Author Commentary; Okay then, here we go. This story suddenly hit me out of nowhere almost. It's been taking over my mind. I have a different story on the go, but that one is supposed to be long and I'm not even halfway through it (it's prequel was nearly 30000 words, holishit). So, to take a break from it, I'm going to work on this. This one is a little more angsty, but, like I said, it's been plaguing my brain. So, onward we go!

Title; Prologue

Characters; America, Canada, France, England

Pairs; FrUK

Rating; M

Warnings; Angst, child abuse, trauma, swearing

Disclaimer; I don't own Hetalia, but I do have a dysfunctional family (not as bad as this though).

"Why don't you get off you're lazy ass and get a fucking job!"

"Shut the fuck up you whore!"

Matthew whimpered and Alfred held him closer. It would pass, it always passed. They just had to wait a while and they would stop yelling, then they just ad to ide for a little while until they stopped being angry. Their mother might look in the large pantry for them, but their father wouldn't, and they'd take their mother's wrath over their fathers any day.

"Fine! Leave then you stupid slut!" their father shouted.

"I'm never coming back! You can keep the little bastards too!" their mother shouted back before the front door slammed and a foreboding silence swept through the house.

Matthew whimpered again, and for good reason. If their mother wasn't around, there wouldn't be anyone to stop their father when he got out of hand. Alfred squeezed him closer until neither of them could breath properly. They listened to their father stomp around the house, searching for them.

"Where the fuck are you? Come out you stupid brats!" he shouted.

Alfred wiggled backwards, farther into the corner of the pantry they were hiding in. Matthew attempted to wiggle back as well, but his shirt caught on a box of cereal and knocked it over. They brother stared at each other in horror as the heavy footsteps of their enraged father came closer.

The pantry door flew open and revealed their father, face flushed with anger and alcohol. His foggy gaze fell on the cowering children and he snarled. He reached down and grabbed little Matthew, the quiet and well behaved one, by the hair and dragged him out, ignoring his pained cries. Alfred squawked and leapt up, following his little brother. He knew he wouldn't be able to defend him, not against their father, but at the very best he could be there for him. It wasn't like their father would notice. And if he did, they could suffer together.

Their father finally reached the bedroom and tossed Matthew inside, not noticing Alfred slipping into the room before he shut the door. He grabbed Matthew again, this time by the arm and forced him down on he bed.

"You gonna whine and bitch too, you little shit?" he growled, ripping away Matthew's clothes, "You're just like that slut of a mother of yours!"

Matthew whined and struggled; he didn't want this, this was gross and dirty and humiliating. Tears began falling down his cheeks as he saw his father unfasten the front of his pants.

"No, please! I'll be good! I promise!" Matthew cried, trying to wriggle away.

Their father slapped him across the face and yelled, "Shut up!" before lining his erect penis up against Matthew much too small entrance and pushed in.

A scream bubbled up in Matthew's throat, but he forced it down as his father began thrusting. Small whimpers managed to escape, but he bit his lip to keep from making any more noise. God, he wished this was over already. He wanted to die, to leave, to go far far away and never return. Anything to make this hell end already. A warm hand wrapped around his and he turned to see Alfred gripping his hand, crying alongside him. They squeezed their hands together tightly as their father finished inside of Matthew and pulled out, leaving the room without even a second glance at the two of them. Matthew groaned and turned onto his side, the first sobs escaping his throat. Alfred Crawled up onto the bed and held Matthew close while he howled in pain and grief, silent tears spilling out of his own blue eyes.

God, why couldn't they just die?

Arthur Kirkland sighed; why oh why did he have to be a homosexual? Why couldn't he have been heterosexual like the majority of people? Then he could have gotten a wife and had kids of his own and not have to deal with his husband fighting about whether to adopt or not.

"Arthur, zink about ze child'z psych. 'ow would ze poor zing feel about being raized by two men?" Francis Bonnefoy, Arthur's husband, said.

"Francis, society has changed since we were kids. Now it's not that uncommon for a child to be raised by same sex partners." Arthur said.

Francis sighed, "I know it 'az changed, but we are living in a zmall town. People are ztill uneazy wiz uz being married, even zough we 'ave been living 'ere for many yearz now."

