The sea roared, and Alfred heard its call, he grabbed Matthew from his bed before the sun boasted its shine in the sky, and they dressed in silence broken by excited giggles in the gentle dawn light. They left the house through the window and made their way to the shoreline to play together in the sand.

Their laughter carried in the vast space, and into Arthur's bedroom window, at the same time the sun sauntered into its place in the sky. He awoke gently, and slid from his bed. Suspicious at the faint noise, he padded softly into the boy's bedroom to find the beds empty and unmade.

Not quite worried about where they were, and too tired to be angry, Arthur returned to bed. He would properly scold them upon their return. He sighed to the hardwood floors, and both were resigned to the fact that the floor would be covered in sand in a few hours, to stick to his bare feet as he walked around and to make his food and drinks gritty with minuscule grains. And he would sweep and sweep for days, for the sand only to find itself back on the floor the next morning.

A bit later, the sun was at a modest height, and in the comfort of bed, Arthur heard the boys enter the house, whispering and giggling, he heard the floor complain under their small toes, heard the squeak of surprise from Matthew and chuckled at the sound of their feet pattering quickly against the cold floor as they ran to their bedroom. The house was drowned in silence, and Arthur counted his fingers silently, and when he reached ten, he was out of his bed with a jump, dressed and on his way into the kitchen to prepare the breakfast.

He fought with the kitchen valiantly, but was humbled as the pancakes that were more scrambled eggs than anything, burned and crisped like bacon, and tried not to despair as the smell of eggs and syrup filled the kitchen. He served the disaster on plates, poured orange juice into three glasses, and went to fetch his children.

The sound of laughter and play died suddenly at the sound of his footsteps and with a knowing smile, Arthur opened the door to find the boys in the wrong beds, panting heavily as they feigned sleep, their slaughtered pillows decorating the floor with a feathery blanket. Such excitement so early on a warm may morning, their hair was disheveled by their play, and Arthur could clearly see Matthew's curls sticking to his sweaty forehead.

Smiling to himself, He called their names, and the two awoke slowly at the first sound of their names, carrying on as if they were drowsy. Arthur crossed his arm over his chest and observed the children as they oh so miraculously recovered from their sleepiness with speed and practically bounced out of bed.

" It must be a miracle if you're getting up so quickly, Alfred" he remarked casually stifling his laughter as the small boy stiffened as he climbed out of bed. " Usually, I have to call and call.." Alfred gave a small smile in reply.

"And Matthew, Why are the clothes I set out for you in such a state? but I don't remember you wearing that yesterday…" Matthew gaped at Arthur, his mouth agape and blue eyes wide with surprise as he stood with one leg in his wrinkled and sandy trousers.

Arthur continued mercilessly, walking toward Alfred's bed, he pulled Matthew closer. The boy stumbled back onto his brother's bed as Arthur pulled his leg up to glance at the cuffs of his pants.

"Matthew, why are the bottom of your pants all grubby?"

The room grew silent, and the floor creaked as Alfred plodded over to join his brothers.

" Ah! You're right Iggy, they are all sandy. Did you go to the beach Matt?" he inquired innocently.

Matthew whirled to face his brother at the betrayal, his eyes had turned cold with hurt and anger, as he glared at Alfred. Alfred looked at him with mock confusion, yet his eyes were laughing. Turning to face Arthur, Alfred gave his older brother a bright smile.

" England, England~," Alfred whined "Matt did a bad thing, he went to the beach early without telling you."

Arthur returned the smile at the switch to formal names,

"America, you have sand on your neck. Do you want me to prepare the bath so you can wash that off?"

" that's alright, I can use a wash cloth"

"I'll get them out for you then"

"mmhmm, what are we eating for breakfast?"

" scrambled P-pancakeeegggs…"

"…?"

"How was the ocean?"

" OH, it was AWESOME! Me and matt waded in the water this morning, It was kinda cold, but it was okay, we had fun."

" So, you were at the beach this morning?"

Alfred blinked, he tried to ignore Matthew rolling his eyes at him. Sighing in defeat, he admitted his guilt, and the two took their scolding in sullen silence, recovered immediately, and bounded happily downstairs for scrambled pancakeeegggs. Arthur followed them wondering if they had really learned their lessons, and decided that their promise to not sneak out anymore is only valid for the day they were made. Sighing, he sat with the boys, and they began to eat.

Arthur cringed at the rubbery texture of the pancakes, but shrugged and ate it anyway, Alfred practically inhaled his food, and was looking slightly paled as he sipped his drink. Matthew had fearfully sampled a piece of the food, pushed his sickly sweet and strangely salty scrambled pancakeeegggs around a bit, and finally settled on the slightly charred muffins England had baked and his orange juice.

Arthur was left with the table filled with dirty plates, He looked wistfully at the place where Canada had been seated, again the boy had not ate well. Matthew had accidentally on purpose dropped his plate to the floor, and his pet bear had seized the opportunity to a free meal, and now lay convulsing and gurgling where he had dropped. When Arthur had offered to make him another, the boy had refused politely, and insisted that he was sedated for the moment, and had hurried out dragging a still pale Alfred along. Arthur cleared the table and carried them in the sink, as he washed the dishes, he watched the boys romp in the backyard, and smiled as he felt the sand cling to his bare feet.