Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia, but that'd be bad if I did. On second thought, It'd be pretty rad.

The Brit had always been better at baking. Cooking on the other hand, it wasn't exactly forte. Try he may, he just couldn't make something all that edible. Each winter he and Francis would make a batch of nice, steamy snickerdoodles to celebrate the first snowfall. There was a different ingredient added as the years changed ever since Arthur had accidently dumped sprinkles into the batter, but when the Frenchman was ripped of his memories and taken from the life he knew, Arthur had never even bothered to try and make another batch. They were what took Francis away from him in the first place.

….

"So, what are we putting in them this year?"

"Hm…menthe poivrée!"

"What the bloody hell does that mean?!"

"Love~"

"Oh shut up, what is it really?"

"Peppermint."

"Mmm…That's my favorite."

"You're my favorite."

"Would you knock it off?!"

"But you are just so cute to tease!"

The flustered Brit stormed off to the kitchen, leaving his French lover to only laugh and follow after. They surprised various people when they told them they were indeed married. Always fighting were they, and yet…they had managed to fall in love with one another. The couple put on their aprons and got ready for work, throwing flour at each other and flinging water around like children as they did so.

"Frog!"

"Que?"

"Don't 'kay me!"

"That's not what I sai-"

"I don't care. We ran out of flour, sugar, and we don't have any peppermint sticks."

"So? Go get some."

"I don't want to, you go get them."

"Really?"

"I went out yesterday, so now you have to!"

"…"

"…"

"D'accord."

"Good."

The brit smiled proudly as he won their little squabble. There was flour all over his butter colored hair as well as his forehead. Last year it was France working with all the flour, but they liked to take turns so it was Arthur's turn to pound the dough and make it into whatever shape they decided.

With a sigh, Francis kissed his demanding husband on the head and slapped some more flour onto the Brit's red cheeks, receiving an angry glare that was followed by a small laugh as he was pushed away. Unfortunately for them, neither knew that that would be the last time they would share an afternoon together like this.

It was the cookies after all. It was all their fault that Arthur would be swallowed up in depression and despair while Francis had not a clue of what they meant. Each birthday, each anniversary, each snowfall of every month if it did snow, and each Christmas were the dastardly treats made. Now, the recipe was thrown to the side to collect dust. The Brit couldn't bring himself to even look at the unfinished product when he was forced to return to home after the accident. If only the snow had waited one more day, then…then Francis wouldn't feel like he was missing something.

….

Staring down at the small, yellow recipe card, Arthur gulped and held back the tears that threatened to spill from his emerald eyes. He was tired of crying so much. It wouldn't bring Francis back to him. It didn't then, and it won't do anything now. Besides, the twins were sitting on the counter next to him, he had to be strong for them.

Humming 'Swing low sweet chariot to himself', the older blonde got the ingredients out and started to make the dough. He just had to distract himself the whole time. His sweet boys were desperate for this cookie after a certain Frenchman made some for them a while back when Arthur was forced to leave them with the man.

"Alright Alfred, Matthew. What shape do you want the cookies to be in?"

"Uhh..spaceships!"

"B-Bears!"

The twins said, leaving Arthur to look through the brand new cookie cutters he bought just for the two items. It took him awhile, but he managed to find one shaped like a UFO and a bear shaped one for Matthew.

"Okay then, no-" he was cut short as the doorbell chimed and echoed throughout the house," Just press the cutters into the dough alright? I'll go get the door."

Why? This just had to be his spot of luck. Standing in the door was none other than the Frenchman himself holding a bottle of wine in his hands. Of course, he wasn't complaining, but Arthur wasn't exactly emotionally stable at the moment or any moment come to think of it.

"Ah Bonjour monsieur Arthur!"

"W-What are you doing here?" his voice cracked for a quick second, making the Brit blush and nearly slap himself for sounding so stupid.

"Well, I was digging through the fridge and found this beautiful bottle of wine from the 1960's and was wondering if you'd care to have a drink with me?"

"What happened to Antonio and Gilbert?"

"Er…" he looked to the bushed where his friends were hiding and begged for some help. After some time, the two had found out the small fascination that Francis held for Arthur and decided it would be a great time to get the arguing couple back together despite Francis not remembering anything about his past with Arthur. Every day, they would watch as the Frenchman moped around the house about how empty he felt. This was their way to try and speed up the process," They're drunk at home!"

"That's believable, but I don't drink anymore."

"And why not?"

"…I have children."

"Not even a sip?"

"…"

"…sooo yes?"

"Get in here before I change my mind."

….

