Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia

Chapter 1

The polished shoes of a wealthy gentleman tapped against the damp cobblestones of the Victorian London streets as he strode towards his home. It was the late evening, and the gentleman's sparkling blue eyes studied the view in front of him, always wary of pickpockets or provocative women. His shoulder-length golden hair had been tied neatly with a navy ribbon, but now that it had endured the day, a few loose strands caressed his cheeks gently.

The gentleman stopped as he heard, very faintly, the sound of echoing meek sobs. At first, he grew wary again, his slender fingers going instinctively to the pocket of his rich blue coat where his purse was. But the sobbing continued and did not seem to sound any closer than before. The gentleman hesitated, but noted that the sobbing was that of a child, and this made his open heart melt easily. He had always loved too easily: and he was so sensitive and kind that it was almost to the point of naivety and vulnerability. But now he didn't care, slowly advancing down a dark alleyway where the sobbing was sourced.

The gentleman almost tripped over something in the darkness, and suddenly he felt something press against his leg, pushing him backwards defensively.

"Who is there?" He asked, his French accent still prominent after living in England for almost ten years.

"Go away!" A small voice hissed, and the sobbing started again.

But the gentleman knew that the sobbing had not come from the same voice that demanded he leave. Straining his eyes in the dark, the dim moonlight finally outlined two figures. One was leaning again the grimy brick wall of the alley, its shoulders trembling. The other was standing with its legs somewhat apart in a defensive stance, protecting the trembling figure. The gentleman's expression softened as he saw that they were both children, and he lowered himself until he was crouched in front of them a safe distance away.

"I am not here to hurt you, mes petits." His voice was soft and soothing, but the standing figure didn't lower his defence.

"Go away!" The child said again, and as the gentleman's eyes adjusted more to the darkness he could see that the one speaking was a little boy, and the trembling figure was a younger, weaker-looking girl, although neither of them looked to be in the best of health.

The gentleman smiled kindly. "Are you hungry? I have some food…" he slowly reached into his pocket, taking out a piece of cake wrapped delicately in a cloth napkin.

The boy hesitated at this, widening his eyes as they hadn't eaten in days. The gentleman handed the boy the food, and he stared at it hungrily, but showing a praiseworthy level of self-restraint, he crouched by the girl and helped her to eat some first, before cramming the leftover cake into his mouth hungrily. The gentleman watched the display with a smile, already feeling love for these children.

"My name is Francis." He began gently, trying to gain the children's trust. "What are your names?"

But the boy frowned, still suspicious of him, and Francis nodded in understanding. "You can tell me when you are ready to. But I can offer you a warm bath and a comfortable bed tonight, and as much food as you can stomach if you come with me."

Again, the boy looked cautious, but the offer Francis was making was hard to resist. Francis smiled again, gesturing to the girl. "Is she your sister, mon petit?" He asked gently, and the boy nodded again.

Francis confirmed the action with a nod of his own. "I thought so. If you come with me, I promise I will pay a very good doctor to make your sister better, oui?"

This seemed to be the pivotal point for the boy, and he eventually nodded. "Promise you can help her?"

Francis nodded. "Oui, I promise."

At this, the boy smiled, going over to his sister and whispering that this man was going to help them. His sister only turned her gaze slowly to Francis, her eyes dull and glazed. Francis felt his heart tug at the sight of the poor girl, and after reassuring the boy that he wasn't going to hurt her, he took off his coat, wrapping it around her before scooping her up. She weighed next to nothing in his arms, and the boy held onto the sleeve of his coat which had fallen out of the bundle, wanting to stay close to his little sister.

XxX

The house in which Francis resided was not far away, and overlooked Hyde Park. It was a huge mansion three storeys high, and although the boy had seen the towering building before, he never dreamt he would ever step inside. The double doors were almost a head and a half taller than Francis, and they towered over the boy, intimidating him a little, and he clutched the coat sleeve tighter.

Francis smiled, rapping on the door confidently and almost instantly it was opened by a smartly dressed butler. He recognised Francis and nodded his head.

"Welcome home, sir." He greeted, before passing his gaze over the two children and slightly raising an eyebrow.

Francis only smiled again and held the girl closer, almost protectively against his chest. "Good evening, Pearce." he smiled and then turned to the children. "This is our butler, Pearce. He and the other servants will take care of you as much as I will."

He then turned his attention back to the butler, asking for a bedroom to be made up for the two children and a supper prepared, before taking the children inside. The house was clean and bright, lit by candelabras taller than Francis. The boy widened his eyes, having never seen such a huge and beautiful place.

