[OPEN] Route 7: Berries For M' Wife

[Sweden]

As it turned out, Siv had an acute oral fixation—or, given Sweden still didn’t quite understand the nature of the strange, new additions to his world, Siv had what he surmised was an acute oral fixation.

He had, of course, discovered this the hard way. Only hours after taking the impish Turtwig under his care, he had to pause his travels in order to mend a new tear in his coat courtesy of some persistent chewing. Later, he found himself fixing that same tear when Siv decided he needed to move faster and began to drag him along by the hem of his coat.

Now, for the third time since his tiny companion joined him, he sat hunched over his coat beneath a tree, stitching the torn fabric back together.

“Tho’ght we h’d a talk abo’t th’s,” he scolded, pinning down Siv with a stare. The Turtwig perked up and met his eyes with an unrepentant look of his own.

“Tur?” He dove forward and began to nibble on the trailing end of a sleeve, cooing in delight.

Sweden frowned and reached out to tap him lightly on the nose. “No chew’ng.”

Siv let out a dejected noise as his enthusiasm deflated. With a pitiful expression on his face, he tugged on the sleeve halfheartedly.

“Twi~g.” He sighed around the fabric.

The sight was just too pitiful. His resolve to be firm faltering, Sweden forced himself to look away and focused on the task at hand: mending his coat. He had to be firm, he reminded himself; if he gave in now, he would spend the rest of their time together piecing back together his clothes until they fell apart. Not that sewing wasn’t an enjoyable task—certainly, he had never minded patching up or altering his old things for Finland—but it was the principle of the thing.

Something brushed against his knee.

Sweden turned his head and caught Siv’s sorrowful expression on full blast. His brows rose when the Turtwig pawed at his knee again and rolled over onto his side, the end of the sleeve abandoned in favor of unleashing a sound that tugged at his heart.

“Sh’meless,” Sweden muttered. He knew fully well just what game his little companion was playing, having been subjected to much of the same thing from Hanatamago, Sealand, and even Finland in the past. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to mind too much, not when giving in made them happy.

Siv, perhaps sensing his wavering resolve, let out another pitiful sigh. “Twi~g.”

Sweden shook his head. Absolutely shameless. Still, with a conceding grunt, he put away his coat to finish later, picked up the pokémon going into a fit of melodramatic sadness, and rose to his feet.

“Alright,” he said, “y’u win.”

“Tur!” Siv twisted to start nibbling on his fingertips, and Sweden endured the attention with great patience as he walked around the area. Surely, there had to be some berries around here somewhere.

[America]

He turned the map sideways, regular ways, and upside down before he let out a loud sigh that dragged on for far too long. "..We're definitely lost, aren't we?" Alfred droned, glancing down at his partner, Brooklyn. The little dinosaur simply nodded, and it seemed that he had about as much of a sense of direction as his trainer did.

"Bulba! Bulbasaur," he replied, trotting at a steady pace next to Alfred. He looked up and noticed how dejected his trainer looked, and frowned. He stopped without Alfred noticing, and he grinned as he took a running leap at the backs of his knees. "Bulba!"

"Brooklyn!" he cried before finding himself face first in the dirt. The little grass Pokemon dashed up and started cuddling against his cheeks, trying to make him feel better. Alfred sighed, smiling anyways as he sat back up, lifting Brooklyn up onto his shoulder. He was frustrated with his.. violent loving tendencies, but always shook those feelings away when he remembered that they were Brooklyn's way of showing his affections. He laughed as he stood all the way back up, wincing slightly as he felt the light throbbing setting into his legs.

"Y-You're pretty strong, you know that?" he commented, "I bet when we get you into a battle, they won't even know what hit 'em!" He figured it would be best not to lecture him at this point in time. He didn't want to hurt the little guy's feelings or anything. Alfred's comment caused Brooklyn to smile awkwardly, not being used to getting praised. Alfred made a mental note that he seemed to get bashful when he was praised, and wondered if he would be able to use that fact eventually for his benefit. After Brooklyn seemed to be quite comfortable in his spot next to Alfred's noggin, he dusted the map off before folding it open again. He stared closely at it as they continued to walk down the path.

