Grey storm clouds hung low over the streets of Britain. The silver pavement shone with the splattering of rain. A blonde haired man ran swiftly down the sidewalk and stopped in front of one of the large manors. A large basket sat in his arms. His hair and clothes stuck to his body. The humid air filling his lungs. He was rather handsome. Hair falling over the shoulders, a bit of stubble stretching across his chin. He was beautiful and yet he looked as if he lived a thousand years.
"Arthur!" He yelled, his French accent piercing the air.
After a few bangs at the gate, he stepped up on the railings and carefully climbed over the fence with his cargo. The emerald yard was huge but the Frenchman seemed to fly right past it. Right as he was skipping up the porch steps another blonde man opened the front door and peered into the rainy outdoors.
"Francis, I was just preparing tea," the man, Arthur, said, "I was coming. You didn't have to climb the bloody fence. What's so bad that you need to come here so anxiously?"
"Something happened to America and Canada."
Arthur stepped out onto the porch, worried and quite puzzled.
"What did they do this time? Were they trying another one of those stupid internet challenges and hurt themselves?"
Francis shook his head, "Non, they're-"
The basket in the Frenchman's arms made a large harmonized cry. He sat the woven basket on the floor and lifted the blanket, revealing two crying babies. The one on the left cried louder, the small hair he had had a couple strands standing up in a cowlick. While the one on the right had more wavy hair and was whimpering up at the two older nations.
Arthur fell onto his knees in shock.
"What- How did this happen?!"
Francis gave a small push on England and shushed him.
"Don't yell in front of them. I don't know what happened. I was visiting Matthew and the two of them were laying on Canada's bed sleeping."
Arthur sat confused, "We need to take them inside."
...
The two European nations brought the children into the master bedroom and replaced the babies' blanket with a drier one. Since there was no crib, they decided to let them use the basket since it had enough room for the two.
"They're babies..." Arthur mumbled to himself. Sure, he had seen babies before in his life. But he never saw his two former countries so young before. Small tears started to water his eyes.
Francis walked into the bedroom. He had changed his wet clothes for one of Arthur's less tacky outfits.
"I'm going to the store to buy some baby goods. Stay here and watch them please."
Arthur jumped off the bed and turned to the Frenchman.
"Don't leave me here. We need to talk about this. How did it even happen?"
"England, I'm just as worried and confused as you are but we need to get supplies. It's not easy to care for babies."
France walked over to his friend and gave him a warm hug and gave two comforting kisses on both his cheeks.
"I'll be right back, I promise."
He strolled out the room and out of the manor. England stayed in his place in front of the makeshift crib. They were young again.
Arthur remembered how there was once a time where he spent every waking moment teaching and loving the two North American countries as they grew up. A time before the wars and bloodshed. A time of happiness and family beginnings. He had always wished to see them young again. But this situation had happened so suddenly and made Arthur worried.
He untucked the blanket around Alfred and picked him up. He was so light. So soft in his clothes. The two looked like they were six months old at the most.
He held America close to him. The babies fell asleep once they were in the house so Arthur was very careful in handling the little ones. Alfred nuzzled his head on Arthur's chest and his tiny hand held England's shirt in a fist.
"You're back... My little brother..."