"Wow – this is your house?" The boy exclaimed in awe.

"Well, I live here, oui, but my friend owns it. He lives here too, so you'll meet him when he finishes his work, I expect." Francis led the boy upstairs, still holding the girl in his arms. She was too weak to keep her eyes open for long, but her brother described everything to her, which Francis found sweet.

One of the maids who cleaned the rooms offered to bathe the children, and Francis thanked her, allowing her to take care of them while he found some clothes that would fit them. He had always wanted children, and he had made some children's clothes in the hopes he would have some. He found a small shirt, waistcoat and trousers for the boy, and a pretty red dress for the girl, though he knew it would be too big for her as she was a scrawny little thing.

He left the maid to dress them as well, and when they came downstairs again they looked completely different. The grime and dirt was washed from their faces and arms; their hair was neatly combed and they had been perfumed and pampered. The boy wriggled and fidgeted in his new clothes but Francis knew he would get used to them. The girl was still too weak to walk so the maid was carrying her, but she had a small smile on her features. Francis felt a swell of pride as he had already helped them, but now he led them down into the kitchens where supper was waiting.

XxX

Francis sipped his wine as the children ate hungrily, their manners sloppy but Francis forgave them easily. They had probably never been taught how to sit and eat nicely, and Francis began to wonder just how much they had been deprived of.

"Will you tell me your names now, children?" Francis prompted gently, and the boy looked up with food all around his mouth.

"I'm Alfred – this is Maddie." He said simply, but Francis beamed at the fact they trusted him with the knowledge of their names.

"Those are lovely names." He commented, before hearing the butler open the front door and he smiled. "Excuse me a moment, children." He ruffled Alfred's hair gently, before going to the hall.

His friend and the owner of the house was Arthur Kirkland, a stern, reserved man who had allowed Francis to live with him for ten years, ever since he came to England. He was slightly shorter than Francis, with big bushy eyebrows that half hid his emerald eyes, and dirty blonde hair that was forever unruly. He was dressed in a smart, green, three-piece suit that Francis always thought looked wonderful on him, and he turned to smile at Francis, stepping closer to greet him, but Francis quickly stopped him.

"I have something to show you, mon cher." The Frenchman smiled and Arthur instantly grew suspicious.

"If you've changed all the furniture again, I swear to God – "

"That furniture was awful and desperately needed changing – but non, it's not that. Come with me." The Frenchman took his hand, leading the Englishman down to the kitchens to meet the children.

When he saw them, Arthur stopped in his tracks, blinking. "Children?"

Francis bit his lip a little nervously, having not thought about what Arthur's reaction may be until now. "Ah – Arthur, this is Alfred, and this is Madeline. I found them on my walk this evening, and I wanted to give them a place to stay."

Arthur went quiet, before gently but firmly grabbing Francis' arm and dragging him out of the kitchen to speak with him. Once they were out of the children's earshot, Arthur frowned.

"Have you taken leave of your senses? They need to be with their parents!"

Francis' face fell a little, but he met his gaze. "Arthur, the poor things were in an alley, sick and cold and dirty. I promised them I would help them."

"Then give them a package of food and send them on their way."

Now it was Francis' turn to frown. "But we have plenty of space here for them, and we can afford to keep them here."

Arthur sighed. "Francis, this is my house. You have no right to offer out our rooms to anyone you come across. We shall hand them in to the police."

"They will end up in a workhouse! And I would not have that on my conscience." Francis lowered his gaze to the floor. "I thought you wouldn't object, seeing as you took me in."

Arthur hesitated. "That was different."

"Non, it wasn't. You found me starving to death on the streets and you took me in. I've done the same for these poor children."

Arthur sighed again, but he was a stubborn gentleman and he shook his head. "They can stay here tonight, but I want them out of the house the next morning, is that clear?"

"But – "

"Is that clear, Francis?" Arthur repeated, his voice stern, and Francis sighed in defeat.

"Oui." Was all he said in reply, and Arthur's expression softened as he reached out to place a hand on the Frenchman's arm, but Francis moved back into the kitchen before he could. Arthur sighed, knowing Francis would be angry at him, so he went up to his study to hide himself away.

He couldn't stand seeing Francis upset.

XxX

Francis went back to see the children, forcing a smile as they had finished eating. "Now then, I expect you're both tired, aren't you?"

