AN: Remember when I said that the next chapter would be out by the end of the week? Well, I was excited to keep writing and ended up with this. I hope it's still good, I can't really tell myself, but oh well. This one's a little bit longer than the first one, but I intend to make the chapters a lot longer. I'm just having difficulty with the toddler years, so they probably won't be around very long!

Anyway, thank you to everyone who reviewed and alerted the first chapter. I was so surprised by all of the positive feedback. You guys really motivate me to keep writing to get you the next chapter. I hope you enjoy this one!

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or any of the character I use, blah blah blah, yada yada yada.

0o0o0o0

"What do you want to eat, Alfred?"

"Pancakes!"

"Alfred, I'm making dinner."

"Pancakes!"

"You had pancakes for breakfast this morning."

"Pancakes, pancakes, pancakes!"

Arthur watched the little boy at the table as he demanded his favorite food. How that tiny body managed to hold so many pancakes was beyond him. Any time Arthur tried to eat pancakes, he felt as if he had eaten a pound of cement after just one.

Arthur sighed and turned to grab his skillet. The things he did for this boy…

Soon, the smell of cooking batter wafted through the kitchen, making Alfred restless. And when Alfred got restless, he wanted to run. Sure, he wanted to run all the time, but even more so when there was food involved. The little boy was up and dashing around the table, continuously looping while chanting 'pancakes' over and over. Arthur watched over his shoulders and said, "Alfred, please sit down and don't run inside of the house. You'll-"

And right as he was about to say 'you'll hurt yourself', Alfred's foot snagged under the rug beneath the table and he went down, face first. Cursing under his breath, Arthur abandoned the stove, darted into the dining room, and picked him up.

But, typical Alfred, he went right back to running around. Arthur huffed, questioning the child and his sanity. That was, until the smell of smoke filled his nose. He turned toward the skillet, which he had neglected to take off the heat, only to find smoke clouding the kitchen. "Shit!" Just as hastily as he tended to Alfred, he rushed to the kitchen and grabbed the skillet. Slightly burning his hand, he threw it into the sink and turned on the water. Except that that only produced more smoke.

Cursing everything to hell, Arthur opened all of the windows in the kitchen and dining room in an attempt to clear out the foul smell. Exhausted, he sat in front of the table and put his head down.

Alfred, quiet from all of excitement, tapped Arthur's shoulder. Refusing to lift his head, he mumbled to the boy, asking him what he wanted.

"Arfur, what about the pancakes?"

It took all he had to remain calm. He was not born with the sense of patience his mother had. "Well, Arthur burned the pancakes. So there are no pancakes." Silence followed.

Arthur looked up at the boy, whose eyes were wide and shining, full of tears. Sighing, Arthur glanced at the clock. It was only a little bit past five.

"Okay, get your coat, Alfred. We're going out today." He knew he would regret those words.

0o0o0o0

Despite the fact that June was quickly approaching, it was unseasonably cold. Close to 9° C., Arthur and Alfred trekked down the street, bundled up in their coats. At least, Arthur tried to wrap Alfred up, but the little brat had taken most of it off before they even left the house. Alfred was always difficult when he took him out. Such as he was then. "Mommy!"

"Alfred, come back here!" Arthur called, as he ran after his toddler. He watched in horror as he ran right up to a woman, walking a Pomeranian dog, and grabbed her leg. "Alfred! I'm terribly sorry, miss. He's not very… shy." He understood now. This woman looked almost exactly like Alfred's mother.

The woman giggled. "It's alright. I understand. I used to have a toddler myself. Thankfully, he's six now." She glanced down at Alfred, who was now distracted by her dog. "Your son is adorable. He looks like you."

Arthur didn't know what to say to that. "Heh, yeah… he's not my son, actually. He was my friend's son, but I'm looking after him right now."

A grave expression crossed her face. She caught on quickly. It seemed she didn't know what to say, either. "Oh, I'm… I'm sorry."

Arthur merely shrugged it off. "No, it's okay. I see how you could assume I'm his father."

They both turned and watched Alfred with the pup for a minute until Arthur remembered they still needed to eat. "Alfred, we have to go so we can eat. Say goodbye to the puppy."

"Aw…"

The woman spoke up. "Alfred is more than welcome to come see Coco anytime he wants to. Coco always welcomes attention."

Arthur smiled. "We might just take you up on that offer, Miss…"

"Amelia. But most people call me Emily."

Arthur nodded in response. He bent down and grabbed Alfred's hand, pulling him up. "Say goodbye, Alfred."

"Byebye, Miss Emiwy! Byebye, Coco!" Emily laughed softly to herself and returned his goodbyes.

0o0o0o0

"Here are your menus. I'll be back in just a sec' to take your order!"

Arthur opened the worn menu and glanced at the specials. The old family restaurant that was located a couple of blocks down from Arthur's home had such a nostalgic feel, with its yellowing pictures decorating the walls and worn out old booths surrounding the room. From going in every day after school with his friends to coming in for a cup of coffee in the morning, he'd spent much of his life in that quaint little shop.

Alfred busied himself, coloring on the children's menu, which was a piece of paper that surrounded the menu choices for children with different puzzles and drawing space.

The waitress returned, her face lit up like a light bulb, and asked excitedly, "Do you two boys know what you'll be having?"

"Um…" Arthur looked at Alfred, who didn't even bother to look up at the waitress as she was talking. "I think that we'll have two fish and chips."