"So I think we turned here," he said, tracing the turn with a gloved finger, "And I'm pretty sure that this little groove of trees was the one we just passed." He tapped the patch of green triangles that was supposed to symbolize trees, wondering why the mapmaker had been too lazy to draw real trees as he did so. They still walked forward, not able to see anything in front of them due to their fixation on the piece of paper that Alfred held in front of their faces.

"I think we passed this big rock here, and I'm pretty sure we might be right about-AH!" Whatever he was about to say was cut off as he felt himself bump into something. He stumbled back and pulled the map out of his face, and his sky blue eyes widened as he saw a familiar face.

S-Sweden? Is..is that..you?" he stuttered, certainly not expecting to see the taller man out in the middle of nowhere like that. He could feel Brooklyn stirring on his shoulder, and he quickly made sure to reach an arm up to hold him there. "H-How've you been?"

[Sweden]

The collision knocked him off balance. Sweden grunted at the unexpected contact and stumbled, his hands instantly closing around Siv to keep him from falling. His body pulled back to counter the force and keep him from tripping. To his credit, he faltered through only two steps before he regained his footing, and turned to give the offending person a stern look. His eyes widened at the sight of America—or, they were supposed to, anyway. Sweden could feel his face pull into an expression, but he wasn’t quite sure if it was the right one.

He stared at the other nation, nonetheless.

“Amer’ca,” he grumbled in greeting, giving the nation a quick look over. The change to their world didn’t seem to have affected the superpower too much; aside from the green pokémon on his shoulder, America looked just the same as he always did. Of course, the stuttering was a new addition, but Sweden attributed that to his surprise more than any actual change.

His eyes lingered on the green pokémon for a moment. It was an unfamiliar type, but judging from his color he would venture a guess and say it wasn’t too dissimilar to Siv. From what he could tell, certain breeds—species? races?—showed natural color trends, which probably meant it was a grass type. Sweden nodded at this inward assessment, then belatedly realized that America had asked a question.

Sweden’s brow furrowed. Should he say anything? Enough time had passed that an answer now would be too awkward and strained, but to not say anything at all would make the silence even more so. Yet, Sweden considered as he continued to stare at the nation in question, America had always been a little slow on social cues, so perhaps he wouldn’t notice a delayed answer. To chance that risk seemed marginally better than to definitely catch his attention with no answer at all.

After a few more beats of silence, Sweden finally allowed himself a small nod. “Be’n fine,” he said, before allowing his attention to stray back to the pokémon perched upon America’s shoulder. It seemed a bit strange to keep one of the creatures there but, then again, this was America. He debated for a few beats longer before he decided to comment. “See y’u got y’urself a pok’mon.”

[America]

Alfred couldn't exactly tell what look Sweden was trying to make with his face, but whatever it was was only the least bit intimidating. But, the hero was never intimidated, especially by people with whom he was friendly with! He shook off the look as if it were a breeze that had rolled right on past him. He didn't notice at all the slightly awkward pause before his question was answered, and he quickly reverted from his surprise back to his normal, enthusiastic self.

"It's good to hear you've been doing well, what with that meteor and all," he replied, speaking of the event now as if it were an everyday occurrence. At least, it seemed to happen in his old comic books all of the time anyways. He flashed his signature white smile as he pat Brooklyn on the head. "I sure did get one! This little fella here's Brooklyn!" he supplied, laughing slightly as he could feel the dinosaur cuddling against his face again.

Alfred finally took his eyes off of the Swede long enough to notice the little leafy green Pokemon he had as well. "It looks like you got one too!" However, he didn't quite recognize this one. He knew several Pokemon species, but the newer ones he still had troubles with names. It had leaves on its head so it was obviously a grass-type Pokemon like Brooklyn was. He would figure it out eventually.

