…
February
…
Within the few years he had known Alfred, Francis had quickly learned that he was a talkative, curious boy, but, within the few weeks that he had been taking care of Alfred, he learned that he was way more talkative than he originally thought. And, as expected, Alfred talked idly the whole way to the hospital. For the most part, he was talking to Matthew. The two of them had been inseparable since Alfred had moved in, which was extremely cute.
As cute as it was, it was also more difficult. Francis expected it to be, but taking care of another child was more frustrating than he had thought. Although well behaved, the boys distracted each other… A lot. So, now it took three times as long to get things done, and he swore that the two frustrated him on purpose… But that was parenthood, and Arthur will be home to help manage them. He may be in a wheelchair, but he could still tell the boys to brush their teeth.
Francis pulled up into the hospital parking lot and turned off the car with a sigh, "Alright, you two head in, I'll be there in a moment."
"Okie dokie," Alfred cheered, "Mattie! Let's race!"
"Okay!"
"Non!" Francis whirled around in his seat, "No racing in the parking lot! Neither of you are getting hit by a car today!"
Alfred smiled, "Aww, okay, but can I get hit by a car tomorrow?"
Francis didn't really know how to respond to that. He glanced Matthew who just gave Alfred a strange look before shrugging.
Alfred's smile grew bigger, "I'm kidding, Francis. We'll be careful."
"And no running in the hospital either!" Francis ordered.
Matthew responded quietly as he stepped out of the car, "We won't."
The boys got out of the car and made their way to the hospital entrance. Francis sat in the car in silence for a moment, the cold from the February winter already seeping into the car. With a sigh, he looked at the gray sky, "Alright, I know I don't talk to you often," He started, "And you have bigger problems, but… Can I… just never come back to this hospital?" He paused with a small chuckle, "Now, I'm not saying that I don't want the help from a hospital, just if something was to happen…" Francis shrugged, "I don't know, send a different ambulance. I think I have spent enough time at this particular hospital." Francis was silent for a long moment, not really sure how to end his strange prayer. Surly, 'Amen' wasn't the way to go, so he just decided on, "Thank you." With one last sigh, he got out of the car and walked into the hospital.
When Francis walked in, Arthur was already in his wheelchair talking with Alfred and Matthew. Alfred was chatting along endlessly with Matthew commenting here and there, and the Brit had a huge grin on his face, just as always when the boys were visiting him. Francis smiled lightly at the sight. He loved them so dearly, and for the first time in his life, he actually felt like he had a family. "Nevermind what I said in the car," He whispered, "Just thank you."
"Oh, morning, Francis." Arthur practically cheered.
Francis stepped into the room, "Good morning, Mon Cher, you look happy."
"Happy to be getting out of here," Arthur said as he rolled his eyes, "I was about to go insane."
"We have been over this, Arthur, you're already insane." Francis reminded him.
Arthur glanced away as if he was trying to remember something, "Right, I forgot."
"This one time, I forgot to put underwear on!" Alfred suddenly chimed.
There was a long moment of silence until Matthew unexpectedly spoke, "I worry about you sometimes."
Francis and Arthur laughed at that, "Where did you get that level of sass?" Arthur questioned, "Lain?"
"I'm sorry!"
Arthur waved his hand dismissively, "No, it fine, sass and sarcasm is my first language."
Francis narrowed his eyes at his partner, "I knew it."
Arthur shrugged, "Well, it was pretty obvious."
"And I thought that it was pretty obvious that you're a-" Francis cut himself off and bit his lip, trying to think of an effective insult that was PG rated.
"I'm a what?" Arthur said in a challenging tone.
Francis crossed his arms, "Use your imagination!"
Arthur's teasing expression faded a bit, "Yes, thank you for not cursing in front of our children."
"You're welcome! I hope that your imagination-" Francis stopped his sentence short after he realized what Arthur had said, "Wait, what did you just say?"
Arthur narrowed his eyebrows in a fake expression of irritation, "I said, thank you for not cursing in front of the children."
"Our children." Matthew corrected.
