"Right in here, Arthur—" Antonio opened the door to the ballroom and stopped, smiling. "Hey Gilbert, hi Francis!"
In the room was Gilbert Beilschmidt and Francis Bonnefoy.
Pants less.
Gilbert chuckled. "Yo, Tonio," he said, pulling his pants back on. Francis nodded at Antonio and did the same.
Antonio waved. "Guys, this is Arthur Kirkland! The guy I was telling you about!" at this, Antonio blushed a bit.
Arthur's face had turned a light red, and he glared at the Prussian and the Frenchman. "Hello." These are the people my boyfriend hangs out with…? He thought.
Francis's eyes went wide, watching the young Brit shyly wave and introduce himself. The boy was positively glowing…beautiful, perfect, and pure.
The next day, Francis ran up to Arthur. "Angleterre!" he cried, catching his breath.
Arthur looked at Francis. "What do you want?"
Francis gave him a piece of paper. "Here."
Arthur took the paper and un-folded it.
"My dearest love~ It seems that no matter how hard I try, I cannot remove you from my mind.
However you managed to get stuck in there, I must say that I do not mind it whatsoever. It's strange. It has never happened to me before. I want only you close to me, and the rest of the world could fade away. But just us two would make me the happiest man. I don't know you all too well, but I know I love you. You're beautiful, my Angleterre. Yours forever and more, Francis Bonnefoy."
Arthur looked up at Francis.
"You lecherous pervert!" he cried, slapping Francis across the face. "You're disgusting!" he marched across the school, and back to his locker.
He looked at the note in his hand and looked at the trash can next to his locker. "…" Arthur shoved the love note in his locker and ran to his next class.
Arthur Kirkland groaned as he walked out of the bathroom, pregnancy test in hand. He was happy. But at the same time…terrified.
Francis Bonnefoy was pacing back and forth in their tiny one room apartment. He looked up as he heard the door open. "Well? What's it say…?"
Arthur looked at Francis and gave him a smile. "…we're gonna be parents!"
Francis stood there for a moment, letting it sink it. Then he hugged Arthur close, twirling him. "Yes! Yes! Mon dieu, yes!"
Arthur chuckled, looking down at Francis as he kissed his stomach. "Bonjour in there! Papa's here~!"
Arthur rolled his eyes. There was no explanation to why he loved this strange, strange Frenchman.
"Dear frog," Francis read, smiling, "How is it over there? From what you've told me, it sounds exciting. You better not be cheating on me. I hate that you had to go over there. Why are you studying abroad? You just want to escape me, I'm sure. Anyway, Alfred is doing fine. His birthday just passed, he's three now. Nice of you to send him that letter. He keeps asking for his father. He wants you back here. So do I. The bed feels so empty without you here. It's hard to sleep. You better get back here soon. I can't stand much longer without you. I keep having dreams and it seems my hand isn't enough. I need to feel you on top of me" Francis stopped reading the letter at this moment, picturing how red Arthur's face must have gotten writing this, then went back to reading. "inside of me. I want to hear you whisper to me to be quiet. I need to hear you speak French to me. I need to hear you whisper huskily, 'I love you.'
"I miss you so much. Please…be back soon. Love always, your Angleterre. Arthur Kirkland."
Francis finished reading and smiled at the letter, picturing his beautiful lover and son.
Francis watched over the little indigo eyed boy in the crib, smiling. It seemed like a dream now, the past year…Francis didn't think he'd make it. But he and Arthur had pulled through.
Damn bullies… Francis thought, but kept a calm face. He'd taken care of them.
Arthur walked in from the door, smiling. "…he's beautiful."
Francis nodded, kissing Arthur's cheek. "It's because you're his mama."
Arthur rolled his eyes. "The boy looks nothing like me."
Francis shrugged. "Still." And with that, they walked out.
Alfred walked in the room quietly, tip toeing up to the crib. "Hey Mattie…" he stared down at his little brother. "…Can-Can. That's what I'll call you." Alfred kissed his brother's forehead, then left the room.
Little did he know, his father had been watching him. He smiled and went to bed with his lover.
