It's only fair to have something about momma boys since I wrote that short piece about a daddy's girl (I really should write another piece to it). The two are connected though however.

Anyway~ Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own anything of Hetalia in any way shape or form.

Warning: AU, Genderbender: fem!England, fem!Canada, and fem!America alongside their male counterparts (Except England) Lots of dialogue? Sorry!

"Wow Al! You're so lucky!"

"Lucky for what?"

"That Mr. Bonneyfoy's your dad!"

"You have a dad too. What so special about mine?"

"Well…for one…he can cook really good. And you have the best mom ever!"

"You have a dad that can cook too and my ma ain't allowed in the kitchen no more anyway. She burns shit."

"Alfred!"

Alfred flinched and looked up at his father, his light blond hair pulled back into a pony tail and secured with a bright blue ribbon that him little sister got him for his birthday. Alfred liked that ribbon the most since it looked like their eyes. She picked the color and he brought the ribbon with the pocket money their mother had given them to spend on their own. After the brought the ribbon they went and played in the park until the sky started to change colors from the sky blue of their eyes to the purple of-

"Alfred. Have you heard a single word that I have spoken to you?"

"You're wearin' da ribbon me 'nd Millie got you for your birthday."

His father let out an exasperated sigh and didn't comment on his son's lack of concentration. "Of course I'm wearing mon petit prince. I wear it every day."

Alfred smiled up at his father and left his friend to see everyone else. He saw his mother sitting in the shade of their veranda with his newest sister. Looking around for his other sister he saw the five year old being carried over their fathers shoulder, most likely to a corner for a time out. He didn't even wonder what she did anymore. Running up the steps of the wrap around veranda Alfred smiled at his mother before climbing up on the railing. Looking for a mop of hair much like his father, he skimmed over the people in their large backyard.

"If you're looking for Mathieu, try in the house. He ran in there with Gilbert awhile ago."

Abigail held her four month old daughter carefully as she reclined on the chaise with two of her friends. Before Alfred could run into their house a thin but strong hand with rough pads swiped at his cheeks, most likely wiping off some left over frosting from the birthday cake his father made for his brother's fourteenth birthday. The long, bright red painted nails made a clicking sound as the rubbed the still baby fat cheeks.

"Ms. Vargas," Alfred whined and squirmed until Romana gave him a hard pinch.

"Stop whining and get your ass over here. I didn't dress you this morning so you could go around looking like a slob and making me look bad. Tenere ancora bambino." (IT: Hold still little/baby boy)

"I'm not a baby Ms. Vargas- hey is that Ludwig kissing Feli?"

Romana flew up and headed in the direction of her daughter after pointing to the carrier beside her. Muttering something about a 'Lovi'. Alfred and the other two adults looked over and by a stroke of luck Ludwig was actually with Feliciana. Or he was with her until he saw the angry Italian woman storming towards them.

"That wasn't very nice Alfred. You owe Ludwig an apology now. I thought you two were friends?"

"We is friends but Ms. Vargas is scary sometimes and she pinches hard when she's angry."

Abigail looked at her son with a smile and shook her head. Next to her sat an older stern looking man. The resemblance between him and Ludwig was miniscule since the only difference was that his hair was much longer and a small side plait kept most of it from his face. A very faint smile came over his face and he rubbed Alfred's bright golden blond hair. Bernhard Beilschmidt waved off Alfred when he apologized for setting the fiery Italian wrath on his younger son and let him run into the house after his older brother.

"You're entirely too soft on him Bernie."

"Oh? Like you aren't soft on Mathieu?"

"Mathieu's different. He's a well behaved boy. Does all his chores, doesn't have the school call nearly every day for some asinine thing. He gets beautiful grades, he's very athletic, doesn't follow the wrong crowd, talented, and he's a great older brother to the children. I would have killed for an elder brother like Mathieu."

