Special thanks to Sora Resi for helping me refuel my inner child to write Peter. ;) Though I mostly just observed my four-year-old brother..

No amateur writer, such as I, would be writing on this site if we owned Hetalia.

Enjoy.

The toddler with choppy blonde locks and thick eyebrows, not unlike his father's, squirmed in his gray and navy blue car seat, dirtying it by scraping the bottom with the heels of his light-up sketchers. His seat belt scuffed up his shirt so his pudgy belly showed from under the pale blue fabric of his shirt.

"Are we home yet? I'm hungry.."

The cute pout on Peter's face and the frustrated blush went unnoticed as Arthur jerked on the steering wheel, turning onto their street with a small, annoyed huff. He hated five o'clock traffic with a passion.

"Soon, Peter, just-" He paused as he pulled up by his house. "Oh hell no."

Arthur parked by his mailbox and sat up, eyeing what seemed to be an unfamiliar car in his driveway. The smooth steering wheel soon felt the wrath of his nails digging into it and a grip so tight the owner's knuckles turned white.

"Like bleeding hell I'm gonna let this one slide." he growled maliciously.

Pulling out his iPhone out and turning on a random episode of a cartoon Peter liked, one with a blue cat and what seemed to be a walking fish, he unbuckled his seatbelt and opened his door, shutting it roughly. He opened Peter's and plugged his earphones into his son's ears gently, before plugging it into his phone.

"Daddy," Peter's sea blue eyes widened in worry and fear, not knowing what was going on at all, "What are you-"

"I'll be back in just a moment, okay?" Arthur tried to keep his voice calm, though he was on the verge of killing a certain Frog. He shut the door and pulled into the driveway, before getting back out and locking the doors. Shoving his keys into his pocket, Arthur made his way inside by breaking down the door.

The sound could be heard within the confines of the small car his son was in. Though he was shaking slightly, Peter was successfully distracted by cartoons.

Thankfully Peter was so glued to the odd characters that he didn't hear the sound of loud yelling and glass and furniture breaking inside his residence.

The boy only noticed his father came back out of the house when the trunk was wrenched open and several bags and suitcases were shoved in. Arthur's breathing was hoarse from screaming and arguing.

Peter watched, the music and sound effects in his ears didn't cover the sniffles and stifling of sobs. The older Brit shut the door and started the engine, trying to regain his composure but failing.

The toddler averted his attention back to the iPhone once he saw his father's red, teary gaze as they backed out of the driveway for the last time. Though Peter wanted to know what was wrong, what was happening, he knew now was not the time. He pulled his knees up on the seat uncomfortably.

"H-How, how does Wendy's sound, Peter?"

The boy looked up at his father's puffy, red eyes concentrating on the highway. He glances up and nods and the silence is taken as a confirmation for their takeout dinner.

...

A worried whine woke the child out of his reverie. Peter looked down at the little white dog sitting in front of him with his stuffed seagull in her mouth.

"Ah, wait-" It was too late when he lunged and it began a chase. "Hey, that's mine!"

"Hana." A deep voice emanated from the fence gate beside the house and Peter froze. The dog seemed to hear it as well and immediately dropped the stuffed animal. The puppy ran in the opposite direction, right under Peter, and jumped up into her owner's arms. After retrieving his seagull, Peter gazed up, and then blanched at seeing the man's face. The Swede met his gaze and Peter almost peed himself from fright.

"W-who are y-you?" he asked him.

The tall man clicked a leash onto the dog's collar and then looked up to stare at him again. Then tilted his head a little and narrowed his eyes as if he didn't understand what creature was in front of him. Peter squeezed his gull.

"Berwald." said the man, in a deep voice, holding out a hand, then recalculating and shifting it more downward when he realized really how small Peter was. The boy shuffled forward nervously and held his own up to shake the giant man's.

The Swede gripped Peter's puny palm with two thick fingers and a big thumb pressing gently on top of the Brit's hand. Peter's earlier nervousness was replaced by wonder as he stared, amazed by the size of this new man's hand, and reached up to spread the hand out and play with the calloused fingers. "Whoa.."

Berwald slowly squatted down for easier access, just as amazed at the child's curiosity. "Your hand is way bigger than my dad's!" Peter giggled, smiling up at the stoic man, whose face didn't seem so unfriendly as it did at first. The doctor glanced down at his hand, the corner of his lips twitching in an attempt of a smile, and then suddenly looked back up into the toddler's wide ocean blue eyes at the word "dad". "...Dad?" he blinked, a bit flustered at the thought of the term being directed at him, though it wasn't.

"Yeah," Peter bent Berwald's forefinger to the big palm, trying to crack his knuckle, "My dad's hands awe small, but still bigger than mine." He showed the man his hands by shoving them right in front his face. The tall blonde fell back on his butt at this and pushed his glasses back up on his nose. "I-I see."

