his stomach started to get bigger, his dignity started to drop, and he quietly passed on his ship to his commander, and stowed onto one of

England's. He was discovered quickly, of course, but--well, it was kind of the point. And that sort of thing happens when you wave a gun

around on deck. That was a few months a go, and now, the Spaniard is sitting on Arthur's bed like it's his own, his hand on his stomach.

{ for Privateer }

Arthur grumbled out something about his bed being contaminated, as he put on a new shirt. He still couldn't believe the Spaniard had made

himself comfortable in *his* house, practically living there. Not only that, he made the Brit actually support him financially, always

complaining that it was his fault in the first place. So what if Spain had gained a few pounds? There was no way he was pregnant, however

round his stomach got, and England was certainly not the cause of it... definitely.

( OH MY GOD ENGLAND. D)

(*XD worst denial ever)

A few pounds? Definitely more than that. His stomach was round, his morning sickness was brutal, and God almighty did his feet hurt. That

damn doctor (and every other one they had tried and eventually killed) had been right. He just knew it. So the conquistador just calmly

gave the other the two-finger-salute and flopped backwards on the bed. Inglaterra was just getting what he deserved.

Arthur growled slightly at the Spaniard in annoyance. "You know, you could at least sleep in the guest

bedroom. For all I know you're obesity could be contagious."

"It's not obesity, pendejo." he replied right back, the same way he had since the beginning; then propped his feet up on the pillows. "Why

haven't you gotten that through your thick English skull yet?Ha~! It is probably those eyebrows, blocking them~"

'Those eyebrows' furrowed down in irritation. "You're not pregnant and that's final," Arthur stated as he tied on his cravat. "When are you

going to just leave me be?" How long has it been? three months? Arthur felt as though he was circumnavigate the world. It just never ends...

"Who knows! I don't remember anymore. All I know is that I'm stuck having your *bastard child* so I might as well milk you for it."

he replied, completely ignoring Arthur's blatant denial.

(...we should have the baby kick. so he can be like B| *I TOLD YOU*)

Arthur turned to face the Spaniard, a scowl fixed upon his face. "You're. Not. Pregnant." The Brit growled out. "We've gone over

this a thousand times. You're a *male*!"

When he turned, Antonio reached out and grabbed the other's wrist, pulling him towards himself and putting his hand on his stomach. He was

going to do it just to demonstrate how it wasn't fat, too taut--but suddenly, he winced in pain as he realized the baby had just kicked.

"....Ah!"

Arthur's eyes widened a bit as the tiny kick hit his palm, scowl still planted on his mouth. He turn red in confusion and shock....t-that

wasn't a kick... The brit quickly removed his hands, sputtering slightly. "Clever s-sorcery, that's all..."

He wasn't the only one--Antonio felt his own cheeks turn scarlet. It was really there. He'd had his doubts, but...there was something

*alive* there. Abruptly though, he grabbed the other's wrist and held it there. "Do you see?! I *told* you!"

"I-It was nothing! Most likely something you ate or s-something..." Arthur was stumbling over his words, but there was no way that...that

tiny feeling was a baby. No way in hell-though with the Spaniard on his bed, he may be in hell...

(If I type Afonso one more time.../grumble)

"I don't think things I *ate* can kick, Arturo! Even if it's your cooking!" Antonio met the other's gaze with a firey one of his own, still

gripping Arthur's wrist.

( FUCK YOU )

(...no I'm just so used to writing Iggyport sob)

BUT YOU CAN HAVE MY BABY ANY DAY HERMANO ~~~~~<3 )

(iberianunioniberianunioniberianunionLET'SGETMARRIIIIIIED)

"I didn't actually mean physically ki-....what do you mean 'even if it's my cooking'?!" Well, if he didn't like the

Brit's cooking, he could just sod off. More food for Arthur.

"That is not hte point here!" Antonio groaned, but sniped in, "Some of that stuff looks like it could kill you from the inside, was all."

[[lurks so badly <3]]

"Well *excuse* me for trying to co-...." It...It did it again. The so called 'kick'. "t-That still proves nothing!" What

nightmare was he trapped in and how could he escape?

"How does that not *prove anything*?!" Antonio replied, flustered and annoyed--and at the same time, almost victorious. He was right. "I

don't think it can be any more obvious, Inglaterra!"

[[ ouo Spain, if you want to keep insulting UK in Spanish, i can give you a long list of Spanish swearing~]]

(Oh don't worry, I have TONS 8D)

(I love swearing in Spanish. It's so fun 8DDD)

[[/swears a lot. And yes, it is fun~]]

[[favorite one is carela~ abbreviation for cara de verga, translation: dick face~]]

"I-It just doesn't, okay! You can't be pregnant, you just *can't*!" His voice started to sound panicked. He didn't need a baby! Nor did he

want the responsibility or put in the time. He was a pirate for god's sake. You can't take a baby out to seas!

( you guys never cease to amuse me. )

((I waited long enough for this <333))

"Well, *obviously*, I am--so, ah, how do you say--'tough shit'." the Spaniard snapped back. In a really, really twisted sort of way? This

was almost like *revenge*. Sort of.

"Why do I even put up with you?!" The Brit was tempted to take his trusty pistol and blast that blasted stomach of his so that blasted

Spaniard would shut his blasted trap!

"Don't ask me!" Antonio groaned in response, putting his hand over his eyes. This was all really happening, wasn't it. A baby. Oh jeez.

Arthur ran a hand through his unruly hair, appalled at the thought of it being true. "There's.... there's just no bloody way that can be

right."