THIS CHAPTER...is late. It also has a...kinda depressing tone to it? I'm sorry, I just wrote what came to mind, and...ahem. Yeah.

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.

"Aren't you a little too young to be participating in this sort of thing?" Arthur asked, reading over the information sheet that Alfred had handed him earlier that evening. "I mean, I understood it back in third grade, but now?" He chuckled, shaking his head. "It just seems a tad bit childish for fifth graders."

Of course, Alfred was a childish boy, so he didn't mind the immaturity of it one bit. "Please, Dad? This is the last chance I'll ever get for another one of these, and they were always so much fun and I'll never get tired of them and Matthew's mom is bringing something in, and Antonio will also come-"

This caught Arthur's attention. "Matthew's mother will show up?"

Alfred shrugged. "Well, yeah. For, like, a little bit. Mattie says that she wants to help out some, since she's never really come to any of his things."

Arthur sat back in his seat, staring at the sheet of paper that excitedly proclaimed a Thanksgiving feast the elementary school was pulling together. "Do you have to dress up like it says?" Arthur finally muttered. "I honestly don't have the money to buy you any outfits, and it's too short of a notice to make you anything."

Sensing that he pretty much won, Alfred grinned and shook his head. "No, you don't! That's only for the younger kids anyway, see? Says so right here."

"Ah, yes, I see it now." Arthur sighed, laying the paper down. "Well, I guess I can make some scones or something."

Alfred smacked his lips together, making a popping sound. "Actually, I signed you up for pie, and I told the teacher you'd buy it from the store. She's still kinda nervous about your cooking after the Halloween scones you made for my class."

"Yes, well, there's no possible way I gave her food poisoning. She was obviously sick from the common flu. Simple-minded teacher, not realizing that children carry diseases, honestly having the audacity to call me to complain about something that wasn't even-"

"Dad," Alfred groaned. "You did this the other day, too. I think your Halloween scones tasted fine, but Miss Straightman just...didn't like them. Maybe she just doesn't like scones."

Arthur grumbled out some inaudible response, knowing very well that now he was acting quite immaturely. However, he really did have enough of people telling him his cooking wasn't good. He tried, he truly did, and that had to count for something, yes? Still, perhaps Alfred had been right in making him buy the pie at the store. He wasn't in the mood to have to air out the kitchen for the fourth time in a month.

"Would you please explain your appearance to every event I choose to partake in?" Arthur mumbled to Francis as they set up for the Thanksgiving feast the elementary students were having. "You're not even a parent here."

Francis shrugged, carefully placing out his own desert, some sort of French-thing that looked like it took all night to make. Arthur thinks that he'll get a kick out of watching the children devour it without taking time to appreciate the 'culinary skills' that Francis claimed he possessed (yes, Arthur did think his cooking was good, but he wanted to see that French ego deflate some before complimenting anything Francis created). Besides, it would be his own fault for baking such complicated-looking dishes.

Turning back to his task, Arthur rolled his eyes. "I'm not even sure how you figured out about this. Other than from Antonio or Gilbert or..." Okay, so maybe it wasn't too difficult for Francis to find out what the school was doing, considering most of his friends had children or younger siblings.

"Actually," Francis spoke up, then hesitated. "Well, your son told me."

"Alfred? Oh." Figures. That kid was too darn excited about this whole fiasco. "What, and you felt as if you had to come and volunteer? You know, I can do this perfectly fine without you. I don't get why you have to try acting like Alfred's uncle or something. To be honest, it's just a bit creepy, how you happen to show up-"

"Arthur, you silly man." Francis laughed at Arthur's rambling, earning him a glare which he paid no heed to. "My reason for coming wasn't exactly to help out with this. Of course, while I'm here, I shouldn't stand around and order people to do this or that. Might as well make myself useful, as you would say, oui?" Still chuckling, Francis began cutting out even slices of Arthur's pecan pie (which, upon buying it, sent Alfred in a pouting mood for the rest of the day, proclaiming every five seconds that he hated pecan pie).

Ignoring Francis' annoying laughter, Arthur pinned up a drawing of a turkey to the wall. "What was the real reason, then?"

"Well, it was actually something that Alfred said."

"Which was?"

Francis sighed. "He told me that Matthieu's mother would be arriving to help volunteer, and I just...well, I have some silly thought in my head that I...I would just like to meet her."

When Arthur looked over at Francis, he was surprised to note that the Frenchman looked flustered. He blinked, green eyes simply staring, unable to comprehend the fact that Francis seemed so incredibly lost. "You're checking up on him, aren't you?"

"Pardon?"

Arthur gestured over to the door where the parent volunteers had been coming through, though he had yet to see any sign of Matthew's mother. "When she comes, you wish to watch her, to see if she is a good parent for Matthew, correct?"

