"Dad, dad!" Alfred came flying down the stairs at lightning-fast speed, his voice echoing through the rather large house. "Look, Dad, the ground is COVERED in snow!"

Arthur finished flipping a pancake (barely making it land correctly in the frying pan) and looked up at his son. Truth be told, he had already seen the snow, but he didn't want to wake Alfred. He had been hoping the boy would actually sleep in for once, especially after last night. One nightmare after another, it seemed. He was just rather surprised that Alfred was able to get up from such a sleepless night. "Is it?" He smiled. "I suppose that's why you're dressed up."

Indeed, Alfred was already bundled tightly in a large coat and those boots that had always been too big for him. His young son gave him a beaming grin. "I saw the snow and I knew you'd let me out, so I put everything on myself!"

"I see that," Arthur commented, setting his spatula on the counter. "However, you can' t go outside until you put on that scarf that Aunt Judy made for you."

Alfred's face instantly fell. "But, Daddy! That scarf is too big."

Arthur, however, wasn't exactly listening. Instead, he was searching through the closet in the hallway. Dust flew out from a few boxes as Arthur finally found what he was searching for. "Ah-ha!" He pulled out the scarf with a flourish. "Good as it was last year when you received it!" Ignoring Alfred's protests, the Englishman began wrapping the thick, white cotton around the neck of the young boy. "See? It'll keep out the cold, and it does look good. Did you ever write Aunt Judy a thank-you letter?"

The boy shrugged, which Arthur knew clearly meant, 'of course not'. He gave Alfred a scolding frown, but just decided to brush it off. He wasn't going to ruin this day for his son. "Before you go, though, how about eating some pancakes?"

"Oh, is that what you're burning?" Alfred asked, pointing toward the kitchen. Arthur turned around to see puffs of black smoke coming from the stove. He quickly ran to save what was left of the pancakes, struggling to keep in the curse words he knew were about to explode from his mouth. He really didn't want to set a bad example for Alfred. It was hard, however, not to say what he really wanted to say as he turned off the stove and scraped his breakfast into the trash can.

Alfred had his hand on the door the whole time, watching and waiting for his dad to erupt. When the yelling never came, he visibly relaxed and opened the door, letting in a very chilling blast of air. "Hey!" Arthur called, waving smoke out of his face. "I still have cereal!"

"Nah, I'll just eat later, Dad!" Alfred replied, stepping out into the cold.

"O-Okay, then! Just make sure to stay where I can see you. No going out into the street or talking to strangers or-"

"I got it, Dad!" Alfred sighed, rolling his eyes. Arthur knew he had always hated it whenever his father fretted. The door shut and, thankfully, the cold air stopped rolling in. The man turned up the thermostat, rubbing his arms, and then looked down regretfully at his ruined pancakes. Well, I've always liked Fruity Pebbles.


Alfred came running back in nearly an hour later, snowflakes stuck to his toboggan and his nose and cheeks looking awfully red. "Goodness!" Arthur exclaimed, setting down his book. "You're a mess."

For once, the young boy was too breathless to say much, only letting out, "It's really cold out there."

Arthur took off the young boy's mittens, rubbing the small hands with his own. "You take off the rest of your snow clothes and go put on something warm. I'll fix you some hot chocolate, okay?" His son nodded and Arthur quickly kissed the ice-cold fingertips of the boy's hand before quickly scurrying to the kitchen.

He busied himself for a few minutes with Alfred's hot chocolate (luckily, the instant-cocoa packets were easy to make, even for him), making sure he put in a few marshmallows. When Alfred came down, the drink was prepared, and his son eagerly took it, wrapping his hands around the mug to warm up.

Once Arthur quickly fixed his own drink (tea, of course; he couldn't imagine going a day without it), he sat down and smiled at Alfred. "So, what all did you do out there in Antarctica?"

"Daddy, it's not Antarctica. It's just our front yard," Alfred explained, giving his father an innocent look.

Arthur had to laugh. "Well, it sure does feel like it out there, right?"

Alfred nodded and took a sip of his hot chocolate before answering the original question. "I made a snowman out in the front yard. I need to go back out there later to give him a hat. He already has my scarf."

How did I not notice? Arthur wondered, trying, and failing, to hold back a grin. "Does it? And, just whose hat are you planning on using?"

