[fanfic] Pouty Lips, Missing Bears and Eskimo Kisses
Title: Pouty Lips, Missing Bears and Eskimo Kisses
Author/Artist: myself, chromatic_coma
Character(s)/Pairing(s): young!Canada, young!America, France, England, FrUK, brotherly America/Canada
Genre: Family, Humor, Romance
Rating: T
Warnings: Groping, Cursing, Implied Sex
Summary: Canada quite often has a hard time getting along with his hyperactive older twin, but that doesn't mean he doesn't love him
x-posted to (get ready for this): hetalia, hamburger_st, hetanada, papafrmomauk, usaxcanada, what_the_fruk
Pouty Lips, Missing Bears and Eskimo Kisses
If Matthew Kirkland-Bonnefoy was asked right at this moment to name one thing he absolutely did not like, his answer would have been a quick, sharp “Alfred!”
“Kumajirou? Kumajirou?! Where are you?!!” The tiny blond called, peaking under his bed covers and the t-shirts his brother had thrown all over their floor, his tone on the verge of hysteria. “Where are you!?”
“He’s not going to answer you, silly, he’s not real.” Alfred was standing in the doorway of the room, amused by the game of hide-and-seek (because Matt was never going to find his bear).
“He is too real!!” The younger twin snapped, going up to his brother and poking him in the chest. “And when I find him he’s gonna help me beat you up for getting him lost!!” Anger was quickly replaced with worry. “I wonder if he’s scared of being alone. Kumajirou doesn’t like to be alone…” Tears were welling up much faster in his violet eyes, but he blinked them away to try and keep up his search.
After another fruitless five minutes of searching, the twins’ bedroom was deemed bear-free, and that’s when Matthew ran out of the room, sobbing. He had no idea where he was going, only that he was tired of Alfred’s teasing him about not finding Kumajirou (why did he have to have an older brother who was so good at hide and seek anyways?!), and kept running down the hall.
Until he ran right into Francis’ leg, that is.
“Mathieu?” The Frenchman blinked, taking a moment to catch up with the situation, but not taking too long to notice his son sobbing against him. Placing the basket of clean laundry he’d finished on the ground, he gently reached down and stroked Matt’s blond locks, “Qu’est-ce qu’il y a, mon petit? What’s wrong?”
Matthew allowed himself to be scooped up into his father’s arms, burying his face into Francis’ clean blue shirt.
“A-Alfred hid K-Kumajirou… and I can’t find him!” The boy sniffled out, and Francis shushed him gently, stroking his hair back.
“Is that all? I know where Kumajirou is, mon petit.”
Matthew sniffled again, rubbing at his nose and giving his father a hopeful look.
“Really?”
“Oui. Now, shall we go rescue him?”
Matthew nodded, and Francis led them over to the hall closet, pulling Kumajirou off the top shelf and handing him to the younger son. Canada reacted quickly, grabbing hold of the bear and pulling it into a vice-like grip.
Francis placed him back down on the ground, amused at just how tight the death-hug Matthew was giving his bear was.
“Merci, papa!!” He grinned, stroking the bear’s fur calmly. “How did you know where to find him?”
“Alfred asked me to put him there. You were playing a game, were you not?”
Matthew felt too betrayed to grace that with an answer. “You did it?! I hate you papa!!” He shouted before storming off to the kitchen, going to look for some maple cookies to make himself and Kumajirou feel better.
But… when he heard sounds coming from the kitchen, Matthew froze in the threshold of the dining area. It sounded like someone was singing… but Alfred was still in their bedroom, crashing his robot action figures, and he’d just run off and left Papa behind with the laundry, so that only left…
Daddy. Arthur Kirkland, Alfred and Matthew’s second adoptive parent, was standing in front of the stove, shielding whatever he was cooking
from Matt’s sight (which the boy figured was probably for the best, since he did not want to know), and loudly humming a Beatles song.
Matthew remained completely silent, and placed his hand over Kumajirou’s mouth so that they would not be exposed. Slowly he turned to leave the room, and was nearly out before he clumsily tripped over a chair, causing them both (and Kumajirou) to topple over with a ’clunk’.
Arthur looked up from the pot he was stirring, eyebrows knitted together as he stopped singing and spotted the source of the crash.
“Matthew? What happened, lad?”
“I tripped.” The short blond commented, hugging his bear and rubbing his aching elbow. Arthur frowned, and put down the wooden spoon before lifting his son off the floor.
“You’ve been crying, haven’t you?”
Matthew nodded feebly. “Alfred and Papa hid Kumajirou from me, and Alfred said he isn’t real!!” He pouted.
