It was a bright, warm and sunny day in England. The sky was clear blue, so blue that only a few clouds dotted the area. A gentle breeze blew past, neither too soft nor rough, only enough to cool oneself from the heated sun. A British man sat comfortably in his armchair, a plump pillow placed neatly behind his back, resting his aching back from doing the gardening. Bringing a tea cup to his lips, he took a sip of his favourite hot beverage known as Earl Grey tea. Arthur could not remember a moment like this before; it was truly a day he could never forget. Right now, there was nothing that could ruin his day, until...

RING!

Arthur released an exasperated sigh as he made his way to the source of the sound, and bringing the telephone to his ear he said, "Hello. Who is this?"

"Ohonhonhon… who do you think, Eyebrows?" Francis. Arthur huffed, "What do you want?" Seriously, if he was going to call, at least address the person with politeness.

"Could you do a favour for me?"

Two pairs of innocent, blue eyes stared right through striking green ones. Who would have thought babysitting your nephews would be so... easy? It had been two hours since the phone call from his brother-in-law, Francis, telling him about his honeymoon and how he wanted him to look after his children while he was away.

The British man shifted in his seat for the millionth time in the hour, and leaned down to smile at the two youngsters before him in an attempt to change the mood. The eldest twin was named Alfred. He had short, dirty-blonde hair with blue eyes and glasses. According to Francis he was an energetic, obnoxious and fussy child who is obsesses with junk food and video games. Francis had warned him about Alfred and that he should watch the boy at ALL times. And so, Arthur had not left his eyes off the boy ever since his parents left. The younger twin was named Matthew. He had long, blonde wavy hair like Francis and, too, had blue eyes and glasses. He was, however, the complete opposite of Alfred. He was quiet and timid, and at most times unnoticeable. The children only responded with a raised brow, though Matthew looked more scared than confused.

Arthur noticed this, and as he did not want to frighten them, broke the silence by asking, "So, what do you normally do at this time?"

The twins glanced at each other for a second before Alfred opened his mouth to speak. "Dad would normally make us some snacks," he replied in a strong American accent. Arthur also noticed this and pondered on where he got the accent from – probably from watching a ton of American sitcoms.

Arthur nodded in response. "Then I'll go make some food." He stood up and held his hand out to the two. They only blinked and looked up at their uncle.

"Don't worry. I don't bite," he chuckled.

Giggling, Alfred grabbed the man's hand and pulled himself up with a forceful tug. However, Mathew, not looking entirely convinced, remained seated and tightened the hug on his stuffed polar bear.

Arthur smiled softly and held his other hand out. "Let's go."

Looking over at his beaming brother, his fear of the man lessened and Matthew found himself reaching up to the hand and pulling himself up.

In the kitchen, Arthur held a recipe book labelled 'How to Cook American Food', as requested by Alfred. With knitted eyebrows, he tried to process the steps in his mind. Honestly, he was shocked at the sort of food Americans ate. Burgers, hotdogs and Buffalo wings seemed too high in fat for him. After ten painful minutes of waiting, the sounds of stomachs grumbling reverberated around the house which made Arthur panic. He flicked through the book until he found a recipe for a steak pie. "Why is a recipe for steak pie doing in this so-called recipe book?" Nevertheless, Arthur grinned in delight at the sight of a British recipe and started to prepare the ingredients.

"Alfred, would you be a kind lad as to pass me the salt?" called Arthur.

Just when Alfred was about to grab the salt, a mischievous grinned crept up his childish face and his hand purposely aimed for the chili powder instead. Although Matthew was the sort of boy who was normally left unnoticed by those around him, his eyes scanned his surroundings much like a security camera, and his target was mainly his elder twin brother. So, once he noticed the cunning act his brother was about to commit, he tapped the other's shoulder in order to grab his attention.

"Um, Al…" Matthew started.

However, it was too late. Arthur had already given a cheery 'thanks' to Alfred, and without even looking, started to add the chili powder in the filling mix. In the corner of the kitchen, the young American clasped his mouth with his hands in attempt to repress his laughter. On the other hand, Matthew stood next to Arthur and stared at the gleaming emerald eyes that glanced down at him. He wondered whether he would still see that look after dinner.

"Okay, time to place to place the pastry over the dish. Then, all that is left is to cook it and wait!" Arthur exclaimed. He instructed the boys to place the pastry over the dish and lightly brush it with egg yolk.

Disaster decided to drop by Arthur's house once again (and it mostly came by when he was cooking) which led to Alfred knocking over the bowl of egg yolk, spill all over the pastry and the bowl smashing into the floor. Arthur faked a smiled and assured the boy that it was just an accident. In attempt to mend the situation, he swept up the debris and messily coated the pastry. Furthermore, Matthew was nowhere to be found and Arthur panicked. He swiftly turned around and knocked over some of the ingredients. Again, Arthur calmed the boys and cleaned up the mess. One action led to another then…

Fingers pressed to his temples, Arthur sat exhausted in his favourite armchair. He sometimes wondered whether his armchair had powers that eliminated the pain and worry in his body. And it relaxed him. Now he regretted his judgement of babysitting being easy.