"You never praise Alfred like that…"

"Hn. He doesn't do anything worth praising really…"

Alfred stood frozen on the other side of the screen door and turned to look back at his mother. He caught Romana's eye on the step and nodded when she gave him a small shooing motion with her hand.

"…but he's my son and I wouldn't exchange him for anything in the world."

Walking through their spotless kitchen and main hall he headed into the living room where his older brother was with his best friend lounging on the couch. Mathieu was wrapped up close to Gilbert who was whispering something in his ear causing him to muffle his laughter. Alfred stood awkwardly in the doorway and was about to duck away to hole himself up in his room. Rubbing the tears that gathered in his big blue eyes he turned away. Gilbert nudged Mathieu to the doorway and called Alfred into the sitting room.

"Hey Alfie! What are-" Alfred cut his brother off by running into them and clinging tightly.

"What's the matter kiddo?"

Mathieu removed his younger brother and used a tissue his albino friend handed to wipe Alfred's face off. Setting him in his lap, Mathieu held the ten year old as he tried his best to keep his small sobs in.

"You want me to leave for a while Matt? Punch the shit who made Al cry? Surrogate big bro stuff?"

"No stay Gil. I doubt papà will appreciate you punching maman, no matter how fond of you he may be."

Mathieu hugged his brother tightly and felt his friend embrace them both until Alfred started to squirm. Laughing they let him go and sat him between them passing him the remains of Mathieu's large slice of cake. Alfred smiled up at his brother and pushed his mother's comment to the back of his mind. He doesn't pay any mind them anymore. What matters to him is his brother's opinion.

"Maman."

"Yes Mathieu?"

"You're still coming to Alfie's concert tonight right?"

"Alfred didn't tell me about a concert tonight."

Alfred glares at his older brother as he places a plate of fluffy pancakes in front of him and their sister. He didn't tell their mother because he didn't want her to come. She always complained when he practiced in the house but then complained when he stayed after school and practiced late. He didn't want to take up piano or some other dumb and boring instrument like his older brother. Something that screamed 'CAN YA SEE ME NOW MA?'

So he sat at their breakfast table going over his fingerings and looking over the piece he was going to play that night. Blocking all his siblings chatter out, his parents bickering, and eventually his brother's best friend coming in and taking his uneaten stack of pancakes from in front of his with a ruffle, he kept practicing. He practiced in the car on the way to his private school, he practiced in class, during lunch, and only stopped when it was time for him to go home and change into his concert attire. He wanted his mother to cheer for him in the crowd like she did for his brothers concerts and to introduce him to her friends with 'Have you heard about my Alfred? He just played at…' instead of his brother's name all the time. She would look at him with emotion in her eyes, not anger from drink, but pride from seeing what he could do.

All he wanted her praise. He wanted her to be proud of him. He doesn't want to be known as 'that son' or 'the other son' or his favorite 'just Alfred'. He just wanted her to look at him like she does his brother.

After school Alfred ran through the house with his brother and Gilbert looking for his suit and glared heatedly at his mother when he found the missing suit hanging on the handle of her closet door. She sat at her large, white three mirror vanity with his youngest sister Matilda in front of her. His mother's small deft fingers where running a brush through her soft bright blonde hair trying in vain to brush the curls out while she played word game with his eight year old sister Amelia. He opened his mouth to say something but the clink of glass cause him to twist his mouth in anger. A short glass of liquor sat on a coaster next to an assortment of combs and he forgot about thanking her.

"MA! Why'd ya move mah suit! I was lookin' for it crazy."

"It was wrinkled so I-"

"Why'd you move it?

"Alfred, I was just-"

"Whatever! Just don't move my stuff when I need it. Friggin drunk…if the sound of me playin' to too much for ya sober then just don't bother shown up drunk."

