Francis helped Matthew arrange the balloons into a somewhat-less obnoxious pile in the corner of the room.

Alfred settled himself into a chair by the bed, "Better get comfy, Mattie. It'll be a long night."

"Wait," Francis back and forth at the twins, "you buys aren't staying here all night are you?"

"Oh, uh… no?" Alfred scratched his head as Matthew facepalmed, "No, because that would just be stupid, right? Why would we stay here?" He laughed nervously.

Matthew crossed his arms and refused to look at Francis.

"Well, then who's coming for you? Are you going to stay with relatives?"

"Maybe?" Said Alfred.

"No," sighed Matthew.

Alfred shot his twin an anxious look.

"…No relatives?" Francis asked, concerned, "Well you can't stay alone! You're minors! I thought Arthur mentioned your Father was in town?"

The twins eyes widened, and they looked at each other.

"That bastard's in town?" Matthew said quietly.

Francis wished he hadn't said anything, "I-I thought you knew."

"I doesn't matter, he's no family to us," Alfred clenched his fists. "It's not like he'll bother us. The police wouldn't make us stay with him, right?"

"You don't think he had anything to do with…" Matthew glanced at Arthur and trailed off.

It went quiet. Francis brushed Arthur's hand with his fingers; he did not respond. He pushed the matted hair off of Arthur's forehead and frowned. This was worse than he thought. There had to be something he could do.

"Don't worry, d'accord?" Francis said aloud, "Don't worry. I'll think of something."

"Mr. Bonnefoy?" The police officer who had escorted them poked his head into the room, "I'm sorry, but you can't stay any longer. Could you come answer a few questions, please?"

{~*~*~*}

Six Weeks Earlier:

"Chef Lorinaitis," Antonio said seriously, "Your Team Spurgos not only presented a poorly cooked soufflé in the first round, your second round mini- soufflés were undecorated. So for this reason, despite your wonderful flavors, you are being eliminated. Thank you for being here."

"I did not get the help that I needed," The chef explained to the camera regretfully. "My assistant refused to help me. I suppose I should have accounted for that as a possibility in practice."

Arthur, still disheveled from his struggle with Chef Bonnefoy and slightly singed from stove fire, felt a kind of kinship with the defeated contestant. Chef Lorinaitis had done everything he could throughout the competition, but he just couldn't do it all himself. The chef's assistant strutted by with her nose stubbornly in the air without a second glance.

Arthur patted the flour-covered man on the shoulder as he passed, "Stiff upper lip."

"We have had quite the show today, folks!" Antonio continued, smiling once more. "Despite a stove fire, the competition has been incredibly close! But the winner for the week is…"

While the audience held their breath, Arthur finally let out a breath of relief. It was almost over. Alfred had fallen asleep in his seat, and was drooling slightly. Matthew had finished his homework and was watching with interest like the rest of the audience.

"Team Black Forest Cake! Chef Edelstein, congratulations!"

The audience erupted in applause. The other contestants clapped less-enthusiastically, but politely none the less.

"Now, the platters please!" Antonio said dramatically.

An intern balancing a tray with three silver platter-covers on it came forward.

"Under each of these covers is a tool or ingredient that is considered important in cooking! Whichever one our chef chooses will not be allowed to be used next week! Now, Chef Edelstein, please choose."

The chef sniffed and gestured lazily to the left-side cover. When the intern lifted it, inside was:

"An egg!" Announced Antonio.

The contestants grimaced. Arthur looked back down at his clipboard, just to make sure he hadn't missed anything. He didn't have to be there for clean-up, but it would be irresponsible to forget something.

"See you all next week!" Antonio signed off, beaming at the camera.

Arthur didn't know how that man could smile for so long, he wondered if his face hurt.

"Cut!" Arthur barked, "That's a wrap! Good job everyone, see you all next week."

Immediately, Chef Yao Wang was in his face, "Mr. Kirkland, that stove fire was unacceptable! This must not happen again, do you understand!"

Arthur took a step back, trying to understand the rapid words, "I assure you I will make sure someone looks into it. Either way, based on you score, Chef, you did quite well."

"I didn't win!" He snapped back, "If I fail because I am out-baked, so be it! But I wouldn't want to be you if my score suffers due to some poorly constructed piece of trash again!"

"Of course, Chef," Arthur's boss, Elizaveta Hedervary, replied. She put a hand on his shoulder and winked, "We will see you next week."

Yao huffed away with his assistant in tow.

"A word, Arthur," Elizaveta gestured for them to walk. The moment they were out of earshot she began to speak again, "Excellent job tonight, Kirkland. Very entertaining viewing."

"Thank you ma'am," Arthur rubbed the back of his neck, "It never goes smoothly, does it? There's always something that goes wrong."

"About that," She paused and lowered her voice, "Keep a sharp eye out for sabotage."

Arthur frowned, fantastic, "Sabotage? Why do you say that?"

"I should have warned you before you took up this project, but every year strange things begin to happen. We suspect someone is trying a little too hard to win," She shook her head, "I was sort of hoping it wouldn't begin again this year. As much as I love some good drama, we don't want someone to get hurt."

"Understood," He replied, "Any idea who it might be?"

