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usa-manors-library · 8 months

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You Are _____ The Father

(A/N: This is an answer to an ask on my ask blog, @ask-the-usa-manor , but it got pretty lengthy! I wouldn't say it's the best quality since I intended it to be a much shorter blog post and not a full length oneshot, but at least it's fun. Enjoy the crack. So much crack. A substantial amount of crack. A boogie woogie amount, if I may be so bold. But. No real crack. Don't do crack. Do water. Stay hydrated. <3

Ft... LIGHTHEARTED WRITING BY EVE!?! 😱🤯🔥🥣🦆***NOT CLICKBAIT***)

America sighed, content with his world as he picked up his bowl. It was a perfect afternoon. Life wasn't always this easy, but right now, everything felt perfect. The silence was golden, and this quiet peace was a rare escape. One that he normally didn't care for, as he didn't usually like to hear his busy mind. But for whatever reason; right now he was content with it, and he was grateful.

Sunbeams. Silence. Serenity. Soup.

"IT'S HERE!!!"

...South Dakota.

From where he was in the kitchen, America heard a series of crashing noises follow the distant announcement, trailed by a string of Virginia's indignant scoldings.

America cringed inwardly as he heard Dak wave her off with a quick 'sorry.'

Bad move. He must be really high spirited about something if he's brushing off Ginny's annoyance. A peeved Virginia was a force to be reckoned with. Everyone knows that.

Especially me, America shuddered, perhaps a little too over dramatically as he returned to his lunch, Some days it feels like she's my parent, not the other way around...

He heard the scolding intensify.

...Welp, not my problem, He shrugged, Godspeed, Dak.

If it were anyone other than Ginny, he might've stepped in. However, believe it or not; he was a smart man. Deep down. Deep down. Very, very deep down. Wayyyyyyyy deep down, there was a little. Tiny spark of intelligence. Shocking, he knows.

Smart men didn't get under Virginia's skin. There are less painful ways to murder your soul.

While America shuddered at the thought, the nearby garden door swung open.

"Dad!"

"Don't care, eating soup," America shrugged, taking another spoonful, "Do whatever. Just don't die."

New York (that's odd, he's never in New Jersey's territory- er, 'the garden') kicked his shoes off, "Was that Dak who pulled into the driveway?"

"No, it's your other brother who has a shrine of bumper stickers to Badlands national park and an eerily accurate bobblehead of Mount Rushmore on his dashboard."

New York looked like he was about to shoot something back, but stopped short as a muffled chant started up;

"York, York, York, York."

America slowly lowered his soup. The chanting was getting louder. New York was... seemingly fine with it?

"York, York, YORK, YORK!"

America let out a shaky sigh, "Why is it getting closer?"

"YORK, YORK, YORK!"

"What's happening?"

New York just grinned.

"...Will it harm my soup?"

New York shrugged, "Probably not."

"Good," America turned his attention back to his beloved lunch, "Then I don't care."

"YORK!" South Dakota threw the kitchen door open, waving an envelope in the air. Virginia was right on his heels, still glaring daggers at him.

"Dak! Dak-man. Cadilldak. Dakbook," New York grinned.

America's eyebrows shot up. New York smiling at the sight of one of his brothers screeching at him while bursting into the room?

...Who's going to die?

"It's here!" South Dakota repeated triumphantly, handing New York the mail, "The paternity test's here!"

America almost choked on his food as he broke into a coughing fit. Virginia stared at him.

"Great!" NY cackled, snatching the envelope and blatantly ignoring his dying father, "So, have you heard from Connecticut? Is everything ready on his end?"

"Don't ask me, I'm just the guy you bribed into picking this up."

"Smartass," New York shook his head, "Alright. Let's go, Dad."

"Pardon?" America wheezed out, placing his soup on the counter.

"What? All those wars and you're going to let a soup take you out?"

America knows flipping off his own son is wrong.

But damn.

Does he want to.

"I have several questions," He started, uncertain if he really wanted to have that knowledge.

"And they'll be answered," New York assured, "If you come with us."