“Well, he did inherit the frog’s lack of sight; it’s not his fault he can’t see Kumajirou’s alive, Matthew. As for them hiding him… I’ll have a talk with Alfred, alright? Don’t worry, he won’t do it again. Now, come on, help me set the table for lunch.”
Matt’s stomach lurched, but he nodded, putting Kumajirou in his chair before grabbing the plates from the cabinet and laying them out on the table. The smell in the kitchen was getting stronger, and soon enough it was starting to make Matthew dizzy. So dizzy, he failed to notice that Alfred had come into the dining room until he felt someone tap his shoulder.
“Sorry I made you sad, Mattie.” He mumbled, his gaze focused on the hardwood floor and not his surprised twin. “I didn’t think you would get so sad if Kumajirou was lost.”
Matthew wanted to forgive his brother, but he found himself frowning instead. “You shouldn’t stick him in a closet, Al, he could die in there!!”
Alfred was just about to open his mouth in protest, but a well aimed glare from Arthur stopped him. Instead he twiddled his thumbs and repeated “Sorry.”
“Hm… it’s okay. Just don’t do it again!” Matthew commanded, wagging his finger at his older brother, who put his hands up defensively.
“I won’t, I won’t!”
“Good.” The younger twin smiled, settling himself in his chair and pulling Kumajirou into his lap, and Alfred climbed up into his chair as well, the table already having been set.
At this point Francis walked in, blew kisses to both his sons, and motioned for them to keep quiet with a finger to his lips. The kids consented, nodding, and the Frenchman quietly snuck up behind Arthur, who was once again at the stove, adding spices to his concoction.
Wordlessly, he brushed his hand over the Briton’s derrière, before grabbing a hold of it and squeezing appraisingly.
Arthur, for his part, reacted quite beautifully, first turning a bold shade of crimson and squeaking, before coming to his senses and swinging his food-covered stirring spoon into Francis’ face threateningly.
“KEEP YOUR HANDS OFF OF ME, WINO!!”
“Ah, mon coeur, that’s not what you said last night~”
Arthur got even redder, if that was possible, and gaped like a fish out of water. Alfred was rather amused, while Matthew was too busy distracting himself with his napping bear to pay it any heed (besides, he was a bit more used to Francis than Alfred was at this point, and had seen this millions of times before).
“Francis!” He snapped, tone hushed and violent. “Don’t say things like that in front of the boys, you’ll corrupt them! And if you so much as look at me lecherously again, it’ll be the last thing you ever see!”
Francis pressed a chaste kiss over Arthur’s knuckles, and looked up at the Briton with a smirk. “At least it will be a lovely lasting image, non? Viens, if you are done cooking, let us eat before it burns.”
Though, to be quite honest, Francis suspected that the food was already burned, or somehow beyond consumption. Was it really supposed to bubble like that? And that odor… looking back at his boys, Francis felt a pang of pity, and something in his mind wondered if he could be arrested for allowing his sons to eat Arthur’s cooking…
Still, they had to eat something, and knowing Arthur the man would become offended and upset if they did not eat his food (and,
consequently, Francis would have a much tougher time getting into his bed that night). So, catching sight of Alfred and Matthew’s alarmed looks when they realized that, no, he was not about to save them, he simply gave them a look to prepare themselves while Arthur cut the fire off the pot, and brought it over to the dining area.
When Alfred and Matthew’s bowls were put in front of them, each boy held his breath immediately. Alfred seemed to conjure up a bottle of ketchup, and was now liberally coating his… whatever the hell it was, while Matthew was doing the same with his special bottle of maple syrup.
It was only when their bowls were more condiment than cooking at they felt safe even trying a tiny spoonful. Arthur’s face had fallen a bit at that, so Francis held his breath and tried the stew exactly as it was…
…and instantly started choking. The thick, chunky liquid practically stuck to his throat and burned, so much so that he started up a hacking cough, reaching wildly for the glass of water on the table, and knocking over Matthew’s maple syrup as he grabbed it.
It was not until he was finished with the entire glass, his throat thankfully significantly calmer, that he realized he’d not only knocked over the syrup, but that he sent it pouring all over the younger twin as it fell, settling nicely in his lap as it spilled out all over Matthew and Kumajirou.
The stickiness was becoming a problem, as Matt’s hands were covered, and therefore so was everything else he touched. Confused and panicked, he could not get a good grip on anything at all, much less the syrup, and his struggles were starting to make him hysterical.
“Don’t worry Mattie!” Alfred exclaimed, grabbing the bottle and setting it upright with one hand, and picking up the messy Kumajirou with the other. It was only a few seconds later when Arthur was up, clicking his tongue at the mess, but smoothing Matthew’s hair back in an attempt to soothe him.