At the mention of another Pokemon, Brooklyn's eyes snapped their attention away from his trainer down to Siv. "Bulbasaur!" he cheered, breaking free from Alfred's grasp as he lept carefully down to the ground. Alfred bit his lip in anticipation, hoping to god Brooklyn would not try tackling Sweden over to get to the little turtle he was holding. Brooklyn's bright red eyes shined with the enthusiasm of meeting another Pokemon, and he started trying to leap up to reach him. He wasn't even close. He started backing up slowly, and this was when the little red flag signals started going off inside Alfred's head.

"Wait a minute, Brooklyn, let's not be hasty-" Alfred started, but froze as he could only watch the Bulbasaur take a few strides before taking a running leap at the tall Swede.
"Bulba~!" he cheered, attempting to knock Sweden over to get to Siv. Alfred's legs seemed to sympathize with the situation as they gave a slight twinge. Once the attack had taken place, he dashed forward as fast as he could and snatched Brooklyn up before he could do anything else. "Bulbasaur..!" he cried, struggling to break free of Alfred's grip. He still wanted to greet Siv in the way he seemed to greet just about everybody.

"H-Hey, Sweden, I'm really sorry about this!" he apologized, hoping the other nation would understand, "Brooklyn here just has a.. different way of greeting others!" He wasn't sure how to explain the Bulbasaur's tough love to him, but he hoped that he would understand it was all just a big misunderstanding. "It looks like he really wants to meet your Pokemon!"

[Sweden]

As soon as the pokémon jumped from America’s shoulder, Siv froze in his arms. Sweden’s brows rose, both at the other pokémon’s eagerness to get over to him and his own pokémon’s sudden disinterest in his fingertips, only to drop back down in a blank stare when the—Bulbasaur? Wasn’t that what the pokémon said?—started to jump up and down in front of him. He hummed in the back of his throat; only something under America’s care could act with such blind determination. Didn’t it realize that it wouldn’t get any higher than his knees?

Apparently so, because only seconds after the thought crossed his mind, the Bulbasaur started to back away. Sweden watched, the sight bringing to mind memories of Hanatamago pulling back, her whole body wriggling with the force of her tail wags, before launching into a playful attack. The corner of his mouth twitched into an amused grimace, and he braced himself for the onslaught he just knew was coming. Sure enough, there was a familiar gleam in the pokémon’s eyes, a visible tautness to its leg muscles, and then…

This time, Sweden’s grimace was completely intentional; just like America’s pokémon to have unnatural strength to go with that characteristic determination. Sweden subtly shifted his weight on his feet when America ran forward and snatched up his pokémon, the ache in his shins an unrelenting presence in the back of his mind. In the forefront of his thoughts, he couldn’t help but wonder at the sheer stubbornness the Bulbasaur displayed.

It didn’t seem at all hostile—and America’s words confirmed as much—yet its near frantic struggles spoke of a hidden purpose. Sweden, having no previous connection to this pokémon and, thus, no reason to incite such a reaction, looked down at the only other explanation: the Turtwig in his arms.

Siv stared at the struggling pokémon with rapt attention, Sweden’s fingers completely abandoned without so much as a second thought. His eyes, already large by nature, seemed even bigger still as he let out a small, whisper of a sound.

“Tu~r,” he cooed, before he buried his face in Sweden’s arms like some sort of bashful child. Sweden gave a slow, purposeful blink; he was at a loss for words.

It took a few seconds to process this sudden insight into his companion’s blooming love life, and then once everything set in Sweden couldn’t stop his understanding nod. He gave the suddenly shy pokémon in his arms a comforting pat—he could sympathize entirely, he wanted to say, but feelings like that were best unspoken—before he stepped forward to approach America.