The two boys wandered around, playing with whatever item that neatly littered the boring, antique-looking house. They had decided to explore the house whist they waited for the pie to cook.

"Matt, check this out," Alfred whispered to his brother, pointing to a wooden, sturdy-looking door at the end of the corridor. He slowly approached it and motioned for Matthew to follow him.

Matthew reluctantly followed behind his brother; he had his stuffed polar bear covering his face, using it as some sort of protection.

Being the brave brother that he is, Alfred took a deep breath and grabbed the door knob. He twisted it and pushed it slowly. BAM. To his surprise, the door did not even budge slightly. And this got the two boys suspicious.

"Alfred! Matthew! The pie is ready!" called Arthur from below the staircase.

Alfred flinched and held his brother by the hand. Both boys scurried down the stairs and into the dining table, with Alfred putting the most innocent face a child could muster.

Arthur looked suspiciously at Alfred but decided to shake the thought off. It would be best not to jump into conclusions. "I guarantee you that this is the most delicious meat pie in the world!" he declared. Grabbing a knife, he made three incisions down the golden, flaky crust. He lifted a slice and delicately placed it on Alfred's plate. The aroma of meat and onion and infused spices drifted into Alfred's nose, and it made him salivate. His eyes widened in amazement as he watched the sauce teasingly ooze out of the pie, creating a hot pool of deliciousness around it. Being a very imaginative child, he had pictured the pie as an island, the sauce was the water and that he was the typhoon, ready to devour the island.

A squeal escaped Matthew's lips and Arthur and Alfred spun around towards the other's direction. "What's the matter, Matthew?"

"N-nothing..." he replied shyly. On the other hand, he shot Alfred a 'don't-you-remember-what-you-did' look. But being the oblivious boy he is, Alfred did not take the hint and started scoffing away at the pie.

"How is it Alfred?" Arthur smiled, then tasting a portion of the slice.

"It's goo- uh!"

"Hm?"

"Ugh!" Alfred covered his mouth; he turned towards Arthur and gave a worried look. His entire face was reddening and he looked like he was about to explode.

Matthew glanced at Arthur and saw that his face, too, was getting red. The presence of sweat was now visible on his forehead. Arthur pushed his plate to the centre of the table and started fanning himself with his hands. "God, I may have added too much spices..."

Unable to handle the heat, Alfred and Arthur got up from their seats and rushed to the sink.

"Matthew, here's the key to my room. Could you please get some towels?" Arthur quickly handed Matthew the key, and then held Alfred by the hand, rushing to the sink.

Once Matthew reached the top of the stairs, adrenaline raced through his veins at an alarming rate. He was terrified. He hated being alone. He was scared. What's worse is the door at the end of the corridor seemed to give off creepy aura which made him tremble.

"Matthew?" Arthur called from the kitchen.

"I'm c-coming..." replied Matthew. Right now, there was no time to be afraid, he had to face his fears, be independent, and be brave, like his brother. He inhaled then exhaled. Inhale. After inserting the key in the key hole, he cautiously twisted the key until he heard a click. Exhale. He twisted the door knob and softly pushed the door open. All he needed to do now was find the towels.

"Have you got them yet?"

"I've got them," the boy replied with a lie.

He scanned the area: a modern bed, a desk scattered with papers and pens, to the side was a dusty desk lamp; a few wardrobes situated in the corner to his left towered over him, and wooden shelves which were nailed lazily had books stacked vertically, diagonally and others in piles. He walked up to one of the wardrobes and was relieved to see some fresh towels upon opening it. Without warning, a sea of magazines flooded out of the wardrobe like waves on a shore. But Matthew had no interest in them and was afraid to touch them as they were his uncle's property. So, he only took one glimpse of the item then came running down the stairs and into the kitchen with pristine, white towels, wrapped in a plastic bag.

"Thank you... ever so much... Matthew." Arthur thanked whist gasping for air.

RING!

"I'll get it." Matthew walked towards the door and opened it. Standing on the other side of the door was Francis with his arms stretched. "Papa!" Matthew rushed into his father's arms and was captured into a tight embrace.

"I'm back Mon Cher, where is Alfred, we are going home now!" Francis exclaimed.

In the house, the sounds equivalent to waterfalls crashing could be heard. Francis and Matthew looked at each other.

After waiting for a few minutes, Alfred appeared from behind Arthur. "I apologise, Francis, I think the pie I made was a little too hot to their tastes." Arthur said sheepishly.

"I can't believe you fed my children!" Francis exclaimed, laughing. "Seriously, merci Eyebrows for taking care of them. They weren't trouble were they?"

"Oh, not at all. I'll be glad to take care of them another day!" Arthur faked a smile. He could not possibly argue with Francis with the children around!

"I'll be going now!"

When Arthur retuned back to his house, Matthew turned to Francis and asked, "Papa, can I ask you a question?"

"Of course, what is it?"

"What is 'porn'?"

And on that moment, Francis decided that he would NEVER let Arthur look after his children.