With a sheepish look, Alfred responded, "Wellll, I was hoping I could use one of yours."

"Were you?"

"C'mon, Dad, please? You have a lot of weird hats and stuff, and my snowman could really use them!" Alfred looked at him with wide eyes, his face making it clear that Arthur couldn't say no. However, the older man liked having his fun once in a while.

"I'm not sure," he said, pretending to think about it. "Those hats are rather important to me." He rubbed his chin as Alfred put on an even more adorable puppy-dog face. "Let's see. I believe you may, so long as it comes back in perfect condition."

"Yay!" Alfred cheered, quickly giving his father a large hug. "Thanks, Daddy! I promise I'll bring it back!" He did a little dance in his seat, spilling some hot chocolate on the table.

"Careful," Arthur scolded, wiping it up. "You don't want to get any on yourself, do you?"

Alfred, of course, just gave him an innocent smile. "Hey, Daddy? Why don't you come out to play with me?"

Sipping his tea, Arthur considered the question. Living in the south was very warm. They certainly didn't gain too many snow days such as this one. As a matter of fact, this might be the first real snow day that Alfred had ever seen. And, though I'm not one for snow at all, I suppose it wouldn't kill me to go play with him for an hour. "Only for a little bit," he finally replied, ruffling his son's hair with his hand. "But, when I start getting too cold, we're coming right back in to warm up some by the fire."

Of course, once outside, Arthur realized he was going to have more fun than expected. After helping Alfred finish the snowman (which Alfred loudly proclaimed looked just like his father), the two staged a snowball fight. Forts were built and blows were exchanged. Arthur made sure to lose, though; how awful would it be for a father to dominate his own son in a snowball fight. It just didn't really seem right to win.

Snow angels were then made all about the backyard, until Arthur finally realized how cold he was getting. It didn't seem to bother Alfred much, but, then again, he was probably layered up more. "Alright, Alfred, why don't we go in now?"

Alfred finished the snow angel he was working on and stood up. "Okay!" He didn't seem to be too tired, and considering how much energy the boy had to spare, Arthur seriously doubted he was. He fell into step beside Arthur, taking hold of his father's hand. The two gloves wrapped around each other, and Alfred gave a beaming smile. "Thanks for playing with me, Dad."

It was little acts like this that made being a father worth it. Feeling the pride rise in your throat when you realized just how much a certain little one loved you was something that Arthur felt everyone needed to experience. His own face grew in a smile as he looked down at his son. "No problem. If the snow is still around tomorrow, we'll play some more."

"Yeah," Alfred agreed, then tugged on his scarf. "Can we buy another scarf, though?"


They didn't go buy a new scarf, much to Alfred's displeasure, but it didn't matter much anyway. The next day, the snow was melted by the odd temperature changes that the south possessed, and by midday, only the snowman was left. Alfred stared out the window miserably. "Daddy, why can't we move somewhere colder, where it will snow all the time?"

Arthur, busy folding laundry, shrugged, "Where are you suggesting?"

"I dunno," Alfred muttered, resting his face on the palm of his hands. "Alaska."

"Alaska?"

"Yeah. There are penguins there, and it's always cold."

Arthur thought this over for a few minutes before responding. "Alfred, I don't believe penguins live in Alaska."

"Really?"

"Really. Now, I know some live in Antarctica, but I'm not certain about Alaska." He finished folding the towels and turned to Alfred. "But, no, we'll be staying here. Sorry to disappoint you." He passed the towels off to his son. "Now, go put these away in the closet and work on your homework. You'll have school tomorrow, remember that."

Taking the towels, Alfred gave his father a pout before stomping away upstairs. Arthur watched him until he closed the door to his room, then sighed. It seemed that once the snow melted away, so did Alfred's positive attitude. Just give him some space. He really wanted the snow to stay. Besides, Arthur knew he'd be better once dinnertime came around. Alfred was always up for dinner. Speaking of which, I'd better cook something. Cottage pie sounds good today.

And, so, he began preparing his cottage pie. All was going well and the pie was well into cooking, when his doorbell rang. He quickly answered it and bit back a groan. "Why, hello, Francis. Nice of you to drop by."

Standing in front of him was the definition of annoying, somehow managing to look spectacular even in a heavy coat. Francis Bonnefoy was the neighbor from across the street. He moved in hardly a year ago, all the way from France. Their first meeting had been disastrous, and Arthur had harbored a deep hatred for the man ever since.

