America the Majestic (United States of America #2)

Picnic Arrivals

By the time they were ready to go, America knew the nations couldn't take their eyes off her, and now wished more than ever that they were still unaware of her true self.

She was wearing a white sundress that wasn't doing a good job of hiding her body and breasts, and she was aware that the way she was hauling the heavy picnic basket wasn't helping anything. Her present children were watching the nations with narrowed eyes, staying as close to their mother as possible.

Well, hopefully this won't end in a bloodbath.

America took the group around the mansion, where a giant valley was spread out before them. It was a beautiful day out too, no cloud in the sky, no wind, and not too hot, so you'd have to be an idiot to not go outside today. While they were walking, America talked with New York and New Jersey.

"How's your work going Ryker?" she asked.

New York groaned. "There is always more than one day where I wish someone would shoot me. Every time I get a little paperwork done, another stack will appear before me! It's official now...paperwork is the bane of my existence."

"At least you're not the entire country Ryker," New Jersey chimed in. "Not only does Mother have to work stacks upon stacks of paperwork, but she has to deal with inconsiderate nations all the time."

Behind them, the nations flinched.

New York rubbed his head. "True."

"Have you been sleeping Ryker?" America asked, looking at her son up and down.

New York smiled at her. "Mother, when you have a city that's nicknamed the "City That Never Sleeps", then you tend to follow that trend. Now hold on"--New York held up a finger just as his mother opened her mouth--"I do sleep from time to time, so don't worry."

"Sure you do," America mused sarcastically. She then turned to New Jersey. "How about you Alida?"

"Same as always," Alida replied. She looked down at Alaska, who was skipping in front of them. "How about you Ana?"

Alaska tensed a little before turning around with a nervous smile on her face. "U-Um..."

"So I'll take that as a yes?" New Jersey teased.

Alaska pouted at her. "Don't get me started on that da?"

"Alright you two, that's enough. Besides, we're here." America chose a spot overlooking the entire valley, and worked to get the blanket situated. In the process, Alaska started digging around the picnic basket, throwing out random objects.

America raised an eyebrow at the youngest girl. "And what are you doing?" she asked.

"Looking for Alida's bread," was the only reply Alaska gave her until finally she squealed and pulled out a giant loaf of bread. She then started rummaging through the basket to find something to cut it.

"Now Anastasia, save some for everyone," America lightly scolded, and Alaska pouted, but didn't release the bread. The older woman shook her head and took the loaf from her daughter, proceeding to cut it with the knife she brought.

Soon, everyone had a slice of bread, and Alaska was enjoying hers massively. Taking a bite of it, everyone soon realized their bread was gone the moment it was in their hands. America still had hers, albeit uneaten, and watched them with a smirk.

"Alida bakes the best bread around, and she isn't known as Miss Bread Maker for nothing." Upon receiving strange looks, America was quick to add, "Her siblings named her that, not me."

Then, just as suddenly, America's face turned into an irritated scowl. "Don't even think about it."

A huge exhale of breath was heard, then a young man dropped next to America. Despite not having anything in his mouth, England choked, because the boy before him was like the carbon copy of Scotland, except he was wearing overalls and was a little shorter.

"How'd you know it was me?" the boy asked with a pout.

"I'm your mother, I know everything," America responded. "Now when did you get here?"

"I thought Alida told you." Before America could open her mouth again, a black blur zoomed by, taking the Scotland look-alike with her. The two wrestled for a bit before the blur threw the boy a good distance. Once the female was on her feet, the others had a good look at her.

She was a muscular young woman with messy, chin-length black and blonde-tipped hair, tan skin, and eyes that appeared to be various shades of blue. She smiled crudely up at America. "Hello Mama, you look lovely this morning."

America deadpanned at the girl, managing to get in a "Hello Michigan." before the boy returned and tackled the girl. America felt the eyes of the nations on her, and heard her current children either giggling or shaking their heads at the new arrivals' antics, and she hoped she could handle so many things all at once.

Good God being a mother is a difficult job.