"Hey, Mattie?" a small, blonde boy around seven asked his younger identical twin, calling him by the nickname he had given him when they were merely toddlers.

"Yes, Alfred?" the boy now identified as Mattie answered in a much softer tone than the one his twin naturally used. He was now curious as to what had his usually energetic, eccentric older brother as serious as he was behaving right now.

Alfred finally looked up towards his brother from the small pile of sand he had been softly moving his foot over repeatedly and

"Do you really think I can become an astronaut? The stars are so far away…,"

Young Matthew was slightly surprised at the question but he could understand why his older twin was worried. He remembered their Daddy saying that in his homeland, there were no astronauts currently going into space and that they should consider themselves lucky that they were living in a country that still had active space programs.

He blinked his blue eyes cutely and said, "Papa told me that you can be anything you dream of being as long as you believe you can."

"Yeah, Daddy told me the same thing, but I'm afraid I won't be able to be one. What if we stop sending people into space like Daddy's home? Then I won't be able to be an astronaut!"

Matthew was really worried for his more immature brother now. He seemed like he was on the verge of tears for the fact that he was scared he wouldn't be able to achieve his dream. He thought for a moment before an idea came to him.

"Why don't you try this? You close your eyes and try to imagine yourself as an astronaut, and then I'll tell you what else to do, okay?" Matthew suggested.

Alfred looked hesitant but agreed and closed his eyes.

"Are you imagining it, Alfred?" Matthew asked.

"Yeah…"

"Okay, can you see yourself like that in real life?"

"Yes…"

"Then that means you'll be able to become an astronaut!"

Alfred opened an eye and eyed his younger twin.

"Are you sure?"

"As sure as I'll ever be!" Matthew defended.

"I knew I could count on you, Mattie!" Alfred yelled out happily, a cheerful grin on his face as he tackled his brother to the ground in a bear hug.

"Can't… breathe…" Mattie gasped out.

Alfred gave an embarrassed laugh and apologized as he got off his brother, watching as Mattie tried to fix his hair. One small curl in the front kept popping back up repeatedly, causing the doe eyed child to sigh, and give up the task.

"I'm glad I could help you," Matthew softly told his golden blonde brother.

"Matthieu, Alfred, children! It's time to go home!" The twins' French father called out to them, one arm around their other father.

"Coming, Papa!" the two boys yelled in sync as they scrambled up from their spots on the floor that they had moved to when Alfred was imagining himself as an astronaut, and ran up to their fathers.

Each father patted one of the twins' heads and took one of their hands, and the family turned and walked down the park pathway, discussing dinner plans.

"So, who's cooking tonight?" Arthur, their British raised father asked.

"Papa!" and "I am!" were both yelled out at the same time as soon as the question was voiced,.

"No offense, Daddy, but your cooking tastes really bad," Alfred commented.

Francis, the father known as Papa to the twins, chuckled and ruffled his older adopted son's hair.

"Young Alfred is right, mon chérie."

The Brit's face flushed red and he spluttered,"My cooking tastes just fine, you bloody git!"

The other three laughed, even the usually quiet Matthew, and they continued on their way home, the young British man still spluttering incoherencies. And so proceeded another day in the Bonnefoy-Kirkland household.