It was beginning to get dark by the time Matt got off work, but y'know, it was kinda his own damn fault so he couldn't really complain about doing overtime. Besides, he hadn't exactly been at his best today at work, because of his mind bombarding with the following:

1. FRANCIS IS ALIVE AND I'M GONNA GO INTERROGATE HIM LATER AT THE PARK HOLY SHIT

and

2. A CAUSE WORTHY OF FRANCIS, HOT BOOTY

All things considered, these weren't the most conductive thoughts to making sure you remember if table five had wanted dumplings or stir-fry.

Arthur had pursed his lips at him as Matt signed off, but he did pat him on the back! That meant he was forgiven …right?

Well, he'd have to make it up to Arthur another time, Matt thought as he quickly slipped his hockey jersey over his ugly off-yellow mustard-accident work polo. (He had a feeling Arthur actually might be colour blind. He'd considered slipping him a pamphlet, except he'd also thought that Arthur might have something wrong with his taste buds before it turned out Arthur simply had rotten taste in food.)

He just hoped Francis hadn't already left by now.

Then he wouldn't be able to contact Francis and they'd be separated again. God, he should've grabbed Francis' number while he had the chance earlier. And wouldn't that be funny, Francis would find, that little Matt who found Francis' amorous antics with the ladies embarrassing would now be the one asking for Francis' number?

Matt could already imagine the wink and smirk combination Francis had perfected being sent his way. Number four, the one Francis used when he thought someone was being adorably dorky. It has its own charm,Francis liked say to Matt's sceptical look, because Matt was a judgemental little brat. Like a baby duck! Or like you! He would laugh as he fluffed up Matt's hair.

Not a duck! An itty bitty Matt would pout.

And to that Francis would always go along with him, putting his hands up and reverting to French as he began laughing oui, oui, bien sûr!agreeably at Matt's face.

(Matt's face was not hilarious, thankyouverymuch.)

Distracted in his own nostalgia as he was, Matt completely missed the sound of footsteps approaching.

"A beautiful sunset in the summer should be enjoyed with another, don't you think?"

It couldn't be helped.

"FRANCIS!" Matt might have squealed, in a sudden fit of excitement, turning and launching himself at Francis.

"Oof! You are not so small and cute anymore, I see!" Francis managed to wheeze out despite Matt's suffocating hug. "I'm glad to see that you are well, Matthew. Big and tall and strong now!And I'm so proud to hear that you have all the handsome men chasing after you!" Melodramatic as always, Francis dabbed away an invisible tear, hand clutched over his heart. Drama queen.

Matt laughed anyway. "I've missed you, Papa."

Francis' face faltered a bit. "You shouldn't call me that, any more."

He felt his face freeze as the sudden mood whiplash as he released Francis from his embrace. "Why not? Are you running from the mafia or something and want to keep our connection secret to protect me from evil guys with guns who might want to kidnap me to threaten you?"

Francis blinked. "Ah…no. You still have that funny imagination, I see, petit." Turning serious, Francis tilted Matt's face up slightly to look the older man in the eye. Then he sighed. "This will not be a fun conversation, like I would have preferred for our reunion. Matthew, you know I am not legally your guardian any more, correct?"

"I know. What does that have to do with anything?"

"I gave you up, Matthew. I don't have the right to call myself any papa of yours, any more. I should've been there, I should've made sure that no matter what you would come first."

What?

Matt felt his eyes widen. "Wha-Papa, I never expected you to give up everything for me!"

Francis shook his head. "That's what a good parent should have done. But I was selfish, you know. I bargained you away like one of my possessions, and that was needlessly cruel."

What?

"I'm sorry, Matthew."

WHAT?

Matt was vaguely aware that he was doing his best to look like he ought to be in Madame Tussaud's (except, y'know, without the being at all important bit.) He liked to think that he was simply in such shock that his brain had gone all wonky, but deep down he knew that he was simply as bad at analogies as Arthur was as cooking.

The Nile wasn't just a river in-

"…Matthew? Matthew!"

"You're abandoning me too, Papa?" Matt blurted out without thinking, because it seemed the littlest bit of hurt sent Matt reverting all the way to childhood. Like a kid who just desperately wanted to be loved, except much more pathetic because Matt was a grown-as man.

Of course he regretted his thoughtlessness immediately with the way his words might well have been a physical blow with the way it seemed to hit Francis, who reeled back and crumpled a bit into a nearby park bench in sorrow.

"I- I already did." Francis said bitterly, in a rare display of self-hatred. As Matt stood speechless at his former father figure, he wondered When did this happen? When did Francis stop being invincible in my eyes, when he used to seem so strong?

He was always fallible, he realised suddenly. I just didn't see it. I didn't want to see it. I wanted to keep that heroic image in my head because I loved my Papa, and didn't want to see that he was flawed. But he's only human, too.

"Now you see, I don't deserve to be called your Papa any more." Francis smiled painfully at Matt. "Besides, you are old enough to decide your own life for yourself. You don't need an old womaniser like me to get in the way!"

"What if I still want you in my life?"

Francis gave a small smirk of weakened humour. "I hardly think you want me getting in the way of your love life, petit. I know I said I couldn't be your Papa anymore, but even though my reputation says I'll fuck anything that moves, that's not true, I won't do incest!"

"P-PAPA!" Matt cried, scandalised. "Don't dodge the question!"

This time Francis' laughter was genuine, as he began howling with laughter even as tears began to roll down his cheeks. Matt wasn't sure if he was crying because he was laughing so hard he cried, or if the situation had made him hysterical enough to cry. Maybe a bit of both. Francis always had liked to embarrass Matt because he thought Matt's reactions were hilarious.

(Again, his face was not hilarious, Matt thought was worth repeating.)

"I don't have the right to, but I am so, so proud of you, Matthew." Francis wheezed as he began to finally calm down. "You are more mature than I could ever be."

Francis only thought that because they hadn't yet invented telepathy. That Matt was aware of, in any case. In which case Matt was screwed, because if anyone could see his mind it would be clear he was bonkers and before he knew it he'd be on a one-way trip to the local mental asylum.

Smiling gently at Matt, Francis continued. "I think maybe I should explain more clearly then, since it obviously upsets you. 'Papa' isn't the right word for me any more because we will no longer have a parent and child relationship."

"Now, that doesn't mean I won't be in your life!" Francis hastened to add, seeing Matt open his mouth in predictable protest. "Just that our relationship will have changed to reflect this. I think equals is a better sounding word anyway, no?"

That glimmer of rising hope in Matt's heart was traitorous and should be squashed before it overthrew Matt's internal mind government centred on cynicism and sarcasm. Emotional attachment was a liability!It declared.

…Oh, fuck it. No one tells Matt what to do! His mind cried, in a poor mimicry of his idea of 'sassy black woman'.

Matt pounced on Francis in a fierce hug.

"Okay, Francis." Matt said quietly, smiling.