New Story! Yay! New Account too, cos I just couldn't deal with my old one's rep as a crossover author anymore OTL

Anyway! Let's hope this story is as good in words as it was in my head!

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.

Arthur Kirkland's life was great.

He had a good job, a wonderful husband, a beautiful home, and everything he could ever want. He and his husband, Francis, had adopted a boy named Peter a few years previous, and their family was exactly how Arthur would want it to be.

True, he did get a little annoyed with how Francis, who was a professional chef, had banned him from the kitchen, not even allowing him to go in just to get something, but he couldn't be too mad. He had banned his husband from touching anything in his office (besides him, if you knew what he meant.)

However, in just one day, his whole perfect life was ruined by a single nervous knock on the door, and three little words.

"I'm your son."

Chapter 1

"So, Peter, how was school today?" Arthur asked as he and his family of three sat around the table for dinner. Francis had made chicken fricassee with tarrago(1), and it was amazing, although Arthur would never admit it.

"It was great! Me and Raivis were partners in science, he's really fun, I think we'll be best friends."

"Oh? That's nice. I'm glad you're making friends." Arthur replied, taking a sip of his tea. Francis smiled at their son, patting his head.

"You'll have to have him over some time. I can make the two of you some great snacks while you hang out." Peter smiled back, nodding rapidly.

"Alright! As long as dad doesn't make anything." Arthur scowled, crossing his arms.

"I really don't see what you two have against my cooking, it tastes just fine."

"Sure it does, mon lapin."

"Papa, don't lie to him! Dad, you really can't cook, it's like poison! Remember when Uncle Matthew tried some? He was hospitalized for almost a month!" Arthur rolled his eyes and took another bite of his dinner.

"You all just don't have the highly developed taste buds of a true Englishman."

"Anyway, Arthur. You remember my friend Antonio, oui~?"

"Yes, the Spaniard, right?"

"Yes, that's the one. Well he called me earlier and asked if we would be able to join him and Lovino for dinner next weekend."

"Next weekend? I think we should be free. If nothing comes up, I suppose we ca-" Arthur was interrupted by a knock so quiet, he almost hadn't heard it. He frowned, stand in up. "Now who on earth could that be...?" He muttered as he waked to the door. He was greeted by the sight of a boy who couldn't have been more than seventeen wearing an Avengers T-shirt, his dirty blonde hair sticking up near his forehead, a suitcase sat on the ground by his feet.

"Um...May I help you?"

"Yes. I mean no. Or...maybe." The boy shook his head. "Um...you're Arthur Kirkland, right?"

"Correct. And you are?" The boy smiled nervously, shoving his hands in he pockets of his old bomber jacket.

"Well, my name's Alfred. Alfred F. Jones. And..." He pauses taking a deep breath. "I'm your son."

It's short, yes. But hopefully the rest won't be. Review! Fav! Follow! All that good stuff!

(1) Fricassee is a classic French stew of chicken and vegetables, cooked in white wine and finished with a touch of cream. The light tarragon-infused sauce begs to be sopped up with crusty bread. (from )