A short one-shot about England. And parenting. FACE family.
And yes, I know the telephone did not exist back then, but I shall assume it had.
Disclaimer: I do not own APH. Nor have I ever, or will I ever.
Little Matthew's Big Adventure (with hero included)
Alfred and Matthew were inseparable twins.
From the moment of their birth onwards, they were never seen without the other.
No matter what they did, they did it together. They ate together, ran together, slept in the same bed, and had baths together. They were, as Arthur so charmingly put it one day, "stuck together like glue". France had chuckled at the thought.
So, obviously, it came as a surprise to Arthur the day Alfred came running up to him without Matthew and his stuffed polar bear in tow.
"England!" Alfred looked panicked as he rushed toward his caretaker, small tears forming in the corners of his sky blue eyes.
"What's wrong, Alfred?" England looked down at his cute little colony. Alfred sniffled.
"Mattie's gone and stuck 'imself up in a tree somewhere!"
England sighed. "Did you try to trick him into thinking that there was maple syrup on the highest branch of the tree?"
"No, he's trying to save some small birdlings up there, but he got stuck and now he can't get down!"
England's smile faded. He put down the teacup in his hand and stood up in one smooth motion, picking up Alfred as he strode toward the forest.
"Daddy!" The cry came from somewhere over his head, and he looked upwards, his eyes searching the branches. Wide violet eyes stared back down at him.
"Help, Daddy, I'm stuck!"
He spotted the small nation high up in the tree, waving his arms and legs frantically.
England put America down quickly and turned back to the problem at hand. The branches were too thin to support his weight, and there were no trees big enough nearby.
He held out his arms.
"Jump!"
Matthew stared down at him uncomprehendingly.
"Jump! Trust me, I'll catch you!"
He looked scared. "C-can K-k-kuma go first?"
"Then throw him down, I promise I won't let him get dirty!"
A white polar bear came crashing down, and England caught it easily before passing it to Alfred to hold. America stared up at his brother as England returned to his original position.
"Now, Matthew, jump!"
Canada, from his precarious position high up in the tree, just shook his head and clutched tighter at the trunk, his small fingers turning white from the effort.
"C'mon, Mattie, England'll catch ya!"
Matthew shook his head harder and squeezed his eyes shut. Small, terror-filled whimpers filled the air as he forced himself to look down at the two small figures on the ground, one slightly bigger than the other.
"I-I-I'm scared…"
"Trust me, Matthew! Jump!"
He shook his head, not wanting to leave the safety of the tree branch.
Canada suddenly remembered why he was up here in the first place. He looked up at the small nest perched on the branch just above him. His violet eyes glowed with relief when he noticed that the chicks were being tended by a mother bird that, funnily enough, was glaring at him rather angrily. He smiled happily.
Suddenly, the bird hopped closer. Matthew shrank from it. He didn't have the same connection to animals as Al had… He only hoped the bird wasn't going to do anything drastic.
It looked at him. He looked at it. Then it flew right at him.
He screamed as he instinctively ducked, broke the branch, and came down after it.
"Oh no, Matthew!"
In a heartbeat, England had sprung into action. He shoved America, who was still clutching Canada's polar bear, away from the tree. His eyes traced the fall of a small, white-clothed figure, and he dashed towards it. He cursed as his ankle gave out when he scrambled over a tree root. He looked up, judging where Canada would land. He cursed again. He wasn't going to make it!
"Matthew!"
The small nation had closed his eyes, not wanting to see the moment when he would hit the forest floor. Then he cautiously opened one violet eye.
He was on the ground!
He blinked rapidly, trying to figure out how he had gotten down without hurting himself.
Someone groaned from beneath him.
"Ow… bloody hell, that hurt."
Canada gasped as he heard the voice. He jumped up immediately and brushed himself off. England slowly shifted into a sitting position, his bruises complaining with every move he made. The branch that had fallen with Matthew lay two feet away from them.
"Are you okay, Matthew?"
His vision began to blur as tears filled his eyes.
"Daddy… daddy!"
