The two sat in the car, absolute silence between them. The red-eyed Brit stared out the window, the hazy city passing by in an indescribable blur. France stared at the road, his hands clenched on the wheel as he turned into a deserted parks' parking lot. "Francis, what are we..." His voice trailed off as he looked around, his mind going back in time. "Zhis is where we 'ad our first family dinner, remember? Alfred didn't believe me when I said you 'ad 'orrible cooking and wanted you to cook anyways. Matthew was smart enough to leave zhe house while Alfred sat zhere, staring at the glob on 'is plate before 'e looked at you and ate it. I'll always remember 'is face twisting up in disgust and surprise before 'e swallowed and looked at you with 'is beautiful blue eyes and said-"
"'that was really good Engwand. Can I have more?
Of course my boy, of course..."
"And I said to 'im 'Alfred, are you okay?' and 'is answer, do you remember it?"
"Of course. 'Course! I just wanted to see... Engwand's smile..." His eyes began to shine with tears.
France nodded. "Do you remember 'ow many plates 'e had of whatever it was suppose to be?"
"Four..."
He nodded again. "And what did 'e say after every plate?"
"That was good Engwand, can I have more?"
"What did 'e say every time I told 'im to stop before 'e got sick?"
"'I just want Engwand to smile...'"
They turned and stared at the spot where a house once stood, dozed down to make a park for the children. Dark clouds had surprised them by covering the sky, large drops of water hitting the windshield. "France-" The other shook his head, still staring at the park. "Non mon amour, just enjoy this for a moment. Let go of zhe sadness and remember what 'appened 'ere." England sighed softly and turned back to the park, letting himself fall into a wonderland of memories, one standing out in particular.
"Engwand! Engwand!" He rolled his eyes, turning to the small boy running toward him. "England America. What is it?" The child smiled brightly, his eyes sparkling as he held open his hands to reveal a blue and black butterfly sitting in his palms. "Isn't it pretty?" The older man smiled warmly, kneeling down in front of him. "You shouldn't trap something so beautiful America. It deserves to be free and to spread it's beauty." America pouted, looking at the insect still resting on his palm. "But-" "No buts. Go put it back okay?" He nodded and ran off again, leaving England to turn back to the French man with a scowl as he seen the amused smirk on the others face. "'ow sweet. The Great Britain smiling so gently at such a small child. It is 'ard to comprehend!" "Oh shut up shit beard. What are you doing here anyways?" "I came to visit mon petit Mattie." The child of topic ran up and into France's arms as he knelt down. The blonde child opened his brilliant violet eyes and smiled happily at the French man, snuggling into him. "Papa! You're back!" Francis chuckled, his smile mirroring the Brit's as he held the tiny nation in his arms gently. "Of course mon amour. 'ow could I ever leave someone as cute as you behind? I missed you so." England turned away, letting them have their moment as he walked off to find a pouting Alfred in the bushes, the butterfly still sitting on his hand. "I thought I told you to let it go-" "I tried! But it just came back! I told it to leave or I would get in trouble and you would be mad at me..." He turned and looked at him with unshed tears making his eyes glisten. England sighed and scooped him into his arms, holding him close. "You're such a silly boy... I could never be mad at you... I love you." The little boy sniffled, snuggling into his father. "I wuv you too Engwand."
England sniffed and wiped at his eyes, a slight smile on his face. "You're good shit beard... Thank you." France chuckled softly as he pulled out. "There's one other place I want to show you."