A few people asked me about ages and I just realized,,, I haven't said anything about them yet, aha~ Matthew is young (He'd make such a cute kid I couldn't resist?). I'm thinking about 10. Alfred's 17 and Artie's 24. Any other questions, feel free to ask.

Warning: Frenchman. I'll have translations at the bottom I guess.

Disclaimer: I only own Hetalia in my dreams~ otherwise it's all Hima-papa's.

A soft click shattered the silence of the still room, light from the doorway flooding in to chase the darkness away. Tossing the switch by the door, a blond man entered the brightly lit room, followed by a young man and small boy.

"Well, this is my flat" Arthur stated as he hung his keys on a clip by the door. He took off his black peacoat and hung it up in the coat closet by the front door. With half his body still in the closet, he outstretched his hand expectantly. After a few confused seconds, Alfred realized the blond wanted their coats and quickly removed his and Matt's

Hanging up the other two coats, Arthur called from the closet, "Make yourselves at home."

The two boys did just that, although Matthew was a little more hesitant. Just past the small closet were three short stairs that led up to a hallway. To the left were three more stairs leading back down into a living room. The room had a homey, comfortable feel to it. The walls were a light, beige color with a soft tan carpet to match. There were two soft, fluffy looking sofas, both a forest green; one of them was shaped like an L and had an assortment of pillows littering the surface, the other had a light, knitted blanket over the back that was the color of a stormy sky, the kind you might see at your grandmother's house. Along the windows were a matching set of green drapes.

Between the sofas was a low set, glass table, small stand of coasters in the middle and news papers littering the surface. The open end of the table led to a good sized flat screen TV mounted on the wall.

To the right of the hall was a small dining room, made up of only a small table and four chairs, with a few bookcases along the walls. A doorway at the end of the room led to the kitchen. Along the hallway there were a few closed doors, leading to the master bedroom, guestroom, and bathroom.

Alfred strode over to the bend in the L shaped couch and plopped down heavily. Matthew followed him and seated himself with a little bounce, looking around at the room.

Closing the door with a soft click, Arthur was lost in thought for a moment. 'I can not believe I listened to Liz.' He sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"Liz, can we talk for a moment?" I said, leading her away from the two boys by her elbow, feeling as if I were about to scold a child.

"What the bloody hell are you thinking in that silly head of yours?" I hissed at her, keeping my voice low." What would possibly make you think I should be taking care of anyone, let alone two strange children!"

" Don't you talk to me like that, Arthur Kirkland! Like I'm some ignorant child! I wouldn't have suggested it if I didn't think it was the best decision."

" Liz, they are children. They need a stable home, love and guidance. What about school? I don't know these boys and I have a rather time consuming, sometimes dangerous, job. I can not provide them with what they need."

" You did a fine job with Peter those few years he lived with you. Don't belittle your skills." I turned away from her and glanced at the two. The elder looked up at that moment and gave me a curious, nervous look. Feeling my face start to heat up, I turned away. Rushing off like that probably made him feel like another adult was abandoning them.

" Besides..." she continued softly, smile tugging at her lips," it seems like you've already bonded. Listen Arthur, there's a good reason I want those boys in the presence of a trained officer..."

I knew there had to be something going on. She wasn't the police commissioner for no reason.

"I'm listening."

Sighing again, Arthur made his was into the living room. ' No use putting things off.' He sat stiffly on the other sofa, across from the violet eyed boy. They all glanced around, avoiding eye contact with the other occupants of the room, and an awkward silence ate away the minutes.

"Well, we should probably begin with introductions," the detective started.

"Oh!" the blue eyed boy exclaimed. "Right. That'd probably be a good place to start." He grinned and rubbed his head in embarrassment.

"I-I'm Mathew, Mathew W-Williams. N-n-nice to m-meet you, sir."

Shuffling onto his hands and knees, the violet eyed boy stretched his small, chubby arm over the low table towards Arthur. Chuckling softly, Arthur extended his own hand and shook Matthew's cordially.

"Hello Matthew. My name is Arthur Kirkland. It is very nice to meet you."

The small blond leaned back, thoroughly pleased to be treated in such an adult way. Not one to miss an opportune teasing moment, Alfred quickly ruffled his hair and tickled him into submission. Matthew tried to curl into a ball to block out those accursed fingers, but he was very ticklish all over his body, and he couldn't hide everything. Plus, no one was more persistent than Alfred.

Once Matthew was reduced to a giggling, crying, panting, puddle of Canadian, Alfred pulled his hands back and redirected his gaze towards the detective.

"I'm Alfred F. Jones," he claimed, the laughter from a moment ago still ringing in his voice.

"Jones? I thought you two were brothers."

"We're half brothers. My father died a few years before Matty was born. Naturally, our mother took the last name Williams when she got remarried, but I wanted to keep my old man's last name."

Arthur knew what it was like to lose a father young. His mother had never remarried, but between him and his four brothers, she was kept pretty busy.

"I'm sorry for your loss," he politely, though somewhat awkwardly responded.

"Hmm? Oh, don't worry about it. It was a looong time ago, and Mr. Williams is" there was a pause, and no one tried to think was "as good as my own flesh and blood. By the way, Artie-"

"That's Arthur."

"- why are we crashing here, anyway?" he continued as if he never even heard the older man interrupt him.