Francis stared at Arthur, not really sure what Arthur had meant. 'Our children' as in my child and his child, or 'Our children' as in Our children?
"Is everything okay?" Arthur asked.
I'm overthinking this, Francis finally concluded.
"Excuse me, Mr. Kirkland?"
Francis looked behind him to see Arthur's nurse.
"Are you ready to go?" She continued.
"More than." Arthur said in an exhausted tone.
The thought of Arthur coming home brought a smile back to Francis' face, "I'll go get the car and pull it up front."
"Can we stay with Dad?" Alfred asked.
Francis thought for a moment, "You promise to be good?"
"Yep! I promise!" Alfred said as Matthew nodded.
Francis gave the boys a fake suspicious look, "Alright, I'll see you guys down there."
Francis walked back through the hallways for the last time and headed into the parking lot. He got into his car, and drove up to the 'Pick up' area and waited so he could help Arthur into the car.
He looked through the glass door and smiled when he could make out their silhouettes at the front desk. As they turned away and headed to the door, Francis looked back up at the gray sky.
"Thank you."
…
…
Arthur didn't get much of it, but while getting in the car, he could actually breathe in the fresh air. It was sharp and cold, and it had stung his lungs, but it felt nice. He hadn't noticed how much he had missed it in his three-and-a-half year stay at the hospital, and he got to take it in one more time when he got out of the car and was wheeled into Francis' house… Strangely, he wanted to stay out in the cold just to watch the snow fall.
But, reluctantly, Arthur let Francis push him up the ramp and into the house, which was great on a whole new level. It was nice to be in a building that wasn't all white, and didn't smell like it had just been deep-cleaned with chemicals. Francis' house had a soft, cozy feeling to it, and had a floral-like scent. It was all just like Arthur had remembered, except some of the furniture had been rearranged.
"Bienvenue à la maison!" Francis cheered as they walked into the house.
The nice feeling that Arthur had went out the window when the French words reached him, "I don't know what that means." Arthur said in irritation.
Francis walked around, kneeled in front of him and took his hands as he leaned forward and gave him a kiss on the cheek, "Welcome home."
Arthur couldn't help but smile lightly, "Thanks."
"Yeah, I had no idea what it meant either," Alfred chimed, "But Francis said to me too when I moved here."
"Did he?" Arthur questioned, "And how much French has he taught you exactly?"
Francis made a fake, shocked expression, "You say that like it's a bad thing!"
Arthur gave his partner a unamused look, "It is a bad thing."
"And why would that be?"
Arthur rolled his eyes, "The language sounds like gibberish! It's almost impossible to pronounce!"
"I can pronounce it!" Alfred said, bouncing on his heels, "See? Ben-view an la mansion!"
"Bienvenue à la maison." Matthew corrected quietly.
Alfred turned to Matthew, "That's what I said!"
"I'm sorry, but you said-"
Alfred interrupted him as he suddenly turned to Arthur, "Oh! you have to see our room!"
Francis stood up and motioned back behind Arthur, "Maybe later, Alfie."
"What?" Alfred whined, "Why?"
Arthur wondered how Francis could make his voice so authoritative, yet so light hearted at the same time, "Well, is it clean?" When Alfred and Matthew shared a guilty glance, Francis nodded, "Arthur can see your room once it is clean."
Arthur's smile faltered, he wasn't used to Francis telling Alfred what to do, and he wasn't really sure weather he liked it or not. But, Francis was an adult in this house, hell it was his house, so Arthur would have to get used to it, not to mention that Arthur would probably be telling Matthew what to do time to time. Besides, Francis was a very gentle and sweet man, it wasn't like he was extremely strict.
"Everything alright?"
Francis' voice snapped Arthur out of his thoughts. The boys were gone, and his wheelchair was beginning to move again. Arthur blinked quickly to help himself out of the trance, "Yes, I'm fine."
Francis grunted overdramatically, "You're so much harder to wheel on the carpet!"
Arthur felt a small pang of guilt, "Sorry."
Francis chuckled, "No apologies, I get enough of them from Matthew."