Of course, Francis ignored all of that hate, if only for the sole purpose of getting on Arthur's nerves. "Bonjour, Arthur!" he greeted, giving Arthur his usual charming smile. "I was taking a walk and just happened to be passing your house, so I thought I'd drop by to see how you were doing."

Arthur merely glared. "You live right across the street. Don't make it sound as if you went out of your way to visit me." He tried shutting the door but Francis blocked it with his foot and stepped inside.

"It's quite chilly out there, no?" he asked, running his fingers through his shoulder-length blond hair. "You do not mind if I warm myself up, do you?" And, without waiting for a reply, he smiled and said, "No, of course you don't."

Knowing that the Frenchmen wasn't going to leave so easily, Arthur shut the front door, sighing. "Sure. Stay in here for all I care."

Francis was always one to invite himself in, that had always been for sure. Arthur never could quite figure out exactly why. It's probably a French thing, he thought, watching his neighbor relax on the couch. "And, where is young Alfred?" Francis asked, once he situated himself.

With one more glare, Arthur gave his son a call. "Alfred! Come down, Francis is here!"

His son shot out in a minute, racing down the stairs at top speed. "Francis!" he exclaimed, giving his neighbor a large hug. "Guess what? I built a snowman the other day, and Dad helped me, you can see his hat. Oh, and we had a snowball fight and I beat him, just 'cause I'm awesome like that! Then, we made ten thousand snow angels and we drank hot chocolate afterward, but because all the snow melted, you can't see it anymore."

When the boy paused to catch a breath, Francis intervened. "Well, Alfred, I did actually see your snowman. And, it was a very magnifique snowman. Especially for one that Arthur helped make." He gave Arthur a wink, who turned away, fuming inside. Alfred, not catching the insult, continued on happily.

"Yeah, but now I have to do my homework and it's real boring. Hey, Francis, did you bring me anything to eat?"

"We're going to have dinner shortly," Arthur pointed out. "Which reminds me, I'd best take it out of the oven."

Francis nodded, as if this all made sense. "That's what I smelled burning."

Ignoring his taunts, Arthur made his way to the kitchen and opened the oven door. It turned out that Francis wasn't lying. "Damn!" Arthur exclaimed, waving away a puff of black smoke. He was quickly joined by the other two, who looked on unsurprised.

"It's not that burnt," Alfred commented, trying to be kind. "You've made worse before, remember?"

Arthur just groaned into the palm of his hand and shook his head. "No, this is awful. We were supposed to have a good dinner, and I completely ruined it."

He was waiting for Francis to say some snide remark, but it never came. Instead, he heard, "Why not have dinner over at my place for tonight. I'm certain I could come up with something real quick."

Francis WAS a good cook, even Arthur had to admit that (but only to himself). They had eaten over at the Frenchman's house a few times, and Arthur had always enjoyed the food. Alfred was certainly making it difficult to say no, what with his cheering and jumping up and down. "Well, all right, but just for tonight. I suppose Alfred enjoys your cooking better, anyway."

"Bien sûr," Francis replied smugly. "Who wouldn't?" In reply, he earned himself another glare, which he promptly ignored as he ushered Alfred out of the kitchen.


Author Notes:

-Cottage pie or shepherd's pie is a meat pie with a crust of mashed potato. According to Wikipedia, it can be found in many different varieties and in many different places, but it is a traditional British dish. It looks pretty tasty, too...

-Snow days are a big deal in the south (or, at least where I live). If there is so much as a SPECK of snow, schools close. Seriously. It's pretty freaking awesome. Except when they close and there's little to no school at all. In relation to this, the snow goes away VERY quickly. One day it's here, the next it's gone. So, we cherish the snow and play in it as much as possible before it disappears.

-'Bonjour' means hello. Duh.

-'Magnifique' means magnificent.

-'Bien sûr' means of course not. According to Google Translator, anyway...

-Not the best chapter in the world. I knew I had to add Francis in because, duh...he and Arthur are hilarious together. I've always loved seeing both of them in a story, especially when they AREN'T being paired up :D Except better chapters later on, and plese feel free to review or shoot me a comment/question/challenge (I'm always up for quick challenges, guys!).