"Well, we do have a couple repeat competitors, but none of them have won in the past, and as you know, there's never been a repeat winner."

He scratched his head, "I see, a fan perhaps?"

"Perhaps. We're increasing security because of it," She assured him. "And one more thing," She added, "We've decided to add to the grand prize. We're planning for a big reveal on the last day, so keep it under your hat."

"Really?"

"Yes, well, along with the prestige," She counted off her fingers, "cooking show special, book deal, and ten-thousand dollars…"

"What could you possibly add?" Arthur chuckled.

She smirked, "How about ninety-thousand more dollars?"

Arthur's face dropped, "o-one hundred thousand dollars?" He asked incredulously.

"Oh yes," Her smile widened and she began to walk away, "This is going to be a big season for the company, Arthur. A very big season."

{~*~*~*}

The Present

"Mr. Bonnefoy, can you think of any reason why someone would want to hurt Mr. Kirkland?"

Francis crossed his legs as he sat, facing the police officer in front of him and tried to focus, "Arthur is stubborn, he can be, je ne sais quoi, um, abrasive. We did not get along at first, but… we are," he paused, "getting along much better."

"What changed your mind?"

"Arthur, he has a good heart," Francis' head was spinning, everything was happening so fast, "He has done a lot for all of us, he makes this competition as fair as he can. If someone has hurt him, I can't imagine…" he trailed away and put his head in his hands.

Officer Zwingli looked at him with pity.

"What will happen to the boys?" Francis asked, looking up. "I-I can look after them. Arthur will be back on his feet before we know it, oui?"

Officer Zwingli frowned, "I'm sorry, but allowing a suspect to do such a thing would be highly inappropriate."

"I see," Francis was a bit embarrassed to be considered a suspect. He was used to people trusting him, but he didn't want to argue. "Take care of them, S'il vous plait."

"We will," Vash assured him, "Is there anything else that you would like to tell us? Anything strange at all?"

"Oui, oui, many strange things happen on cooking shows, believe me," Francis tried to crack a smile, "But this competition… Something else was certainly going on."

{~*~*~*}

Five Weeks Earlier:

"Oh, he's not so bad, Francis," Bela laughed, kneading dough.

The pair had come to the studio to practice the day before the second challenge. They'd glimpsed a few of the other teams, but they all tried to steer away from each other. They had no clue what the challenge would be, so Francis had made a short list of practice items and egg-less recipes.

He leaned against the counter and tapped his fingers against the list as he waited for her to finish, "I never said he was bad. I just don't want to interact with him or look at him ever again, by god did you see his eyebrows? They're enormous!"

Bela threw flour at him, "Oh stop, he's a great guy, alright? We've been friends for a long time. He can be stubborn but he's a big softie inside."

Francis raised an eyebrow and smirked, "Don't tell me you actually like him?"

"Of course I do! I just told you, he's my friend!"

"You know what I meant," He winked.

"No, of course not, you're insufferable," She giggled, "…I sometimes think he might like me like that."

"Really?" Francis found his interest piqued. He couldn't help it, he loved romance, "Would you ever consider-"

"Maybe?" She laughed again, "But honestly let's get back to work. We need to stay focused. We need to win."

Francis' face fell as he remembered what was at stake and he nodded. He went to the fridge to round up ingredients for the next recipe. Suddenly, Bela's phone went off. She wiped her hands and pulled it out of her pocket.

"It's my big brother. Sorry, I gotta take this."

"What happened to focusing?" Francis teased.

She stuck her tongue at him and walked out into the hallway. Francis had barely started to combine the dry ingredients when Arthur bustled onto the stage, looking around. He spotted Francis and made a bee-line for him. Francis' stomach dropped and he sighed.

"Chef Bonnefoy, how are you today," Arthur looked over the assortment of pastries that had been completed to avoid looking at Francis.

Francis frowned at the obviously forced pleasantries, "How can I help you, Mr. Kirkland?"

"I'm looking for Bela."

"She had to take a call."

Arthur bit his lip and checked his watch. He sighed in aggravation, "I don't have time for this. Listen, Chef, you're going to need to bring an electric hand mixer tomorrow."

Francis blinked, "Excuse-moi?"

"Yes, one of the mixers we keep here is…" He paused, "Broken."

Francis furrowed his eyebrows, "One of them? Which one?"

"I don't know!" Arthur burst out. He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath before continuing, "I'm looking into it."

"…sure," Francis said in a critical tone, "Anything else?"

Arthur paused, "The challenge tomorrow is cupcakes."

Francis looked surprised, "Why are you telling me?"

Arthur shrugged irately, "Everyone else already knows."

"Hold on," Francis squinted at him, "Why should I believe you?"

"You don't have to," Arthur spat back, clearly at the end of his patience. He grabbed a cinnamon roll, looked Francis in the eye, and took a big bite, "I'm taking this," he said through the food.

"Go ahead."

Arthur was already walking out.

Greetings! I realized that things are switching back and forth a lot, but I'm going to try to stick to the important scenes and hopefully it'll come together. If any of you find bad grammar or a misspelled phrase 1) I'm so so sorry and 2)Please let me know so I can fix it! Thank you so much for reading! I'll see you next time!