Arthur said nothing as he looked around the house. His heart sank. This wasn't his house. His house had a bigger doorway with a large, nicely decorated living room that had a coffee table in the middle of it. It had a stairway on the left that lead to their bedrooms. In his house, Alfred didn't need to share a room, he had his own. Kate had been too scared that the smell of the paint would be bad for her and Alfred while she was pregnant, so Arthur had painted and decorated the whole room by himself. It was light blue with fabric cut-outs of clouds and airplanes on the walls… The only reason he wasn't in his house was because of the car crash.
"Are you listening?"
That's when Arthur realized that he was at the kitchen table. He took in a sharp breath and looked up at Francis, "What was that you said?"
"I said," Francis began, "Your stomach is still a little iffy, right? How about chicken soup for dinner?"
"Sounds fine." Arthur said, letting his voice sound empty.
Francis sat down at the table, "Alright, what's wrong?"
Arthur looked at Francis as he considered trying to convince Francis that nothing was wrong, which was nearly impossible. He really didn't want to talk about it, but Francis gets so worried that he would pry to the point of Arthur giving in and telling him anyway. So there really was no use in trying to get out of the conversation. But what exactly was the problem? What he was currently feeling was homesickness, which would fade in time. What he felt most of the time was his coping problem with all the changes in his life since his awareness level raised enough for him to start asking questions.
Arthur sighed, "...Can I ask you something?"
Francis gave a blank expression, "Non."
Arthur frowned, he really wasn't in the mood for this, "Francis, I-"
Francis smiled lightly, "I'm teasing, Arthur. What is it?"
Arthur paused, collecting his thoughts, "Do I seem… Different now than I was before the coma?"
"Uh," Francis hesitated as his eyes widened slightly, almost as if he were mentally panicking over the question he was given. Then, his eyebrows narrowed in thought before he gave a fake smile, "A little."
Arthur could feel himself deflate, "You're sugar-coating it."
"No," Francis said quickly, "No, Arthur, I'm not. You are different, but the differences aren't that drastic."
Arthur nodded, "That's what Lain told me."
"See?" Francis said, patting Arthur's hand, "You have nothing to worry about."
The way Francis finished his sentence told Arthur that he was trying to end the conversation, but Arthur had to grab his attention again, "Francis?"
"Hmm?"
Arthur took a deep breath, "The changes may seem small to you, but they are bigger to me. I mean, I'm more forgetful now, and that isn't a huge problem to you, but in my head," He sighed in exasperation, "... I don't know, I… My mind thinks differently now, and I'm having trouble coping with it."
Francis took a long pause until he nodded in understanding, "I can definitely see how that can be frustrating, but I think it's matter of getting used to it."
"Lain thinks that I should see a therapist."
Francis chuckled, "And, what you came to me for a second opinion?"
"Well," Arthur glanced away for a moment, "Yes."
Francis laughed, "This is why I'm more attracted to men I swear!"
"...What?"
"You see?" Francis giggled, "If a woman asked me this, there would be no right answer. If I told her 'no' she would think that I didn't care about her mental health. On the other hand, if I said 'yes' she would think that I thought she was crazy!" His laughter winded down, "But, you're a man, and I can answer honestly without panicking."
Francis was right, women were very confusing, but that way off topic, "Francis."
"I know, I know." Francis said, leaning back in his chair, "Let me think."
Arthur rested his chin on his hand as he waited for an answer, which didn't take long, "You know," Francis started, "I think we should wait on that."
Arthur narrowed his eyebrows, "But if I need help, shouldn't I get it now?"
Francis nodded, "That's a good point, but think about it. You've been in the hospital for over three years. I visited you everyday, but only for a hour at the most. Lain and Alfred tried to visit you as often as possible, but they lived in Scotland, so it was hard, and Doctor Ralph and his nurses checked on you, but in short sessions."
Arthur tilted his head, "So?"
"So," Francis said as he sat up in his chair, "You were alone most of the time, your day was pretty uneventful, especially when they weren't giving you tests, and when you weren't resting, you were most likely thinking, and possibly over thinking." He smiled gently, "I think that being out in real life, talking to more people, and not being so cooped up will help you tremendously."