Arthur huffed, "Well, that's their problem, isn't it?" he said. He put on a sad/pleading face, "Francis, you know I love kids. I've always wanted them."

Francis sighed, "Oui, I know, but I do not zink zat I am ready to be a Father."

Arthur sighed as well, "Well, I suppose we could wait a little longer." he mumbled.

Francis walked over to him and wrapped his arms around Arthur, "I am zorry Arthur. I know you want children, but I am juzt not ready. Maybe in a few yearz, but not juzt yet."

Arthur sighed and hugged Francis back. They could wait a few more years, but Arthur didn't know if he could wait that long. He had always wanted to have kids, and when he had figured out that he was gay, he had hoped to find a partner just as enthusiastic about them as he was, so they could possibly adopt when they got married. However, after repeated relationships falling through because of his partners unwillingness to grant Arthur the one thing he wanted out of a relationship, Arthur began to give up on having kids of his own. By the time he had met Francis while on a trip to Canada, he had nearly given up on ever having his own kids. However, when they had gotten married and moved to Canada (a small, but very multicultural, community just an hour and a half away from the nearest city), where same-sex couples were given full marriage and adoption rights, he had rekindled his desire to be a parent. Francis, while not as enthusiastic as Arthur about children, had agreed to think about adopting. But after three years of marriage, his standing on having a family was still the same; 'not yet, I don't think I'm ready'.

Arthur sighed again and removed himself from Francis's arms, "I think I'll go for a walk." he said.

Francis nodded, knowing that Arthur needed time to think and brood for a while. He watched Arthur leave the house and sighed. It wasn't like he hated children,he just didn't know if he would make a good Father. He wasn't like Arthur, parental instinct wasn't born into him. Before discovering that Arthur wanted kids, he hadn't even thought about about being a parent. His own family, while not as crazy as Arthur's, was still rather odd. His own father had left him and his mother when he was small, and his mother was rather self-obsessed, so where was he supposed to draw his guidelines for parenting from? Francis sighed again and picked up the mail from the counter, unread since they had stopped in the middle of breakfast to argue about having kids (again).

Flipping through the junk mail and flyers, Francis came upon a peculiar letter from the United States of America. Raising an eyebrow, Francis tore open the envelope and began reading the letter. As he comprehended what it said, he didn't know whether to laugh or cry at the irony.

Three hours later, Arthur walked back through the door, much less upset than he had been when he first left, "Francis? Where are you?" he called, "I'm not mad. I can wait another year or so."

From the couch, Francis laughed, "It zeemz zat you will not 'ave to Arthur. Look." he held out the letter for Arthur.

Arthur raised a frightening eyebrow, but said nothing and took the letter. As he read, his eye widened, "We're legal guardians? How?"

Francis sighed, "A diztant relative of mine waz arrezted for various zingz and ruled unfit to keep cuztody of 'iz two boyz. Zey cannot find ze boyz mother, zo zey rezponzibility fallz on me, ze clozezt living relative, and my zpouze, you. Congratulationz, you 'ave what you alwayz wanted." he explained.

Arthur wanted to leap for joy. Kids! Finally, he was going to have kids! He kept himself composed and sat down next to Francis, still gripping the letter tightly in his hands. Francis glanced over at him and smiled.

"I know 'ow much ziz meanz to you cher. Go a'ead and be 'appy." he said.

No sooner than the words had left Francis's lips Arthur had pounced and wrapped his skinny arms around Francis's neck, "We're going to be parents!" he cheered, "This is so wonderful! Two boys. Oh, I wonder what they'll be like. Do you think they'll need a lot of time to adjust? Ah, I should get started on bedrooms for the little things, shouldn't I?"

As Arthur rambled on about how wonderful it was going to be, Francis couldn't help but smile. He decided to with hold the little note at the bottom of the letter that said that, if they so wished, they could decline and let the boys go to the next relative or into foster care. If it made Arthur this happy, he would try his best to care for the two boys. It would be difficult, but with Arthur at his side, what could possibly go wrong?

They had no idea what was in store for them.

Author Commentary; Okay, prologue done, now on to the next chapter.

I'M SORRY FOR TORTURING AMERICA AND CANADA BUT IT NEEDED TO BE DONE!