Nudging past her harshly, Alfred rushed into his suit and gathered all his sheet music up. He didn't bother shouting his goodbyes over his shoulder like he normally does as he ran out the door to where Ludwig's father was waiting to drive them both back to their school for the concert. Upstairs Mathieu and Gilbert sat on Abigail's bed as she silently worked on her daughter's hair. The two girls sat quietly, their game forgotten just like the glass on the vanity. Patting her daughters shoulder Abigail motioned for Mathieu to pass her the lavender dress on the bed. Next to the lavender dress was a blue one and larger dark green one. After dressing her daughter Abigail did the same for Amelia and hung the green one back up.

"Maman…don't…"

Mathieu watched as his mother packed everything up and fixed the clips in Amelia's hair. He felt a hand snake into his and a pair of warm lips on his forehead. Breathing the scent of her scotch scented kiss he leaned into it and murmured something in French to her. Feeling her shake her head she heard his friend huff from beside her. Tightening her robe around her she shooed her daughter to the teen on the bed with the strict instruction to behave themselves until their father met up with them. Gilbert lifted Matilda into his arms and let Mathieu take Amelia's hand into his own.

"He really does want you to be there…he worked really hard on it maman."

"Mathieu…you're going to be late. Besides, we both know he really didn't want me to come."

"Yes he did! He told me…"

"Mathieu, sometimes I feel as if I have only one son. One son and a child hellbent on hating me. Do you know what that feels like? Why go if i'm obviously not wanted?"

"He just didn't want you to come drunk…"

"I'm not drunk."

"Maman…please…"

"Mathieu. Go."

Mathieu stormed past her upset at decision and didn't flinch when he heard the heavy sound of glass breaking back in her room. He shrugged into his own suit and made sure everybody was sorted out before locking the door behind him. Ignoring his sister's questions with a stony face he buckled Matilda in her car seat in his car and passed them a small snack to hold them over. He sat in silence during the drive and didn't bother greeting his father when they found him in the large auditorium. He didn't say a word during the performance and Gilbert noted that the brothers had the same set look on their face. Both content to focus on their own world.

"Our first violinist Alfred Bonneyfoy requested to perform a solo for you all. So if you would kindly remain seated…Alfred if you please…the title?"

"It's a song for my Mother."

"Splendid! Is she in the audience tonight?"

"No. She's sick…"

Alfred is fourteen when he tries to run away for the first time. He was brought back three months later soaking wet and covered in scratches and bruises from when he tried to jump in the river to escape Gilbert's father, the Deputy Commissioner of their police force. Ludwig had Alfred by the scruff of his bomber jacket as dragged him out of the river and up the slope to where his father and brother was waiting by the police car with their dog. The drive back to their hometown was silent and Alfred kept his head down to avoid the glares on him. When they got in Gilbert grabbed Alfred by the back of the neck harshly and forced him inside.

"You done fucked up now kid. What the hell were you thinking? Do you know what could have happened to you out there?" Bernhard glared at the shaking teen on his sofa and told Ludwig to see if he had any clothes that could fit him. Sitting down on his coffee table he forced Alfred to look him in the eyes and sat there with him quietly. "Why did you leave Alfred?"

"They don't want me..."

"Who doesn't want you Alfred?"

"Ma and Pop cause their separating and they don't want me."

"Why would you think-"

Bernhard heard his eldest snort from the corner he was standing him with a muttered 'about time'. True he wasn't happy to hear that his friend's marriage had reached this point but he shared his son's sentiments. He had Gilbert take Alfred up for a bath after promising that he wouldn't call his parents. Reaching for the phone in the cradle he refrained from grabbing a beer from the fridge since he knew how much alcohol bothered Alfred. Dialing a familiar number he sat back in his recliner and was pleased when he finally heard the line click and a sleep heavy voice flutter through.

"This better not be a booty call Gilbert."

"If you want I can talk to my son about his nocturnal mating habits but you're safe from me Williams."

"Officer Beilschmidt! I'm so sorry! I thought you were Gilbert. Please don't be mad. Please don't tell my parents! Please-"

"Call down Williams. I just need you to come to the haus."