America wandered over.
"Dad, are you okay?"
"Ah… gah… Give me a few minutes."
England slowly picked himself up off of the ground and winced as he felt two small shapes impact his ribcage, one on either side.
"Daddy!"
He allowed a smile to spread slowly across his face. He patted their heads, ignoring the wetness trickling down the right side of his face, the throbbing of his left ankle, and the bruises he knew he had from impacting the ground with his knees and ribcage. Hm, funny, he couldn't see anything with his right eye…
"See? No harm… done."
Both colonies looked at England fearfully as they heard an unsteady quiver in his voice.
"England?"
The world began to spin.
"Go… call France…"
Both colonies nodded as they dashed off to the house.
He watched them go, then began to check his injuries. He gingerly touched his right eye, which felt like it had been branded with a red-hot iron, but could not restrain a scream of pain.
His body, having taken too much in one day, even for a nation, decided that now would be the best time to shut down.
The last thing he knew was the inviting coolness of the leaves on his throbbing right eye.
"England!"
Someone was calling his name…
"England!"
He half-turned to face the red-haired figure climbing up the hill.
"What do you want?"
"Why, it's been so long since I've seen my dearest little brother. Shan't I say hello, at least?"
England crouched defensively as his eldest brother strode up, wide smirk on his face.
"Oh my, the little squirt's lost his manners!" he crooned as he sent a savage kick England's way. England took it head-on.
"Stop!" England cried.
But he didn't stop. He grinned psychotically as he continued to beat and torture England.
England could do nothing. Scotland was bigger and stronger than he was. He curled up into a ball, protecting his head and stomach from more blows.
"Angleterre!"
A new voice broke into England's misery.
"What are you doing?"
That heavily accented voice… England could recognize that anywhere.
"He is your cher petit frère, why do you treat him so?"
"Shut up with your language, frog. No one cares."
"You… you imbécile! He is your younger brother!"
England opened his eyes cautiously, only to find an enraged Scotland being held back forcefully by an equally enraged France.
"Get out of my way, you frog bastard! He's my brother, so I can do what I want!" Scotland roared, the veins on his forehead beginning to pulse.
"Non! It is not right to do so! You don't know how blessed you are to have a younger brother!" France shouted back.
England sprung up, ignoring the pain he felt from moving so quickly after being beaten. He dragged France away before the fight escalated. Scotland's harsh comment rang in his ears, "Lookie, the little brat's become better at escaping, ever since you started hanging around him, you French filth!"
He staggered over a tree root, and France picked him up.
"Are you okay, mon lapin?"
"I'm not your bleeding rabbit," he muttered as he fought to keep conscious.
"Oh, but you are," France replied, a smile crossing his face at the familiar reply.
"Shut… up… frog."
And he promptly collapsed.
"..n..and."
The voice was faint, almost non-existent.
He made no movement.
"Eng..nd."
Were there cotton balls in his ears? The voice seemed strangely muted.
He tried to twitch his finger, but started to panic when he found that it wouldn't move.
"England."
The voice was growing louder… was that France?
"England!"
He couldn't react!
"Angleterre!"
He could feel someone shaking him.
"Mmm…"
"He's waking up!"
He could hear hushed voices crowded around him.
"Okay, okay, don't crowd, children."
A deeper voice, still French accented.
A smell of roses.
A cooling hand on his forehead.
He groaned and opened his eyes, only to find that one eye was taped shut.
"What did you do, frog?"
"He's awake, Papa!"
Footsteps. Something moved to block the light from the window.
"Ah, Angleterre, how are you feeling?"
"… Peachy. Would be better if there wasn't a French frog invading my house."
France laughed. "We've been together for so long, mon cher, accept the fact already," he teased playfully.
England groaned and rolled his eyes in mock defiance.
"Daddy!"
"Dad!"
Two little bundles of energy jumped on him. He "oofed", his ribs still bruised and tender from his fall.
"Looky, Daddy looks like a pirate now!"
