Arthur knew something was wrong when he came home. He'd had a pretty nice day at work for once in his life, and his boss hadn't chewed him out for trying to poison the staff (he'd retort that he wasn't trying to poison the staff, and that it wasn't his fault that they'd eaten his homemade lunch, so he really couldn't be blamed). Ludwig, that day, had actually been pretty laid-back, and had thanked Arthur profusely for working so hard that week. Now it was Friday, and Arthur was looking forward to cooking dinner for the boys and Francis. No matter how much they groaned, he knew they appreciated it.

Francis wasn't home; he had called earlier to let him know that the firm wanted him to stay a little later. Which was all fine and dandy, because he could cook in solitude while the boys did their homework. It wasn't until he was almost done frying bacon (he'd decided that breakfast for dinner could never go wrong), that he heard it. He'd been thinking about the fact that the bacon didn't really look like bacon anymore, and hoping that the lumps of blackened meat in the pan were still edible, when he heard a laugh.

It wasn't a laugh. It was a laugh. He'd never heard that laugh before. Alfred was asleep, like he always was. Matthew was studying. His eye twitched. Did his son have a girl over without telling him?

What if they were upstairs right then, having- having sex? Or worse- Having sex without protection? What if they were smoking something? What if he was being peer pressured to have sex? He knew that bullying was rough, and that Matthew had been trying to fit in but surely he didn't think that was the way to go about it. The skillet in his hand, he raced upstairs and kicked Matthew's door open with a bang. He didn't plan to screech, " I USED TO BE A PIRATE!", but it somehow made it through his lips as the skillet in his hand soared through the air to crash through the window and into the street.

Meanwhile Matthew was shielding someone from view. It was working pretty well, considering Matthew was 5'11, but it didn't completely hide her. Arthur blinked in confusion.

Him. It was a boy. Well, he thought. No matter.

The two had been sitting on his bed, and the other boy, whose appearance screamed 'delinquent', had one arm wrapped around the blonde's waist. " Dad," said Matthew pleadingly. " Calm down."

" ' Calm down.'" Repeated Arthur incredulously. " Explain."

Matthew coughed while the other boy gripped his waist nervously. His red eyes flickered between the two. " This- This is my boyfriend, Gilbert Biellschmidt." Arthur breathed in deeply. " I-" He was cut off as Francis bounded up the steps behind him, cursing rapidly in French. " What is it? What's wrong?" He, too, froze once he saw the situation. He used his finger to point quickly between the three, narrowed his eyes, and began to laugh. " Désolé," he continued to chuckle as he wiped a tear from his eye. " But you cannot imagine how ridiculous looks." Gilbert and Matthew were clutching at each other, while a laughing Frenchman stood beside the enraged and tired Brit, and the barking of dogs could be heard from a gaping hole in the window.

" Downstairs," Arthur hissed, and as he spun on his heel he elbowed his husband in the stomach for good measure.

Ten minutes later, the three were all sitting in the living room, gathered around the painfully small coffee table. It was terribly awkward, and Arthur wished he knew what to say. Luckily, Francis did. " Matthieu," he said slowly, " how long have you two been dating?"

" A month," answered the boy, twisting his hoodie between his hands. Gilbert nodded. " That's good. I trust you were not doing anything inappropriate, but.. If you were, I hope you used protection." Francis said plainly, causing Gilbert to blush profusely. " Ah… Non. I'm not really.. into that, Papa.."

This was the point where Francis pointedly stared at Gilbert as if waiting for a response. Which he was. " Ja, and that's fine. Sex isn't actually all that important, so it's still awesome." The Frenchman nodded. He was glad that this boy was polite, and that he seemed to respect his son's wishes, and also that his husband hadn't busted a vein yet. Arthur was being oddly quiet, however.

" Arthur? Are you alright?" he asked. The Brit nodded slowly.

" You're.. You're not doing drugs, are you?" he questioned anxiously. Gilbert laughed loudly, and that was a selling point for Francis. He had a sense of humour. " Nein, I'm not. Neither is Birdie. I have neither the time nor money to buy drugs. Band takes up a lot of time."

There were a few more questions asked, and along the way the German seemed to loosen up a little. He knew that it was nowhere near done, though, and his suspicions were confirmed when Francis took him into the kitchen. " I must make dinner again, and I would so like company." He followed him into their rather large kitchen and took the seat that Francis pulled out for him.

Francis began grabbing ingredients for the meal while he hummed a happy little tune. " So," he began. " I do not want to pressure you. I can tell Matthieu likes you, and I quite like you myself. So understand this: if you break my trust, or his, or God forbid Arthur's, then you will have to face consequences. I am fond of you, and you seem very trustworthy, but I am not above protecting my son." He turned and gave Gilbert a rather ominous smile, which Gilbert answered with an honest smile.

" Hey, I could never hurt Birdie. I've had too much shit in my life to want to hurt anyone, especially him. I really care about him." Francis smiled as he crossed the room and shook the boy's hand. " Then welcome to the family. Are you staying for dinner?"

Gilbert shook his head. " Nah, Ludwig is probably sending out an APB on an albino German boy as we speak. But maybe another time?"

" Of course," Francis told him.

Matthew took Gilbert to the door, where the two smiled at each other and kissed before parting. The door shut behind his boyfriend and Matthew sagged against the door. " Dad," he said slowly. " You could have killed my boyfriend."

Arthur breathed in exasperation. " It wasn't that bad."

The statement was followed by a series of bangs on the front door and angry yelling. " MR. KIRKLAND! YOU GET YOUR AWFUL FANNY OUT HERE!"

Francis cursed from the kitchen. " What is that?" asked Matthew nervously.

" I forgot to tell you!" cried Francis. " I think you may have killed Miss Flazzerwoth's cat with your skillet!"