A smile came to Francis' face. "Ah, am I that easy to read?"

"Most of the time, no. You let your mask slip this once, however." Arthur stepped down from the chair he was on, crossing his arms over his chest. "Listen, Francis. I know you love Matthew. I do as well. Goodness knows I wish he had a lovely home where his parents saw just how special of a child he truly is. I do wish there was a way we could somehow get him out of the environment he lives in, somehow we could see that he gets the love he deserves, but...we can't do much, Francis. No one is harming him, from what I can tell, and they are making sure he gets what he needs."

Francis shrugged, refusing to meet Arthur's eyes. Once again, the Briton was surprised at how different of an attitude this was. He thought Francis was never flustered or nervous or- no, he's none of those things. He's just so concerned. "I want more for the child, that's all. Isn't this pathetic of me? I'm almost looking for a flaw in this woman, any flaw, simply so I can have Matthieu all to myself."

"A tad pathetic," Arthur agreed. "You do have good intentions, I'll give you that much." He turned back to his chair. "Don't slack off any. I don't care if the woman starts World War Three, you'll finish fixing the table."

They worked quietly alongside the other talkative parents, Francis glancing up every time the door to the gym opened and whisper, "Is that her?" By the eighth time of asking, Arthur was beginning to get quite irritated and was almost pleased when he saw Matthew's mother finally walk in. "There she is, frog. Now quit bothering me and don't you dare stop working to spy on her."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Francis muttered, obviously paying very little attention to what Arthur said and more attention on the stone-faced woman who had started to talk to one of the other ladies.

Whenever Arthur would look over at Francis from then on, he noticed the alert stare in the other. "Save it, Francis," he demanded after a few minutes. "It's not like she's going to start throwing nukes at all of us."

He thought Francis hadn't heard him at first, for he received no answer, but then he heard, "I'm going to speak with her."

"What? You git, she won't-" But Francis was already halfway across the room at that point. Arthur groaned. "I swear, I'll kill him one day," he grumbled to himself as he decided to follow. Just so he could drag Francis back to work, not because he was curious or anything. Eavesdropping was wrong, he had to remind himself. Gentleman didn't partake in such dishonest activities.

So he threw away the gentleman title for the time being and hovered back, listening in on the conversation.

"Bonjour, mademoiselle." Francis brought on the charm quite early, extending his hand out in a greeting. "I am Francis Bonnefoy."

As expected, Matthew's mother looked a little weary. "I'm Mrs. Williams," she replied, cautiously shaking Francis' hand. "Do I know you?"

Francis chuckled, shaking his head. "Non, non. I'm just here with someone else volunteering. You know Alfred Kirkland?"

"Yes, he's one of Matthew's little friends, I believe."

"Well, I'm his neighbor. I've had the privilege of meeting Matthew a few times, and I must say that he was one of the most adorable little boys I have ever had the chance to be around." Francis smiled warmly, and Arthur knew that he wasn't exactly acting now- he truly did love the boy. "He's so polite and sweet and very considerate of others."

Mrs. Williams blinked. "Oh. Why, thank you, I guess. He is a nice boy." She smiled faintly, looking a bit pleased at the comments.

Of course, Francis wasn't going to stop until he found a flaw in this woman. Arthur knew how determined the Frenchman could be, and he inwardly cursed. This would go on until Francis felt as if he had the right to take Matthew away. "Who raised him to be so wonderful? Was it you or his father?"

The woman faltered a bit at this one. "Oh, I...I suppose it was both of us. Parenting is a job for two, you know?" She swallowed. "Listen, it's been a pleasure talking to you, but I really must-"

"Oh, but we have plenty of time!" Francis waved off her protests. Arthur wondered if Mrs. Williams would complain about him to the school. He was being rather pushy. "I was just curious about Matthew's personality. He seems very shy, and he really only has one friend."

"One friend?" Mrs. Williams narrowed her eyes. "Are you trying to put my child down, Mr. Bonnefoy?"

"I most certainly am not!" Francis huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "I'm just worried about his well-being. He's far too shy for his own good, and I overheard one day that-"

Sensing that this wouldn't end well, Arthur quickly reached forward and grabbed Francis' arm. "There you are!" he exclaimed. "Come along, you've yet to finish your job." He smiled calmly at Mrs. Williams. "I'm pleased to see you here, ma'am. If you'll excuse us, though, it seems my arse of a neighbor can't be bothered to help out properly." Without waiting for a reply, Arthur spun around and dragged Francis off with him, his grip surprisingly strong.

"Arthur!" Francis hissed, trying to draw back. "I was simply trying-"

"Stuff it, frog," Arthur snapped. "You were terrorizing the poor woman. I told you before, Matthew isn't harmed any at home and you don't go around accusing mothers of mistreating their children."

