What's shaking bacon?
Look at me trying to be all clever and figuring out new ways to say hi (actually I just used google).
Let me just I am so sorry about not updating but there have been many, many complications...(Q_Q)
Not to mention that my classes and music and everything is taking over my life. Oi.
Whatever, I'm going to stop ranting now.
I hope you this chapter makes up for my hiatus :)
Warnings: None.
Disclaimer: I do not own hetalia.
Itallics=Flashback
"Alfred, Matthew, come down for breakfast," Arthur called from the kitchen, his demanding voice echoed off the white tiles sharply.
Alfred quickly scurried out of his room, eager to eat whatever delicious food his parents made this morning. As much as he liked to sleep, he definitely liked to eat. "Yeah! Food!" he exclaimed sliding into his wooden seat at the table, still in his superhero pajamas. Matthew slipped into his seat seconds later wearing his camouflage hued pajamas.
Arthur's emerald eyes looked up from the top of the newspaper. "Hello, Alfie."
"Hi Awtie!" he replied with a luminous grin.
Arthur sighed and rolled up the newspaper. "I thought I told you not to call me that."
"But you're Awtie. And that's Fwancis," he explained and pointed to each parent respectfully.
Francis chuckled and placed a golden fluffy crepe on Alfred's circular plate. "Eat your crepe," Francis explained and ruffled the boy's locks.
Alfred pouted, crossing his arms across his chest and fixed his hair. "I don't like cwap."
"It's not crap, it is a crepe," Francis corrected.
"I don't like cwape," Alfred said stubbornly.
Francis glared at his son. "Everyone likes crepes! You have not even tried it! Matthew is eating his crepes," he pointed out and watched the quieter son politely cut the crepe into small pieces.
"I want pancakes!" he cried. "I don't like cwapes!"
"Of course you don't," Arthur chimed in before Alfred began to cry or have a fit, as usual. He took the plate away and placed it on the counter. "Unlike your papa, your dad knows that you like pancakes for breakfast. You wouldn't want any of that frog food anyways."
"Pancakes!" he cheered hopefully.
"I am offended," Francis explained with a fake gasp and a cold laugh. "You would choose your father's food over your papa's?"
"Of course he would," Arthur answered for the young blond. "This just proves you know nothing about your own son!"
"What about you?" he asked accusingly, jabbing a finger at his husband's chest. A scowl replaced his joking smile as he placed one hand at his slender hip. "You did not even say hi to Matthew when he entered the room!"
"That is not true!" he defended whilst slapping the Frenchman's hand away.
Francis placed a hand on his hip. "Fine, prove it. What is Matthew's favorite color?"
"Obviously blue," he said with a confident grin.
"Wrong!" Francis exclaimed with a triumphant smile gracing his lips. "It is red! See this just proves you favor Alfred."
"Do not! What about you? You favor Matthew!" he accused and furrowed his untrimmed eyebrows.
"That is a lie!" the Frenchman replied angrily.
"No it is not. You are just a lousy parent!"
"At least I am not as bad as you," he defended.
"So you are admitting you are a horrible parent!"
Francis rolled his sea blue eyes. "You are such a child sometimes."
Arthur looked bewildered. "I am the child?"
"Please stop fighting," Alfred blurted from his seat, noticing his twin left the room crying hysterically.
"Oh Matthew," Arthur said guiltily and ran into the living room. Matthew was seated on the hounds-tooth overstuffed armchair, crying into his polar bear toy's white fluffy fur. Arthur pulled the wavy-haired blond into his grasp. "I'm sorry. We did not mean to fight."
Francis joined Arthur and wrapped his arms around all three of them. "We promise to never fight again."
Matthew looked up at them with hopefully lavender while wiping his tears with his sleeve.
"How about I take you out for ice cream while Francis goes with Alfred?" the Englishman suggested. "I will get you the vanilla ice cream with syrup that you love so much."
The two twins nodded in excitement.
Arthur clapped his hands together cheerfully. "Now get your coats and get dressed! We will be leaving in five minutes."
The two boys scampered off cheerfully, leaving the Arthur and Francis alone.
"Nice save," Francis began awkwardly with a forced smile. "I guess you're not a bad parent…"
"Either are you," he said with a hopeful grin.
"Can we promise not to fight again?"
"Anything for you," Arthur explained and pulled the taller in for a passionate kiss.
"Ew," Alfred said with a fake gag. The two brothers were now dressed in their puffy winter coats, engulfing them into the shape of a marshmallow.
Arthur chuckled and released Francis from his grasp. "Okay, let's go!"
"What the fuck was that?" Matthew asked. He kicked the brown door to the bathroom stall open with his decaying white and black converse. Inside was Alfred sitting on the lid of the toilet seat, his face buried in his hands.
"I…I dunno," he said gazing up from his hands. His usually grinning face was masked with inflated red cheeks and bloodshot eyes. Along with his tear stained glasses there were no doubt that he had been crying.
"What's wrong?" he asked, his tone immediately softening. For the few days that he knew his brother, he was certain he would not cry if it was not a serious matter.
Alfred sniffled. "That teacher is evil!" he accused.
Matthew rolled his violet eyes. He was dealing with a child. "You haven't even met him!"
