The States

keeps on growing (slipping through my fingers)

"Can you tell me about my other dad?" Sasha asks. 

Alfred's heard that question more times than he can count. From Nicky, from Ginny, from Monty and Caden and Flora and Scarlett and Del, on and on. 

It's dangerous to be entertaining Sasha with stories about Russia when him and Alfred are tossing words like mutually assured destruction around, but Alfred has always been soft-hearted. 

"What do you want to know?"

🙜

Sasha looks more like Ivan, like Russia, than he looks like Alfred. Which is okay, most of his states don't look like him. 

It does mean that Sasha doesn't come with him to work often, though, because the President always gives him a look that makes Alfred want to break things. 

It means that sometimes Alfred looks at Ivan during meetings and wonders if he would be a good father. If he could be trusted with Sasha's fragile hopes and dreams and adoration or if he would crush it to spite Alfred, America. 

And then Ivan catches him staring at him and smirks and says something and Ludwig and Matthew have to drag them apart. 

🙜

Sasha and Lani both have boxes in one of the storage rooms, that belong to them even if their names aren't written on them. 

Sometimes, Alfred will pull them out, will think this is the day I give them these, and then he sets them on his desk and drinks, and Sera always puts them back.

🙜

Alfred and Ivan used to be friends. Good enough friends that Alfred considered telling him. 

Possibly, at one point, a little more than friends. Almost something real.

And then history and geography had gotten in the way, and that was it. 

Alfred does not tell Sasha this, though. He doesn't tell any of his states this, but some of the older ones, the ones who were around know this. 

🙜

Sasha might be as tall as Ivan one day, but for now, he's still small enough to climb into Alfred's bed after a nightmare. 

It's alright. Alfred was expecting him, anyway. Sasha too young to fully control what he projects to Alfred. 

Alfred's gotten used to the flashes of nightmares from child states, and though it's still a little unsettling, they're not as bad as when he used to get flickers of nightmares from the originals. Alfred's learned to block out most of the accidental projections. Now, it's less a wide-open front door for anything to stroll in and more of the cracked door of a parent listening in case they're called. He still listens out for the worst of them, for fire in Sera's and suffocating darkness in Will's.

Sasha's nightmares are usually about bone-deep cold and white as far as the eye can see, and Alfred prays that he'll never have one about death and destruction and nuclear winter. 

🙜

Alfred taught every single one of his kids to play the piano, because Alfred had learned when he was nothing more than a colony and sometimes he's nostalgic and it's a good ability to have. 

He has fond memories of Oliver, too short to reach the pedals, frowning as he determinedly banged his way through Ode to Joy. Although he'd been furious at the time, he has fond memories of Tim and Kendall carving their names into one of the legs of the piano, too.