"n-ngh…" Matthew shivered, eyes still closed and hand wandering off to where he blindly thought his blanket was, "…c-cold…"

When he felt the edge of the blanket, he pulled it up; having a harder time getting it up all the way – he figured it was caught on the chipping wood at the end of his bunk. Matthew tugged harder on the blanket until he heard something beside him fall with a thud off of his bed; at the same time hearing something from the lower level of the house crash. Arthur must've concocted another one of his special breakfasts again…

Now alerted and worried, Matthew squinted his eyes and felt around for his glasses, when the blurry figure of a person came into his not-so-perfect view, handing the spectacles over to him.

"T-thanks Arthu-" His sentence couldn't be finished; for what lay before his eyes was not the usual angry glare of his cousin, but the concerned look of a blue-eyed stranger.

"…"

"…"

The stranger gave him a thumbs up, a huge grin plastered over his face, "You'll be fine! I would've broken your fall anyways!"

"A-ARTHUR!" Matthew screamed in terror, "THERE'S A CREEPY PERSON IN MY BED!"

As quick as Matthew had yelled, Arthur stormed in from the kitchen; Matthew's hockey stick in hand. Enraged.

"I am going to say this as polite as I can. I beat your friend unconscious; and I will not hesitate to do the same to you. So drag your buddy from the hallway, AND GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE."

Said "creepy person" was smart; quickly, he made his way out of the room and took his companion outside the house as Arthur followed.

Pointing to a bench he ordered the conscious one to sit, "…Until he wakes up, you will stay right here. If you try anything funny I'm calling the authorities."

"Y-yes Sir!" The stranger shot him a two finger salute before laying the other man down onto the bench.

Arthur walked back inside, grumbling to himself about getting a new security system. As he stepped back in and locked the door from the inside, he ordered Matthew – who was still in a bit of a shock – to lock all the windows in the house.

Arthur went over to each room, double checking that every entrance of their residence was securely locked down. Dinner today would have to be delayed.

"A-Arthur?" Matthew peeked out from his pillow fort, "T-they're still outside!"

Groaning, Arthur got up from his computer chair and walked over to the window to discover that, in fact, the two males were outside, staring up at him from the opposite side of the glass.

Shutting the blinds, Arthur slumped back into his chair and took deep breathes to calm himself down. From his peripheral vision, he caught Matthew running around their room frantically, in search of something; turning over books and looking under their beds.

"Matthew? What's the matter?" He swiveled his chair as he watched the scene unfold; his cousin completely panicked over something.

There was a bit of worry in his timid voice as he cried, "I can't find Al! I had him with me last night! Your doll is missing too!"

"Well…"Arthur knew something was strange with those men outside... "If we were to assume that those two idiots we found this morning were robbers, then they would have taken the dolls and sold them for the cash. After all, they're legitimate. I checked earlier; your Alfred would go for millions at any auction site."

"W-what?" Matthew bawled, "I want him back! Arthur, go beat them up and get him back!"

Matthew was crying; rubbing his eyes in a poor attempt to stop his tears, "I'll see what I can do." Arthur sighed, getting up and walking lazily to the door; he himself was also angry. Not for the fact that two strangers had infested themselves like cockroaches into their house, but for the same simple conclusion Matthew had stated out loud. It belonged to him.

Opening the door Arthur gestured for the two men to talk, "You have two minutes to explain yourselves and return whatever it is you've stolen."

"We didn't steal anything!" The younger-looking one replied, unfortunately for him, however, Arthur wasn't buying it.

"Look." He started sternly, "My younger cousin is up in our room; crying his eyes out because one of you jerks stole something of high importance from him."

Hopefully a sob story would work; if any of these two had some form of a conscience to return Matthew's doll; and hopefully – his own.

"Mattie's crying?" The first man gasped, genuinely worried; and then, without a second thought, rushed past Arthur into the house to console Matthew.

"HEY, GET BACK HERE!" Arthur angrily called after him, only to be stopped by the now fully awake second member of the duo.

"Please do not be angry with him; I promise you, he will not do anything to harm your cousin."

Arthur shook his hand furiously from the other man's grasp, "Who in the world do you think you are? Saying such things; you don't even know me!"

"And you do not recognize me, Cher?" The man looked almost sad; Arthur almost felt bad for the guy. Something sparked inside him. Now that he thought about it…

"…you look exactly lik-"

The man nodded in affirmation, "It is me, Francis."

"Mattie! Mattie!" The boy burst into the room, Matthew going wide eyed started screaming at the top of his voice, "ARTHUR! HELP!" but was abruptly silenced when the stranger tackled him at full velocity in a big hug, retorting with an, "Mattie! It's me, Al!"

With all the strength he could muster up, Matthew pushed him away, "I don't believe you!" as tears started up again, Matthew sobbed into a nearby pillow, "I-I want my A-Al back!"