"Really!? I think I have!" he shouted. He propped his black backpack onto his lap and pulled out a yellow sketchbook. He flipped through a few rough sketches before flaunting one of the pages to his twin. "See!"
Matthew examined the page with wide eyes. The picture did look exactly like Mr. Brangski. His platinum blonde hair and mauve eyes along with his large rounded nose did have an uncanny resemblance. It even had the same crème colored scarf!
"Alfred I…how?"
He chewed on his bottom lip, tasting the tempting coppery blood. "This dream. Or should I say nightmare."
Matthew raised a gold eyebrow curiously. "So he's from a dream?"
He shook his head. "It's not a dream, it's obviously a memory! And he was in it! He stole me from my home."
"Aren't you overreacting?" the Canadian brother asked not fully believing his brother's nonsense, even with that accurate sketch.
He slammed the pages shut. "Maybe! But that's beside the point! He's hunted me down and now wants to steal me from you guys!"
"I think you've watched one too many soap operas," Matthew noted. He remembered the nights that Alfred's television would be just a tad too loud while he was trying to sleep.
"I'm telling the truth! He stole me, and probably us! I don't think he wants us to be together!"
Matthew placed a hand on his slender hip, managing to ruffle in white and red striped shirt. "And why not?"
"I don't know," he said dejectedly. Then his eyes glowed as he exclaimed "but maybe we can find out!"
"Oh non," Matthew said holding his hands up in a surrender position. "I am not stalking our math teacher just for some idiotic accusation."
"Come on Mattie. Please, please, please!" he begged with dilated sapphire orbs.
He rolled his eyes. "Look, I am really just here to take you to the guidance office."
The American brother pouted and knotted his arms diagonally across his well-built torso, wrinkling his 'Woodstock' tee shirt he found in Arthur's closet. "I am not going unless you agree to help me."
"Alfred," Matthew scolded. "You can't threaten-"
"Please, please, please," he whined pursing his bottom lip out.
"Fine," he said hallow making Alfred fist pump. "But this is a onetime thing, got it?" he growled.
Alfred smiled victoriously. "Got it." He stood up from the toilet bowl and announced "lead the way."
"One day!" Arthur fumed when he arrived in Mr. Honda's office. The office was quite bare, white walls that were similar to an asylum, with the exception of a few bonsai plants and Japanese knickknacks on his wooden desk.
Alfred winced and slouched lower in his folding chair. Why did it have to be Artie? Couldn't it have been the Frenchie? He asked himself.
"One day and you have to mess it up! You know I missed work for this!"
"Settle down, please," Mr. Honda said in a soft and calming voice.
Arthur sealed his arms across his meager chest and sat in the chair beside his son. "I only have an hour so make it quick," he huffed.
Mr. Honda folded his hands together and rested his chin in them. "Of course, Mr. Bonnefoy-Kirkland. Well, your son was seen fleeing his arithmetic class screaming,"
He scowled and glared at his son. "Is that true?"
Alfred looked into his hands guilty. "Yes, Artie."
Mr. Honda raised a thin black eyebrow, however refrained from commenting.
The Briton pulled out his chair and smoothed the creases on his white button down shirt and green striped tie. "Is that all because I have work and all-"
"Sit back down," he scolded in a formal and monotone fashion.
Immediately, he did so.
"This is about your son's social behavior, and I think I see why. You put your work over him and he just wanted attention. It is a common form of depression."
"Depression!?" Alfred squealed quite shocked. He was certainly not depressed!
"This is utterly ridiculous nonsense! My son is just unfamiliar with this new school and country. Right Alfie?"
He nodded.
"Good, then we will send you back to class."
"No!"
"No?" his father asked. "And why not, lad?"
"My teacher scares me. Please switch my class!" he whined immaturely.
Mr. Honda looked at Alfred skeptically. "You are aware that this is the only arithmetic class offered at this school."
"I don't care! I don't even like math! Just switch me out and I promise that it won't ever happen again!"
He shrugged. "Fine. But the only available class is advanced chemistry."
The American scowled as he hauled and heaved his body off of the chair. As much as he hated chemistry, anything was better than having Mr. Brangski as a teacher. He mumbled a half-hearted "thanks" before exiting the office.
TBC?
A/N: So much drama in this one, well I think so at least.
I keep telling myself that Alfred shouldn't be this dramatic! Urg.
And yeah for Matthew being a total badass.
The guidance part sounds like something mine would say! Hahaha I hate her.
I love the little tidbit at the top, though! I love the past part. It usually comes quicker than the present-time part...
I know you are probably wondering how Matthew turned from a sweetheart who barely spoke to anyone besides Alfred (and now Francis) to a badass, but that will come later ;) sorry for the teaser.
And here is my favorite part (talking to the awesome reviewers):
KidStoleMyHeart: I'm sorry for making you wait so long. Thanks for reviewing!
Guest 01: Thank you for reviewing and I am deeply sorry for the wait :P
Guest 02: IVAN STOP SCARING PEOPLE! LOL! Thanks!
Nokturna168: Thank you darling. And sorry for the wait~
Now that responding to my wonderful reviewers is out of the way...
I thank all of you who have read, favourited and reviewed this story! THANK YOU THANK YOU!
I love hearing your feedback, input, comments, criticisms, and/or suggestions so please review!
Sayonra minasan~