"Arthur... Why were you yelling at Alfred earlier?" Francis asked curiously as he parked the car at the mall. Arthur unbuckled himself and stepped out of the vehicle calmly. Francis followed, remaining silent as he waited for the answer.

"Alfred has been acting like a spoiled brat for the past few days. He has disrespected me far too much and I was tired of it. I took away his games for two week." The Brit replied with little emotion, heading toward the large building. Francis sighed as he hurried to his husbands side. Why couldn't he be more easy going like him?

"Aren't you being a little harsh? Alfred's a good boy..." Francis brought up quietly, not wanting to instigate another fight over the parenting of their son. Really, Arthur could be so stubborn sometimes!

"You're being too soft. He needs to learn that he has to treat others with respect. He caused a scene at dinner with company and he spoke to me with contempt. Its as if he thinks that just because he has grown taller than us it means he knows better." The blond snapped, crossing his arms as he walked briskly.

Francis chuckled dryly at the comment, holding the door open for the other blond before stepping in himself. "Yes, but two weeks?" He asked again feeling guilty. Alfred absolutely loved his video games, taking them away would almost be like withdrawing him from sex for two weeks. And he never wanted to do that ever again.

Arthur sighed, "I'll probably let him have them by Christmas next week. But still Francis, he needs to learn." His son could be so difficult sometimes. He had calmed down from the fury and now could think rationally over the situation. Perhaps he had yelled a little too much but Alfred had been unreasonable as well. And of course, that Russian troublemaker was part of it all too. "I do not like Ivan. He is a bad influence." He stated grimly with a frown while the pair maneuvered through the Macy's in order to reach the interior of the mall.

"And why do you say that?" Francis asked, perplexed. Ivan seemed like a nice enough boy, quiet but nice. After spotting one of the large maps, he lead their way toward it.

"After having our little argument, Alfred stormed up into his room. Ivan stayed behind and yelled at me. The nerve of that boy! There's something wrong and dangerous about him Francis, I can sense it." Arthur reasoned, he was almost certain he felt a threat laced in the younger teen's words.

"What did he say?" Francis asked, looking away from the map with concern. He could fight with Arthur and so could Alfred. He could insult him as well because they were family and they loved each other and that was how families worked. However, he did not approve of Ivan disrespecting or insulting his husband. That was too far.

"He questioned my parenting and told me I was hurting Alfred. He even accused me of not caring for him!" Arthur snapped bitterly, turning away to walk sharply in the direction of the '2H' section that housed a Game Spot. Where could he have gotten the idea in his head? He loved his son dearly!

Sure he wasn't very affectionate. Sure he didn't express his love frequently. Sure he usually kept his emotions to himself. Sure he usually masked them with anger. But he still loved him!

"...Does Alfred not think I love him?" He asked quietly, the idea popping into his head suddenly due to his train of thought. Was Alfred ranting to Ivan about it and the Russian was merely trying to help his boyfriend? Would Alfred really ever believe he didn't love him?

"Of course he knows you love him, Arthur!" Francis assured quickly, giving him a reassuring squeeze of the hand. Arthur bit his lip but nodded anyway. "Perhaps you should talk to him calmly when we get back?"

"I suppose..." Arthur mused. He didn't really like 'emotional' talks, unlike his 'lovey dovey husband' who seemed to live off them.

"Come on, this is suppose to be a happy occasion. Look around, it is Christmas!" Francis tried to cheer him up, wrapping an arm around the others waist to pull him closer.

"Yes, yes I'm not blind frog. I can see the bloody huge Christmas tree." Arthur retorted with a huff, his fiery personality returning. He squirmed in the others grip until he was released. Though, he did let his husband hold his hand. Francis grinned at his minor success and tugged the Englishman to the store.

"Alfred? Where are you going?" Matthew asked worriedly as he saw his brother stuffing his backpack with his books, having already packed an overnight bag. He could feel the anger and frustration leaving his twin in waves and it only served to increase his anxiety. He knew his father and Alfred had gotten into another fight, which isn't very unusual, except this time it seemed to have turned especially badly.

"To Toris'. I wont be back for a while. I'll be at school, don't worry." Alfred explained easily, as if it was perfectly normal to just pack your bags and leave your house 'for a while' on a whim. Matthew chewed at his bottom lip, not liking at all how this was going.