"Sir?"

"We found him. Now don't go and tell your parents or your siblings because that would just stress him out further. Can I trust you to do that?"

"…Yes sir…but why?"

"I promised him I would call your parents so don't you do the same. He listens you and my idiot of a son better than he does your parents anyway."

"Can I talk to him?"

"I had Gilbert draw him a bath so he should be in there until he is clean to his and Ludwig's standards."

"I'll be there in a couple of moments."

Upstairs Alfred sat low in the large white tub that was turning a dark grey with the filth he accumulated during his stint away from home. Gilbert hauled him up and started scrubbing him when he made it clear he had no intention of moving. The albino sat on a stool behind the clawfoot tub and Ludwig sat on the toilet seat refusing to meet his eyes. They both grumbled and muttered about him in German and Alfred gave up on trying to understand them with the minimal German he knew. He felt a sharp sting on his back from Gilbert's nails as he dragged him up again.

"If you wanted to drown you could have asked Luddy to leave you in that godforsaken river. I'm not going to ask you what you were thinking. I don't care why you left. But if you ever pull some shit like this again I will kill you myself. Understood?"

Gilbert had Alfred's arm bent at a near impossible angle behind his back causing his to gasp out in pain and whimper. He turned his eyes to Ludwig who sent him a look harsher than his brothers and left the bathroom. Pointing to the towels on the white granite counter he left the room.

"You got people worried and shit- the fuck! I should just drown you and say we found you like that to spare Mattie the grief. Just toss you in a garbage bag and dump you off the side of the river. I don't even want you around your brother. I mean, I fucking love you kid. Just like I love Luddy but I will fuck you up if it puts you in line. I don't give two shits about what ever teenage angst you have. I don't fucking care if you feel misunderstood but if you ever, ever pull some shit like this again I will tear you up."

Alfred quaked under Gilbert sharp hiss and winced when Gilbert dragged him out the tub. Slipping on the tile, he didn't have the luxury of escaping the strong grasp to tumble to the floor as Gilbert threw him on the toilet seat cover and began drying him off harshly, muttering even more. Tossing some of his clothes that he left over at their house he turned his back to Alfred until he felt him tug at the back of his shirt. Without looking at him he dragged him down the stairs and pushed him harshly back into the living room. Turning around to go into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee he left Alfred with a smirk when he heard the sound of a mug breaking against the hard wood floors.

Mathieu took in the pitiful sight that was his brother and crushed him into a hug. His hair grew out and started to get a hint of their father's wave and he was tanned from the sun. He was swimming in his gym clothes which showed how much weight he had lost and was gazing at him unfocusedly. Smiling Mathieu reached into the pocket of his ever present pullover.

"Here. I…saved these for you…"

He handed him a pair of silver wired eyeglasses and Alfred took them gently with a quiet thanks. Mathieu placed them on his face and Alfred smiled at his as his composed face crumbled into body wracking silent sobs.

"Matt…"

"No. Just no. Save it."

"But Pop-"

"Papà wasn't the only one worried about you. You nearly killed maman."

"I don't see how. She has you…she always liked you best. She doesn't want me. She doesn't even want me Matt. She never wanted me."

"That's not true! If anything she loves you more. You're her's."

Mathieu shushed every attempt his brother made at speech and pulled him close again. They sat on the sofa in each others arms until Gilbert joined them where they sat in silence while Alfred dozed on him. The only clue they had to him being awake was the nudges Gilbert got when he kept trying to kiss Mathieu.

Later that morning, Bernhard brought up that he'd have to take Alfred in the station so that they can tell the search teams that he'd been found. Alfred sat scrunched in his chair until Bernhard struck his knees sharply to put his feet in the floor. An uneaten plate of pancakes and wurst sat in front of him nauseating him until he passed them to Gilbert who gobbled them down mumbling about his lost. Mathieu sat close to him and wouldn't let go of his hand while Ludwig refused to meet his gaze.

