He was watching the furniture being moved into the small cottage with a smile.

"Papa!"

He turned to see a small blond boy running towards him.

"Bonjour mon petit," he said as he picked him up.

The little boy laughed while his father hugged him.

They smiled and laughed until the man noticed someone watching them.

He turned and the other person jumped at being found.

"S-Sorry about that," the other man said as he stepped out from behind a tree and walked up to them. "I live nearby and came to introduce myself."

He held out his hand and the man adjusted the boy in his arms to shake it.

"Bonjour. I am Francis Bonnefoy." He gestured to the little boy. "And zis is mon fils Mathieu."

The other man nodded.

"I am John Brown. I live down the road a way." He paused for a moment. "Are you French?"

Francis nodded.

"Oui."

"Why did you move to England then?"

Francis smiled.

"I came here for personal reasons."

He put a hand on Matthew's head.

John smiled at the little boy.

Matthew's eyes widened and he hid his face in his father's shoulder.

Francis laughed and ruffled his hair.

"Désolé. He is razer shy."

John laughed also.

"It's fine. How old is he?"

"Almost five."

"That's nice." He looked at his watch. "Oh. I must go now."

Francis watched him leave and looked at the little boy who was still trying to hide.

"What is it, mon petit?"

Matthew shook his head and Francis rubbed his back.

"Do you want to play outside for a bit?"

Matthew shook his head frantically.

Francis sighed.

"What do you want to do?"

"I want to go away," he whispered.

"But we just moved here."

"Je sais que, but I want to leave."

"You were happy a moment ago. You were excited."

"Not anymore. I want to go home."

"Zis is our home now. Our old home has a new family living in it now."

"Then can we go live with Arthur? Isn't that why we moved here?"

Francis sighed again.

"Oui mon petit, but he isn't ready for zat yet. We moved here to be closer to him. And Alfred."

He expected the little boy to be excited about his friend, but he wasn't.

"I don't want to be here, Papa."

"We have to for at least a little while, d'accord? Maybe you'll get used to being here and want to stay."

Matthew didn't say anything.


Arthur was just putting a pot of soup on the stove to cook when the phone rang.

He grabbed it and held it to his ear with his shoulder.

"H-Hello?"

"Bonjour mon cher," a voice purred.

Arthur smiled as he recognized the other person.

"Hello Francis. Are you all settled in?"

"Oui. Except for one zing."

Arthur stirred the soup in the pot.

"What's the problem?"

"Mathieu."

Arthur nearly dropped the phone into the pot.

"M-Matthew?"

He knew that Francis loved his son dearly so it shocked him to hear that he was blaming the boy.

"Oui. He doesn't like zat we moved."

Arthur sighed in relief.

He WASN'T blaming Matthew.

"That's normal. You should have seen Alfred when we moved back to England. He kicked up a huge fuss."

"Zat's not what's weird. He was really excited about being here in ze morning. He suddenly changed and said he wanted to go home. When I said I couldn't take him back, he said he wanted to live with you."

"I'm sorry Francis."

"C'es d'accord. He wanted both of us to move in with you but I told him zat we bought ze house because you weren't ready for zat."

Arthur was quiet.

A loud hissing suddenly filled the room.

"Damn it!" Arthur yelled as he turned to see the soup spilling over the edge.

It was bubbling and spitting and a bowlful of burning hot soup jumped out of the pot and onto his arm.

"Ow!"

He grabbed his arm and sank to the floor.

Alfred ran into the room at the yell and saw his father lying in the pool of soup.

The phone had fallen from his grip and was spinning in front of him.

He could hear Francis's frantic voice coming out of it and grabbed it quickly.

"Mr. Francis!" he yelled into it.

"Quoi? Alfred? What happened?"

"The soup hurt Daddy!"

"Wait zere! I will be zere soon!"

Francis hung up and Alfred crawled up to his dad.


Francis rushed through the front door twenty minutes later with Matthew in tow.

He entered the kitchen to find Arthur on the floor.

"Arthur…"

He knelt down next to him and checked his arm.

It was badly burned, along with his entire right side from lying in the scorching soup.

He sighed and picked him up.

"Is ze medical kit still in ze bathroom?"

Alfred nodded and Francis carried Arthur into the bathroom.

He laid him in the tub and reached under the sink for the small kit Arthur had.

Pulling out the aloe and bandages, he set to work.


Downstairs Matthew had an arm around Alfred.

"Don't worry. Your Papa will be fine. Why don't we go see him?"

Alfred sniffed and nodded.

They walked up the stairs to where Arthur and Francis were.

Francis had set Arthur up in a sitting position and removed the remaining pieces of his shirt to treat the burns in his chest.

The two little boys could clearly see all the scars on Arthur's torso and stared.

Francis turned when he heard their footsteps and smiled wearily.

"Your Papa will be fine," he said quietly. "I'm going to take care of him so you shall come to live wiz us. Just for a little bit."

"Okay," Alfred whispered.


AN: AH MAH GOSH! It's ANOTHER new story! D: *faint*

But yeah...I had a dream the other day about Matthew and Francis so I started writing it out. THAT became THIS.

Anyway! See ya soon!