This 'story' is meant to be a collection of cute, sad, fluffy, angsty Face family moments, all will be in the same AU only there will be a lot of going back and forth in time.

I'm perfectly aware I have other stories to finish, I'm working on them very hard, but I often suffer from writers block and when that happens, I have to -HAVE TO!- write something else, so I can clear my mind a little. That said, this story will be a place were I randomnly will post a chapter when I can and I hope it will help me get over my writer's block with the other stories.

That does not mean I'm not commited to this story! I am! This is because I simply and utterly adore the FACE family!

Without futher ado, enjoy!

Oh.

I do not own Hetalia.

January 4th 2010

Their domestic little life, who would've thought? They fought all the time, they never listened to each other, they seemed to be the worst couple ever. Many people told them they wouldn't last six months when they started dating, Francis could still remember. But they had lasted that long, they had pulled through. As a matter of fact, with all their differences, they seemed to fit like puzzle pieces; belonging only to each other.

Their life together had been happy, far from perfect, riddled with mistakes, but in the end they were still together, they still fought like they were young, they still loved each other.

Thirty-three years, they had been married for thirty-three years. They had even grown old together! Growing old; something Francis had despised; he had wanted to be young forever. But his once glossy blonde hair was now mattered with grey, his once strong body had now weakened; he was an old man. And so was Arthur.

Thirty-three years…But it seemed that they wouldn't be making their thirty-fourth anniversary, no matter how close that day was.

Francis squeezed the hand he was gripping, the hand belonging to his soul mate, his petit lapin, who was laying there in the hospital bed, looking so very vulnerable. Which wasn't right at all, Francis knew, Arthur shouldn't look vulnerable, he should look fierce, full off passion, ready to fight off anything.

The cancer probably destroyed that too.

A lot of things were hooked to his husband and although he knew this was for his benefit, Francis still had the strong urge to pull them all out, so he could pretend, pretend they were somewhere else. Their safe home or the old cottage far away in Hong Kong, that beautiful chapel in Las Vegas or gazing up at the Eiffel tower, in the city of love. But all those tubes and wires made it very, very hard to pretend, made it very hard to imagine the strong, shining, healthy Arthur. Though the ever present glint in those green eyes told the tall blonde that not all the fight had left his husband. But unfortunately, Those eyes were closed now, and his chest was slowly rising and falling, Francis wondered what his love was dreaming about…

The little hospital room were Francis had practically lived the last few weeks was –although there were only two other people in the room- quite packed. The doctors had told them it wouldn't be long now and naturally Arthur's immediate family would accompany him in those final hours. Alfred was sitting quietly in front of him, on the other side of the bed. Matthew was next to him; this was probably the only time they had ever been equally silent.

Yes, only he and their sons were allowed at this time, but Francis knew their friends and other family were standing behind the door; in the hallway. They all had a chance to say their goodbyes several hours ago. Arthur had been exhausted and Francis had whispered to him that he should sleep for a while. Just as Francis was about to talk to the boys (men, now), a weak voice came from the hospital bed.

"…Francis…?"

All three were at attention right away, Francis squeezed Arthur's hand again as those eyes fluttered open. Alfred seemed very close to tears again and Matthew was looking the saddest Francis had ever seen.

Francis tried to smile at Arthur, but he knew it was forced. "What is it, L'amour? Are you thirsty?"

"You should…stop…" It seemed to get harder and harder for Arthur to speak regularly and it stabbed Francis right in the heart when he remembered the long tirades Arthur had once been able to do.

"…looking so…so down… it…doesn't suit y-you." Arthur gave him a weak little smile. "Shouldn't you… be flirting…with some nurse?"

Francis couldn't hide a real little smile at Arthur's playful tone and Alfred and Matthew seemed to have the same reaction. Francis smoothed Arthurs hair from his face before answering.

"And why would I do that? If I have someone like you right here to flirt with, mon petit lapin?"

If Arthur had enough strength, he would've punched him for that nickname, Francis knew. They would've wrestled a little and Francis would've let the shorter blonde chase him around. But Arthur didn't have enough strength, so instead the blonde settled for a glare.