“’s fine,” he assured, his voice coming out in what he hoped came across as a comforting low rumble and not a deep growl. He straightened himself to his full height and lifted his chin a notch, his eyes meeting America’s own gaze. The sun bounced off his glasses. “Amer’ca,” he began, pinning the other nation down with a piercing stare, “w’ll y’u breed y’ur pok'mon w’th mine?”

[America]

Alfred could feel his heart stop with the force of the stare that Sweden was giving him now. He shrunk back slightly, and he could feel Brooklyn's thrashing about in his arms stop as well. The stare must have been affecting him, too. Alfred's mind was trying to wrap itself around what he had just been asked by the taller man. Breeding? He shifted his attention to the little turtle again-It was Turtwile? Turtish? Turtwig! That sounded right. He wasn't sure if he had heard Sweden right, but when he glanced back up into those piercing blue eyes, he knew he had heard him crystal clear.

He wants them to breed? Does that mean that his Turtwig's a female then? He wants her to breed with.. Brooklyn? he thought, not realizing that his thoughts couldn't be further from the truth (at least in terms of Siv's gender). There was absolutely no way that Sweden could be serious with this. Though that look kept telling him otherwise, he just figured he was a good actor was all. He grinned, not even stopping himself as he laughed out loud. This seemed to break Brooklyn's initial discomfort as well, as he started trying to wrestle himself free from Alfred's grasp once again.

"Y'know, you make good jokes, Sweden! Has anybody ever told you that?" he chuckled, reaching a hand up to wipe tears out of his eyes. He realized the moment he took one hand away that Brooklyn would easily be able to slip through his grasp. And he id just that, squirming and wriggling his way out of Alfred's weakened grasp.Crap! It seemed that he had figured out that trying to tackle the tall Swede over wouldn't work, but it also looked like he thought up another tactic of getting up to Siv. He sat down and looked up at Sweden with a pleading look, his bright red eyes shining desperately up at him. "Bulba?" he cooed, in his saddest, weepiest attempt yet.

Alfred was becoming quite put off with the situation again. He had never seen Brooklyn act this way before. Sure, he knew the little guy was stubborn and determined to have his way in these kinds of things, but he'd never seen him go as far as this just to make a new friend. His eyes widened as it slowly began to dawn on him that Sweden hadn't been joking. Maybe it was true that Brooklyn seemed to really like his Turtwig. Could it be love at first sight?

"Y-you were serious about the whole breeding thing, weren't you?" he murmured, not even sure if it was audible to the taller man. He looked from Brooklyn to Sweden to Siv, feeling more and more confused every second. Brooklyn wanted to be with Sweden's Turtwig? Would that mean that once they were together, he and Sweden would become in-laws? His mind wasn't able to process this type of information. In the back of his thoughts, he still hoped it was a joke.

[Sweden]

Make jokes…? Sweden’s brow furrowed as the familiar words echoed in his mind—in Finland’s voice, no less, with a surprised sound and nervous laughter to go with them—and he looked away from the amused nation. He had been entirely serious, of course, and thought he had approached the situation in a manner befitting its nature. One did not joke about something as important as mating anymore than one joked about being someone’s husband, and for Sweden’s purpose to have been misinterpreted in both instances…

He looked down at the pokémon in his arms and wondered what he had done wrong. Had he not met America’s gaze directly enough? Had his posture not conveyed his determination in this matter? He thought he had been entirely direct and clear in his motivation, but perhaps he should have brought the topic up in an offhand comment, instead. Straightforwardness didn’t seem to be working, and Sweden had learned in the past that projecting his desires onto others without asking their opinion had about the same effect.

The corners of his mouth tugged down in a frown. Regardless of where he went wrong in his approach, the embarrassing misunderstanding now left him with the equally embarrassing task of correcting the other nation. Surely, though, if he just—

Sweden’s thoughts derailed at the sudden intrusion of a sorrowful cry. He hesitated for a moment, his senses rushing to catch up with him, before he glanced down at his feet. The sight of America’s Bulbasaur peering up at him with such a pitiful, dejected expression made his heart clench. His hands tightened around Siv, who seemed to be torn between hiding his face against Sweden and peeking out to stare at his pleading crush.