Slowly, as not to startle Matthew more, he took a seat beside him on his bed, reaching out a hand to pat his back, but retracted it quickly thinking that it wouldn't be a very smart idea.

There was silence for a moment before he spoke, "I'll prove it to you then. That I'm really Alfred."

Lifting his head from the damp pillow, Matthew hiccupped, "H-how?"

"The first week we spent together; you ranted to me about your life. How you eat Arthur's cooking even though he's not a very good cook, and how your homework gives you horrible stress when it piles up; especially how you and Arthur are now living by yourselves and have been since you were only thirteen, and your paren-"

"Alright! I-I get it! Y-you really are Al!" He jumped into his arms, "…I've never said that outside my room so it must be you! But… how are- y-you're…human!"

Alfred laughed, holding Matthew closer, "It's a really long story. We should head downstairs; Francis can probably give a better explanation for all…this."

Alfred and Matthew walked quietly down to the living room, the sound of a highly intense "spirited debate" between Francis and Arthur displacing the awkward atmosphere of the room; something along the lines of…dinner? Was that proper conversation for the heat of the moment?

When they noticed the other two peeking from behind the doorway, they immediately stopped and took seats on opposite ends of the sofa, the centre invited to the other half of the party; which they took.

"So…" Alfred laughed nervously, "I guess we owe you a bit of enlightenment with our current…situation…"

"Yes, you do." Arthur sighed, "I haven't been exposed to this much supernatural since I was living in England."

"We are not exactly human." Francis began, he knew there were bound to be a ton of questions after, so he'd have to be as clear as possible, "You see, Alfred and I are from different periods of time; we each have a different story to go along with this, which makes it quite difficult to explain."

"We'll try to adapt." Arthur urged, the faster he stated the facts, the faster they would solve this issue.

"During my time as a human, I was part of a very small army, who, in hand, was part of a very small battle. As the Captain, it was my job to keep the troops in line. Unfortunately, we had a few…'distorted' members that we over looked. During the night, I was suffocated and shot multiple times, in my sleep. My death of course brought the army down, and we eventually lost the battle. Alfred, here had a more…merciful down bringing than myself. Throughout his time period, he was known as a lone rider; a 'hero' of sorts; one who rides his steed with pride, ending all and any gang fights and shootouts. However, he was labelled as a tragic hero. It was apparent that without Alfred around, many of the radical groups could do what ever they wished. So when all the groups naturally joined up, he had no choice to surrender; he was out numbered. Like me, he was shot many times and left to die."

Matthew began tearing up, "T-that's awful!"

"It is." Francis cleared his throat, he figured, the next part would be a harder pill to swallow.

"What both of our stories have in common is simple. When our bodies were cremated, the ashes were sewn into these look-a-like dolls. It is very much like a curse; a spell if you will. Once casted upon us, the spell activates only when we find our considerable 'partner' in which case we return to our human forms; flesh, blood, proper organs, 'the works'. We have never once reverted to this stage, until we were purchased by you."

"…Interesting." Arthur contemplated the idea in his head, but what would they do abou-

"So can they stay? Arthur! Arthur! Can they?" Matthew begged, tugging the sleeve of Arthur's favourite shirt, "You can't just send them out there! They were already living with us anyways!" seems like Matthew beat him to the punch line of his previous thought.

"W-well…" Arthur sweat dropped; he didn't want to make Matthew cry for the umpteenth time again today, and they have technically been living together – of course that was when they were dolls of all things. Now, they were full grown men, "…I suppose it would be alright. As long as we budget our savings carefully, and get everything organized…it should be fi- AGH!" Matthew tackle-hugged him, laughing as he excitedly got off and repeated the process in Alfred's direction.

"We can actually talk to each other now! Isn't that great?" Matthew smiled brightly, tugging Alfred upstairs so that Arthur and Francis could have time to sort out their problems.

As soon as Alfred and Matthew had left the room, the same awkward silence from earlier came upon the other pair.

"So." Arthur began again, "What's the catch?"

Francis feigned shock, "What do you mean, 'catch'?"

"Oh don't even try that with me. You're holding something back; Matthew may not have caught it, but I sure did. So, cough it up." Arthur crossed his arms over his chest; tapping one foot in a rhythm on the ceramic flooring.

"You are a smart one, Arthur." Francis laughed, his "partner" was not unlike himself in many ways, "This human transformation is not permanent."

"Matthew would surely cry if you told him that." Arthur narrowed his gaze.

"And you will not, cher?" Francis' eyes slightly downcast, it took a while for Arthur to reply, "…w-well…t-that's classified information."

Was it the way Arthur embarrassed himself? Or the cute blush across his face? Maybe the way he declined any feeling of love towards him? Francis didn't know.

Pushing Arthur up against the nearest wall he chuckled and touched their foreheads together, "You are in love with me." He blatantly stated, "I noticed; when our eyes first met in the shop. Are you willing to deny that?"

"Maybe." He smirked back, "But you haven't answered my question. Don't even think of changing the subject."

