"Alfred! No, love! You're supposed to run the other way! That way!" Arthur's smile became even more strained as the five-year-old managed to kick the ball into his own net. They were practicing for the upcoming tryouts for the youth football team, but it wasn't looking promising for his son. It really wasn't fair that his only child couldn't play the very sport he adored so much. While Arthur wallowed in his misery, a sharp cry of 'Daddy' was his only warning before his son collided with his legs.

"Did you see, Daddy? I kicked it into the net! Did I win?"

However could he say 'no' to those big, blue eyes? Residing himself to the bleak-football-less-future, the proud Englishman knelt down to wipe a bit of dirt from Alfred's face. "Not exactly, duck. Did you have fun?"

Golden strands bobbed energetically before someone walking behind them stole his boy's attention. Normally, he would have turned around to see what distracted Alfred, but the nasally laugh gave the stranger away.

"Ah! Bonjour mes amis!"

Fucking Francis. Arthur's nose wrinkled as his son scampered away to greet Matthew. It was only when he could feel the man's body heat at his side that he turned to greet him. He could be nice for a while. It was a good day, after all. "Francis," he greeted back, crossing his arms at his chest as he tried to ignore the stupid smile on the man's face, "I didn't expect to see you today. Wasn't Matthew supposed to compete in a pageant today?"

The Frenchman hummed as his blue eyes followed after their children. "Plans changed. He's been on this pageant circuit for a while now. It didn't seem very fun to keep putting him in the same pageants. It's becoming a bit, ahh, redundant. Isn't that why you're here and not there, too?"

Even though he loathed admitting it, Arthur agreed with the Frenchman. Over the past year, his son competed in all the pageants that accepted his age group. While it was fun, going back to the same pageants with the same themes only seemed to bore them. Alfred still loved getting on the stage, but he needed another challenge. "The closest pageant circuit is the next state over. I don't know if that would be feasible with my job or the gig at Tonio's." After Antonio's house band quit during a particularly rowdy Saturday night, Arthur was offered a permanent slot as a performer. (Which meant he got paid in addition to keeping a portion of the cover charges.) "I was hoping he'd developed a talent for football over the summer, but as you can see," he watched helplessly as Alfred continued trying to pick up the football with his hands, "that hasn't happened."

If he found Francis' laughter comforting in that moment, he certainly wasn't going to say a word. The Frenchman called out a soft suggestion in French, only to nudge Arthur when Matthew tried to help. It ended with both boys laughing as they chased the ball across the makeshift pitch. It really was a miracle that the two boys got along so well. They were like night and day. Where Alfred was loud, Matthew was quiet. Where Matthew was shy, Alfred was outgoing. Despite their differences, they meshed so well together.

The same could not be said for their fathers.

Their sons went to the same preschool and he'd seen the Frenchman there a few times. (He'd thought the man was pretty. He still does on most days, but he'd never admit it.) They'd never spoken to each other, but slyly flirted back and forth with their eyes. It was fun to have a little distraction after being alone for so long. No one would blame Arthur for wanting that kind of affection, especially not with a handsome man. So, one afternoon, he approached the man for a date. Francis was very agreeable and they went to a local café for their first date.

Then their second.

And a third.

Everything seemed to be going great. The Frenchman even gave him a cute little nickname – scourcils. It was the nickname that would be their downfall. He had no idea what it meant, but after one afternoon searching on Google translate he found his answer.

Eyebrows.

The fucking frog was calling him eyebrows. His eyebrows had always been a sore subject because they were the object through which others teased him as a child. He'd blown up at the man and never wanted to speak to him again.

He thought he would never see the frog again, but he was wrong. The anniversary of his ex-girlfriend's departure came around. Even though he'd given her the 'green light' to leave, it was difficult dealing with those feelings of abandonment. She'd been one of the only serious relationships in his long history of failed relationships. (It was a long list, too. Spanning genders and ages that never failed to make his head cloudy with regret.)

With heavy thoughts of his ex-girlfriend, Arthur proceeded to get rip-roaring drunk at Tonio's. He'd wanted one night where he didn't have to worry about a toddler or a job that he hated. He got it, but he also ended up in the Frog's bed. (The less angry portion of his brain remembered how sweet of a lover the frog could be. He'd been so receptive to all of Arthur's touches.) It was a sore point between them because neither knew how to discuss the events that took place between them. Arthur felt it was better to just ignore it, while Francis wanted to fucking talk about it.

No, just no. Arthur wasn't going to divulge into their fucked up relationship. He was just fine being alone. At least he had his son to focus on.

"Antonio mentioned you were looking into that circuit. It's a big one, you know." Francis shifted as he stared out across the field, not quite touching Arthur, but close enough for them to soak up each other's body heat. "They 'ave a ultimate grand supreme prize worth $15,000."

"What? You're joking. No one gives $15,000 in a children's beauty pageant."

The Frenchman rolled his eyes as he reached into his pocket for his phone. After a quick search, he pulled up the website page for the Little Mister and Miss Polar Bear pageant circuit. Arthur lazily read the first few paragraphs before he realized his attention had been grabbed. It was a ranking style pageant. Each child would compete in a number of smaller pageants throughout the year, but the children with the highest points would be invited to compete in a 'championship' round with a grand prize of $15,000.

$15,000 would change their lives. He would put half away for Alfred's future, but the rest would be invaluable in paying off debt. He could feel the excitement building up in the base of his spine. Alfred had done so well the last few months. There was no way he wouldn't place high here.

"My only concerns," Francis mentioned, "is that it's a full glitz pageant. Those are notoriously difficult on a child and wallet."

"The potential pay-off might be worth it." It would strain their finances, but Arthur was positive he could make it work. He thumbed through the pictures on the website before tapping a tab that read 'doubles' in cute, pink writing.

[Have a brother-sister pair that wants to compete? Little Mister and Miss Polar Bear is the only pageant in the United States that holds a competition for siblings!]

He was going to tap away when his eyes zoned in on the prize: $50,000. His heart actually stopped for a moment. That was an astronomical prize. Surely, it wasn't real! No, the more he read, the more he realized it was real. It seemed that some big investors backed the Little Mister and Miss Polar Bear competition.

Hmm, it only Alfred had a sister.

He handed the phone back to Francis, "I'll have to look into it. I don't even know if Alfred would want to travel for such a pageant. He's finicky about car trips."

"Motion sickness?" The Frenchman guessed, chuckling as he nodded towards his longhaired son. "Mathieu is the same way. I usually give him medicine to knock him out."

"The medicine only hypes Alfred up." Either way, the car rides were miserable. His son was queasy or hyperactive. There was no in-between with them. "Our children are best friends, but opposites in everyway."

Francis chuckled low in his throat as he pointed over to the duo as they played an impromptu game of leapfrog. "Almost like they were siblings, no?"

Siblings.

Somewhere deep in Arthur's greedy mind a light bulb flashed. Matthew and Alfred were very similar. Born only a few days apart with the same light hair and expressive eyes. They even looked the same! They could pass as siblings. With that long hair and soft face, Matthew could even pass as a girl.

Fuck. They could enter the doubles category and win $50,000.

"Francis, I have a proposition for you."