“Twi~g,” Siv murmured against his arm, his tone both embarrassed and pleased. Sweden’s eyes squinted as his expression softened, and he carefully lowered himself down to crouch before the Bulbasaur. Ducking his head a bit, he gingerly placed Siv on the ground before pulling his hands away. His tiny companion peered at him over his shoulder, the gesture alone conveying his unease.

Sweden hummed in the back of his throat and nodded in encouragement. “Go ‘n.”

Siv lowered his head in an uncanny mimicry of Sweden’s earlier gesture and crept forward without meeting the Bulbasaur’s gaze. Once he got close enough, he let out a low sound of embarrassment and lifted his head enough to give the creature of his affections an affectionate nip on the nose. He pulled away afterwards and immediately darted away to hide behind Sweden only to peek out playfully at the Bulbasaur.

Sweden nodded in approval at the exchange. Without rising from his crouch, he lifted his head up to meet America’s gaze straight on. Although a bit late, and a little hard to hear, America’s question eased Sweden’s concerns that he hadn’t made himself clear the first time. He debated over answering for a few beats, then decided it was best to err on the side of caution in order to avoid another misunderstanding.

He grunted in affirmation and, just in case, nodded again.

“V’ry ser’ous,” he voiced, before rising to his full height in a single fluid motion. He considered what to say next—his intentions had been voiced, the affections involved made clear, and the situation clarified and confirmed—before realizing there was only one step left to take: get a straight answer. “So, w’ll y’u let Brookl’n be Siv’s wife?” Then, because he thought it important to point out, he added, “H’ll make ‘n honest pok’mon of ‘im.”

[America]

Brooklyn watched as Siv affectionately nipped at his nose, and he could feel his sheepishness setting in as he watched the other grass-type dash back behind Sweden's legs. "Bulba.." he murmured, and Alfred watched the Bulbasaur's little cheeks flush a soft shade of red. Brooklyn..? Is he-

Alfred's thoughts were interrupted as he watched the Bulbasaur trot slowly and carefully over to Sweden's legs, poking behind them to face Siv.

"Bulbasaur!" he murmured softly, gently cuddling against Siv in a small display of affection. He quickly became embarrassed again, and sped out from behind Sweden to go hide behind Alfred's legs instead. Alfred looked down at Brooklyn in even more confusion then ever. He definitely knew now that something was up with him.

When Brooklyn was being...affectionate with someone, he usually cuddled with far more vigor, and unintentional violence. He never acted sheepish unless he made a mistake, but it wasn't like he was hiding from the one he was trying to tackle previously. Something was definitely off, and for once Alfred could sense that.

Alfred tensed up as Sweden confirmed that mating was indeed not a joke, and he felt his eyes widen when he asked him if Brooklyn would be Siv's wife. If Brooklyn would be Siv's wife? Did that mean..that Siv was a boy rather then a girl? This made the question of the two breeding even more confusing to the American then it had been before. His mind was drawing up a blank as he groped around for an answer.

"Uh..well...y'see.." he started stumbling, not able to give the taller man a straight answer. What was he supposed to say? Yes? No? "M-Marriage isn't..really something I should decide.." he finally managed after a few minutes of trying to speak correctly, "This is probably something we should allow the Pokemon to decide, right..? He hoped he wasn't stepping too far out of line with that suggestion, as he could feel the full brunt of Sweden's stare upon him.

[Sweden]

As soon as America’s Bulbasaur darted away after his gentle show of affection, Siv buried his face against Sweden’s leg and made a small noise. Sweden couldn’t quite tell if the gesture was one of embarrassment or something else; just seconds ago, Siv had been encouraging the other pokémon to follow him. Perhaps he hid his face to hide how thrilled he was, then? To have his attention reciprocated with a cuddle might have been more than he anticipated.