"But I-"
Francis interrupted him, "Let's just wait a few weeks. Get adjusted, become a part of the household, be around your son everyday, eat food that isn't tasteless, and we'll see."
Arthur thought about it, it did make a lot of sense. Why get help if he didn't really need it? Arthur nodded, "Alright, but what if I'm not better?"
"Then, I'll talk to Toris," Francis said in a firm, yet reassuring tone, "He's Matthew's therapist."
"But, he's a child therapist." Arthur pointed out.
"He is a really good one, and I trust him," Francis started, "He may not be able to help you, but maybe he could point us in the right direction. We have to be careful about these kinds of things, there can be some real bull-shitters that just want money."
"Good point."
"Now, Arthur," Francis said, his tone growing serious as he reached out and held his hand, "If you start having thoughts of…" He closed his eyes briefly as if the next words hurt him, "Self-harm, or… Worse… We get you help immediately."
Arthur felt his eyes widen slightly, he didn't expect Francis to bring that up, "W-well, of course!"
Francis closed his eyes again seemingly to gain courage before opening them again, "You… Have you had any thoughts like that recently?"
"No." Arthur replied quickly, trying to end Francis' concern as fast as possible, "No, I haven't."
Francis nodded, "Good. Anything else?"
Arthur thought for a moment, "No… Anything on your mind?"
Francis stood and started over to the stove, "Nah I- Mon Dieu! I almost forgot!" To Arthur's surprise, the Frenchman suddenly dashed out of the room without another word. It was only a few moments later when he came back. His hands were now hiding something behind his back and he had a huge smile on his face, "I have a 'welcome home' gift!"
Arthur smiled, "What? Really? What is it?"
"Close your eyes!"
With a sigh, Arthur did what he was told.
Francis spoke quickly in excitement, his accent becoming thicker, "Well, remember when we played Questions the other day and I asked you what your favorite book was and you said 'Flying Rabbits'?"
"Yes."
Francis set something down on the table, "Open."
Arthur opened his eyes and looked in front of him. There laid a book with the title: Flying Rabbits Part: II. He picked up the book and began to flip through it, "There was a sequel?"
"Yep!" Francis answered, "It came out last year."
Arthur's smile dropped a bit. Just one more thing that he hadn't been here for. But, it was a sweet and thoughtful gift, and he would hate to make Francis feel bad, so Arthur looked back up at his Frenchman as he lifted his grin, "Thank you, this is very nice."
"Of course it's nice!" Francis boasted, "I am the perfect boyfriend, after all."
Arthur faked a scowl, "Francis, I can think of a hundred other men that are better than you."
Francis made a sad face, "You're so mean." He whined.
"Get used to it." Arthur replied, "Because I've only been here for twenty minutes."
Francis stared at him expressionlessly for a long time before he finally spoke calmly, "That's it. I can't take it anymore. I'm poisoning your soup."
Arthur rolled his eyes and opened his book to the first page, "Sure. Whatever. Just make dinner, you bloody Frog."
With a huff of fake anger, Francis walked back into the kitchen…
…
The Next Morning
…
Every couple has their fights, but usually it isn't so trivial. The argument started right around bedtime when Francis decided that Arthur would take his bed, which Arthur wasn't going to let happen. The Frenchman had let Arthur intrude, and Francis deserved to sleep in his own bed, goddammit! It wasn't even an argument, it was more them trying to convince each other about their idea of the sleeping arrangement with stupid, made up excuses. After twenty minutes, Arthur told Francis that getting on and off the couch would be hard, but getting in and out of a bed would be harder. It was completely true, and after about one hundred 'Are you sure's', Francis finally sighed in defeat.
Arthur was sure that the couch would be more comfortable than the hard hospital mattress, but he didn't really get the chance to think about it. Moving out of the hospital, and actually being a person was more exhausting than Arthur imagined. He fell asleep almost immediately and slept through the night without a problem. It was a deep, peaceful, dreamless sleep that Arthur eventually woke up from to the sound of voices:
"But, Francis, I-"
"Shh. Be quiet, we don't want to wake your father."