"Does Dad know?" The younger asked quietly with a small frown. He had heard the yelling and the screaming. He knew the fight had been an angry one and finding his brother packing his things was not a good sign. Not at all.

"No. He doesn't, But Arthur's opinion doesn't fucking matter." Alfred bit out and Matthew flinched at the name 'Arthur'. He never addressed him by his first name, it was always 'Dad' or when they were younger, 'Daddy'. His brother must really be mad.

"But Al, you'll get in trouble. Here, come to my room and we can talk." The younger of the pair tried to reason. Usually that was what Alfred always did. He vented to his brother and felt better, then he patched things up with their father. Then again, usually fights didn't end with Alfred packing his bags.

"I don't care what Arthur does. Ivan needs me right now so I'm gonna go help him." Alfred responded firmly, zipping up his backpack with a quick tug.

Matthew frowned,what was wrong with his brother? He seemed much more serious and angry. He felt a little hurt that his brother didn't want his help at all.

"What do I tell Dad and Papa?" He asked quietly, resigning himself. He knew when Alfred was determined about something he wouldn't stop no matter what. Especially when he was so angry that he was trying to mask it with calmness. There would be no reasoning with him until he cooled down.

"The truth. It doesn't matter. I'm not coming home for a while no matter what they say." The elder shrugged, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. "Hey, could you give me a ride? I don't want to leave Papa's car at Toris' for the entire time." Matthew bit his lip. So Alfred still addressed Papa as papa but Dad as Arthur?

"I..I guess." He to finally acquiesced. He felt he was caught in the middle once more, unsure who exactly to side with. Still, he never really could deny his brother, even with his most foolish schemes he always ended up going along with him.

"We are home!" Francis announced into the quiet house, holding suspicious looking bags full of soon to be presents. Arthur grumbled behind him, a distracted attempt to get him to stop yelling. He needed to talk to Alfred, to settle things. Hopefully the boy had cooled down and they could speak to one another like civilized adults.

"H-Hey." Matthew greeted awkwardly, nibbling at his bottom lip. He was such a horrible liar when it came to things like this. Why couldn't he have inherit his brother's bullshit gene that enabled to come up with lies in seconds?

"Matthieu? Is something wrong?" Francis asked slowly, placing the bags down. His son looked worried, he wondered if something had happened with Alfred or maybe Gilbert.

Before the boy could respond, Arthur interupted, "Where's your brother?"

"He's not here..." Matthew mumbled nervously feeling his father's emerald gaze narrow on him. It pierced through him easily and made him squirm slightly in his shoes.

"Well, where is he?" Arthur asked patiently, slowly.

"At Toris'..." He replied meekly, wondering why he felt so worried when Alfred himself didn't. Maybe it was because he was the more responsible twin, he was feeling what his brother should be feeling.

"What? After that whole fight he has the nerve to go there? Is he daft! I'm goin-" Arthur's anger began to boil within him again at the mere thought and probably would have continued to simmer unless his husband interrupted.

"Arthur, we spoke about this." Francis reminded calmly and Arthur sent him a glare but tried to calm down as well.

"I'll go fetch him so we can all speak calmly." He bit out and Francis nodded. Matthew, though, only grew more agitated. Didn't they realize that would only make it worse?

"Dad, wait. Al...Al's really mad and he told me he wasn't coming home 'for a while'. I think you should let him be for at least the day..."

"He can think that all he wants but that doesn't change the fact he lives under my roof and under my rules. I will not have him gallivanting about when he is supposed to be punished. I am getting him back and that's final!" Arthur snapped at him before yanking his coat from where he had just hanged it on the hook.

Matthew cringed and hesitated once more, "Dad, if you go in there like this he won't come home. He wouldn't even talk to me about it!" He reasoned, but yet again his input was ignored.

"Why don't I go and speak with him? I'm sure I can convince him to come home." Francis piped up soothingly but unfortunately it had the adverse affect of riling Arthur up even further.

Are you implying that I'm the bad parent? The scolding green eyes demanded silently. Arthur was way to far gone in his anger to be reasoned with. From this morning's fiasco to this, he had reached his limit. "I am perfectly capable of retrieving my own son, frog."

"Our son." Francis corrected getting slightly annoyed and frustrated. "We'll retrieve our son, alright?"

Matthew was about to pipe up that maybe it would be best if he accompanied them as well but his parents had already left the room. He sighed, watching them drive away without him. He really did hope they succeeded in bringing his twin home but he knew it was highly unlikely.

