Chapter 18: Courts and Mornings
Arthur woke up on a soft pillow, the sheets tangled around his legs, muted sunlight making its way past his closed eyelids. A warm weight rested around his shoulders, and his pillow moved up and down, a slow, relaxed thump matching up with his own heartbeat. Wait why the fuck did his pillow have a heartbeat? Arthur opened his eyes to see that he was basically on top of a still sleeping Francis, legs twined together and his head on the Frenchman's chest, his arms wrapped securely around Arthur. After his initial moment of surprise, followed by a flushed face, Arthur relaxed and buried his face in Francis's chest, smiling when he felt the arms around him tighten and the beating of his heart speed up, echoing the beat of a drum. "Bonjour mon amour." Francis whispered, stretching slightly. "Did you sleep well?"
"Yes you are an incredibly comfortable pillow." Arthur replied, sitting up and yawning loudly, rubbing his eyes. "What bloody time is it?" He asked, flopping back on the bed, ignoring Francis's grunt of pain as his arm was squashed. He checked the time, as well as the date. It was August 25th, and they were due at court at noon. "Get up you frog." Arthur poked Francis, who croaked in response but got up, untying his braid and shaking his golden waves loose.
"Can you wake up ze garçons, s'il vous plaît? I'll make zem food after i'm ready." He asked, looking at Arthur with wide, pleading eyes. Arthur nodded, walking to Matthew's room and opening the door. The boys were still asleep, but had shifted so that they were lying down, side by side with Alfred's arm covering Matthew's face.
"Alfred. Matthew. Get up boys it's time for breakfast." At the word breakfast Alfred bolted up, nearly falling off the bed. Large blue eyes blinked owlishly at his surroundings, before finding his father standing in the doorway. The boy sprung up, running to his dad and tackling him with a hug.
"Good morning! Why am I at Mattie's? Why is he still asleep? DID I HEAR BREAKFAST?!" He yelled, having way too much energy for so early in the day. Matthew obviously thought so too, for a groan came from the bed. Violet eyes cracked open blearily, and the boy yawned widely, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.
"Alfie? Arthur? Quelle heure est-il?(what time is it) Où est papa?" He asked, getting up and walking to Arthur, dragging his bear behind him. Arthur raised his large eyebrows, not understanding the majority of what the boy just said.
"English please?"
"What time iz it and where is papa?" Matthew repeated, switching to a language Arthur could understand. His accent was a lot less pronounced now, but it was still hard for him to hold complicated conversations and often times Francis still had to translate.
"It's the morning, and it's 10 am. Your papa is still getting ready, and we need to go to the court in about two hours." Arthur answered, stepping out of the doorway to allow the boys make their way downstairs, Alfred sliding on the railing, and Matthew on his heels.
"What's for breakfast?" Asked Alfred, the ever hungry child. "Mattie was telling me about this thing that Francy makes called crêpes can we have that?" Matthew nodded, looking up at Arthur, who began to look through the cabinets, searching for ingredients and starting to make them.
"Bonjour Matthieu et Alfred! Mon cher what are you doing… ARTHUR NON NON NON GET AWAY FROM ZE KITCHEN!" Francis shrieked, shooing Arthur away from the stove, taking the batter away from the Englishman and frantically turning the heat down. "Mon dieu zat iz not flour zat iz fine sugar!"
Arthur shrugged sheepishly, resting his head on Francis's shoulder as the other man emptied out the bowl and started from scratch. "Oops? I don't get why you don't let me cook." he grumbled, snaking his hands under Francis's elbows and folding them over his stomach.
Francis leaned into the other's touch, still stirring the new batter. "Parce que, I won't forget your attempt at making pasta anytime soon. You nearly gave poor Lovino a 'eart attack!"
Arthur rolled his eyes, letting out an exasperated sigh. "Oh please you're so bloody dramatic. That was one time in two months and if your cousin hadn't startled me it would have been fine. Speaking of, what jobs do they have that lets them visit America for nearly two months?"
"Lovino iz a lawyer who designs rather 'igh end clothes in 'is spare time, Antonio runs an animal 'ospital which can manage without 'im for so long, Feliciano iz considered one of ze best Italian chefs in Berlin and iz only hired to cook for very expensive parties, Ludwig iz a mechanic, 'is shop can run without 'im for a while, 'e trained 'is employees well. Gilbert iz a musician, and so iz Elizaveta." Francis explained, flipping the crêpes in the skillet, tossing them up and catching them. A devious little smirk crossed Francis's face as he turned down the heat and poured more batter on it, preparing to make another one. Arthur raised his face to watch how his boyfriend flipped the crêpe, tossing it higher and higher until…
"BLOODY HELL!"
"Oops… désolé mon cher, let me clean zat up for you." Francis purred as he looked at the delicious treat on the Englishman's face, grabbing it with his teeth and beginning to eat it. He might have 'accidentally' kissed him a few times.
"You idiot did you really toss a fucking pancake on me so that you would have an excuse to do that?"
"Maybe…"
"Well if you are going to kiss me, do it right." Arthur snapped, spinning Francis around and grabbing his face, straightening up to capture the lips of the slightly taller man.
"MATTIEEeeeeeee! They're kissing!" Alfred whined, poking his head around the corner and making a fake gagging sound, pantomiming throwing up. A small hand darted around to hit Alfred on the head lightly, as well as a snort of exasperation. "What? I'm hungry!" he protested, vanishing as Matthew spoke up, what he said not heard by the adults.
They separated, a light blush dusting Arthur's cheeks while the Frenchman just looked smug. "Get that bloody look off your face, frog." He grumbled, blushing harder. Francis raised an eyebrow and laughed, hugging the Brit.
