yes, yes I know that I shouldn't be starting yet another multi-chapter fanfic, but this idea just would not leave me alone. so this was born and I hope you all enjoy it. review and tell me what you think!
note: this fic is rated M for future (yet vague) sexual themes. the fact that has been taking down Mature fics without much notice because of simple and fixable things leads me to rate this fic as M just as a precaution. please understand that I do not plan to make this a very sexual story since it was written about the relationship between Alfred, Francis, and Matthew and nothing more.
Gazing through the window of the nursery, Francis regarded his new son with something akin to miserable disdain. He sighed heavily, closing his eyes. It had been seconds after Jeanne had given birth to their Mathieu that her heart complications began. They had been warned that it was a possibility, but the couple had hoped the odds were in their favor. Wispy blond hair stuck up off Mathieu's head and indigo eyes were closed as he slept. Francis felt his heart turn over in his rib cage as he watched his child sleep. Despite wanting nothing more than to take Mathieu and Jeanne home together, he vowed that he would be the best father to his son if Jeanne didn't make it out of the hospital. He could never abandon this beautiful creature.
The tears flowed freely when the surgeon told Francis the news. Jeanne's heart had been much too weak to take the strain of childbirth and it had killed her. Francis left the doctor sitting there and bolted towards the nursery. Through his tears he asked to hold his son and he sat, cradling Mathieu close and kissing his forehead. Indigo eyes flickered around and tiny hands reached up to touch Francis's face. He kissed Mathieu's palm, holding it against his cheek.
"Oh, mon petit, mon garçon précieux. I promise you that I will always be there. I will never leave you, ma douce. Je vous donne ma parole."
Despite his nature, Francis stayed away from dating while Mathieu was growing up. He moved to Quebec City to raise his son and opened a restaurant. Their spacious apartment resided above the restaurant, and Francis had no trouble caring for Mathieu and running the business. His employees were kind and respectful, eager and helpful. If Francis needed someone to hold Mathieu while he finished off a dish, it was usually Laura that would take him.
Francis's best friends, a divorced Spanish sous-chef and a German chef saucierwho swore by staying single, were always eager to hold and coo at Mathieu until he calmed if something startled him. Of course, the child was always kept as far from stoves and hot dishes as possible. Francis struggled with letting Mathieu stay with a sitter so his employees were always willing to help out.
When Mathieu started school at five, Francis was glad to have him away from the kitchen but sad to see him go. He came home every afternoon with a new story and absolutely raved about his teacher, Mr. Alfred. Francis just smiled and kissed Mathieu on the forehead before setting his snack down in front of him. Despite his attempts, Francis was unable to keep his employees and the children at school from calling Mathieu the American form of his name. Mathieu seemed to prefer the other form of his name, so Francis relented. Mathieu became Matthew around others but his name stayed French on his birth certificate.
Francis took off an evening to attend Matthew's school's Parent's Night. He allowed himself to be dragged into the school by his son and showed around Matthew's classroom.
"Papa, lift me up. I want to show you the solar system mobile I helped Mr. Alfred set up," Matthew chirped, little hands fisted in Francis's sweater.
Grinning, Francis hefted Matthew into his arms, allowing his boy to point excitedly at his favorite planet and attempt to name all eight of them.
Francis turned when an unfamiliar voice boomed, "Mattie!"
"Hi, Mr. Alfred," said Matthew, suddenly timid.
"Aw, don't be shy with me, kiddo. We've been buds for a few weeks now; I thought we were past that stage?" Mr. Alfred positively beamed at Matthew, and Francis felt something in his chest unfurl warmly.
Matthew smiled shyly and seemed to remember who was holding him. "Mr. Alfred, this is my papa."
Mr. Alfred turned his smile on Francis, nudging his glasses further up his nose. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Matthew has told me a bit about you already."
Francis held Matthew with one arm, startled at how light his son was, and shook the young man's hand. "He has told me some things about you as well."
"All good, I hope," the teacher laughed, that smile making Francis's knees weak.
"Oh, of course. He just raved about your lessons on…what was it, Mathieu?" Both Francis and Mr. Alfred looked to the boy, who flushed and half tucked his face against Francis's throat.
"The maple trees here in Canada," was Matthew's hushed reply.
"Really? Well, I'm glad you liked that, Mattie. How about I bring you some maple leaves from the trees behind my house? You could press them in a book," Mr. Alfred offered, idly watching a child run by them with their parents in tow.
"I'd like that," Matthew answered, smiling widely. "Papa, can I go talk to my friend, Miguel? He's over there with his parents."
"Of course, ange. Stay where I can see you," Francis crooned, setting Matthew down and smoothing his son's hair. With Matthew out of earshot, Francis turned to Mr. Alfred. "How does he do in your class?"
Scratching the back of his head, Mr. Alfred sighed a little disappointedly. "He's extremely quiet, hardly ever speaks to anyone besides Miguel and I, but he's a respectful boy and a very good student."
"The only time he talks to me is if he needs something signed for school. I run a restaurant and my friends that work for me practically helped raise him. Sometimes I feel as if he thinks they're his parents," Francis groaned, watching his son approach the dark-skinned boy across the room. "I-I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that much. I apologize, Mister—"
"Call me Alfred," the young man asked, blue eyes sparkling. "Please."
"Alfred, then."
"And," Alfred continued quickly, "it's alright. I don't mind."
Suddenly, a bell rang through the room and children sought out their parents. Matthew pressed himself against Francis's leg, peering up at Alfred with big indigo eyes.
"I'll see you tomorrow morning, alright? Don't give your dad a hard time," Alfred teased, touching Matthew on the top of the head.
Matthew nodded, smiling crookedly, and tugged on Francis's hand. "Come on, Papa. Uncle Toni said he would make us paella for dinner."
"Alright, cher," Francis purred to Matthew, stroking a soft, round cheek. To Alfred, he said, "It was very nice to finally meet you, Alfred."
"You as well. Have a good evening," Alfred replied sweetly, grinning brightly with those deep dimples of his.
Francis felt his stomach flutter and his cheeks heat up. It had been a long while since someone had evoked such a reaction from him.
Translations (French to English):
mon petit, mon garçon précieux - my boy, my precious boy
ma douce - my sweet