"FRANCIIIIIS!" Arthur yelled from the kitchen.
"Coming, mon cher, coming!" Francis yelled back, rushing into the kitchen, hosing off the stove from the charcoal that was supposed to be breakfast. Matthew had just made pancakes after their mother burnt the first few batches.
"We're leaving now, mom, dad!" Alfred called, waving.
Matthew clung to his brother's arm. "R-revoir papa, mama,"
"Have fun at school!" their mother cried.
"Take care of mon petit, Alfred!" their father shouted.
"I will!" Alfred yelled. And with that, he and Matthew were out the door.
"It means no worries, for the rest of your days!" Alfred sang, twirling with his brother. They were home after their first day of school.
"It's our problem free, philosophy!" Matthew sang along, giggling.
"Hakuna matata!" the whole family of four sang this part, all giggling. Francis, Alfred, Matthew, and Arthur were all out of breath by the end of the song. They sat down on the couch, Matthew leaning on his papa and Alfred leaning on Matthew. It was times like these Matthew thought nothing would ever go wrong.
"TWO fathers?" the ten year old glared down at Matthew. "That's gross!"
O-oh no, n-not this again. Every time he spoke up, someone had something to say about his parents. It was just like kindergarten, all over again! "W-well…I-I call one of my papa's mama, so th-that makes him a mummy, r-right…?"
The boy shook his head. "Nuh-uh! They gots ta have girl parts!" he poked Matthew's forehead. "Otherwise, it's gross!"
"B-but—"
"Psh, whatever, weirdo!" then the boy walked away.
Mattie sighed. "J-just like that girl…will no one understand…?"
"Yo, Mattie Matt Matt!" Alfred plopped down next to his brother in the eighth grade classroom. "Awesome! We got a class together!"
Matthew sighed, putting his book down. With Alfred around, he knew he'd never get back to it. "Mhmm," he said, looking at Alfred through his bangs. "Sex Education. Lovely to have it with my bigger, more perverted brother."
Alfred chuckled. "Can-Can, stop! You're makin' me blush!"
Matthew's face went light red. "D-don't call me that…!" he cried, beginning to write notes from the board. Alfred smiled.
"Whaaaatever."
Francis sighed, putting a band aid on Matthew's elbow. "How do you manage to always come home like this, mon cher…?"
Mattie shrugged. "I-I'm clumsy, papa."
Francis cocked a brow. He knew better than to listen to his younger son. Sure, he was clumsy, but he never fell down this much around the house. "Where did you fall, mon cher?"
"J-just the bus ramp, papa."
"Who pushed you?"
"Just Gilbert, papa—" teenage Matthew's eyes widened as he uttered these words. "I-I mean…!"
Francis sighed. "Matthew…you need to tell me these things."
"…I-I know papa. I will from now on."
Francis nodded. "Good."
"Turn that blasted music off, dammit, and listen to me!" Arthur cried, standing in Alfred's doorway. Matthew was at Abel's staying the night and Francis was on a business trip. So it was just Alfred and Arthur, and they'd already gotten in an argument. And Matthew had only left five minutes ago!
Alfred glared at his mother. "Go away ma!"
"No!" Arthur walked in, slamming the door. "Listen to me, young man!" Alfred shook his head. "ALFRED F. JONES!" Arthur went to Alfred's stereo and unplugged it, turning to his eldest son. "Now LISTEN."
"No mom!" Alfred yelled, standing.
"What is WITH you lately Alfred? Ever since Matthew started dating Gilbert, you—" his eyes widened. "…oh."
Alfred's face went a light red. "Exactly!" he stormed to his bed, sitting. "Mattie's with that stupid Gilbert!" he crossed his arms, staring down. "MY Mattie!"
Arthur walked to Alfred's bed and sat down next to him, patting his back. "Oh Alfred…"
"He'll NEVER like me!" a single tear fell from Alfred's face. "…I'll never be his hero…"
"Ask 'im!" Gilbert was urging Mattie towards his older brother. "Mattie, I know he likes you!"