If anyone knew Alfred, it was Matthew. And Matthew knew that Alfred had to calm down in order to even listen to another person's argument when he was this furious at someone.

Ivan had been mildly surprise to find Alfred at his doorsteps only a few hours after he had departed from his home. He had almost been certain that his English father would forbid him from leaving his home. Apparently he had been wrong as Alfred proceeded to make himself at home the minute he walked into his house.

He had dragged his belongings into Ivan's bedroom, 'called' the side of the bed with a nightstand (even though that was the Russian's preferred side. Alfred justified his claim with the excuse that he needed to be close to his glasses) and then plopped himself onto the couch, remote already in hand.

"So, where's Tor?" The American asked, looking around the smaller home for his friend. It felt like he hadn't seen him for a long time. Let alone he still planned to interrogate him about Katyu-Katya-about Kat.

"Working." Ivan replied simply, deciding to sit down beside the blond instead of standing. The brunette had rushed to work after dropping his ward back home claiming that 'something important had come up'.

"Shit, is that all he does now? I don't remember him ever working so much..." Alfred mused anxiously. Toris could work himself until he was sick and he hoped his friend wasn't hurting himself.

"How do you know Toris?" Ivan asked suddenly, remembering how the two had greeted each other so familiarly all those weeks ago. He didn't like the idea of sharing Alfred's affection with others.

"Hmm? Oh, he used to be our neighbor and he used to babysit Mattie and I. He's a pretty cool dude." Alfred replied easily, his eyes more focused on the TV. There wasn't anything on... Ooh, Cake Boss! That show was fucking awesome. God damn it, now he was hungry for sweets.

"I see..." Ivan frowned. A babysitter? So Toris cared for him when he was younger. Isn't that what parents were meant to do? Were Alfred's parents to busy working? From what he gathered his French father was some sort of baker and his English father was a tailor. He understood the French one's absence, one probably needed to be in the actual bakery in order to bake... But his English father could work from home if he cared enough.

Although, it was obvious in Ivan's eyes that he didn't care in the slightest.

"Shit, look at that! Its fucking beautiful." Alfred was practically salivating at the huge decorated cake on screen. Why couldn't he have one?

Ivan raised an eyebrow at the reaction and stifled a giggle. Was Alfred in a constant state of hunger? The question only brought darker thoughts. He didn't even know what real hunger was! No, stop thinking of that... His sisters.. What if they were hungry? What if they were suffer-

"Hey, you ok?" Alfred asked, giving him a concerned glance.

"I am fine. Why?" Ivan replied instantly, masking his anxiety with a smile.

"I don't know...You got all tense and stuff..." Alfred was about to continue when Ivan decided to interrupt him.

"Why are you here Alfred? Not that you are not welcomed. I am merely curious." Ivan asked, curiosity was really only part of the motive behind the question. The other was to distract Alfred from asking his own invasive questions.

"Because." Alfred snapped, frowning as he looked back at the screen. He didn't want to answer the dumb question. Ivan gave him a questioningly look yet Alfred's mouth remained firmly shut. But, as the silence continued to reign (one of Alfred's most hated adversaries), the American's mouth eased open.

"Because my stupid dad was being an asshole and I didn't want to be anywhere near him. He took away my video games and said some other stuff. So, I was like 'to hell with it, I'm a hero and I'm gonna fucking save someone's day." He hissed out, crossing his arms self conciously, "And so here I am. I'm gonna stay here until I deem you saved."

"I still do not understand your fascination with 'saving'. I do agree that you're English father is quite cruel." Ivan commented with distaste though he felt Alfred tense beside him. How odd. He was agreeing with him, not arguing.

"I wouldn't say cruel." Alfred defended quietly, looking away and toward the floor. It was one thing for him to badmouth his own father but it was a whole other thing to have someone else do the same. Especially Ivan.

The Russian teen didn't know what to respond with so instead he remained silent. Alfred obliged and turned up the TV in order to satisfy his need for noise. The Cake Boss soon morphed into the Real Housewives of Atlanta and he left it at that because he was lazy. (In reality, Alfred was curious about NeNe's divorce issues and Kim's atrocious singing. No, he didn't watch the show before. Ever.) Ivan found the series increasingly annoying, wondering how Alfred could ever watch such garbage. Did these women even understand the hardships of life?

