Welcome Face family fans and fan fiction readers, here is another fan fiction written by myself however this one has a twist as I have actually written it in the form of a replying roleplay with my friend Vantikitty so she is due half the credit for my Francis, Peter and Matthew so moi~ love you gurl 3 thank you for your help and making this story fun to write and re read for memory sake. Anyway multiple chapters will be released and if you really want to see more every review and message will influence my encouragement to write more sooner so thank you and enjoy~.

On the rich country estate in the south of England was several cars all different time eras of vintage with rose bushes of all colours lining them, animals frolicked among the land the young lord owned within the manor. However the animals took to being startled when a thundering bang was heard near a corner of the estate and random slurring of swears.

Sir Arthur Kirkland, the lord of the manor and ...rather strangely mother of 3 was carrying boxes from the basement to the upstairs to find half way and alittle too early an old toy of Alfred's that he deemed too dangerous since he used to leave it around in dangerous places as a child...guess putting it in the basement only moved the problem literally. After collecting himself on the bottom of the stairs he brushes himself off and growls at the toy throwing it into the never ending boxes and supplies of the basement to never be seen again until he climbed stairs again. Walking back up to the stairs he places the boxes to be collected in the middle of the hallway of the entrance to be thrown out.

"Est-tu correcte mon chérie?" ( are you okay my darling? ) a certain Frenchman asked from the kitchen . The Frenchman was known as Francis Bonnefoy. He and Arthur were happily (okay maybe not "happily") married for years now. Francis was currently in the kitchen cooking dinner for Arthur, himself , and their three boys. Although he wasn't exactly sure what Arthur was doing

Arthur glances to his blond lover with a slight grimace from frustration of his fall " im fine...just that stupid toy Alfred used to leave around to kill me...I swear if he had that toy during independence I would be dead as we speak" mumbling other incoherent words he looks through the box finding all of Alfred's baby albums and giggles putting them aside for later when the american was forced to clean his room. Continuing his search through the box he finds an old but familiar par of skinny jeans at almost impossible width to fit anyone. " Oh my! I remember these! "

"Remember what?" Francis asked from the kitchen once more. As much as Francis would love to go see what Arthur was doing, he couldn't keep his eyes off what he was cooking. He had never burnt his food and this wasn't going to be the first time he would. So he stayed put next to the stove.

Arthur walked in with wearing the tight fitting black jeans along with his union jack styled lose fitting shirt and leather jacket " I bet you remember this~ though when I was with you usually they ended up on the floor anyway" the Englishman snickered being slightly naughty and relaxed for once compared to his clashing strict and serious demeanour. " So what do you think? it still fits~ bet the kids would be surprised to ever learn what I used to be like in this get up"

Francis turned away from the stove to look at his English lover. The man almost dropped the plate of chicken he had in his hands when he saw Arthur's old punk outfit. Francis put down the plate of chicken onto the counter besides him, and walked over to the English man . He placed a hand onto Arthur's shoulder. "Can you please take that outfit off please." He asked in an almost pleading tone.

England raised a bushy eyebrow with a hysterical laugh " your joking right? its just an outfit? what is wrong with you Francis? or are you meaning take it off in the other sense? cause I think Alfred will go seeking us for his dinner while he is playing his video games?" Arthur could only shake his head and laugh " calm down though, I am going to throw it out " kissing the French man's cheek he takes his leave to change out these garments.

Francis let out a breath of relief after knowing Arthur would throw away those awful clothes from Arthur's punk phase. The french man would be lying if he said that he didn't have any good memories of that little phase, but he'd also be lying if he said that he didn't have any bad ones. And there was alot of bad ones in Francis' mind. The blond sighed and went back to cooking dinner.

That same night Arthur tossed and turned in his sleep more than usual considering the smaller nation was fragile, pale and always overheated in his heavily insulated estate, getting up to fetch a glass of water he felt a pounding in his head almost like a heartbeat. Remembering in flashes his old days with the items he found today and how he physically felt wearing those clothes. It was only natural it compelled him to walk outside to collect those personal belongings from next to the front door and put them on gazing in the hallway mirror with a devilish smirk " oh yeah...this will fucking do"

The very next morning, Francis woke up, only to find a lack of warmth in the bed. He sat up and realized that Arthur wasn't there. "Bizard (weird)..." he mumbled to himself as he got out of bed. He looked at the clock from the other side of the room. 5:27. The Frenchman grumbled, knowing it was to early to be out of bed, even for Arthur.

Shouting and loud music can be heard screeching through the house only seconds after Francis wakes up " I LOVE ROCK AND ROLL!" filled the house along with the sound of smashing glass and wall thumps as Arthur was walking around the house with a guitar plugged into an amp with an extra long cord, as he walked around the house he would tip every painting in the room and smash anything he didn't like the look of.

Francis covered his ears and gritted his teeth. He knew EXACTLY what was going on. Hell was breaking loose once more.

Thank you for reading this new series I have introduced, this work again goes to the credit of my friend Vantikitty, We both created this as one replying to the other so sorry if you see a difference in writing styles and it puts you off, anyway thank you for reading and lots more chapters to come. I do not own hetalia or any of their characters so please do not sue me.

The Kirklands.