"I'm sorry."
"But, Mattie, you didn't even say anything!"
"Shh! Alfred!"
Arthur tried to ignore them, but wondering what time it was, he took a deep inhale and stretched his arms, "What's going on?"
Francis' head poked over the back of the couch, "Sorry, Mon Cher, we didn't mean to wake you."
Arthur waved his hand dismissively, "Quite alright," he paused to yawn, "What time is it?"
"Nine." Francis answered, "Why don't you go back to sleep for another hour? I'll make you breakfast after I'm done shoveling the driveway."
Arthur propped himself up on one elbow, which was the closest thing to sitting up that he could do by himself, "No, I already overslept."
"Overslept?" Francis narrowed his eyes, "Damn, I forgot that you're a morning person."
"Better than being a night owl." Arthur retorted.
Francis smiled and got back on the subject, "Go back to sleep, you need it, I doubt you slept well on the couch anyway."
Arthur rolled his eyes, "Any sleep without a nurse waking me every hour on the hour is a good sleep."
"Alright," Francis sighed, "What do want to do? Watch the morning news? Read your book? You can borrow my laptop if you promise not to mess with the templates."
"I can make you tea!" Alfred practically shouted as he ran to Arthur's side, "Uncle Lain taught me how!"
Arthur smiled, "Well, at least your Uncle isn't completely useless," He teased, "I would love some."
"Do you want me to get my laptop or-"
"Actually," Arthur interrupted, "I want to be outside with you. I think some fresh air would be good for me."
Francis hesitated with a frown, "I don't know, Arthur, it's really cold outside, and you're still very underweight," He chuckled, "It's not like you have a lot of body fat to protect you."
Arthur shrugged, "So? Give me a coat and a blanket or two. I just want to sit on the porch with my book."
Francis looked away in thought for a moment, "Alright."
The Frenchman walked over to the other side of the room and rolled the wheelchair from its corner, putting the brakes on once he positioned it next to the couch. Then he walked back into the hallway and came back with a heavy coat and a few blankets. He draped the items over the arm of the couch and walked to Arthur's side.
"Ready?" Francis said with a smile.
After Arthur nodded, Francis held out one hand and slipped the other behind his back . Arthur took the offered hand in both of his and braced his arms, as much as he could, and Francis pulled Arthur into a sitting position. With a sigh, Arthur carefully and slowly moved his legs off the side of the couch, and Francis helped him turn so he was sitting on his cushion properly. The process of moving from one thing to the next was exhausting for Arthur's weak body, but he was getting used to it, just as he was getting used to the constant soreness of physical therapy.
Francis walked over by the front door and to the coat rack, and grabbed a pale blue scarf that hung there. Looking at Francis as he walked back, Arthur felt a bit of guilt. Doctors helping him was one thing, but now Francis was helping him.
Maybe I should have just gone back to sleep, Arthur thought, It probably would have been easier for him.
"I'm sorry about all this trouble." Arthur said, feeling like a burden.
Francis smiled as he tied the scarf around Arthur's neck, "What did I say about apologising?"
"You get enough of them from Matthew." Arthur repeated.
Matthew was across the room on the recliner humming to himself. He suddenly stopped and sat up in the chair, "I'm sorry, I was daydreaming, I didn't hear you."
Arthur shook his head, "Nothing, lad. Good morning."
"Morning." Matthew said quietly before returning to his humming.
Francis reached over to the arm of the couch, grabbed the coat and slid it behind Arthur, who stuck his arms in the sleeves and began buttoning it up. "Are you hungry?" Francis asked.
Arthur shook his head, "No, just the tea should be fine for now."
"Okay then," Francis glanced at the chair then back to Arthur, "Ready?"
Knowing how hard it is to get in and out of the wheelchair, Arthur took a collective sigh as if it would somehow give him more strength, "Yeah. I'm ready."
Suddenly, Francis gave a mischievous smile, "You sure?"
"What are you-" Arthur cut himself off when Francis quickly bended down and lifted him into a bridal carry, "Bloody hell!"
