Chapter 2.
Rated: T for dropping F-bomb and stuff.
Summary: Alistair babysits his nephews, Francis and Arthur get into a heavy argument.
2A Kirkland-Bonnefoy.
It still was the evening of the world cup, a wonderful summer evening. While most people his age were out getting piss drunk, Alistair Kirkland found himself at home with his nephews. He smiled fondly as he watched the two boys next to him.
Alfred was sound asleep, taking most of the space available, the soda can in his hand dangling dangerously, threatening to spill on the pure white couch. Alistair reached over to gently take the can out of the boy's hands, placing it on the ground beside him. Allistair chucked contently, he felt like he was doing a pretty good job babysitting two 10 year olds. Okay, so maybe he had let them watch movies untill, he checked his watch, now, but he'd managed to at least keep them quiet for a few hours. Allistair let his gaze wander to what looked like a bundle of blankets curled up on the ground. It wasn't that hard to keep Matthew quiet, he thought sadly. Heck, he wasn't even sure if the boy had said anything at all this evening. The redhead eyed the bundle for a few moments straight, before deciding it was time for another beer.
He stood up from the couch, careful not to throw Alfred off, and walked towards the fridge. As he opened the fridge, a cool breeze greeted him and only now he realized that it was boiling hot in the appartment. Beer in hand, he drew the heavy curtains away from the window, revealing the sight of Java street at night.
The five other buildings Batavia Block shared the street with, were built exactly the same as his block. That meant that they had, just as appartment 2A and the others, a small light beside their window, to prevent anybody getting robbed/raped on their way to their appartment. All those lights shone so bright Alistair had to close the curtains and the entire window to get a satisfying night of sleep. The lights iluminated the dark streets and the people who roamed them with a spooky glow He sighed contently when the room immidiately cooled down, now illuminated with the strange glow of hundreds of lights.
Alistair took a big gulp from his beer as he watched two figures cross the street, screaming at eachother, approaching a lone figure almost hidden in the shadow of one of the buildings. There was some more screaming before one of the approachers proceeded to attack the man hidden in the shadows, who seemed to be holding.. was that a bicycle?Alistair watched as the scene played out before his eyes, his mind wandering off.
Around 15 years ago,he'd never have imagined that it would turn out like this. Life. Sure he'd always lived in Batavia Block, at 2A but he would never have thought he'd be babysitting his two nephews in here. Who were his brother's kids. 15 years ago, he couldn't stand Arthur, just like their other brothers.
One of the men on the street let out an ear destroying roar "SADIQ DON'T!" but the redhead payed no attention to them.
Alistair's lips curled into a fond smile when he remembered all the bickering between Arthur and him and his siblings. He would never have thought he would ever be on friendly terms with Arthur, let alone live with him in the same ugly appartement. Ah, and the appartment was ugly, Allistair thought to himself as he let his gaze wander around the small room.
The brightly colored wallpaper, once chosen by ma and pa Kirkland, made your brain hurt, and the stickfigures drawn all over it weren't helping either. The furniture was incredibily mismatched, the old heavy furniture Arthur couldn't force himself to get rid of, stood beside cheap IKEA furniture.
The most eye burning thing was however, the contrast between earlier mentioned white couch and the pink lacy lamp hanging above it. Alistair chuckled as he recalled his mother proudly displaying it to her horrified children. Nobody had dared to remove it since ma Kirkland passed away. Overwhelmed by nostalgia, Allistair turned his attention to the white couch and the children sleeping on it. The couch stood proudly and fierce, as a rock in a sea of sketches, clothes, food, toys,books and other junk. It was an elegant piece of furniture, truly spotless and glowing in the light that fell through the open window. The whole thing just seemed to have Francis' name all over it. Alistair shook his head, wondering why Francis thought getting a white designer couch was a good idea.
At once, red and blue lights danced over the couch, and Alistair stuck his head out of the window, only to see the three men from before being forced into a cop car.