America paused and took a moment to process the situation. He looked to Virginia for help. She lingered for a moment, before shaking her head and walking away. Not her job, not her struggle.

Meanwhile, hesitation was the entirely wrong response.

"Dak," New York deadpanned.

South Dakota nodded, "On it, chief."

SD dashed forward and, to America's horror, grabbed the bowl of soup before swiftly returning to the opposite side of the room.

America gaped at him. After a long moment, he regained his voice;

"...Dak-"

South Dakota tilted the bowl ever so slightly, threatening to spill the bowl's contents. America froze.

"...You wouldn't," He said sharply, a look of devastation and disbelief in his eyes. Disbestation? Devastelief?

Dak stared right back at him, "Would I?"

"What is he paying you?" America bargained desperately, "I'll double it! Just hand me the soup."

"Sorry, Pops. New York's paying me in free entertainment. I doubt you could top it."

"This is how you repay me?" America hissed, the searing knife of betrayal at the hands of is own sons twisting into the gut, "After I fed you? Put clothes on your back? Raised you-?"

South Dakota tilted the bowl a little more, the soup right against the edge.

America immediately raised his hands in surrender. South Dakota and New York exchanged grins.

"...Alright, alright," He inhaled sharply, "You win this time. Where are we going?"

──────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────

Some days, America felt like his children were walking 'practice protection' ads. Very convincing 'practice protection' ads. This, was one of those days.

"When did you even...?" America glanced around, "...Get all of this?"

He was fairly certain he was on a stage, one decorated like a stereotypical talk show set. A vaguely familiar one, might he add. They must of modeled it after a real show.

A curtain was separating the stage from what he assumed was an audience. It worried him at first, before he picked out the voices and realized that they definitely belonged to his own kids. Then, it no longer worried him.

It terrified him.

South Dakota stood on the left wing, offstage and still holding America's soup hostage. He even put it in a prop cage he found in the back... America wondered if he could take legal action and put the 'sue' in soup.

"Well, we were originally expecting to use it for you," New York admitted, "Clearly, we still are, just... in a different way than anticipated."

New York motioned to one of the armchairs. America accepted the offer and sat down.

After a couple minutes, he closed his eyes. Maybe this is all a dream. Maybe he's still at home, with his leftover soup still in the fridge and ready to be reheated. Maybe-

Hearing three sets of new footsteps, America cracked his eyes open.

Nope, not a dream, He determined, A nightmare.

"Blackmail?" America questioned the newcomer taking a seat across from him.

England looked severely annoyed as he huffed, "Scotland."

"Thought so," America nodded. He glanced at the other, "And you?"

"Fear of Wales," Britain answered lightly, "And your offspring."

"Which one?"

"That's a rather loaded question."

"Now then!" Connecticut clapped his hands together with a smile on his face, "We can get started."

The three countries present were incredibly unsure if the wanted that. They didn't even know what 'that' really is. Of course, nobody cares what they want. At the end of the day, they were outnumbered 3 to Lord knows how many.

"Yorkie," Connecticut held out his hand, "The results, please."

New York stared down Connecticut, making no move to hand him the envelope.

"I had him first," NY stated sharply, "I knew him before you. I get to be him."

"I had him last," Connecticut huffed, "I had the latest version of him."

"I had the classic."

"He wasn't born there."

"He wasn't born at your place either!"

America and Britain watched the argument like a tennis match, eyes darting back and forth between the two states.

South Dakota was recording the ordeal on his phone, which in hindsight was pretty useless considering California set up cameras for 'the aesthetic.'

England was trying his best to dissociate from the entire situation, glaring at the wall and wondering what different life choices he could've made to prevent any of this from even existing.

"Fine then," New York grumbled, "If we want to stay on schedule... Where was Maury born?"

In an instant, the envelope was snatched from New York's hands. The two formerly arguing states stared in bewilderment at the man who slipped in under the radar.

Eyes glimmering, suit still on from work, District of Colombia beamed.

"...It's my time to shine."

Crickets.

This can't be real.

"...You said you weren't coming," Connecticut blinked, "You're always 'too busy' for this stuff."

DC shrugged, "A man's allowed to change his mind."