"Alfred?" Ivan finally spoke again, his violet gaze settling on Alfred who was much nicer looking than the fake vain women on the television.

"Hmm?" Alfred didn't take his eyes off the screen where a cat fight had broken out between two of the girls. Holy shit, the drama was suffocating him.

"May I kiss you?"

Alfred, still oblivious and finding his attention drawn to the fact that one of the guys had just called NeNe a bitch (he was in for it), let out a noncommittal, "Uh huh."

Ivan decided this was enough permission and let his hand tilt Alfred's face toward his own. It infuriated him slightly that Alfred's blues eyes were still locked on the screen. Of course, this was rightfully corrected when he did kiss the other because the American's eyes snapped to his in surprise.

Alfred was tense at first but slowly relaxed as Ivan's thumb rubbed soothingly at his cheek. He pressed back, trying to speed up the slow sweet kiss. Ivan ignored the attempt and continued his slow endeavor. When he pulled back he was forced to giggle at Alfred's pouty expression.

"What is wrong, дорогой?" He asked with an amused little smile. Alfred shivered a little, the expression almost seemed...predatory. He shook the thought away.

"You're making me miss my show." He reminded, eyes flickering to the screen even now.

"I am saving your brain cells. This show is dumb." The pale blond responded, kissing the pouty lips chastely.

Alfred stuck out his tongue and huffed before deciding to ask, "Hey... What was that word you said before? Dura-something?"

Ivan chuckled, "Its Russian."

"Well I knew that." Alfred snapped, making a 'duh' face with mild annoyance. "But what does it mean?"

"дорогой... It means.. It is like the word 'dear' I guess." He translated with slight difficulty. He hadn't even noticed the slip into his native tongue. He usually did his best to stick to English though it was difficult.

"Don't say such dumb sappy things." Alfred hissed, blushing all the same. How could Ivan come off as creepy homicidally inclined and cute at the same time? He was so weird...

But maybe that's why he liked him... Alfred didn't really want to think about that so instead he leaned up to kiss him again. Their conversation, and the housewives were forgotten as Alfred wrapped his arms around the others neck, pulling him closer and blocking everything else out.

Ivan had at first assumed the doorbell to be Toris. Perhaps the man had forgotten his key in his rush? With that in mind, he left Alfred on the couch in order to answer it.

The American had occupied the few hours he had been in the home with plans for Ivan's apparent 'rehabilitation' which he knew he would not follow. This topic somehow morphed into video games, ranting over unjust parenting and even Christmas. He pondered how his love interest's mind jumped from topic to topic so easily as he walked toward the front door.

When Ivan opened said door, instead of the shy nervous brunette he expected, he found two blonds. His mood immediately soured as Arthur all but pushed himself into the home. Francis followed behind him muttering a quick distracted apology before following after his husband.

Alfred had gotten up only to tense at the sight of his angry father. Shit. He thought he was in the clear. It had been going so well, too! Now he was going to be yelled at again. He was so tired of this shit.

"Alfred. Get in the car." Arthur tried to say it calmly but he just couldn't. He was extremely pissed off, more than he had been in a while. Francis had tried to calm him down in the car but he was beyond the point of no return. He was abso-bloody-lutely furious.

"No. I'm staying here." Alfred replied easily, trying to act indifferent. If he acted that way maybe his father would get frustrated and leave him be. It could work.

"No. You're not. I won't stand for this foolish game you are playing any longer. You will come home with us so that we can speak like civilized human beings." Arthur hissed, eyes daring his son to deny him.

"I'm not going back. At least not for a while. Nothing you say can make me go with you." The American retorted rebelliously.

Arthur felt his hands clench into fists. Just what had gotten into the boy? When had he ever acted so horribly? Even Francis was surprised at their son's behavior."Thats enough! Alfred, you will get in that car this instant or I swear I'll-"

"Or what?" Alfred snapped, straightening up to his full height and practically towering over his father. "What would you do, Arthur?"

"How dare you speak to me that way!" He leaned in close, threateningly. His son refused to back down.

"I'm almost an adult! I can speak to you however I want!" Their noses were almost brushing from there proximity. Francis watched with wide eyes as the fight escalated further than he'd ever seen before. He didn't know how to take control of the situation now that it was so out of hand.

"I am your father and you will treat me with respect!"

"You aren't my real father!"