"You will have to call your parents when you arrive at the station-"

"No."

"Was?" (Gr: what?)

"I'm not calling them."

"I'm not giving you a choice Alfred."

"I'll run again."

"And do what when I catch you again? Jump off the bridge? Next time Ludwig might not be around to pull you out."

"Good. Let me drown. Then Ma'll have another reason to drink-"

A loud smack echoed the kitchen as everyone went silent as Mathieu backhanded his brother out of the chair and on to the tiled floor. Alfred looked up at his brother with watery eyes as he rubbed his cheek slowly. He could count on one hand how many times his brother had raised a hand to him and wisely bite back what he was about to say as dead violet eyes centered on him.

"What were you just saying to Mr. Beilschmidt, Alfred?"

"I was agreeing that I would call ma and pop when we reached the station…"

"…I thought so. My hearing must be going in my age after so many years of listening to you and Gilbert yelling every day. What are you doing on the floor?"

"N-nothing. I f-fell…"

Mathieu smiled at him gently and offered him the very same hand he used to smack him with to help him up. "You're so silly frère, falling out of chairs like that. You were always so clumsy when you were young…er…younger. You're still growing aren't you? I'll fix you another plate so you won't be hungry later in the day."

Alfred scrambled back into his chair and sat scrunched further in the chair as his brother place a smaller stack in front of him and fixed the way he like it with more butter than syrup. A fork was forced into his hand and he saw Mathieu nod at the German patriarch to continue.

"…I…well…that was," clearing his throat Bernhard glared at Mathieu who ignored him and continued, "Look. You'll go in. We'll call your parents. Paperwork will have to be done and you can go home."

"I don't want to."

"Why not Alfred."

"I'll have to pick one of them to live with."

"Well not anymore. After you disappeared your parents had a long argument about it. In the end, Francis won you and Amelia chose to go with which ever parent got you."

"Tillie's staying with Ma? She can barely speak a lick of English!"

"Well that what she wanted-"

"She's four years old. She doesn't know what she wants."

"Alfred. She requested to stay with your mother and your father agreed to that arrangement. End of story."

Alfred saw his brother twitch when he opened his mouth to argue again and shut it. The rest of the meal was a silent affair and Alfred helped Gilbert with the remaining dishes before getting shooed out the door. He rode with Bernhard and Ludwig who finally gave him a tight hug after punching him in gut roughly. He didn't threaten him like his brother but the message was the same.

The closer they got to the station the more Alfred curled in on himself. By the time they pulled up it took both Mathieu and Gilbert to pry him out the car with Ludwig on the other end. Bernhard pointed to the chair in front of his desk and Alfred sat there obediently while the lower ranking officer asked him questions. All of which he refused to answer and stared pleadingly at his godfather to help him. Bernhard swiveled his chair around so he could look out the window at the bright day. He admired the peace for a couple of seconds more until Alfred finally lost his temper with the grunt and took a warning swing at him which caused him to step back.

"I can take it from here. You can go." Bernhard waited until the door was closed before staring Alfred in the eyes. "Same questions and I will not accept silence as an answer."

"Fine."

"Name."

"Alfred Fredrickson Bonneyfoy."

"Age."

"Fourteen summers."

"Don't get cheeky. Reason for running away."

"Civil unrest in the home."

"Details?"

"Alcoholic mother. Workaholic father who is under the suspicion of adultery with numerous women. Frequent screaming matches between mother and second son. Most end in her drowning in a bottle of Scotch and the son seeking refuge with the younger siblings at the father's second home across town."

"Are you dictating to me?"

"No. I just know how you write."

"Cause of last argument."

"…The mother kept comparing the two sons together. Younger son pointed out all her flaws as a mother, grabbed a jacket and walked out."

"Any hardships while on the run?"