"Police officers usually don't put up random victims, right?" His eyes shone with curiosity, thought there was something else there; something like a paranoid mistrust.

"Well, the officers working on your...situation couldn't find any other relatives within a commutable area, and you very well can't just 'crash' " the Brit spat out the American term like something vile, "inside the police station. Liz knows I am not only single with enough room for...guests, but trustworthy too, so she asked me to look after you, at least until better arrangements can be made."

"S-so, we won't get to s-stay with you v-very long, w-will we?" Matt whispered out so quietly, he was barely heard. However the room was dead silent, and both men caught what he'd said.

Alfred saw the little frown forming on his brothers face as he hugged Kumajiro tighter.

He was taken aback at how attached his shy, introverted little brother had become to the detective they met just a few hours ago.

"Don't worry, Matt. The police need us around for something, so I'm sure we'll be seeing Artie for a while." Blue eyes bore into green. "So, what's the real reason we're here?"

The Briton sighed and ran a hand through his messy hair.

"First of all, it's Arthur, not Artie. Secondly..." he glanced to Matthew, wondering if it was alright to talk, but those brilliant blue eyes never faltered. With another sigh, he continued.

"Secondly, while it is true we couldn't find any relatives, the reason you two are staying with me, instead of in the custody of a social worker or foster home, is because there was something queer about that fire."

Alfred's eyebrows furrowed slightly at the word queer, his definition of the word and Arthur's not quite meeting up. Luckily the Englishman was observant and realized quickly where the younger American's mind got caught.

"Queer in proper English means odd or unusual. There was something suspicious about that fire. If it really wasn't an accident, then it is best to have you two with someone that can protect you."

No sooner did Arthur close his mouth, then Alfred jumped in with another line of eager questioning, glad the detective was actually answering his inquiries.

" Who do they think would set an apartment building on fire. Why would anyone even do that? Hell, even if it was arson, why do we need protection?"

Arthur was getting irritated and exasperated, and the look he gave the overly excited boy expressed just that. With another sigh, he continued his explanations.

"There are a lot of reasons people commit arson. It could be a murder plot; some jilted lover wanting revenge for example. It could just be some stupid kids messing around, thinking it would be fun or cool. It could very well be related with the multiple Mafioso factions; arson, and fire in general, seems to be a favorite of those bloody Ruskies."

Alfred seemed to be lost in thought for a moment, Arthur hoping he was finally satisfied, until, with another furrowing of his brows, he opened his mouth again.

"But that still doesn't explain why we'd need protection. What do some mobsters have to do with us?"

Wishing Alfred hadn't remembered his last question and dreading the consequences, the detective continued.

"...Most of the damage seems to be centered on only one floor. One room in particular received the most damage...":

For a moment, Alfred forgot how to breathe.

The three males sat in a heavy silence; the two boys lost in thought and the detective, for once, unwilling to break the awkward tension surrounding them. They sat like that for twenty minutes until a, mostly welcome, distraction reared its long, fabulous haired head. The click of the lock sounded out, unusually loud in the spacious room, before a smooth voice broke the silence.

"Arthur? Mon petit lapin? Oû est tu?"

With a growl, and seeming to forget his audience, Arthur stomped out of the living room.

"I am not your little anything! You wine sucking idiot. And how many times must I tell you? STOP letting yourself into my flat whenever you damned feel like it."

"Ah, so I was right. You're home early tonight. What's the occasion? Couldn't stand to be away from my gorgeous self for a moment longer?"

"You're delusional. You probably wrapped that scarf on too tight. Not enough oxygen flowing to your brain," he said, a smirk growing on his face. He gripped the ends of the scarf and pulled, choking the frenchman. But Francis just smiled an easy smile and laid his hands over the slightly smaller man's, knowing his reaction would be to let go and put as much distance between his hands and the frenchman's.

Indeed, he did retract his hands from the designer scarf draped around Francis' neck. With a frown, he continued," Why are you here, Francis? I have better things to do than entertain your worthless arse."

"Oh, mon cher, what could be more important than..." on his way to the Brit's kitchen, though it might as well have been his, considering he's the only one doing any proper cooking in it, he froze upon noticing Arthur's 'house guests.'

"Oh, I didn't realize you had company, Arthur. But, my, what are such young boys doing 'ere so late? You are not...into those types of things, are you?"

"W-w-w-what are you talking about, you perverted imbecile!" the detective sputtered. "You're mixing me and that Spanish idiot you call a friend up! They were involved in an...accident, and I'm looking after them for a bit. That's all."

"Ah, oui, I understand. C'est terrible, mais...well we'll just have to make your stay a pleasant one. Shall I make dinner then? I'll bet you two are hungry."

"Starving, right Matt?" he received a nod, and they got up and followed the two men into the kitchen. " I'm Alfred by the way, and this is my brother Matt."

"Charmed."

Tada? There's chapter two. Hopefully I'll get 3 out quicker, but I'm currently on vacation for about a month. Computer's with me but idk if I'll be very eager to write lol. A wild Francis appeared! I took a little French in school, but not...very much lol so if you find errors etc etc tell me.

Mon petit lapin? Oû est tu?: My little rabbit? Where are you?

C'est terrible, mais...: This is terrible, but...