Warning: This has so much fluff and sweetness in it you…may…die

This really doesn't have anything to do with the plot it's just a flashback to when Matthew was born (nothing too graphic I don't think) and mentions of sex. But no actual sex. Because it's about birth. If you want to skip it you can or if you're bored…well…here you go.

P.S! Reviews give me reason to update quicker! School's starting up and I actually want to go somewhere in life, not just sit around the house all day doing nothing but write fan fiction. What has become of me?! Anyway more pressure on me the better and I will find a way to juggle writing and school crap. I always do.

So. Anyway, ONTO THE STORY~


Flashback: Matthew's Birth

Francis had a new respect for his English husband, who was currently on the floor with their soon to be one year old, Alfred. The one and only reason he had respect for his husband was because he had spent nine months pregnant with Alfred and had given birth to their big –weighing almost nine pounds –bundle of joy. He had remembered being making fun of Arthur at one point, because of his mood swings for hamburgers and milkshakes, but now…he seriously, seriously regretted it. It was almost terrifying how all those months ago he had lost that bet and bottomed for the first time in his entire life. And now he was pregnant. A week over the original due date.

Who would've thought they both were able to conceive? Certainly not them, especially Francis. He had always been the giver of love, not the taker of it.

He put down the French newspaper, watching Arthur build a castle made of foam blocks while Al kept on knocking it over and giggling like it was the funniest thing in the world. Absent mindedly he rubbed a hand over his swollen abdomen, feeling the bump of a foot. The Frenchman really didn't mind being with child, it was actually…nice. Once you got over the mood swings, back pains, morning sickness, cravings and the need to pee every thirty minutes. He liked incubating this little baby inside him, feeling him –they knew the gender at this point –grow to maturity and seeing his belly grow bigger as time went on. Francis especially liked being in big sweaters and stretchy pants, they were nice and lazy.

There was a sudden, sharp pain in his lower back and he gasped, "Angleterre…"

Arthur ignored him as the Brit continued to play with their son, talking and laughing at the incoherent babble that was meant to be a reply. The pregnant blonde sat back uneasily, his fingertips caressing his belly. Maybe it was just a false alarm, probably just-. That thought was abruptly cut short by another wave of pain.

"Angleterre-."

"No I won't get you anymore bloody maple syrup!"

"But, Angle-."

"No!"

"Arthur!" he shouted at a near deafening level, overwhelmed by what was now constant pain, panic and his husband's either obliviousness or stupidity. Tears spilled down his cheeks it was too much, too much overwhelming his senses. He knew he would start hyperventilating if Arthur didn't do something! Arthur…Arthur…The Brit's head whipped back and he glared but when he saw Francis's long, wavy hair sticking to salty wet cheeks his eyes widened in shock. "Arthur, mon amour, it 'urts."

Arthur sprang into action, picking Alfred up in one arm and their bags at the door. The English man had had the forethought to be ready and prepare. "Alfred, love, you're going to stay at Feli's house ok? Just for a little bit," he said in the soft sweet voice he reserved only for Alfred and, soon, their new baby boy.

"Why?" the little boy asked, sucking on his pacifier as Arthur buckled him into his car seat and tossed the child's bag onto the floor.

"Because, angel, Papa is going to have the baby," he answered his voice still soft and calm although what he really wanted to do was scream in happiness and then pass out from shock, "Papa needs to go to the hospital so doctors can take him out of his tummy, you want to see baby Mattie don't you?"

"YEAH!" Al shouted pumping his little fist up in the air as Arthur put the other two bags in the trunk.

"Ok, well you're going to waiting with Feli, love, until Mattie is out of Papa's tummy," he explained kissing that tiny fist quickly, "Now stay here while I help Papa." Arthur ran back into their four bedroom house, only to see Francis trying to make his way to the door although he hadn't gotten far from the chair he had been sitting in. "What do you think you're doing you stupid frog," he huffed putting his arm around his pregnant lover to help him to the front door.

"A-Ah, it iz comforting to know you never change, mon cher," Francis said in a small voice, his whole concentration was on walking down the front stairs even though every movement made him ache, "not even w'en your lover iz in labor."

Arthur managed to get him into the passenger side, smoothing away the tear damp hair and kissing the Frenchman's forehead, "It's going to be alright, love, just breathe." He wasn't fully aware of driving to Feliciano's house and practically shoving Alfred into Ludwig's arms. He wasn't even fully aware of holding Francis's hand during the car ride and mumbling sweet nothings and words of reassurance. He didn't really become fully aware until he was waiting in the lobby for Francis's sister, Monique, per his husband's request.

Her arrival was announced by the rapid click, click of her heals on the tiled floors. Then she appeared right after, having a very teacher like look on her face. Her heels were a royal blue that complimented her eyes, her hair in a side braid down to her ribcage and bobby pins to hold the loose ends away from her face, she had on a tight white t-shirt that displayed a fair amount of cleavage, the t-shirt was under a black pleated skirt with a high waist that ended just below her knees. She looked extremely teacher like. "Where's my brother?" she asked getting right down to the point and pushing up her glasses.