"What?" Francis said in a taunting voice, "Did I scare you?"
With a scowl, Arthur wrapped his arms around the Frenchman's neck, "No! I don't get scared!"
Francis' smile grew, "Is that so?"
Arthur lowered his voice so Matthew couldn't hear him, "Don't you fucking dare."
Francis was completely still for a moment, until he suddenly loosened his hold, and Arthur began to fall. His stomach flipped, his chest went hollow, and he made a quiet shriek in fear of hitting the floor. Then, a split second later, Francis' arms tightened around his body again, catching him.
"Not scared, huh?" Francis laughed.
"Why, you son of a-" Arthur slapped a hand over his mouth to prevent himself from cursing.
Francis only laughed harder and lowered Artur into the chair. He got the blankets and laid them on Arthur's lap, tucking the sides into his hips, "Okay, if you get too cold, tell me, and I'll get you another blanket, or I can help you inside."
Arthur rolled his eyes sarcastically, "Yes, Mum."
"I don't like your attitude!" Francis teased as he began pushing him to the front door.
Arthur made sure to lace his voice with even more sarcasm, "Sorry, Mum."
Francis chuckled as he reached over Arthur and pushed the door open, "I hate you."
"I hate you too."
"You're so mean!"
"You said it first!"
"I got your tea, Daddy," Alfred interrupted, "I almost spilled it, but I didn't."
Arthur smiled up at his son, "Thank you, Alfred."
Alfred looked as if he were about to reply, but Matthew suddenly dashed from inside the house and made a beeline to the yard full of snow, laughing quietly in excitement.
Alfred yelled after him, "Mattie! Wait up!"
"Comfy?" Francis asked.
Arthur's breath caught in his throat for a moment as his lungs adjusted to the cold air around him, "Yes, the fresh air is nice. Thank you."
Francis set the book next to Arthur's tea on the side table, "Alright, if you need anything, holler to me."
Arthur nodded and glanced over to the driveway to see Ludwig standing there and shoveling it. Cocking an eyebrow Arthur looked back at Francis, "What's Ludwig doing?"
"Huh?" Francis looked back, "Non!" He exclaimed, running down the ramp, "Ludwig! What are you doing?"
"Was?" Ludwig answered, "I'm not allowed to help?"
"Non, you are not! You've already helped us enough! You built a ramp, for Christ's sakes!"
"It's no trouble, really."
Arthur rolled his eyes and decided to ignore the playful bantering. He took a long sip of his warm tea and opened his book, immediately getting lost in the story. It wasn't long until a voice broke his concentration:
"Ludwig, warum hast du nicht wecken Sie mich, damit ich helfen könnte?"
Arthur looked up from his book to see another man walk across the lawn towards the driveway. Remembering that Ludwig had an older brother, Arthur shrugged, reached for his tea, and tried to go back to his reading. However, he couldn't concentrate with Ludwig and his brother bickering in German, a language that Arthur didn't know a word of.
"Weil Sie über den ganzen Tag beschwert haben." Ludwig answered in a irritated voice.
"Was? Ich beklage mich nicht!"
"Was auch immer."
In step with the brother was Ludwig's dog, Berlin, who basically ran full speed when she saw Francis. The Frenchman dropped his shovel and began to praise her, although, Arthur couldn't really make his words out. Not a few seconds later, the boys came running from behind the house, Matthew in the lead, headed straight for the older germanic brother.
"Gilbert!" Matthew yelled.
"Hey, Birdie!" Gilbert shouted back as he bent down and picked up the little boy.
The German's movements were fast, and although Matthew was much better now than he was three and a half years ago, Arthur was surprised of how much Matthew seemed to like the energy and physical affection, responding by hugging Gilbert with a huge smile. The eight-year-old began to talk, too quiet for Arthur to hear. Gilbert kept his eye contact and commented loudly while he brushed off the show in Matthew's hair.