Sweden glanced down at the thought, and hummed in the back of his throat loud enough to be heard. When Siv peered up at him, a delighted and somewhat flushed look on his face, Sweden nearly nodded to himself. His suspicions were confirmed, then. Siv hid not because of embarrassment—he seemed to have gotten over that quickly, actually—but because to have any indication proved to be too great of a pleasure for him to show his face.

Sweden could understand the sentiment.

Still, something had to be done if he was to get anywhere in the relationship. Bulbasaur had already proven that he harbored an attraction toward Siv; now the Turtwig needed to take the relationship into his own paws and show that he accepted his advances. Aware of Siv’s eyes still on him, Sweden wordlessly nodded toward Bulbasaur’s hiding place behind America’s legs. Siv ducked his head a bit and rested his cheek against Sweden’s leg.

“Tu~rtwig,” he whispered, a pleased lilt to his voice. He tilted his head a bit to nibble on Sweden’s pants, avoiding the issue completely.

Sweden’s brows rose as he frowned, and he subtly shifted his legs to pull the fabric out of Siv’s mouth. The Turtwig glanced up at him in question, his expression that pitiful one he knew got him his way whenever he used it, but Sweden simply nodded in Bulbasaur’s direction again. It was one thing for Sweden to discuss the budding relationship with America, but he wouldn’t do Siv’s work for him no matter how much he spoiled him.

Siv ducked his head in a sulk, and for a moment Sweden thought that he had given up. Then, with a determined sound, he darted over to Sweden’s things and grabbed a mouthful of Sweden’s coat. Dragging it by the sleeve, he ran past Sweden and over to America, where he proudly dropped the article of clothing before America’s Bulbasaur. Sweden wanted to sigh; his coat was not a courtship gift.

Of course, that didn’t stop his mouth from twitching in amusement when Siv nosed the coat in Bulbasaur’s direction and let out a heartfelt, “Tu~r!”

Clearing his throat, Sweden turned his attention back to America. “Se’ms it’s d’cided,” he said, nodding at the two pokémon. Then, he rose to his full height and made a show of assessing the other nation. “Bride’s fath’r pays f’r th’ wedd’ng,” he teased, his face completely serious. "It's tradit'on."

[America]

Brooklyn looked down at the coat, giving Siv a small smile before tentatively using the vines that were normally stored in his bulb to lift it up carefully. "Bulbasaur~" he cooed softly, stepping closer to the Turtwig again. He smiled more as he cuddled gently with him, if not a bit more tenderly then before. He lowered his vines, carefully draping Sweden's jacket over them as some sort of a blanket. It seemed he really enjoyed the gift quite a bit, but even more enjoyed the company of the object of his affections.

Alfred was pretty sure that Sweden was going to want his jacket back, at some point at least. But Brooklyn looked so happy, he didn't dare say anything about it. He was glad that Brooklyn really seemed to like Sweden's Turtwig, but now he was trying to figure out exactly how this was going to work. After all, it wasn't like he and Sweden were going to be hanging out all the time..were they?

"It sure seems like it, huh?" he agreed, and he couldn't help but smile down at the two. At first he wasn't too sure about this, but after seeing how happy Brooklyn was there really wasn't anything he could do. The idea really seemed to be warming on him. Except of course, the fact that Brooklyn would be the woman in the relationship. No male Pokemon of his would be the female in any relationship!

However, after thinking about mentioning this topic to Sweden, he decided not to after he noticed the stare he was giving him. That dead serious stare. Brooklyn was going to be the female in their relationship, and now he had to pay for the wedding too? Wait, did Pokemon even have weddings? He smiled awkwardly up at the taller man, scratching the back of his head in a slightly awkward manner.

"W-Well, maybe we should start planning?" he asked, still feeling a bit awkward about the whole situation. He'd never planned a wedding before, and he especially never had to do it for Pokemon. He was still trying to figure out how all of this was supposed to work out. But if it would make Brooklyn happy, he'd keep trying no matter what! He just hoped his already strained wallet wouldn't be completely bled dry in the process.