"Why don't you set ze table and i'll bring out ze food?" Francis suggested, grabbing some plates and shoving them into Arthur's hands. As they ate Arthur looked at the soft look of love in Francis's eyes as he corrected Matthew's pronunciation, and the pride and love on both of their faces. Arthur swore that he would not let this little family be torn apart, courts be damned.
~Time skip~
"Silence!" The banging of the gavel interrupted the trial, and Arthur paused, midway to flipping Emilise off. "We will resume in five minutes, then Mr. Kirkland will present his side." the judge ordered, standing up and walking out of the room. Arthur growled and stalked to Francis's side, where the Frenchman was sitting, head bowed. Matthew was sitting on his lap, clutching onto the thin lapels of his suit jacket as if he would be taken from his father. Alfred stood beside them, looking fairly worried.
"Wow look at you. Are you crying? You really are a sissy you know that right?" A nasally whine jeered, and Francis stood up, placing his hands over Matthew's ears before responding.
"And you really are a 'orrible person. Va te faire enculer." (Go fuck yourself) He spat in Emilise's direction, not even looking at her.
"Ma'am please go away, you are bothering my client, and quite frankly, traumatizing everyone in the room." Arthur said, trying to refrain from calling her every insult he knew. But to be fair, he was a gentleman, and was raised not to swear at ladies, even though the person standing in front of him could hardly qualify as a lady. Alfred and Matthew were hiding behind the two males, Alfred peeking out from behind Arthur and sticking his tongue out at Emilise. She replied likewise and returned to her seat, flipping Francis off on her way back.
"Merci." Francis whispered, shoulders slumping forward and bangs falling over his face. "Ze judge iz probably going to give 'er custody."
"No. I still have an ace up my sleeve, you'll soon see." Arthur reassured, giving Francis a quick kiss on the cheek. "Don't say that, that's a load of tosh. We'll win this." Francis shot the Brit a confused look, tilting his head to the side but not arguing with him. The judge reentered the courtroom, and Arthur stepped up.
"Mr. Kirkland your turn to speak. Why should Mr. Bonnefoy get primary custody of the boy and not Ms. Williams?" The judge asked, looking at Arthur over her glasses.
"Well your honor," Arthur began. "I have spent a fair amount of time with Mr. Bonnefoy, and have seen how he interacts with his son."
"A fair amount of time?" She asked, raising an eyebrow. "What do you mean by that?"
"Our sons have grown quite close, and as a result so have we."
"In a relationship?"
"Yes your honor though I swear that my relationship with Mr. Bonnefoy has not impaired my judgement at all." Arthur promised, shaking his head and looking at Francis. The judge shrugged but allowed the case to continue, and Arthur could have sworn one of the members of the jury mouthed 'told you so' at the woman sitting next to her. "Mr. Bonnefoy has a very close relationship with his son, while Matthew's relationship with Ms. Williams is as far as I can see, non existent. I have deemed that Matthew is mature enough for his opinion to be considered, and If your honor may allow it, you can ask him yourself." She nodded, allowing Francis to lead Matthew up to the stand, holding his polar bear for him.
"Matthew who would you like to have primary custody of you and live with until you are of legal age?" The judge asked in a kind tone, smiling at Matthew and leaning slightly toward him. Matthew furrowed his brow and looked at the judge, then back at Arthur.
"I forgot to mention that Matthew speaks mostly French, and is in the process of learning English. I did request an interpreter so we can get his full opinion, and not just what he can say." Arthur called the interpreter up who repeated the question in French, then translated Matthew's reply.
"He says that he would like to live with Mr. Bonnefoy, and would rarely, if possible not at all, see Ms. Williams."
"Why?"
The translator paused when he heard Matthew's response, and Francis was on his feet in a second, eyes flashing with fury. "You. did. WHAT." he snarled at his ex wife, who looked confused. "'Ow could you leave 'im by 'imself? 'E iz a petit garçon! 'E iz not old enough to stay 'ome alone!" Francis yelled at Emilise, prompting whispers in the jury and a banging of the gavel.
"Silence! Mr. Bonnefoy please refrain from yelling in my courtroom." she ordered, looking at Francis.
"Désolé." Francis apologized, sitting back down and looking a bit ashamed of himself.
"Now what was the response that caused such a reaction from Mr. Bonnefoy?" She questioned, looking at Matthew with some concern.
The interpreter nodded, looking at Emilise and shook his head. "Matthew said that his mother hates him. He described how when they were still living in Canada, when Mr. Bonnefoy left for work Ms. Williams would leave too, leaving the boy at home for an entire day. He would often beg his dad to take him to work so he wouldn't have to stay by himself."
"You left a five year old at home by himself and you still expect custody of him?" The judge questioned Emilise in disbelief.
"Hey he needs a mother! Francis can't raise him by himself and I have a new partner to raise him with! Also, the language difference won't matter that much because my boyfriend's brother speaks French." Emilise protested, pointing an accusing finger at Francis. "Who are you gonna take care of the kid with? Your idiot boyfriend? He can't grow up like that!"
"I wouldn't be so confident of that statement if I were you." Arthur snarled, dangerously close to losing his temper. "Your honor, may I call someone up to the stand?" the judge nodded and Arthur smirked, gesturing for a figure in a dark windbreaker with a hood to come up to the stand.
"Who's this pathetic loser?" Emilise taunted, rolling her eyes. The person chuckled and removed the windbreaker, tossing it over his shoulder to reveal a bomber jacket, tan skin covered in tattoos, pierced lips that were curled in a smirk, and bright crimson eyes.
"Heeeeey dollface." Emilise's boyfriend, Allen, drawled.