"I WILL GET YOU HERAKLES! MAYBE NOT NOW BUT I WILL GET YOU!" A man with a leather jacket that shone in the many lights screamed towards someone who was already in the car, while his friend seemed to have rather serious conversation with a police officer, who shook his head. "SIR WE DIDN'T DO ANYTHING WRONG, HE STARTED IT! I SWEAR!" The man in the shiny jacket yelled, pointing towards the person in the car. Alistair watched as the man was forced into the car with violence, his friend following calmly. One of the cops grabbed the bicycle, which lay forgotten on the street, and within seconds they were gone.
Allistair shook his head, closing the window and walking back to the living room. He checked his watch, only to freeze in his tracks when he saw the time. Deciding that it was time to put the children into bed, he crouched next to the bundle, proceeding to pull Matthew up with one arm, carefully balancing his beer in the other hand, almost dropping him when he saw two violet eyes stare at him.
"M-Mattie! How long have ye been awake?" The startled redhead exclaimed. Matthew didn't answer, only stared at him. Allistair sighed and put him down gently. "I'm sorry, I forgot yer not really much of a talker, aren't ye?" Matthew nodded shakily, barely able to stand. "I see yer tired, of to bed with ye, didya enjoy the movies?" Alistair said, smirking a little. Matthew shook his head firmly. Alistair wrapped an friendly arm around him, guiding him towards the twin's room. "Why not? Do ye not like Spiderman? Matthew only pointed to the televison. Alistair followed his gaze to the television, where the program apperently had changed to late night tv, with a blonde woman dancing very...inviting. Allistairs eyes widened in horror. "Have ye watched this the whole time!?" Matthew looked to the ground, a look of disgust on his face. Allistair hid his face behind his hand. "I knew it was going too well.." He groaned. "How am I gonna explain this to your daddy, Mattie?" Matthew simply yawned. Alistair took his hand. "Off to bed with ye, please don't tell your parents about this."
Just as they were walking towards the door leading to the twin's bedroom, angry footsteps could be heard all around the building, running up the stairs, accompanied with muffled yelling. Allistair chuckled. "Well it seems like yer daddy and yer papa are also back again." Matthew let out a small whine. Alistair patted his head gently. Poor kid, having his brother and brother-in-law for parents.
"JESUS CHRIST FRANCIS, WHY DO YOU ALWAYS HAVE TO MAKE A SCENE?!" The door burst open and Francis Bonnefoy walked in, soon followed by Arthur Kirkland.
"I WAS MAKING A SCENE? I WAS MAKING A SCENE?! SOURCILS,YOU'RE THE ONE WHO PUNCHED THAT ROSE GUY!" His brother-in-law walked past him, kicking an empty beercan to the side.
His brother crossed his arms and huffed. "He gave you a rose!"
Francis turned around, ponytail swinging furiously. "Because 'e was a ROSE GUY Arthur. 'e was giving everybody roses for god's sake!"
Alistair scratched his head. "Uhm..hello..."
"He gave you one for FREE!" Arthur growled, jealousy clearly visible on his face.
Francis stomped his foot on the ground. "Because 'e was from a brighten-someones-day- CHARITY!" He shrieked. "They hand out roses to prevent people from feeling lonely! Mon Dieu, 'e was doing something for humanity and you have to go and punch 'im!"
Arthur threw his coat carelessly aside in a corner of the room. "Yeah, something good for charity, huh? I swear Francis, he was all over you, it suprises me that you of all people didn't catch his hint!"
Alistair opened his mouth to say something, but one glance at Francis' face made him take his words back. Behind him he could feel Matthew fleeing into his room, slamming the door shut.
Francis narrowed his eyes dangerously. "Somebody like me? What's that supposed to mean, rosbif?"
Arthur's eyebrows knitted together in a frown. "You know exactly what I mean, frog."
Alistair raised his hands in defense. "Now, now, Is there really a need to call eachother nasty names again?" Neither of the furious blondes payed attention to him.