After she wrote down the order and left, Arthur watched Alfred color diligently on the paper. What do you talk about with an almost-three-year-old? Arthur was completely stumped.

A little boy, about Alfred's size, came waddling up to their booth. He watched Alfred scribbling with interest sparkling in his eyes.

"Matthew," Arthur heard a familiar voice call out. 'Oh, sweet Jesus, please no…' he thought as a blond man approached their table. "Well. Arthur. Fancy seeing you here."

"Francis. Long time, no see." Too bad it couldn't have been longer.

Francis bent down and scooped up his child, and said with a mordant tone, "Is this your son? I didn't know anyone would breed with you."

Arthur looked up at him, smirking, "I could say the same for you."

"Yes, meet mon fils, Matthew."

"Meet Allistor's son, Alfred."

Francis looked puzzled. "Allistor's son? Why do you have Allistor's kid?"

Arthur sighed and quietly explained to Francis the story. Francis listened without interrupting once. He stood in silence for a moment before he replied, "That really happened to him? Merde, I hadn't heard. I was transferred back to France a few years ago, but I recently was sent back here to take over a new branch." Francis being successful? No shock there.

Francis looked at the clock hanging over the door. "Oh, Matthew. We have to be home before it gets dark, don't we? Well, Arthur. It was nice seeing you again. We'll have to catch up again soon." Francis smirked as he spoke. Back to his sarcastic demeanor.

"Of course." As soon as Francis was out of hearing range, Arthur muttered, "Damn frog."

Not only was Francis a business rival, but he was also an old childhood enemy. He had tormented Arthur nearly every day of his life when they were in primary school. Allistor had been the only person to stand up to Francis for him.

After their food came (which Arthur had to help Alfred with), Arthur looked outside, only to see that it was beginning to rain. He hadn't thought to bring an umbrella. Hopefully it would pass before they left.

The rain had only gotten harder by the time Arthur got up to pay the bill. "Okay, Alfred, get up on my shoulders, okay? We're going make a run for it."

After Alfred had climbed up his back and was resting on his shoulders, his arms encircled around his neck, Arthur took off running. Alfred, absolutely enthralled by the height and the rain, giggled away above the Brit's head. It took a little over five minutes to get back indoors (even if he was small, Alfred was pretty heavy). He took off his shoes and brought Alfred into the bathroom, not about to let him get the whole house wet and dirty. He dried the toddler off before himself, not wanting him to get sick. "C'mon Al, you need to take a bath." Alfred's smile shrunk considerably at the word 'bath'.

"No!"

"Yes, Alfred. You don't want to get sick."

"No!"

"Alfred." Arthur sternly warned.

"No!" Alfred managed to squirm his way out of Arthur's already slippery hands and ran out the open bathroom door.

"Augh, Alfred! Get back in here!" Was he really about to chase a child around the house to get him to take a bath?

…Yes, he was. "Alfred!" Arthur got up and flew out of the bathroom, towel in hand. He caught a glimpse of the blond running into the dining room before he completely disappeared around the corner.

Arthur met him halfway in the kitchen and cornered him. He swiftly opened the towel and enwrapped the boy with it, then picked him up and threw him over his shoulder.

Back into the bathroom, door shut and locked.

The five minutes of bathing and twenty-five minutes of struggling were unbearable. He understood having a young aversion to bath time, but was it really that bad for the boy?

Once Alfred was dried off and dressed in his pyjamas, Arthur took him back to his room and settled him down in his crib. Alfred began to fuss, but Arthur pulled out the story he's read to him a million times: How Do Dinosaurs Say Good Night?. Dinosaurs were one of Alfred's favorite things, only closely beaten by superheroes. Even after seeing the illustrations thousands of times, the pictures still fascinated him into his dreams.

0o0o0o0

"Mr. Kirkland? I'm here!" Elizabeta called out into the house. A distant "come in" rang from the kitchen. Elizabeta closed the door behind her and rounded the corner into the kitchen. Arthur was sitting at the island with Alfred, cutting small chunks of banana into his bowl of Cheerios.

"Good morning, Elizabeta."

Elizabeta flushed slightly, and greeted him, "Good morning, Mr. Kirkland."

Arthur turned to the little boy and rubbed his head. "I have to leave now, Al."

Alfred looked up at him, slightly mortified. "No!" He jumped down from his chair and clutched Arthur's leg.

This wasn't the first time Alfred had been afraid of him leaving. It had mostly occurred when he first started living with Arthur. He'd developed separation anxiety after the funeral was held. He ended up skipping work the first day Alfred cried and clung to him. Arthur thought that it was getting better, but perhaps the nightmare he had was bringing everything back.

"I'm sorry, Alfred. Don't cry. I'll be back when you wake up from your nap."

"No! No go!"

Arthur knelt down and brought Alfred into an embrace. "C'mon Al. You're going to stay here with Lizzie!" Elizabeta took that as an opportunity to kneel down alongside Arthur and take Alfred from him. They both stood up, Elizabeta holding Alfred on her hip. Arthur approached Alfred, who turned his head away, and kissed his forehead, whispering, "I'll be back home soon, Alfred. I promise." With that, Arthur collected his keys and left.

0o0o0o0

AN: And he never returned… Just kidding.

Fish and chips: the extent of my knowledge of England. I was so excited to bring France and Canada in (especially Matthew, because I love me some Canada).

Also, Amelia/Emily are both a couple of America's female names.