Babies of Hetalia

  The small, red-haired nation rested his chin on his hands and stared intently at the almost-empty plate in the centre of the table. Sure, he should have been listening to what his fellow nation – and lover – Germany was saying about the economy but there was only one cookie left and it was calling his name. Italy reached tentatively for the cookie, like it was an unexploded bomb, and was mere inches from it when a speedy hand grabbed it and shoved it into his all-American mouth.

  “Vee~” Italy sighed and leaned back in his chair. Wasn’t the meeting over yet? He was bored out of his mind and his curl was growing limper by the minute.

  Finally Germany sat down, back in his seat beside Italy, who smiled widely at him, partly because he loved him but mostly because the tall blonde had finally shut up.

  “Is it almost over?” Italy whispered.

  “Ten minutes, tops,” Germany replied quietly, “Unless America decided to say something.”

  Unfortunately for the Italian, America stood up and began to preach about heroism and fast food. Italy watched as crumbs from the cookie he’d eaten dropped from the US’s lips and rolled down his jacket onto the table in front of him. A wave of nausea suddenly hit Italy like a brick; he paled and his face began to shine with perspiration. Germany noticed the change in his lover and placed a large but gentle hand on his shoulder,

  “Italy? Are you feeling okay?” he mumbled in his thick German accent.

  “Doitsu, I-“ before he could finish, Italy slapped a hand to his mouth and darted from the meeting room, knocking his chair over in the process. A shocked silence filled the room, mainly due to the fact that the Italian had moved faster than anyone had ever seen him move.

  “Ahem,” America cleared his throat loudly, “Rude!” He snapped his mouth shut quickly however, when he saw the disapproving look on England’s face.

  “Err, I should…” Germany stood up and quickly followed the path Italy had taken. America raised his eyebrows and waved his arms out dramatically,

  “Charming! Anyone else feel like ditching me as I speak? Ow!” he shot the bushy-browed Englishman a hurt look as he rubbed his sore shin, “Dude!”

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Here's a little USxUK to keep you going ;)

It's a nod towards my lastest fic http://chubinator.deviantart.com/art/USxUK-Mpreg-Chapter-One-Secrets-441490233