A one shot for UK and Canada. God, I love these two -insertholymusic-
But I love USAxCan more! /shot

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. HAHAHA.

Oh and I apologize for my lame-ass writing :P

After five cups of coffee and about thirteen stifled yawns, Arthur finally decided to retire for the night. Morning actually. He stacked his unfinished work up into neat piles. Stifling another yawn, he made his way up the stairs, treading lightly so as to not disturb any sleeping soul.

Tiptoeing along the corridor, he decided to check up on his colonies. He could hear Alfred's snores from where he was. He snorted, slowly opening the door. Al was sprawled all over and Matthew occupying only a small portion of the queen-sized bed, his tiny figure almost buried under his white bear. Arthur couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of it. He looked on a little longer before moving out, closing his eyes and listening to Alfred's, quite soothing, snores. But listening closely, he could hear something else interlacing with those snores. It sounded..lost. Instantly, his eyes landed on the head of hair barely visible underneath the white fur which draped over him like a blanket.

Arthur moved closer to where Matthew laid, his whimpers grew as Arthur reached out to stroke the silky curls.

"Mattie, Mattie what's wrong?" Arthur spoke softly, gentle emerald clouded with concern.

Matthew unconsciously mumbled in return, tears streaming down from his closed eyes.

"Papa…papa..ne me quitte pas. Je ne veux pas aller." The little boy cried softly. Arthur knew enough French to understand what it meant and almost wished that he hadn't any knowledge of that foul language at all. He sighed inwardly. Unable to see his boy cry any longer, he held him close, all the while passing soothing words into the other's ear.

It had been about a month since he brought the lad home. He would never forget how the lad cried when he took him away from Francis, his tiny fingers grasping the air, reaching out in vain for his "papa". How he refused to speak at all, except in French. His eyes swollen red and bore unconcealed hate. Arthur was unfazed by the childish display, even when he tried to glare and give icy stares, it was almost comical. The hostility did not last long though, it came down to neutrality but Arthur didn't mind, he would always be in a corner whenever Arthur was reading or on with his work, keeping him company in silence. Matthew was different from Alfred. Matthew was quiet and he actually listens, his movement and voice were kept to a minimum, which was not a good thing but it was a pleasant change from the racket he had to go through with Alfred.

Observing the Canadian was a healthy pastime. The young'un would always watch in silence, taking everything in with soft violet eyes. He doesn't speak much, because he needn't to, instead, he translates words into movement. And that was what Arthur loved so much about him, it was like an adventure, detecting and interpreting small movements. Matthew had grown very close to Alfred, they were such darlings.

Seeing as the cries have not yet abated, he decided to try something he'd never thought he would ever do.

Awkwardly, the Briton spoke comforting words in French. His tongue twisted and turned, not used to the foreign syllables but it did calm Matthew down, to Arthur's slight disappointment. He wiped the remaining tears away, leaning forward to plant an affectionate kiss on the little's forehead.

"Je'taime, Papa."

Arthur felt his eyes sting a bit, the way he said it was so natural, love-laced with a voice that was barely even a whisper. He had never seen this kind of smile before. He knew it wasn't directed towards him but he felt so…loved.

"I-I love you too, Matthew." Arthur whispered. He had no energy left to rise for his quarters, he was too tired. He laid his head next to Matthew and held said little's hand as he closed his eyes.


Arthur stared at the looming darkness above. He couldn't so much as get a wink of sleep and was definitely not in the mood to get started on work. The only thing he wanted to think about is Alfred and the only thing he didn't want to think about is Alfred. I think too much, Arthur groaned. He got off of bed, deciding that something warm will help, it always does.

On his way along the corridor, he found himself stopped in front of Al's room. He reminisced how the kid's snores would always get through the door no matter what. It was terribly quiet inside, dead silent, like his broken heart. He shook his head to wring off the thoughts. As he continued on, he passed by another room, one which Alfred had once slept in.

The room was silent but it wasn't empty. Arthur managed a small smile. He opened the door a crack, the boy's head could be seen from under the white lump of fur. He noticed that out of habit, the boy still only occupied a small portion of the bed. Arthur walked into the room; reaching out to stroke he younger's curls. The boy, however, wasn't whimpering anymore.

"You've…grown, lad. But I wasn't there." His voice sweet yet bitter at the same time. Matthew. Matthew is different from Alfred.

He leaned forward to give an affectionate kiss on his son's forehead, a warm drop landed on the younger one's delicate features.

"I love you too, Mattie." The gentleman rested his head close to his son, holding his hand as the night caught up. He was too tired to go, like all those years ago.


Matthew was surprised to see Arthur in the morning, head laid on the bed. He noticed his hand being held, tightly, so he didn't bother prying them off. He ran his free hand along his father's sandy blonde hair, now with touches of grey. With a gentle smile, like always, like all those years ago,

"I love you, Dad."


I used Google Translate. lol.

ne me quitte pas - do not leave me

Je ne veux pas aller - I don't want to go

Je'taime - I love you