[Sweden]

For a few moments, Sweden found himself at a complete loss. He had thought that America, who seemed so nervous at the prospect of their pokémon mating from the very beginning, would have called him out on his joke. After all, he had been all too eager to laugh when Sweden had been entirely serious. Why, then, wouldn’t he have the same reaction when Sweden mirrored that approach and said something outrageous?

Sweden frowned. It had never been his intention to seriously propose a marriage between Siv and America’s Bulbasaur—a relationship of some type, yes, or at the very least an attempt at breeding—yet somehow the other nation had concluded differently. Clearly, this indicated a miscommunication over the course of their conversation, and so Sweden’s mind began to filter through their shared exchange. What moment had caused his fellow nation to—

Oh.

Wife.

That one word that seemed to only seemed to bring Sweden trouble.

America had obviously mistaken his usage of the term as an indication that he sought marriage, when in truth Sweden had only meant that Siv would be the one to take care of Bulbasaur as a proper husband should take care of his wife. Thus, the difference in understanding. Although such labels could translate to marriage, Sweden had never thought the dynamics they referred to were exclusive to a formal arrangement. Apparently, however, America did.

Then, to further complicate the situation, when Sweden had joked about his paying for the entire affair, America had… Everything clicked together, and Sweden couldn’t help but feel a wave of embarrassment. Yet another misunderstanding between them, and this time one entirely his own fault. He wondered if he should correct his fellow nation on his assumptions, then thought better of it. Who knew how America would react to learning he had been entirely wrong?

Still, he couldn’t leave the situation as it stood now. As far as America knew, he was supposed to pay for the entirety of an incredibly expensive event and, despite his visible anxiety at the sudden responsibility, he seemed fully prepared to do so. Thus, Sweden needed to find a way to direct the conversation back to his original proposal—breeding—without embarrassing either one of them.

Just then, the solution came to him; all he had to do was give America a chance to back out of the arrangement gracefully.

Sweden cleared his throat to catch America’s attention, then tried his best to look thoughtful. “Wedd’ngs are v’ry, v’ry expens’ve,” he began, trying to keep his words at the slow pace of a man in deep contemplation. “Prob’ly have t’ g’ve up burger f’r months t’ pay f’r it.” Then, to seal the deal, he turned his gaze upward in a way he had seen Greece do once and seemed to consider the clouds. “M’ght be cheap’r t’ j’st stick w’th breeding ‘em.”

[America]

Alfred breathed out an internal sigh of relief at Sweden's later suggestion. He knew that he never would have been able to pay for a wedding anyways, let alone pay all by himself. He was also grateful to have the many months of eating hamburgers still lying ahead of him.

"Y-Yeah, maybe a wedding's probably not the way to go," he replied, still trying to let the whole incident breeze past them like it had never happened. Sure, he wanted Brooklyn to be happy, but he thought that a wedding was a bit...over the top. He felt like he was trying to overdo things just a little bit, but it's not like that was anything new to the American. It was pretty much his thing, to completely overdo the things. But this was one instance he didn't particularly want to go overboard on.

...And then it was back to the breeding thing again. To Alfred, at least, breeding meant only one thing: Two beings coming together to produce offspring of some sort. He looked at the two Pokemon still covered by the coat, and still wondered why Sweden insisted on this. It wasn't physically possible for two males to breed with each other, right? So..how would the two of them breed? He obviously didn't realize that this wasn't what the taller man was trying to say. He wanted to figure out a way to let his hopes down gently.

"Well, y'see Sweden, that would be wonderful," he began, tugging at his collar when he started to get nervous again, "But...it would be kind of..difficult for two male Pokemon to breed, wouldn't it..?" he gulped, hoping that he would understand. He was still completely unaware of the new misunderstanding. He glanced back at the two Pokemon again.