"B-but—what if he doesn't?" Matthew was saying, books clung to his chest.
"Just ask him!" Gil said.
Mattie finally gave in and began walking towards Alfred.
"Hey Mattie!" Alfred said, waving.
"H-hey Al," Matthew said. "Listen, I—"
"Hey Alllll!" Natalia came running up to Alfred, slinging her arm around Alfred's shoulders and kissing him.
"Hey Natalia," Alfred said. "Something you wanted to tell me, Matt?"
"…" Matthew shook his head. "N-never mind." Then he turned and walked away.
"Mattie! C'mon Matt, wake up!" Alfred was crying over his brother's body, holding his hand tight. Whoever did this to his brother, he'd fucking murder them…! "Can-Can! Can-Can, wake up…!"
Ivan was next to Mattie's bed, looking down at him. A few tears fell. Don't cry Braginski, don't…!
Arthur was crying into Francis's shoulder, clenching his shirt. Their son…who would do this to their son? Shelly was tugging on her mama's shirt, red faced.
"Mama, mama, why won't big bro wake up…?"
"I'm done!"
Alfred stormed out of the house, face red.
"Alfred, Alfred come back!" Matthew was yelling, following his brother, then clinging to his arm.
"Let me go, Matt!" Alfred ripped his arm away from his brother, getting on his motorcycle. "I'm going! And you can't stop me!"
"L-like Hell I can't!" Mattie stood in front of the motorcycle.
"WHY SHOULDN'T I GO?"
"B-because…!" Mattie ran to his brother and grabbed his collar. Alfred braced himself for more yelling, but instead of the soft Canadian's voice, he got the Canadian's soft lips against his own, molding together perfectly with his own. His eyes widened, and as Mattie pulled apart, he couldn't help but love the blonde's light blush.
"I-I'm sorry…! I didn't, I mean—" he turned around and began running to the house, but before he reached the door, he felt strong hands around his waist pulling him back. He was turned around, and was fearing to be slapped, but instead was kissed rather roughly by the older American. Matthew struggled, but eventually melted into the blue eyed boys arms. They pulled apart, Matthew looking away.
"…I love you, Can-Can."
"I-I love you too, Al."
"D-DAMMIT!"
Matthew squeezed Alfred's hand hard, eyes screwed tight.
"Relax, Can-Can…you're almost there…"
"SHUT UP AL! EASIER SAID THEN DONE!"
Ooookay. Note to self. Don't fuck with Mattie during child birth.
"You're doing great Mr. Williams!" said the doctor, guiding the child out.
"AAAAAGH!"
"W-waaaaaaah…!"
The doctor smiled. "It's a beautiful baby girl," he handed the small baby to her mother.
"…Alaska." Alfred said, smiling.
Mattie nodded. "Our Alania."
"YEAH, HIT HIM WHERE IT HURTS!" Alfred cried, bouncing up and down.
"GO PUNK, GO!" a sixteen year old Alania cried, standing up. "RUN, YOU LITTLE B—"
"ALANIA JONES!" Matthew yelled from the kitchen.
Alania sheepishly scratched her head. "S-sorry mama."
Mattie glared at his daughter before heading back to the kitchen.
Ding dong~
"I'll get it," said Frederick, getting up from his book and getting the door. He smiled. "Bonjour grandpapa, grandma."
Francis and Arthur waved. "Bonjour, mon petit," Francis said, kissing his grandson's forehead.
"Evening, Frederick," said Arthur, hugging him.
"Yo mom! Hey pops!"
Arthur rolled his eyes. "Hello son. Hello Alania."
"Hey grandma, grandpa!" she waved. "Baseballs on."
Frederick and Matthew rolled their eyes. "We wanted to watch hockey."
The blue eyes of the house stuck out their tongues. "BASEBALLLLL."
Francis chuckled. "It seems Alania's manlier than our little Vancouver."
Frederick blushed. "Gr-grandpapa!" he cried.
"Joking, love, joking~"
Matthew looked at his family. And at that moment, there was nothing that could make this moment better.
Except maybe maple.