"Come on," Peter stands up and offers his hand once more to help the man up, "You'll see when you meet my dad.." He suddenly halts, making the taller boy almost trip over him. "Wait, you awen't a stwanger, are you?" asked the toddler, staring up at him with wide, tentative blue orbs. "Dad says I can't talk to stwangers. Sorry, I should've asked before.." he loosened his hold, making Berwald frown a little.

Hana barked, running ahead of them as the glass door slid open. A blond head poked out and smiled at the two. "Ber! You're back early!" Tino chirped, giggling as the tall blonde approached him and pecked his cheek. Peter looked between the two in mild confusion and slight curiosity.

"I was actually about to make lunch," Tino weaved his fingers in between the Swede's and smiled up at him sweetly. The corners of Berwald's lips twitched up in an attempted smile, as though he was trying to attract attention to it instead of the unmanly blush spreading across his face. "Would you like some?"

"Hm." Berwald picked up Hana again, letting go of his fiance's hand. Tino pouted for a moment, until he heard a small stomach growl from behind him. He smiled. "Who's hungry~?"

"Me!" Peter jumped up and down and Hana barked in agreement as she was set down and released from her leash.

As Peter and Berwald helped make lunch, Tino tidied up after them, glancing at the resting form on his couch every now and then, a brow creased in worry.

"..and now it's like he never leaves my mind," Arthur blew his nose on a Kleenex after Tino handed him a box, "He must be taking great pleasure in haunting my every thought, the bastard."

The Finn opened his mouth to give comforting words, but then closed it again when he remembered his similar experience. If Berwald hadn't been there for him all along, even if only as his roommate, he would still be plagued by nightmares of Ivan.

He looked back to his friend, who was now dabbing his red eyes with another Kleenex, and worried his lower lip. Arthur had only himself and his son. Not even Francis anymore.

Tino had learned that Arthur had moved to New York with Francis after he found out he was a father. His family apparently wanted nothing to do with him after he told them about Peter; so they pretty much disowned him. At the time, Francis was just his best mate, who was willing to help raise the child as he worked as a chef in a famous French restaurant in America. So, they just up and left.

The Brit then brought up the issue of Francis' smoking and drinking habits, which seemed to be the most major and probably the main reason Arthur decided to leave. Arthur often tried to keep Peter away from the house during the summer and signed him up for daycare. He'd have many arguments at night with the Frenchman and would dispose of a pack of cigarettes whenever he saw them. This barely irritated Francis since he could just buy a new pack whenever he felt like it. After a few close encounters with small, curious hands, all the wine bottles were either hidden, or poured down the drain, which Arthur would usually do to reduce the alcohol intake of his roommate or piss him off. It was expensive wine, after all. Arthur always took pride in it.

What really set him off, the final straw, was when Arthur caught him with some redheaded skank after he got home from work a few days ago. He made sure to destroy all of the Frenchman's expensive furniture and drop every wine bottle and glass before he left. He just wasn't worth coming back to anymore.

"I feel," the Briton sniffed, his red eyes closed tightly, "I feel as if I've just lost."

Tino squeezed his forearm. "No, you haven't."

"I have. My paychecks to pay mortgage, gas money to drive him everywhere," Arthur let out a watery chuckle, "Hell, the fucking bastard even got me to fall in love with him!" Tears filled in his eyes and fell before he fisted them away angrily. "To think I was so blind to just..let him use me like that."

His peridot eyes grew dull after a few moments. The Finn held him around the shoulders with his arm, rocking him somewhat soothingly as his friend occasionally emitted a stuffed sniffle.

Outside, Peter was chasing around Hana, who seemed to have his toy in her mouth. Tino looked over to the Brit whose head was currently resting on his shoulder. He silently wondered if Peter had looked up to Francis as another father figure. A sour frown made its way onto Tino's face. He hoped not.

"You'll see, Arthur," he petted the Brit's blonde hair, still rocking him as Arthur fluttered his eyelashes, succumbing to a peaceful sleep, "Soon you'll see that your heart still lies within you.." Violet eyes watched as a tall man approached his puppy and the boy beside her, and Tino smiled. "..It lies, waiting for the right person to come your way.."

"Tino?" The Finn blinked and looked up to find light aquamarine eyes staring down at him through thick lenses. A warm, calloused hand rested on his cheek. He leaned into it, hiding his soft blush.

"He's been through a really bad break-up." Berwald glanced over at the man on their couch and nodded in understanding. The scene was almost the same as the one he witnessed a few years ago, except now it wasn't his unrequited beloved. He was at least happy that the man wasn't covered in bruises like Tino had been.

Said Finn was still blinking up at him, long lashes tickling his index finger. "They're going to need to stay a while, Ber."

The Swede nodded, knowing he wouldn't be able to say no to such a cute face.

Report my mistakes to me when you review. Too late to be writing, but I feel guilty for not posting this chapter for so long.

So...Alfred in the next chapter? Tell me what you think. Though, I think Arthur deserves a good-looking distraction right now. R&R~!