Well, at least those two are still doing alright.. he thought, hoping he wouldn't be assaulted again by another one of Sweden's piercing stares. He again did not realize that it was completely unintentional. That was another thing the American always seemed prone to. Misunderstandings.

[Sweden]

Sweden considered that for a moment. He could certainly see why the other nation would draw such a conclusion. Biological male humans could not reproduce and, as far as any of them knew, nations regardless of gender couldn’t reproduce, either. Then, from what he recalled about plants, he was fairly certain that they could reproduce with the same gender, either—an especially important point, since both of their pokémon seemed to be plant based creatures.

Still, for all of the science that pointed that America was right, there was a part of him that protested in a short, assertive voice that he didn’t know for sure. After all, America’s presence—and his own, too, for that matter—defied all natural conventions; a meteor had hit the world, altered their regions beyond all recognition, and yet they still existed. So why, in this strange new world, couldn’t it be possible for two male pokémon to breed?

Besides, that voice continued to argue as it gained momentum, clearly the pokémon in question didn’t seem to find anything wrong with loving one another. Sweden glanced down at Bulbasaur and Siv cuddling together, and saw that this was indeed true. To so openly express affection for one another, and to do so even after only having just met… Surely there wasn’t a natural instinct that went against same gender breeding.

To present all of this logic to America, though, and have it not lost due to his poor communication felt impossible. It was one thing for him to write reports for the world meetings, and another thing completely to verbally formulate the same argument. He debated on what to do for a moment, then decided that keeping it short had never failed him before.

With a small hum of determination, Sweden squared his shoulders—felt them, even, fill out the fabric of his shirt as he did so. His eyes flitted toward the cuddling pokémon yet again, their content forms strengthening his resolve to stand firm on this matter, before he met America’s gaze straight on. He did try to keep his expression neutral; America seemed nervous enough as it is, and he didn’t want to unintentionally agitate the other nation further.

“Don’t know ‘nt’l we try,” he pointed out, trying to enunciate as much as he could without bringing attention to the difference in speech pattern. That voice in his head, the part of him that was Berwald and of the Swedish people, hummed in approval at his words. This, he decided, summarily described all that he wanted to say on his feelings regarding the matter.

[America]

Alfred listened to the Swede's few words and nodded silently. It was true, after all. Perhaps male Pokemon could breed somehow after all. He had already noticed that the world wasn't exactly like it was in the game anyways, maybe this was different somehow too. If they could breed with a genderless thing like Ditto, surely there could be a chance they could breed together, too?

He glanced back down at the too and decided that Sweden was right. They wouldn't know for sure unless they tried. He looked back up at the taller man, for once without any fear or nervousness.

"You're right. We won't know until we try." he replied, pausing for a moment before correcting himself, "Well, I mean until they try." But now came the hard part. How was it supposed to work? Did they just leave the two alone, and, if they were successful, discover them with an egg? Did they have to go to the day care, which somehow seemed to be the only place eggs would show up? Was there even a day care in this new world of theirs? He decided to go vocal with his inquiries.

"So, uh, what do we do now?" he asked, looking back at them for a moment before looking back up at Sweden, "Do we just, y'know, leave them here to have some, um, alone time..?" It was more awkward to say then he had initially thought it would be.

He was completely clueless when it came to this kind of thing. Did Pokemon have babies the same way other animals did? Or, with enough love from two Pokemon, did they somehow just..manage to lay an egg? For that matter, how long would it take the egg to hatch? And once it did, who got to keep the baby? Would they have more then one?

If they did have babies, what would they even be? Bulbasaurs? Turtwigs? Some sort of new cross breed between the two? A Twigasaur? That was a strange mental image. He still wasn't sure how this type of thing would work in this new, meteor-created world of theirs.

He glanced back at them, going over several different possibilities in his head. Alfred always over-thought things that didn't really need to be thought about so much. He wasted a lot of time in his life pondering and imagining things. It was quite typical of the American.