"So, you really want to host?" New York asked incredulously, looking DC up and down, "...You?"

"I can have fun too, dammit."

Connecticut and New York exchanged glances.

"...I mean," Connecticut conceded, "I don't see a problem with it."

New York shrugged, "If there's one thing you've shown us through the decades, it's that sometimes your only gift is entertainment."

"Thank you," DC nodded curtly, "...Bi-"

"But," Connecticut cut in, "We're co-hosting."

"Sounds fine-"

"Don't even argue," New York interrupted, "We're older."

"I didn't-"

South Dakota checked his watch, "And we're on in three, two...!"

The stage curtains opened, revealing an audience mostly consisting of family members with nothing better to do today. Applause prompted by the blinking 'applause' sign eventually died down. It was relatively quiet, except for continued rapid clapping from...

America squinted, eyes still adjusting to the stage lights.

Iowa.

"Woo!" Iowa cheered. He leaned over to the seat right to him- Nebraska- and whispered, pointing to America, "I knew that guy in college, Neb."

"That's our father," Nebraska deadpanned, "You've known him since you were born."

A hand from the row behind them took advantage of the exchange and stole a clump of their popcorn unnoticed. Cayman Islands was now completely prepared for the dumpster fire of a show to start.

This caught Arkansas's eye, and he leaned over to the popcorn thief.

"What's your name again?"

"C-"

"AndcanIpleasehavesomeofyourpopcorn?"

"-ayman."

"Thanks!" Arkansas smiled brightly, taking a quarter of his cousin's spoils.

Cayman stared off into space. He has to stop falling for that crap one of these days.

"I'd applaud, but," Michigan shrugged apologetically as he stared at Britain, who offered him an awkward smile and tried not to make eye contact with his nephew's clear lack of right arm, "You know how it is."

"Hello ladies, gents!" Connecticut greeted, "All of you who don't deserve such respectable titles! Welcome to tonight's trash television episode, Are You the Father? to avoid copyright infringement! Thanks for coming out! Who's in the house tonight?"

"Well, Colorado's here, higher than the waist on DC's trousers, " New York jabbed, ignoring his the capitol's glare as a spotlight briefly shone on Colorado. Colorado simply threw a peace sign before the spotlight went to another person in the crowd, "England's dad Wessex is here, somehow still not dead. Great job, Gramps. Keep making England wish you were for the res of ust."

"Speaking of Wessex," DC added, "What a perfect way to Segway into business! Now, 1,096 year old England claims to be the father of 5,258 month old United States of America. But America's younger half-brother, Britain, has some doubts about the validity of his father's words."

"...I do?" Britain muttered to himself, confused.

"Yes! You do," Connecticut prompted, "Why is that, Britain?"

"Oh... Uh..."

For once in his life, Britain seemed reluctant to insult someone.

New York nudged him, "...You won't hear a peep from us for a month-"

In a flash, UK pounded the arm of his chair with his fist.

"F%^* THAT YANK," He bellowed, "THAT'S WHY."

A bleeping sound via Utah with a censorship button echoed from the stage speakers. He's not even supposed to be there, he volunteered 5 minutes before the show and when nobody answered him he made himself comfortable.

New York nodded his head, as if to say; 'Keep going.'

"...Well then," Britain continued, "He's a total piece of—"

Utah kept the bleeping up until it was all you heard when Britain opened his mouth. At this point, the country wasn't even swearing. He was just reading his grocery list aloud.

"@%*% +^%{%]* +#^]*^{^[+ *]+}+!|]!,¥\+[+@&/!" Britain finished, "If that wasn't bad enough, he's a TWO DOZEN EGGS—"

"Thank you, Britain. I think that's all Utah can handle for now. He gets physically sick when he has to censor someone," DC elaborated.

"I mean, just look at him," New York motioned to the offstage unnaturally pale Beehive State, "Frail Victorian child lookin' mother—"

Utah shot him a warning look.

"—'s favorite child who we all appreciate. And who might need to hand the remote to Nevada before he passes out—"

"So. England," Connecticut moved on, "You're the only person here who currently knows if America's your real son, or if you just snatched him Russian-Empire-and-Finland style. Anything to say on that?"