The scream was answered with a loud slap before the room fell eerily silent. Alfred cupped his reddening face in shock, his blue eyes wide and slightly teary.

Arthur stared at him in shock as well, his whole body trembling. "I-I.." He chocked out in disbelief at what he had just done.

"You hit me."

"I..I..."

"I-I hate you!" Alfred practically shrieked, taking a step away from him defensively. Arthur stared at him with wide vulnerable green eyes.

"D-Do what you want. S-see if I care." He whispered hoarsely, numbly. Without another word, the older man left the home with shaky steps.

"Arthur!" Francis called after him worriedly, but didn't follow him. Instead, he looked back at Alfred who still stood there with his hand on his cheek. He moved toward them, concern written upon his face and glimmering through his blue eyes. The American didn't react when his Papa examined his cheek gently. He ran his long, smooth fingers along the slightly reddened skin apologetically.

"You went too far, Alfred." Francis spoke evenly, calmly.

"He hit me!"

"Yes, and that is inexcusable. But the things you said Alfred, the way you said them... It even shocked me. And especially that last thing you said. You know how Arthur feels. You knew that would hurt him." Francis continued, in the same calm tone though his eyes were stern.

Alfred remained silent.

"You should come home." It was hopeful suggestion.

Silence was his only response.

"Fine. I just hope you realize how much you're hurting your father by doing this." He turned around and left the home, closing the door politely as he left.

Ivan had to control almost every fiber in his being in order to not smash Alfred's English father's head into the wall until the body was limp and lifeless in his arms. How dare he hurt his Alfred? He would pay. He would certainly pay. Instead, he had watched the scene until the intruders had left his house. He turned to Alfred, unsure whether he wished to be alone or to be comforted.

Alfred, himself, stared numbly at the wall, rubbing his cheek idly. He blinked his eyes hurriedly, trying to stop the damn tears from falling. He saw Ivan from the corner of his eyes, standing there with an uncharacteristic frown on his handsome face.

He reached out for him, buried his face in his chest and cried for a long time because he didn't fucking care if he sounded like a girl anymore. Everything fucking hurt.

When Francis returned to the car he found Arthur in the passenger seat, pressing his hands to his face. He opened the driver's door and stepped in, giving his husband a worrying glance.

"I hit him, Francis. I hit him. How could I hit him? I didn't mean to—I don't know what happened. I-I—I hit him!" He whispered in shock, "I'm a horrible parent." He murmured to himself, pulling at his hair in shock and frustration and god why? How could he do such a thing? To hit a child?

"Arthur don't say that. What you did was wrong and you need to apologize. But you were right before, Alfred is acting horribly himself." Francis tried to soothe. There was something wrong with Alfred. Though, he couldn't excuse his husband's behavior either. They were both in the wrong. He only wished he was able to sit them down and let the talk.

"He's right, you know. Who are we kidding? We're not parents... I'm not his father, nor is he my son. Remember what they use to say? How God made us gay for a reason, to keep us from reproducing? I hit my own son, they were right—"

"Arthur! Don't you ever say that again! Don't you listen to those bastards! Thats why we moved away, do you understand me? They are wrong. Alfred is our son. We have papers to prove it. The nuns trusted us, for God's sakes!" Francis snapped angrily, swirving toward him in uncharacteristic fury. Francis prided himself with keeping up his suave, charming reputation. Though, Arthur always did have the ability to bring it down.

"Yes, they trusted a bastard who hit his own little boy!" Arthur shouted back, feeling tears prick at his eyes that he vehemently tried to blink away. Grown men don't cry damn it! Bloody hell...

"You are not a bastard! Stop saying these things Arthur! It was a mistake, we will mend it once Alfred calms down and comes home. Everything is going to be all right."

Arthur doubted that very much.

I do not own Cake Boss or the Real Housewives of Atlanta nor do I own Hetalia.

OMG look at all that drama! Nail biting isn't it?
I hope this chapter doesn't suck. I feel like it does but I always hate my chapters :3

Poor Alfred, ever since he met Ivan his life has gone pretty downhill...
Next chapter, more conflict but maybe a Christmas miracle as well? ~Who knows~

Also, so I'm not putting this back on its regular schedule 'cause my life is super hectic right now. I'll still update, just don't know when. Info on updates will be in my profile if you're curious.
Thank you guys so much for all your love and support! 700 + reviews is fricken amazing.

Thanks for everything, see you soon.