And he did. The piece of cloth taped over his eye made him look roguish, and the cloth itself felt like the eye patch he had worn a few years ago, when he still roamed the high seas. That eye patch was partly to cover the eye that had been cursed…
"So, how long was I out for?" England asked, his voice still hoarse from disuse.
"Three…"
"Three days?" England yelped, horrified that he hadn't completed any paperwork in three whole days.
"No… three weeks."
England sat speechless as he thought of the mountains of paperwork he would have to face.
"What happened?"
"Well, I had a call from the boys…"
France picked up the phone, rather surprised that it was ringing at this time of night.
"Allo?"
"Papa!"
"Ah, Mathieu!"
"Papa, it's urgent! Daddy… he's hurt ! Badly!" Matthew sobbed out.
France nearly dropped the phone in shock.
"Quoi?"
"His eyes are closed, and his hand is cold! Papa, help!"
"I'll be over in five minutes."
When France hurriedly let himself into the darkened entrance hall five minutes later with the spare key Arthur always hid under the lawn gnome, he was assaulted by two small colonies who came barreling into him.
"Oof!" he said as he caught them.
"Where is he?"
They pointed outside. France looked in that direction and his gaze darkened when he noticed that they were pointing towards the woods. He hurried off without another word, the two little colonies walking with him, guiding him to where Arthur was.
The two small pairs of hands tugged on his clothing, directing him where to go. Finally, he stumbled into a leaf-covered clearing, the two pairs of hands still directing him towards the foot of the nearest tree. He looked and gasped as he saw Arthur lying face down on the ground, spread-eagled, as if he had been running and had fallen.
He gently turned him over and winced. The leaves were sticking to his shirt and tie, there were twigs in his hair, but he was most worried about the blood that was oozing out of Arthur's right eye socket. He peeled back the eyelid that looked as if it had recently healed over (within the past five minutes, to be exact) and grimaced as he saw a mass of tissue and blood. He picked up the shorter man and carried him bridal style back to the house, the two little colonies trotting after him.
France unceremoniously kicked the back door open and climbed the stairs two at a time. He placed Arthur on the bed before rolling up his sleeves and setting to work.
"Alfred, bring me scissors, gauze, thread, and a needle. Mathieu, bring me a bowl of hot water, a lamp, and a wet towel. Oh, and a cloth too."
"Is Dad –"
"Quickly now!"
They nodded before running off.
France dug out a bottle of rum from the depths of England's closet. He took a swig to fortify himself and set it aside.
When they reappeared in the doorway carrying the necessary items, France gently ushered them out and locked the door.
Alfred and Matthew stared apprehensively at the closed door.
A few muffled screams issued from inside. They jumped at the sudden noise.
"Mattie! Do you think he's okay?"
Alfred's blue eyes were filled with tears.
Matthew looked up, eyes glistening with unshed tears as he clapped his hands over Alfred's ears.
"Don't listen, Al, don't listen!"
Alfred clapped his hands over Matthew's ears.
They stayed like that until an exhausted France opened the door a few hours later.
"So… what you're saying is that I've somehow managed to injure my right eye, bruise my ribs, and sprain my ankle in that one fall?" England asked, his eyebrows rising in skepticism. He relented when he saw Alfred and Matthew peering at him hopefully from the foot of the bed.
"Okay, okay, I believe you."
"Never mind that, you saved Mathieu from becoming a… a… a meat patty!" France wailed dramatically.
England sighed and rolled his eyes – well, eye – at the familiar scene.
"Yay! Daddy's my hero!" Alfred called, his blue eyes sparkling.
"Mine too!" Matthew called, albeit softer than his obnoxious twin.
England smiled at the scene in front of him. Alfred and Matthew were crowded around him, smiling happily, while France stood by the foot of the bed, also smiling.
He wouldn't trade this scene for the world.
A/N: The title sucks. Yeah, I know. How was the story? Please review.
Oh, and if you like my writing, feel free to check my other few stories.
Hint: Click on my pen name, which will take you to my profile page, from which you can scroll down and see the other stories I've written.