"Thank you for giving me the final push I needed to decide that a restraining order's mandatory," England solemnly answered.

The three hosts exchanged glances. They really didn't have the legal team to handle this. At least they didn't think so, considering their legal team was Rhode Island with a baseball bat.

"America," DC immediately continued, looking at the third victim- Ehm, 'guest'- his father.

America's eyebrows climbed up as he slowly turned to face DC, "...What did you just call me?"

"Right, sorry," DC quickly backtracked, "Terribly unprofessional of me Mr. United States, sir."

"That's not what I..." America gave up halfway into his sentence and simply sighed, "...Never mind. When can I get my soup back?"

"How does it feel to possibly be fatherless?"

"When can I get my soup back?"

"Want to expand on your answer?"

"When can I get my soup back?"

"I see. How does that make you feel?"

"Hungry. When can I get my soup back?"

"Is that hunger for the truth about who your father is?"

America stared at him like he was an idiot. To be fair, we don't have the evidence to disprove that claim.

"It's hunger," He explained at a tortoise's pace, leaning forward in his chair, "For. Soup."

"Interesting."

"Chicken. Noodle."

"Ah," DC awkwardly nodded, "That's a good one."

"I ask. For so little."

America held eye contact with the capitol for an uncomfortably long amount of time without blinking.

NY leaned over to Connecticut.

"...I can't believe I'm saying this," He muttered, "But we may need to cut the musical number."

After a couple extra moments of watching the scene in front of him, Connecticut acquiesced.

"Cut the musical number," Connecticut approved, "This is only a pre-show, I doubt the audience would care. Get to the results before he starts crying."

"Which one?" New York huffed, "They both look pretty friggin' close to tears."

"Yes."

On the edge of them, really. Neither of them looked like they wanted to be in this situation, and District of Colombia came here willingly.

"Washdistbia!" New York called over, "Stop trembling like a half-drowned kitten and wrap it up!"

Somehow, DC was able to drag himself out of the numbing paralyzation he found himself in and managed to look away from the haunting stare of America.

"Right," He answered shakily, "On to the results. In the case of 5,258 month old USA-"

"It's okay to say 438 years old, I can take it-"

"Englad, you are..."

Everyone watched in silence as he made an effort to open the letter.

It took him a solid three minutes.

It was a regular paper envelope.

"...Missing out on our new discounts! Get a brand NEW Ford F-150 for 30%-" DC blinked.

He read the paper. Then reread it. Then read it once more.

He glanced in the envelope again. Nope, nothing else. Just amazing deals for this autumn brought to yOU BY THE EVER AMERICAN [EAGLE SOUND] FREEDOM INFUSED-

Utterly lost, he looked to the others.

"...What the hell is this?" He asked, lifting up the 'results' in question.

A murmur of 'don't look at me's fell upon the stage and audience. Backstage, South Dakota cursed under his breath.

"I knew I should've asked them to stop mailing me my coupons," Dak sighed.

What.

"You get your junk mail from..." Connecticut took a deep breath, "The paternity testing lab?"

"Yeah," Dak admitted nonchalantly, "My grandma lives there."

America looked up hopefully, "Mom?"

"NO-"

Abruptly, the outro music started blasting. Without uttering a sound, England stood and walked away stage left. He hates you all. Especially Aili.

"...Well, that was... that," New York checked the time on his phone, "I'm going to take my seat and... pretend like I didn't just waste my afternoon."

It took America 0.5 seconds to practically hurl South Dakota out of his way so he could reclaim his soup.

Britian rushed... away. Simply away. He is gone. He will not return. Everyone wave goodbye. Goodbye, Britain. He's free. Freedom. He's free. F r e e...

Ish.

"Goodnight everyone!" Connecticut bid with a wave, following the others off the stage, "Enjoy Florida on I Can't Believe It's Not Dr. Phil!"

──────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────

"...How'd you get my DNA, anyway?"

"You're a heavy sleeper after you cry. Pretty easy to get after Homeward Bound."

(A/N: I want soup.)

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