In the midst of his talking, Matthew pointed at him. Arthur looked down at his book, pretending that he wasn't paying attention when Gilbert looked over. Moments later, Arthur heard footsteps on the porch, and when he looked up, he saw Gilbert. He was a strange looking man. He had the palest skin that Arthur had ever seen, grey-white hair, and bright red eyes. When he spoke, Arthur immediately noticed how his accent was significantly lighter than Ludwig's, "So, you're the Arthur that Francis won't stop talking about?" The albino laughed lightly, which was more like a chuckling-hiss.
Arthur wasn't really sure how to answer that question, but after a short silence, he finally decided on: "Well, I hope so."
Gilbert laughed again, "I hope so too," He held out his hand, "I'm Gilbert, Ludwig's awesome older brother."
"Möchten Sie stoppen die Einführung selbst so?" Ludwig shouted from the driveway.
Arthur glanced at the younger German then back to Gilbert, "So I've heard." Arthur said, shaking his hand.
Gilbert's crimson eyes widened, "Oh, god, what did you hear?" He said quickly, "You didn't hear about the time I got drunk did you?"
Arthur smirked, "Which time?"
"Gott verdammt!"
"I'm just kidding." Arthur reassured, "I've heard little things here and there, but nothing much."
Gilbert laughed his strange laugh again, "Oh, good, because there are some stories that can be a bit embarrassing."
Arthur lifted his eyebrows, "Like what?"
Gilbert hesitated, as if debating whether or not he should tell his story, "Alright, Artie, I'll tell you. But, but only because it embarrasess your boyfriend too."
"Don't call me-"
The German interrupted, "One time, I woke up in a McDonald's parking lot in a blue dress."
Giggling, Arthur put a hand up to his mouth, "And what of Francis?"
Smiling, Gilbert continued, "Right next to me in nothing but a mini-skirt and cat ears."
It was strange to think of Francis like that, but at the same time hilarious. Arthur laughed harder than he should have, turning to his Frenchman in the driveway, "Francis!" He called, "Why didn't you tell me about the time you woke up in the McDonald's parking lot?"
Francis made a shocked face before glaring at the albino, "Gilbert! Evadez-vous de lui!"
Gilbert lifted his hands in surrender, "Alright, I'm done telling stories!" He looked back to Arthur, "He can be so sensitive sometimes."
Arthur's laughter winded down as he took his cup of tea, and finished the last of it, "Well, he's French, what did you expect?" He said, setting down the cup.
"Good point, he-" Gilbert cut himself off when a snowball flew over the porch railing and hit him in the arm. Slowly, he turned and smiled, "Okay, which one of you two did that?" Arthur could only hear Alfred and Matthew giggle in reply.
"So, that's how it's gonna be?" Gilbert continued, "I'll find out one way or another, so may as well own up to it!" The last part of the sentence was a playful shout as Gilbert suddenly jumped over the railing and chased the boys, Berlin following them as she barked.
Smiling to himself, Arthur returned to his reading. The fresh air, talking to people, seeing Francis and the boys more often… Maybe Francis was right, perhaps all I needed was to get out of the hospital and out into the real world.
…
…
…
…
Translations:
Bienvenue à la maison!: (French)- Welcome home!
Was?: (German)- What?
Ludwig, warum hast du nicht wecken Sie mich, damit ich helfen könnte?: (German)- Ludwig, why didn't you wake me, so I could help?
Weil Sie über den ganzen Tag beschwert haben: (German)- Because you would have complained about it the whole day.
Was? Ich beklage mich nicht!: (German)- What? I don't complain!
Was auch immer: (German)- Whatever
Möchten Sie stoppen die Einführung selbst so?: (German)- Would you stop introducing yourself like that?
Gott verdammt!: (German)- Godammit!
Evadez-vous de lui!: (French)- Get away from him!
Other Notes:
Flying Rabbits is a made up title, if it is somehow real, I do not own it. Sorry for not updating in a while, these chapters are a lot longer than in Through the Years and Parallel History so they take longer to write.
Gilbert will be seen again. I know he's a fun character to write, so I can't wait! He will pop up here and there just as Ludwig does.
Also, I've been waiting to use the term "Chuckling-hiss" to describe Gil's laughter since I started writing the story.