"I wasn't accusing her of any such thing!" Francis finally pulled back from Arthur, though even he knew better than to go back to Mrs. Williams now. "I just...Arthur, please understand...I love Matthieu and I want the best for the boy. I hate the fact that he's in her home. She doesn't pay him much attention. Did you know that I heard him tell Alfred that his mother wasn't the type to cry if he were to die?"

Arthur's eyes widened in surprise at this. "What-"

"And when Alfred told him that his mother loved him, Matthieu didn't respond. He just changed the subject." Francis looked tired as he slumped into a seat. "I think my heart broke in two upon hearing that. I can't stand knowing that...that Matthieu knows he isn't loved. No wonder the boy is so shy and quiet."

It was silent for a few minutes, the hustle and bustle of the setup around them forgotten as they both focused on a much bigger issue. "Francis, I know how you feel, but...honestly, what can we do? Matthew's mother does care for him, and we very well can't get him out of there by just saying that we love him more. That won't work."

"I know." Francis sighed, running his fingers through his hair and, once again, looking very lost and confused. "I shouldn't have behaved that way towards her, but...never mind." He stood, and gave Arthur a forced smile. "I'm going home. Care to bring me my plates after this is over?"

Arthur wanted to argue, to tell him to finish his job, but he wasn't a cruel man. He wasn't about to force Francis to be in the same room with Mrs. Williams, not when he knew just how upset Francis was. "Fine," he mumbled. "I'll drop them by later this afternoon."

Mrs. Williams was nowhere to be seen when the children finally came in to eat. "I thought you said your mom would be here, Mattie," Alfred said, looking around the room.

Matthew poked at his food, obviously a bit down. "Well...maybe she had work. It's okay, your father says she did show up to drop off some food, so that's good, right?"

Arthur felt sick just hearing that. He shared Francis' sentiments on the subject of Matthew's mother, but he felt helpless. He couldn't make Mrs. Williams care. He couldn't make her see just how much she was hurting her son. And that made him feel rather ill, knowing that Matthew was probably so lonely and unloved at home and he couldn't do a thing about it.

Alfred frowned. "I wanted to meet her, though!"

"Maybe some other time, Alfred," Arthur muttered, pushing his plate aside. He couldn't eat now, not when Matthew was looking so hurt. "Matthew, would you like to spend the night with us tonight?"

Matthew glanced up, his face suddenly hopeful. "Can I?"

Arthur smiled. "Of course. I'll phone your mother and see if I can't take you home with me. You can borrow some of Alfred's clothes, and..." He lost his smile, realizing what he was doing. "Well...if you boys wish, I can invite Francis over and we can all go bowling or something."

If anything, the mention of Francis just made Matthew look even more happy. "Really? Is that okay?"

Alfred clapped his hands. "Thanks, Dad! We'll be real good and we'll beat everyone in bowling!"

Matthew and Alfred began chattering away, and Arthur was pleased to note that Matthew's eyes suddenly lost their previous discontentment, replaced now with the childish innocence he should have. If he could have his way, he'd make sure that Francis could gain custody of Matthew. He knew that both of them would be much better off, much happier, if they were a family. However, life wasn't fair, he knew that much, and there wasn't any sort of loophole to this. Matthew was stuck with his mother and father.

He came out of his depressing thoughts when he saw Alfred suddenly reach over and grab a handful of cookies. "Alfred, put those back, you haven't even finished-"

"Canputemback," Alfred said, his voice muffled by the cookies he had stuffed into his mouth.

Matthew giggled and Arthur just sighed, shaking his head and leaning back in his seat.

If he couldn't fix anything, he might as well just let Matthew have as much fun as he could.

We have one more chapter left, guys! And...um, just an FYI...Francis WILL NOT be adopting Matthew out by the end of this series. I mean, c'mon- there's really no possible way I could pull that off without making it seem incredibly unrealistic.

THERE IS STILL HOPE, THOUGH! I've been planning on making like...a little set of shorts that center in this universe. I can't just put Matthew's sad life and Francis' wish to adopt him in here without expecting some sort of happy ending. So...if I get enough comments on it, um...yeah, I'll totally add in a story about how Francis was finally able to adopt Matthew. It might be some years later, but it will happen. Just leave a comment on what you think I should do!

Please feel free to review, as well! I respond to every review (unless I forget, in which case you may feel free to bash me over my head with a mermaid).

ALSO! I have a Tumblr now. I'll be posting up random...stuff, be it stories, drabbles that don't make it to FF, ideas, pie, pictures of my cats, and I can answer every question you guys throw at me! =D Feel free to check it out, link's in my profile.

Have a lovely day, everyone!