"He was flirting with you, Francis. You know that, I know that. He gave people who were looking lonely a rose you say? Well, he gave you a rose while it was clearly visible you were with me. And you just accepted it, even flirted back, because you enjoyed his attention!"
Francis grabbed Arthur's coat from the floor and hung it beside his own. "Maybe I did!" He snapped, "But if you don't like me interacting with someone who gives me a rose because of charity, I suggest you don't take me out anymore!"
Alistair looked uncomfortably between the two, wondering whether he should leave or not. Then again, Alfred was still sleeping on the couch, Late Night TV was still on and he still had to finish his beer.
Francis walked closer to Arthur, hands on his hips. He looked fuming, a few strands slipped past the ribbon holding his hair back, dangling in front of his face, face flushed. His perfectly matched designer clothing made him somehow even scarier and Alistair was surprised Arthur didn't step back.
"Maybe," he hissed, his French accent getting thicker with every word, "Maybe I know why the guy gave me a rose."
Arthur huffed, although preparing to step back at any time. "To get into your pants? Because I already knew that, poppet. It's kind of obvious."
"Non,' Francis continued, " 'e gave me a rose because 'e didn't see a couple when 'e saw us. Non, 'e saw moi sitting at a table with some grumpy English date. 'e saw moi sitting there, looking at you, hoping that you would hold my 'and or at least say something romantic but non, monsieur could only complain about the 'orrible French food, or about 'is work. I think that guy must've felt sorry for moi, sitting there with no other company than you!"
Alistair gasped, stepping in front of Francis. "Now, now, That wasn't really necessary was it? I suggest you two kiss and make u-"
"Oh REALLY?" Arthur snarled "Why don't you marry that rose guy then?! He can take you out for dinner and hold your hand and all the things I'm apparently not good enough for. He can even take you to Corsica for your honeymoon and then you can do the do on the beach while the sun goes down and dolphins jump up in the background! He can shower you in flowers and other cheap gifts and lots of attention you love so much! You can bloody run of with that guy, It will only make me happy because I don't have to spend money on your fucking expensive designer organic shit anymore!"
Alistair saw Francis eyes fill with tears. "You didn't mean that!" he said to his brother in a low accusing tone. Francis stormed off, locking himself into his bedroom.
Arthur looked at his brother, eyes filled with anger but also the slightest hint of regret. "You're right, I didn't mean a fucking word of it.." Arthur hid his face in his hand. "Alistair? Why am I such an asshole?"
Alistair grimaced, wrapping a brotherly arm around his shoulders. "Yer jus' born that way , lad. Can't help yerself."
Arthur put his head on Alistairs shoulder.. "Do y'think I should go and apologize to him?"
Alistair sighed. 'I don't think he wants to see ye right know, Artie." Arthur's shoulders shook. "Why are we like this? Why can't we be normal? Why do I have to punch a charity-guy in his face?"
Alistair took a sip of the beer he was still holding. 'I dunnae Art, but I know one thing, ya two are certainly not normal. I guess yer way of expressing love to eachother is a little..different."
Arthur laughed through his tears. "Alistair, I just told him to go fuck some random guy on the beach in Corsica!"
Alistair grimaced again. 'Yeah, that wasn' really smooth. But, eyebrows, he ain't no saint either. He said some mean things too, y'know. I think ye two just need to talk to eachother. But not now, apologize to him tomorrow, maybe he needs to overthink things too."
Arthur sniffled. "Thank you, brother. Looks like your brain isn't entirely filled with dust after all."
Alistair grinned, wrapping his arms around his little brother."There's ma brother again." They remained in the embrace for a few moments until- "Alistair, why is Alfred sleeping on the couch? AND IS THAT LATE NIGHT TV!?" Alistair paled, looks like he wouldn't be babysitting for a very long time.
Soo..chapter 2's up. I really enjoyed writing this. reviews are very much appreciated. Thanks for reading :)