“Don’t cry now lad, let’s just go get you cleaned up. I’m certain you can take care of this mess, Francis?” The bite at the end of Arthur’s tone let Francis know that now he was not only hurt about the choking, but that he fully blamed Francis for the entire situation, and so the Frenchman simply nodded as his partner lifted Matthew up off his seat from his underarms, everything else too sticky to touch, and carried him off to the bathroom.
“I’ll go get the towel, cuz I’m the hero!!” Alfred proclaimed, running into the kitchen and grabbing the tea towel, running it under the tap and rushing it back over to the mess excitedly. Francis could only laugh at Al’s energy, ruffling his hair as he accepted the wet cloth. Alfred frowned, fixing his hair, and watching intently as Francis wiped down the chair, table, and floor.
“What is it, mon petit, is there something on your mind?” He asked after a few moment’s silence, realizing that Alfred’s mind was wandering, even as he was watching his papa clean up.
The blond nodded bashfully, and Francis found that curious; what was it that it had Alfred acting shyly?
“Why do you squeeze Daddy’s butt?” The words spilled out of his mouth quickly, and he instantly put his hands over the orifice when he was done talking, but his eyes were shining with curiosity. Amusement spread quickly across the Frenchman’s face, as he crouched to look
Alfred directly in the eyes.
“I do it to show him how much I love him, of course.”
“Really? But… he doesn’t look like he likes it much.” Alfred seemed so willing to believe it, though, that Francis knew it would be easy to convince the boy. Wearing he most serious expression he could muster, the man shook his head.
“Trust me, mon petit, he loves it. Your father is simply too shy to say so, so he pretends he does not appreciate it.”
Alfred took a moment to take it all in, before repeating, “So, you touch Daddy’s butt because you love him, and that’s okay?”
Francis smiled, tapping his son lightly on the nose. “Exactement. Now, come help me prepare something that is edible, while your father is not here.”
Matthew and Alfred were once again in their rooms, a wet Kumajirou napping on the younger twin’s bed while both boys lay on their stomachs on the floor, scribbling crayon drawings to hang up on the fridge.
“Alfieeeee, please, give me the red crayon.” Matthew pouted, begging for what must’ve been the tenth time for the color. Why was his brother
so stubborn…
“No, I already told you, I need it!”
“But I need it too! I can’t draw my leaves until I get the red crayon!”
Alfred scoffed. “Leaves aren’t even red, dummy, they’re green.”
“My leaves are red!” Matthew frowned. “You’re such a meanie, Alfred! Don‘t call me a dummy!”
Alfred sneered, intentionally jabbing the red crayon harder against the page to rub it in Matt’s face, but immediately after he felt a little guilty, especially when he caught sight of his baby brother’s pouty lips and furrowed brow. Wordlessly, he dropped the red crayon over Matt’s page, trying to seem nonchalant about it, as if he no longer needed the color. Matthew looked up confusedly, and when he saw Alfred’s bored expression he silently took the crayon and started scribbling.
That’s when Alfred knew he messed up; his brother would usually have said “thank you,” and since he didn’t it was obvious he wasn’t happy. Thinking back to the conversation he’d had with his papa, Alfred decided he was going to show Matt that he really loved him.
Reaching his hand out, he quickly squeezed Matthew’s butt.
The tiny Canadian yelped, his face instantly getting redder than the crayon as he jumped up and sat properly.
“Al! What are you doing!?” He flushed; Alfred was suddenly very confused.
“Papa said that’s how you show someone you love them! He said that’s why he does it to Daddy all the time!”
Matthew shook his head, obviously embarrassed. “That’s a no-no thing to do! Remember when Uncle Gilbert did it to Lovino and Uncle Antonio yelled at him? It’s …in-a… inappr- bad!”
When Alfred realized that his argument was futile now, he was becoming embarrassed as well, but his pride refused to let it show.
“Well then… how am I supposed to show you I love you so that you stop being mad at me?!” He countered, and was surprised when
Matthew’s eyes suddenly widened.
“So that I can stop being mad at you…?” He repeated, and Alfred nodded vigorously. Matthew timidly tapped his fingertips to his chin in thought, before shifting over on the floor, closer to his brother. When they were sitting as close as they could to one another, the younger twin leaned forward and pressed his nose to his brother’s, brushing them together in an Eskimo kiss.
“There,” he said as he slid back over to where he’s been sitting before. “That’s our special ’I love you’, okay?” It was obvious that Matthew was a bit embarrassed, and with good reason; usually when he did things only about half as sissy as that his brother would never let it go, and so he was preparing himself for the worst.
