It was a week before Peter's sixth birthday when Arthur finally notices how wrong the way Peter talks to him is. Always formal, always addressing him as if he's a warden instead of a parent. The man had hardly been noticing it before, that the bubbly child had become so distant. And it's at that moment that Arthur realizes that something has gone horribly, horribly wrong in his youngest son's life.
So he set to make things right.
"Pete, for the last time, I told you, my name is daddy. Not Arthur. Not Mister Arthur. Daddy."
"I—Mister Arthur?" Peter asked, staring up at the Englishman.
Arthur let out a grunt of frustration as he grabbed the other's arms, staring at him before lowering himself to Peter's eye level—the child was so small even as Arthur knelt down. Peter was so small. Was he eating right? Arthur had trusted Alfred and Matthew to feed him nutritious things, and there was always healthy food in the fridge…were six year olds supposed to be this small?
When did Arthur go wrong?
Grabbing at Peter's shoulders, Arthur rubbed a (hopefully) soothing thumb against Peter's arm, brows crinkled into something worrying. His thumb went clockwise against the skin, then counterclockwise, setting a pattern. Peter had always loved patterns when he was a baby.
"No, Peter," he began again, voice softer, trying to coax the boy. "I'm daddy. Not Mister Arthur. Don't call me that, I—when did you start doing this? Peter, talk to me, sweetie. Tell me what happened, when did you stop calling me dad?"
Did he ever call me 'dad'?
Arthur can't remember and he's not quite sure how to feel about that. So instead, he presses again, and now Peter's eyes are wide and scared and—no, no, this isn't what Arthur wants.
Peter stutters and shifts slightly, looking away before looking back up.
"I want dad."
And Arthur breathes out a sigh of relief. "Oh, oh, son—don't worry, I'm right here. We can get through this, okay? Come here, give Daddy a hug—"
Instead of coming like Arthur wants, Peter shakes his head, backing up. There are tears in his eyes.
"I want dad. Bring me Dad, I—please, Mister Arthur, I want dad."
"…what? I, Peter—"
"I want dad. Bring me dad. I—I want him, please Mister Arthur, I want dad—"
Something sinks to the bottom of Arthur's stomach. He fights the urge to cry as he crumples, hands falling from Peter's shoulders. The child quickly darts away as Arthur brings his hands to his face and sobs.
Where did I go wrong?
Arthur couldn't make it to Peter's sixth birthday party.
The day that year was a Saturday that Arthur had to work late for again. Despite how Alfred and Matthew suggested that they could move the party until Sunday, Arthur insisted that Peter have a birthday celebration the day he turned six, and to not worry about whenever Arthur could attend or not. It was Peter's first real birthday party with classmates from school—he didn't want to ruin it.
At least, that's what he said. Matthew and Alfred still insisted that he come, but the man made no promises as he slipped out the door to get to work.
Of course, the real reason might have something to do with the fact that Peter shied away every time Arthur tried to approach him. The Englishman had been making some effort to talk to him more—such as coming home earlier, offering to read Peter bedtime stories—but the boy was so insistant on staying away from Arthur, that he had given up and dove back into his work.
Peter still wouldn't call Arthur "Daddy", and insisted on keeping formal even when Arthur did manage to get Peter to speak to him for more then eight seconds.
And perhaps that was the final blow.
Arthur didn't come home on Peter's birthday. Even though Alfred and Matthew fought for Arthur to come, he didn't show up. Peter hardly noticed—because Arthur had been so detached from his life anyway, this was nothing new—but Matthew and Alfred's hearts hung low as the boy happily ripped open his new presents.
Matthew tucked Peter in for bed that night, because the boy asked for it. Matthew smiled slightly as the boy snuggled against his tattered rabbit in his bunk bed, on the lower bunk per Matthew's request. He knew that Peter had had this bunk bed from when he and Alfred were children—it was passed down, like most of the things in Peter's room—but Matthew was always afraid that Peter would roll off the top bunk and onto the floor like Alfred had so many a time. So when Matthew visited, Peter slept on the bottom bunk.
Tucking the covers up, Matthew stared down at his baby brother, eyebrows crinkling in worry. But still, he had a smile on his face as he leaned down, pressing his lips up against Peter's fringe.
"You want a story for tonight, big guy?" he asked, before sitting back up and pushing Peter's hair out of his face. The boy made a happy noise before nodding, a yawn slipping past him as he rubbed at his eyes.
"Yes please, Mattie," Peter replied, smiling sleepily as he curled into the pillows, still staring up wide at his brother. "Can we have the same story? The one about the pirates, the one that you made up. I wanna hear that one."
Matthew couldn't help but give a chuckle as he rubbed Peter's back over the blanket. Nodding his head, he couldn't help himself. "Alright, alright, once upon a time, there was a fearsome pirate. You remember his name, big guy?"
"Yeah!" the child cheered, nodding his head as he looked up at the other. "His name was Captain Kirkland! And he had two sons, who were also captains of their own pirate ships!"
"That's right, and he also had a littlest son. And his little son was the littlest sailor who helped out with his brothers and his daddy. But one day, a sneaky ex-pirate came onto Captain Kirkland's ship—"
"And then, and then—!" Peter cheered, wriggling around. Matthew grinned as well, before crawling on the bed and holding the child in place, nuzzling the crown of Peter's hair with his chin.
"And then," Matthew added, "The littlest sailor found out about this mutiny. But instead of letting this sneaky ex pirate off the ship, he called everyone awake and saved his daddy. The end."
Peter laughed, nuzzling against his brother as he started to doze off. "Uh—uh huh. And—mmh. Yeah, that's good. Yeah. I like that story best."
"Do you now," Matthew hummed, kissing Peter's forehead. "Now, how about I stay here until you fall asleep?"
"…yeah. That's good. Good night, Mattie. And say good night to Dad and Mister Arthur for me too, okay…?"
"…"
"…promise?"
"…yeah, big guy. I promise. Good night."
[ A/N here's chapter two! Wow, I didn't expect such a great response to the first one! Honestly I wasn't sure about posting this on FF, because I'm mostly writing these as drabbles, but I'm glad you guys like them so much! Concrit is always nice and appreciated. ]