The children nodded, Maddie rubbing her eyes sleepily before reaching up for Francis like she would for her mother. Francis felt his heart pang again at the thought of having to kick them out the next day, but he scooped Maddie up with a smile, holding her in one arm as he took Alfred's hand in the other, taking them upstairs to their room. Alfred was far more talkative now, excited about the interesting turn their day had taken.

Francis smiled, leading them to their bedroom which had a double bed, but he figured the children wouldn't want to be separated in a strange place. He got them some nightshirts that were far too big and helped them change, before tucking them into bed. He couldn't help himself, and as he said goodnight, he gently kissed their foreheads, before leaving the room and closing the door softly behind him, as the children had fallen asleep with ease in the large, comfortable bed.

Francis' smile dropped as soon as he closed the door, knowing that this wasn't to last, and he went to his own room, curling up on the windowsill and looking out at the garden below.

Arthur had come out of his study, having noticed the miserable look on Francis' features, and he couldn't ignore it.

He didn't knock on the door, just gently opening it and coming inside, closing it behind him. "Francis?"

The Frenchman didn't answer, staring forlornly out of the window. In his hand was a small teddy bear that he had made by hand, in the hopes that he could give it to his child someday.

Arthur's face fell, and he felt guilty about being so harsh earlier. He came over to him, gently resting a hand on his shoulder.

"Love?" He said more softly, before sitting behind him on the windowsill and wrapping his arms around his waist from behind. Francis leaned back against him a little, sniffing softly.

"When I found those children today, I thought God was giving me a chance to finally have a family…" the Frenchman whispered, shielding his face from Arthur but the Englishman knew he was crying. His heart ached as he knew he had caused this, but he wished Francis didn't get attached to people so easily.

"Francis, you know we're living precariously enough as it is. If we raise two children without a wife, people will get suspicious."

Francis knew this; he knew that men of fashion were frowned upon and demonised, and if two children were involved, all sorts of nasty rumours would spread. "I know, cher. But…they're so little...!" His voice cracked as he said this and he broke into sobs. Arthur gently hugged him from behind, placing small kisses along his jaw.

"I am sorry, Francis. You know I would do anything for you, but I don't want to lose you." He whispered, and Francis finally looked at him. This was even worse, because now Arthur could see the tears and the heartbreak in his beautiful blue eyes.

The Frenchman turned fully, burying his face in his chest. "I know the risks, Arthur…but what we may face is nothing compared to what Alfred and Maddie could face out on the streets, or in a workhouse…"

When Arthur still looked torn, Francis wiped his eyes, pulling back and standing up, before going to his dresser and pulling out his nightshirt.

Arthur watched him, fearful of what may lie ahead for them if they kept these children. "Francis, I know it's hard, but we've been careful to keep out of trouble all this time."

Francis said nothing, but he undid his shirt, sliding it off his shoulders before starting on his trousers. Arthur didn't look away, as he was more than familiar with the Frenchman's body, but it still struck awe and desire in him.

"B-besides," he continued with some effort, "we will have to conceal who we are around them. They are too young to understand that our relationship needs to be kept a secret."

Francis had discarded his trousers and undergarments now, and he turned to him, fully naked and unashamed. Arthur stood up, unable to resist Francis' beautiful form.

"We hide who we are in public, cher. It will not be difficult to hide it in front of the children. We can still have time alone together…like this." As he spoke, he rested his hands on Arthur's chest, before sliding them up to loosen Arthur's cravat. Arthur admired Francis, his own wandering hands finding themselves around his waist in a moment.

"I suppose so. But…" the Englishman was fast running out of excuses, and he knew Francis had undressed in front of him just to get what he wanted, but by God it was an effective tactic.

Francis smiled. "But?" He prompted, before kissing along Arthur's jaw slowly and deliberately, each kiss sparking excitement and desire through Arthur.

"But…" Arthur tried to remember what he was going to say, but the damned Frenchman had made him lose his train of thought completely, and he sighed, finally giving in.

"Alright, fine. They can stay. But you will be responsible for them – " but he was cut off before he could finish as Francis suddenly kissed him with glee. The kiss was soft but enticing, and Arthur craved more as soon as he pulled away.

"Merci, Arthur!" Francis beamed, and Arthur returned the smile, glad that he had made his Frenchman happy again.

When Francis kissed him again, Arthur was quick to reciprocate, tangling one hand in his golden locks as the other groped his ass, appreciating how beautiful Francis was. The two of them toppled back on Francis' bed, their night filled with passion muffled by heated kisses and locked doors.

A/N: So this is the first chapter of a new story. Please review and tell me what you think of it so far!