All four of them sat on the couch. Maybe this is what it would've been like if Francis had never been in the accident. Matthew and Alfred all tuckered out from making cookies and decorating them all day, including claiming that Arthur should marry Francis once the Frenchman arrived. It was enough to make both of them blush and turn away from each other in an awkward silence.

"Your boys sure are a handful."

"Tell me about it."

The two sat with a glass of wine housed in their hands, Arthur having considerably less than Francis so he wouldn't get drunk. He was such a horrible drunk.

After a few minutes Francis picked up the small picture of him and Arthur kissing at their wedding. It confused him. It sure looked like him, but he knew it wasn't. He wasn't married despite the ring he still wore on his ring finger that would tell anyone else otherwise.

"Who is this?" he asked making Arthur tense up and bite his lower lip.

How could he tell him? The Brit wasn't ready to just say 'it's you'. He hadn't expected Francis to the picture, much less inquire about it. He hadn't even expected the man to come over in the first place! It made his head hurt and his eyes threated to water up.

"I-It's you…?"

"What? You're joking~! Who are you married to?"

"…Like I said, it's you."

"…How can tha-"

"It's you damnit! Stop asking about it! Why don't you just remember already! Why can't you remember it?! You told me you loved me! We exchanged vows and everything! You stupid git! You just h-had to go and get in a car accident d-didn't you?!" he cried out, letting the frustrations he had out from being bottled up for a whole four years," Y-You're such an asshole! How many times do I have to tell y-you?!"

"Arthur I-"

"Shut up already! Just shut up! I am so sick of your shit! I-I just want you to remember a-again! Is that too hard to ask?!" he yelled, waking the twins wake up and look confused at their screaming father.

Both their hearts ached. Arthur held his chest and kneeled over at the waist with his glass of wine shattered on the floor. How else was he supposed to respond? He missed his husband dearly. Now the man was claiming they had never married when the Frenchman did not even know his own birth location. Francis's heart ached because it longed for its other half. He didn't know it though. It was an unfamiliar feeling and yet familiar at the same time.

It was silent except for the sobs of the tired Brit. He was in such terrible pain. It probably didn't help that he was forced to make the cookies that brought him pain with the man who couldn't remember the vow he exchanged or the children he begged and pleaded for Arthur to adopt such a long time ago.

Francis watched in dismay as Arthur eventually fell asleep with his eyes red and puffy and stains running down his cheeks. He didn't know what it was though. This man just seemed so confusing. At one moment he seemed fine, but the next he was an emotional wreck. It all seemed familiar and it was killing the Frenchman. The poor soul in front of him was just broken and miserable.

"Francis?"

"Oui?" he replied as he looked down at the two large set of eyes. It was quite obvious they had never seen their father so distressed, or not like that any.

"Will papa be okay?" Matthew asked as Alfred trudged over and threw a blanket over Arthur's sleeping form.

"I'm not sure…Why don't we get you two to bed? I'll get your papa later."

"Okay…"

Picking up the twins was easy as well as getting them to bed. They really were the angels that Arthur always claimed to be. They were quite cute as well. As he closed the door to their shared bedroom, the Frenchman walked through the hall, admiring all the pictures hanging. Most of them made him frown though, as they were of him with Arthur or with two small children. It made his head hurt. How could he have done any of this he didn't remember? Why couldn't he remember any of it?!

A loud ringing echoed through his head making the man's head only hurt more than it already did. He just couldn't remember and it was killing him. Surely, he would be able to remember if he had gotten married or gotten children. But yet, he couldn't. He had been told he was in an accident, but it never seemed to matter to him before. Now, now he had all these pictures swirling around in his head to confuse him. Was this a cruel trick that god was playing on him? He kneeled down and pressed his head against the cold wall. Now that he thought about it, this house was freezing. It was so cold and depressing than it was during the day when it was warm and inviting.

"God…what's wrong with me? WHY CAN'T I REMEMBER ANYTHING?!" he yelled loudly and thrust his fist into the wall. There was evidence around him that he did in fact have a family, and yet his mind rejected it. It refused to let him remember.

He sat in silence after that. No matter how hard he tried to remember, all he could remember was…

"Peppermint."

"Mmm…That's my favorite."

"You're my favorite."

Hi guys! ouo I have to say thank you so much for all your support with my brother! I appreciate it! You guys are just the sweetest little jelly bellies I have ever met! ~(ouo)~ I have to apologize for another poopy chapter though. ;A; I don't really know where I'm going with this story anymore, I didn't exactly think it through when I started. xD I apologize for the piece of poo I present to you. I'm not very proud of this chapter either. Oh and sorry Shyd. I didn't know how to fit cantankerous or superstitious in here. BUT DON'T WORRY, I SHALL USE THEM EVENTUALLY! o7o Until then~!