"None. Most people were nice. Gave the son a meal. An umbrella from the rain. Shelter for the night when a bad storm rolled in. Good samaritan deeds."

"Any sexual advances made toward the minor?"

"A couple. Mostly in exchange for money or a meal."

"…Did the minor accept?"

"No but temptations a bitch when your cold, hungry, and sore from working for a couple of off the book dollars."

"Was the minor taken advantage of in anyway sexually?"

"No."

"Alfred…"

"No. End of story. Next question."

"You answer the key ones. I'm not going to ask where you've been because I followed your steps for nearly the duration of this entire summer vacation."

"Uncle Bernie…"

"Your parents are here."

Alfred is seventeen when he tries to run away again for the fifth time when he's caught. After so many tries his brother starts calling them extended walks, his sister called it nerve wracking. The Beilschmidt's stop sending out run away watches on him after the third time and he now brings a bag with him depending on the state of the season he's leaving in. His hand is on the doorknob when the hallway light blinds him and his mother is there in her robe looking at the wall besides his head.

"You're leaving again."

"Yea."

"How long this time Alfred?"

"Who knows. Maybe this time its forever."

"Make sure you write if you're not back by the time school starts. I don't want Matilda in fits again."

Alfred threw his bag down at his mother's casual tone and glared at her. He fumbled with his words and took a step back when his mother started towards him. She ran her hands over his cheeks and into his hair before wrapping her arms around him tight. Alfred leaned against the door and sighed when his mother didn't let go after a couple of tries to push her away.

"Please don't go…"

Abigail tightened her hold on her son and felt him lift her into his arms. Alfred moved them into the living room and sat them on the loveseat. Getting up he walked over to their mantle place ran his hand over the photographs up there. Lingering on a photo of his pregnant mother with a shy Mathieu looking up at the camera, one smile vibrant and the other shy as he was hiding partially behind her. Most of the photos on the mantle were of them or the two with his father.

"Ma. Why did you love Matt more? I mean, I get that he's first born and everything but…"

Abigail blinked slowly at her son and stayed silent for a couple of moments. Alfred chest grew tighter with every silent moment that passed by before his mother let out a huff of air.

"Alfred. You're my firstborn."

"Ma. I ain't stupid. Matt is clearly older than me. Unless he's just pa's son."

"Mathieu has no blood ties to either me or your father. We adopted him when we came to America you twit. You mean you couldn't tell after all these years?"

"But he looks just like us-"

"Are you telling me that all these years you've just felt inadequate next to your brother?"

"No! It's just that you've always favored him more than me."

"I loved you both equally. You just have a hot temper and see things the way you want to see them which really pisses me off when I'm trying to meet you halfway or something. I can't believe that you were jealous and just let it stew for all these years."

"Well. That and you're a stinking no good Kirkland drunkard who drinks away money that is beneficial to the well being of my little sister. It's really embarrassing to have to explain to your friends why your house smells like an open bar instead homemade food or some type of cleaner. "

"I am not a drunk. If I were a 'Kirkland drunkard'- how did you even coin that in the first place- you all would have probably have fetal alcohol syndrome or something. A true drunk is your grandfather, my father, ask Francis."

Alfred shot his mother a look of doubt as she got up and walked past him. She shut the light off on him and in the hall as he heard he make her way up the steps. Walking over, Alfred looked up at her in the dark and felt her place her lips to his forehead in a kiss. Something she hasn't been able to do since he shot up like a weed and since he stop accepting any affection from her.

"Do come and visit soon darling. Your sister's miss you something terrible when your gone."

"So that's it. You're not going to try and stop me."

"I cannot make you stay when you don't feel loved. That's why I eloped with your idiot father. You'll come back one day. Hopefully. I'll still be here. Maybe grey and old and senile but I'll be here."

"Did you ever go back to England?"

"No."

Picking up his bag at the door Alfred walked out of the large home like he does every summer and set off down the road.