Pulling back, Francis laughed softly, "There are rings."

"Rings?" Arthur lifted an eyebrow in curiosity, "explain."

"Rings that were sold with the Parisian dolls and the western dolls; the replicas are almost identical to the originals. The only difference is that the originals give off a faint glow if either Alfred or myself approach our assigned rings."

Francis sighed, "…to make a long story short, those rings will break this 'spell'"

A little unsure, Arthur decided that he would accept this story, for the time being, "How long do we have?"

"A bit over a year." Francis replied, "Plenty of time."

"But how exactly are we supposed to locate these rings? There must be over a million replicas!"

"No problem. I know the exact location of our rings. All we have to do is make a trade with the current owner."

The story in itself was already sounding suspicious, but Arthur played along anyways signalling for Francis to continue with a head nod, "A trade. We are not the only enchanted dolls. The owner has been looking for a specific doll; I do believe with your expertise, we will be able to find it in no time." Francis concluded.

"Alright then. We'll cross that bridge when we get to it. Right now, we need to fix up dinner."

With a swift pivot, Arthur turned towards the doorway and dashed into the kitchen; Francis following right behind him.

"…And this…" Matthew fluffed a few pillows placing them on his bed, "…Is where you'll sleep!"

Laughing, Alfred lunged at Matthew, pushed him onto the bed and began to cuddle, "Right beside you! My favourite place to be! I'll keep you warm, so don't you worry about a thing."

"Okay!" Matthew replied cheerfully, the two got up as Matthew pulled an even bigger amount of pillows and comforters from he and Arthur's shared closet.

"Need help?" Alfred asked, watching amusedly as Matthew made an effort to carry the load – without much success – up the ladder and on to Arthur's bunk.

"Y-yes, please!" Matthew cried out, allowing Alfred to remove a bit over two-thirds of the heavy load.

"T-there!" Sighing as the last of the pillows were thrown – neatly on the bunk, Matthew stepped down from the ladder, "That should be sufficient enough for the both of them."

"That's good." Alfred stretched, today had been a long one after all.

"MATTHEW, GET DOWN FOR DINNER!" They heard Arthur shout from down in the kitchen. Alfred noticed Matthew cringe slightly, and in the moment; took his cowboy hat off, putting it square a top Matthew's head, "What? Not hungry?"

"N-no! It's not that!" Matthew sounded confused, the hat was a bit bigger on him; it kept slipping off, "B-but when Arthur cooks the meals, if I were you, I'd be afraid!"

Alfred linked their arms together and walked Matthew down the stairs, "It can't be as bad as last time. Besides, with Francis there, he won't have any time to finish cooking even one dish."

"Woah."

"You can say that again."

When Alfred and Matthew arrived at the foot of the kitchen's dining table, what surprised Matthew the most was the variety of actually edible-looking cuisine put on the table.

"W-what's all this?"

Francis beamed, "During my time I was not only an honourable captain; but a very successful chef! You may sit down and eat now, before it gets cold."

Matthew took his usual seat next to Arthur; Alfred beside Matthew; and Francis on Arthur's opposite side.

Tomato salad with mozzarella cheese, chicken soup (he assumed Arthur had "made" by opening a can that they usually had stored somewhere), and a pitcher of strawberry juice in the centre of it all. The flavours were justifiable as well; although the quantity was few, it was as if they were eating food straight from a five star restaurant.

"A-Arthur?" Matthew asked, "You're not upset? I know how much you love cooking…"

"It's fine." Arthur cut in, finishing his second serving, he pointed to Francis, "He'll be doing most of the work; it'll save us time for other things."

Matthew just smiled; he knew his cousin well. Although he would never admit it, he knew that Arthur couldn't be any happier.

It just takes time.

With dinner finished, the four of them headed upstairs and prepared for bed. Luckily, Arthur had stored extra toothbrushes and necessities for sustaining all of them.

In the bedroom, Matthew had finished changing, only to be pulled into another massive hug by Alfred, "Awh! Look at you! So cute in your maple leaf pyjamas! I'm going to smother you until morning!"

Blinking, Matthew made an awkward face, but laughed when he remembered that Alfred was – and only had – his cowboy attire on, "…You need clothes for bed too."

"Just lend him some of yours for now." Arthur interrupted, walking in with Francis behind, "Tomorrow we'll take them wardrobe shopping."

"Okay!" Matthew signalled for Alfred to get to bed, as he went to shut the door and the light. Arthur and Francis too, had already organized themselves into a comfortable position above in their bunk, and were fast to fall asleep.

Quietly, Matthew slipped into bed, turning over so that his front was facing Alfred, "Arthur's a light sleeper." He whispered, "So if we're not quiet he'll be really angry."

Alfred laughed "Then sleep." He whispered back, removing both of their glasses and placing them on the bedside table; then pulling Matthew into a warm embrace, he himself began to drift to sleep.