But Alfred wasn’t about to laugh at him this time; instead he grinned brilliantly. “I like it, it’s awesome!!”
And he and his brother shared a laugh, a noogie, and a light shoulder shove that was more playful than violent before they went back to their drawings.
The rest of the day was mostly uneventful, and only because Francis had taken it upon himself to make dinner that evening. Soon enough it was time for bed, but Alfred was far too restless that night to go to sleep.
…In retrospect, the noises coming from the room down the hall weren’t helping matters much.
“Mattie!” The elder whispered urgently, sitting up in his bed when the shouts and bangs from their fathers’ room started to get too loud.
“Wake up, Matt!”
“H-huh? Al, you had a bad dream?” The younger twin murmured, almost used to being awoken by his scaredy-cat big brother. Alfred shook his head, but it couldn’t be seen in the dark room.
“There are noises coming from Daddy and Papa’s room.”
“Al, don’t be silly, Daddy and Papa don’t get attacked by monsters.” Matthew dismissed, turning over to snuggle with his bear once more, but Alfred was out of his bed and shaking him by the arm only seconds later.
“No, listen!”
True enough, loud groans and the occasion smash could be heard, as well as the colorful curse word every now and again.
“You wine basta- nnngh, Francis!”
Now Matthew was concerned. “Is Papa hurting Daddy?”
Alfred’s brow was set in concentration, and he was quick to decide “We have to go save him!”
Sadly, a locked door was not a part of Alfred’ heroic plans. Still the little boy refused to be deterred, and even though Matt was tugging at his sleeve and telling him to just forget it, and go back to bed (“You can even sleep in my bed if you’re scared,” he’d offered), he knocked on the door. Hard.
“Fuck, Francis, stop that!! Can’t you hear the knocking!? You woke them up, you bastard!!”
“Ah, but mon cher, you’re the one making all the noise. Fear not, I’ll take nos petits back to bed and come back for you~”
There were sounds of shuffling and wrestling from the other side of the door, before it opened just enough for Francis to slip out (though Matt though he saw his daddy in the bed, bare-chested and absolutely red-faced before the door shut).
“You boys should not be awake. Allez, back to bed for you.” He sounded a bit disgruntled, and his was red and sticky with sweat as he scooped the boys up and walked them back down the hall.
“No! We heard you hurting Daddy, and we don’t like it!!”
Francis chuckled. “I’m not hurting him, we are merely doing things that all married grown ups do.”
“Really?” Alfred asked, sounding like one of those interrogators on cop shows; what was the boy watching?
“Oui.” The older man responded, dropping Matthew on his bed and turning to cross the room, before Alfred tugged his (severely mussed)
shirt and said “I wanna sleep with Mattie!”
The Frenchman sighed, but smiled as he put Alfred down beside his brother, and the twin instantly curled together under the covers.
“Bonne nuit, papa.” Matthew yawned, smiling as Francis’ beard ticked his cheek when he got his goodnight kiss.
“Bonne nuit, mes anges.” He replied after kissing Alfred as well, and quickly he left the room, shutting the door behind him.
“See Al -yawn-, there was -yawn- nothing to be scared of.”
“I guess you’re right…” Alfred frowned, still not completely convinced (after all, Papa had lied to him just a few hours ago, hadn’t he?).
“Yup. Now -yawn- goodnight, Alfred.”
“Wait!”
“What?” The younger boy sounded more groggy than before, apparently already half asleep, so Alfred was quick to press their noses
together once again, a smile on his face.
“Love you, Mattie.”
“Love you too, Alfie. Goodnight.”
“Night.”
It was only moments later when both boys were asleep, still lying close in each other’s arms.
End.
------
So, good, bad, OOC, totally insane? Tell me what you guys think of this one; it was certainly a blast to write~
Also, there is a sort of accompanying fanart to this (also done by me), which you can find here: HERE!!
Author/Artist: myself, chromatic_coma
Character(s)/Pairing(s): young!Canada, young!America, France, England, FrUK, brotherly America/Canada
Genre: Family, Humor, Romance
Rating: T
Warnings: Groping, Cursing, Implied Sex
Summary: Canada quite often has a hard time getting along with his hyperactive older twin, but that doesn't mean he doesn't love him
x-posted to (get ready for this): hetalia, hamburger_st, hetanada, papafrmomauk, usaxcanada, what_the_fruk
Pouty Lips, Missing Bears and Eskimo Kisses
If Matthew Kirkland-Bonnefoy was asked right at this moment to name one thing he absolutely did not like, his answer would have been a quick, sharp “Alfred!”
