gave his brother a quizzical look. "Did you really call the baby- your own child- a 'little fucker'?" he asked, only to receive a glare from Alfred. "Listen, if you were in my situation, you'd probably call him or her that too..." he muttered, panting softly.

"I seriously doubt I'd ever find myself in this situation." Matthew countered, doing what he could to help his bro. "I guess we should take your pants off-"

"Yeah, no shit!" Alfred screamed, feeling as if his ass was about to split open. Which, in all honesty, would probably be the best way to just get it all over with. 

Matthew glared at Alfred. "Alright, you know what? You got yourself into this mess, you can get yourself out of it." He turned towards the door, ready to just walk out when Alfred begged him, "Don't go!" he reached for his brother's hand, stopping him. "Please, I need you. You've been there for me every step of the way. I... I can't do this without you. I know I'm being a dick right now, but I don't want to do this alone. Please, stay," Alfred pleaded. 

Matthew sighed. Sure, his brother is a dick about 99% of the time, but even Matthew couldn't just leave him like this. "Alright, I'll stay. After I get some help." And with that he unlocked the door and bolted out of it, leaving Alfred at a loss for words.

"You dick!" Well, except for that.

While Matthew had disappeared, Alfred tried to distract himself from the excruciating pain he was in by thinking about something, anything else: how long he had been trapped inside the building, how he would rather be home, or at the airport, or literally anywhere else except here. Then he began to think about the baby. While he was worried about keeping the child a secret from the rest of the world, he hadn't thought much about the child itself. Would it be a boy or a girl? Would the child look more like him, saving him the trouble of explanation, or would it have some of Ivan's features? Perhaps the child would be a nation. And the name... the name! He hadn't thought of any names! Alfred looked down at his swollen tummy, lifting his shirt and revealing it to the cool air.

Another contraction hit, causing him to curse softly. 'Matthew, where the hell are you?!' The contractions were roughly five minutes apart. It wasn't much, but it was enough time that, hopefully, Matthew would return and help him. Speaking of, where is he?

~With Matthew~

Matthew ran as fast as his legs could carry him back to the meeting room, his mind racing. 'Oh, maple... who do I get to help?! Britain? No, he'd sooner lecture America before helping... China is old and might know how to deliver a child... No, he and America don't get along...' Matthew had to stop, not only to think but to catch his breath; perhaps running without eating for 10 days wasn't a good idea. His lungs burned as he leaned against the wall for support. 'What am I going to do... wait a minute. France!'