The storm outside was now a soft whisper in the dark and cold night. Francis and Arthur slept in the master bedroom together. They both sat on far ends of the bed. Trying to get as much sleep as they can until one of the brothers wake them up.
Then around one in the morning a small cry began to grow in the former silent night. Which ended up making the other child cry as well.
Arthur sprang up out of bed and rushed to the babies. Francis calmly stood out of bed and followed the Englishman to the crib. Alfred was wailing and rubbing his hands on his face. Matthew looked as if he was trying to reach out for a hug while tears rolled from his closed eyes.
Francis took the Canadian in his arms and tried to rock him close to his chest. Matthew immediately clinging on to his papa. England took America and the two European nations sat on the bed to take care of the infants.
"Arthur, go to bed," Francis said in a calming and sleepy voice, "I can feed them and put them back to slep. I noticed this afternoon that you have things to do tomorrow. You need sleep."
England yawned and shook his head.
"I'm not making you do this alone. Not the first night at least. But could you go downstairs and make some bottles?"
Francis smiled and handed little Canada to Arthur and began downstairs.
England looked at the two whimpering babies in his arms. They weren't crying as loudly now that they were being held with a warm touch. Arthur held them both closer. These were once his. And now France and him can start all over again. Take care of the small nations together.
France walked back in the room with bottles in his hands. He turned the bedroom light on and saw streams of tears flowing over England's cheeks.
"What's wrong? Did something happen to the children?" Francis asked anxiously.
"No, I just-" Arthur stammered over his words, "We get to be parents again. Big brothers. Together this time."
Francis put a comforting arm around the Brit and held tight to him.
"We can't do this, Arthur. We have to find a way to bring them back to their right ages again. You know this."
"I know," England replied choking on his words, "Oh I look like such a fool. I'm going to go to bed. Go ahead and take care of them tonight like you wanted. I'm sorry."
Francis hugged the Brit and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before taking the babies in his arms.
"Rest, Arthur. I'm here for you."
...
Arthur had quickly fallen back to sleep after giving the children to France. The tears that spilled on his cheeks were now dry and cold.
About a half an hour after he went to sleep he was woken up again by a soothing voice echoing in the room. He opened his eyes and could see in the dark Francis sitting in a chair rocking and singing the babies to sleep.
England didn't want to miss this moment. He laid still, listening to France sing in his native language. Each word sung like a hymn. Arthur never noticed how beautiful the Frenchman's voice was. It was calming and peaceful. And he could hear the soft snores of the infants as France finished his lullaby.
Arthur closed his eyes fast and felt Francis crawl into bed next to him. He turned to his other side and wrapped an arm around the other nation.
"Thank you, Francis. I'm sorry what happened. I-"
Francis held Arthur back in a hug and hushed him, "It's ok. I understand. I miss them when they were younger too."
"I love them, Francis..."
France gave a kiss to England's forehead. It wasn't frequent that he saw the Brit so distressed to the point of coming to France for comfort.
"They love you too. Trust me."