"Uh, this way," he squeaked instantly intimidated by her incredibly calm and mature façade.

He led her to Francis's room where he lay panting and gasping, he had a death grip on one of the bars to the bed. "Angleterre," he whimpered and Arthur rushed to his side, holding his hand and smoothing back his hair.

"I'm right here, love," he crooned kissing Francis's temple, his neck, "Hey, look, Monique is here. She's going to be here to see the birth of our child, isn't that wonderful?"

Immediately she put down her purse and held Francis's other hand, smiling at him kindly. "Je suis ici, mon frère. Je suis tellement excité de voir mon neveu, nous allons le sortir rapidement. Est-ce que la bonne acoustique, ma chère?" (I'm right here, brother. I'm so excited to see my nephew, let's get him out quickly. Does that sound good, dear) she said rubbing her thumb in circles over his bicep. He nodded sharply before choking on a scream of pain

"Mr. Kirkland-Bonnefoy?" the doctor said appearing in the room with two nurses, a man and a young woman, "I would like to check and see how far along you are ok?" Francis nodded silently, in too much pain to even say anything. The doctor, Dr. Zwingli, was the only doctor who specialized in male pregnancies. She had short blonde hair and looked almost childlike with her short stature and slim figure but she was incredibly mature and knew what she was doing. She spread Francis's legs apart, lifting up the blanket to take a look at his progress.

"Ok, Mr. Bonnefoy, you're going to have to start pushing now," she said, "these nurses will be here to clean the baby or assist me if it comes to that but, so far, I don't see why this birth shouldn't go perfectly."

The birth was filled with literal blood, sweat and tears as all births are. After two hours straight of pushing little baby Matthew slid out silently. He didn't scream or cry, as babies normally do once they are exposed to the cold outside word. Dr. Zwingli frowned, cutting the umbilical cord and handing the baby off to the young red headed nurse.

"W'a…w'at'z wrong?" Francis asked weakly, licking his dry lips, "Why…why can't I 'ear our bébé?"

"Shh, it's ok," Arthur mumbled kissing his forehead before walking over to where the doctor and nurses crowded around his baby, doing God knows what. "What's wrong?"

Dr. Zwingli was cleaning the blood and mucus from the infant's body and nose. "Arthur, don't worry, he's ok," she said smiling although she still looked worried, "He may have a slight respiratory problem but at the moment he's fine." Arthur sighed in relief, the tension in his shoulders leaving and they slumped. "Would you like to hold your Matthew?"

He instantly perched up, nodding enthusiastically. Dr. Zwingli laughed and the male nurse placed the blue bundle in his arms with surprising gentleness. "Born July first, three PM, write that down," the young nurse obeyed, writing on her chart as the man started cleaning up. Arthur walked away, cooing at the little bundle, but he could still hear the doctor's voice, "Born to Arthur Kirkland and Francis Bonnefoy, weighs six point five pounds. Length to be determined at a later date."

"But, doc, we're supposed to-."

"The baby needs to bond with his fathers. We'll measure him later."

Arthur handed Francis their child, smiling broadly. "Look at how beautiful he is, he's perfect," he breathed rubbing Francis's back and caressing the tuff of ashy blonde hair with his fingertips.

Francis started crying again, this time in joy and not pain, he cradled little Matthew close. His heart was overflowing with love. He had made this baby, had given this child life and he was beautiful. "Monique…" he said huskily, looking up at his smiling sister with shining eyes, "Voulez-vous être la marraine de notre Matthew?" (Will you be the godmother for our Matthew?)

Tears poured down her cheeks and she wiped her eyes, removing her fogging glasses. "Je ne vois pas de plus grand honneur, le grand frère," (I can think of no greater honor, big brother) she said smiling happily. Arthur had never seen her so emotional.

There little bundle opened his eyes, revealing bright blue orbs. His little fist clenched around Francis hair and he whimpered. "Bonjour, mon petit ange. Je suis votre Papa," (Hello, my little angel. I'm your Papa) Francis said bringing Matthew's chubby face up to his and turning so Matthew was looking at Arthur, "Et c'est ton Daddy" (And this is your Daddy) –he turned Matthew to look at Monique –" Et c'est votre Monique tante. Nous vous aimons tous tellement, ma chérie." (And this is your Auntie Monique. We all love you so much, darling)

"Matthew, don't let Papa teach you frog," Arthur said gently, kissing the tip of Matthew's nose, "You are perfect though. A little angel, just like your big brother, he can't wait to see you."

Baby Matthew giggled cuddling close with his fathers and gripping onto strands of their hair.


Wasn't that so fucking fluffy?!

It was a beautiful family moment. Yes…. yes indeed

The next chapter will be chapter three and will have to do with the plot so you probably shouldn't miss that.

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Laters lovelies!

~kitty