"It's still a…horrid…nickname…no matter how…much you…u-use it." Arthur had to take a big gulp of air after that and Francis saw Alfred clench his fists. "You…stupid frog…"

He wasn't insulted by the name, Arthur had called him that name so much that it had become an endearment rather than an insult. Francis once again smoothed Arthur's hair, ignoring the scowl he got in return, and spoke again.

"You should rest Arthur, the doctors…" Francis had to catch himself for a minute, he had almost let his voice break. "the doctors say you need your rest."

"I don't care…about…the bloody doctors…" Arthur stubbornly said, and how could Francis have expected any other response? Blue and green met, and Francis understood what Arthur was saying; there was no time for sleep anymore, no time for anything but their little family being together. Arthur's days were numbered and he knew this perfectly well.

"Dad, you should really listen to Papa, the doctor knows best." Matthew spoke up and Francis knew the boy meant well, knew that both their boys still hoped for that one chance, for that one miracle, that miracle that would save their beloved father. Francis knew it wouldn't come.

Alfred remained silent, but his gaze was centred on his father's face and he was still clinging to Arthur's hand. Like gripping it would somehow keep the man there. Even though both boys were in their twenties, sometimes they were still just like children.

"I just…wanted to tell…you three…a few things…before…"

The silence hang thickly in the room when Arthur took another deep breath, still struggling with the words, still not able to speak more than a few words at once. Francis saw both boys looking like the world was ending –which in a way it was- not willing Arthur's next word to come out. Francis went to sit on the bed, wrapped his arms around his husband and tried to give him as much strength as he possessed.

"Before…I die."

Fancis could almost hear both boys heart break, together with his own. Yes they had known, but none of them had dared speak it out loud, even though the end was so obviously near, so very, very near.

"No!" Ah, poor, delusional Alfred. "No! I told you dad! I will find something! I will be a hero and I will find a way to-"

"I love you, Alfred." It was said without any breaks, without a single stutter and Francis could feel Arthur shake in effort. "And I love you, Matthew."

Then, for both boys – men! - the tears came and they wrapped their arms around their father just like Francis was doing, so the bed was one tangled mess of limbs. The doctors would've probably protested against it, but Arthur's face was the happiest Francis had seen since they discovered the disease. So it was okay.

When they let go, Arthur took the opportunity to speak again.

"I would…like…to speak…to your father…a minute."

Both Alfred an Matthew looked reluctant to leave, but they nodded anyway. Alfred ruffled his father's hair, the same way –Francis noticed- as Arthur had done to the boy when he was small.

'All right, just don't go anywhere while we're gone." Just don't die.

Both stepped out stepped out of the room and it was just Francis and Arthur alone. Suddenly, Francis couldn't look into those eyes anymore and when his blue ones started to burn, he had to look down. His hand tightened, once again, on Arthur's. A place to hold, a lifeline.

"It…will be…okay…" He heard Arthur soft voice and memories assaulted him.

Thirty years

"H-how?" Even though Francis wasn't the sick one, this time his voice was shaking. "H-how will it be okay? When you're gone…"

"I thought…you'd be jumping at…the chance to get…some…young thing…to play with." Francis immediately recognized the playful tone, the light smile in his words… but the time to play around had passed, Francis knew this, so he didn't mockingly say to Arthur he would very well like that, because he didn't. He didn't.

No, he just lowered his face into the crook of his husband's neck, breathing in the scent that belonged to his beloved. "I just want you…just you… I don't want you to go."

"…o Francis…"

He wrapped his arms a little tighter and pulled Arthur further towards him. Holding tight, just like Alfred had done, in the vain hope he could stop the clutches of death from taking his love.

"Do you remember?" Francis didn't know what he was referring too and Arthur probably didn't either; there was so much to remember. But still, the memories assaulted both of them and Francis untangled himself from the fierce Britt to gaze into his eyes.

Thirty-three years ago they married.

Forty years ago they met.

They remembered every last moment.

I know, I know. I have this thing for sick!Arthur or injured!Arthur, it's a affliction, really :p

But what did you think? Good? Bad? Terrible? Please comment! (seriously, please!)

(p.s whoevers interested, the next chapter for 'a big brother protects' will be posted within a week)