“Kumajirou? Kumajirou?! Where are you?!!” The tiny blond called, peaking under his bed covers and the t-shirts his brother had thrown all over their floor, his tone on the verge of hysteria. “Where are you!?”
“He’s not going to answer you, silly, he’s not real.” Alfred was standing in the doorway of the room, amused by the game of hide-and-seek (because Matt was never going to find his bear).
“He is too real!!” The younger twin snapped, going up to his brother and poking him in the chest. “And when I find him he’s gonna help me beat you up for getting him lost!!” Anger was quickly replaced with worry. “I wonder if he’s scared of being alone. Kumajirou doesn’t like to be alone…” Tears were welling up much faster in his violet eyes, but he blinked them away to try and keep up his search.
After another fruitless five minutes of searching, the twins’ bedroom was deemed bear-free, and that’s when Matthew ran out of the room, sobbing. He had no idea where he was going, only that he was tired of Alfred’s teasing him about not finding Kumajirou (why did he have to have an older brother who was so good at hide and seek anyways?!), and kept running down the hall.
Until he ran right into Francis’ leg, that is.
“Mathieu?” The Frenchman blinked, taking a moment to catch up with the situation, but not taking too long to notice his son sobbing against him. Placing the basket of clean laundry he’d finished on the ground, he gently reached down and stroked Matt’s blond locks, “Qu’est-ce qu’il y a, mon petit? What’s wrong?”
Matthew allowed himself to be scooped up into his father’s arms, burying his face into Francis’ clean blue shirt.
“A-Alfred hid K-Kumajirou… and I can’t find him!” The boy sniffled out, and Francis shushed him gently, stroking his hair back.
“Is that all? I know where Kumajirou is, mon petit.”
Matthew sniffled again, rubbing at his nose and giving his father a hopeful look.
“Really?”
“Oui. Now, shall we go rescue him?”
Matthew nodded, and Francis led them over to the hall closet, pulling Kumajirou off the top shelf and handing him to the younger son. Canada reacted quickly, grabbing hold of the bear and pulling it into a vice-like grip.
Francis placed him back down on the ground, amused at just how tight the death-hug Matthew was giving his bear was.
“Merci, papa!!” He grinned, stroking the bear’s fur calmly. “How did you know where to find him?”
“Alfred asked me to put him there. You were playing a game, were you not?”
Matthew felt too betrayed to grace that with an answer. “You did it?! I hate you papa!!” He shouted before storming off to the kitchen, going to look for some maple cookies to make himself and Kumajirou feel better.
But… when he heard sounds coming from the kitchen, Matthew froze in the threshold of the dining area. It sounded like someone was singing… but Alfred was still in their bedroom, crashing his robot action figures, and he’d just run off and left Papa behind with the laundry, so that only left…
Daddy. Arthur Kirkland, Alfred and Matthew’s second adoptive parent, was standing in front of the stove, shielding whatever he was cooking
from Matt’s sight (which the boy figured was probably for the best, since he did not want to know), and loudly humming a Beatles song.
Matthew remained completely silent, and placed his hand over Kumajirou’s mouth so that they would not be exposed. Slowly he turned to leave the room, and was nearly out before he clumsily tripped over a chair, causing them both (and Kumajirou) to topple over with a ’clunk’.
Arthur looked up from the pot he was stirring, eyebrows knitted together as he stopped singing and spotted the source of the crash.
“Matthew? What happened, lad?”
“I tripped.” The short blond commented, hugging his bear and rubbing his aching elbow. Arthur frowned, and put down the wooden spoon before lifting his son off the floor.
“You’ve been crying, haven’t you?”
Matthew nodded feebly. “Alfred and Papa hid Kumajirou from me, and Alfred said he isn’t real!!” He pouted.
“Well, he did inherit the frog’s lack of sight; it’s not his fault he can’t see Kumajirou’s alive, Matthew. As for them hiding him… I’ll have a talk with Alfred, alright? Don’t worry, he won’t do it again. Now, come on, help me set the table for lunch.”
Matt’s stomach lurched, but he nodded, putting Kumajirou in his chair before grabbing the plates from the cabinet and laying them out on the table. The smell in the kitchen was getting stronger, and soon enough it was starting to make Matthew dizzy. So dizzy, he failed to notice that Alfred had come into the dining room until he felt someone tap his shoulder.
“Sorry I made you sad, Mattie.” He mumbled, his gaze focused on the hardwood floor and not his surprised twin. “I didn’t think you would get so sad if Kumajirou was lost.”
Matthew wanted to forgive his brother, but he found himself frowning instead. “You shouldn’t stick him in a closet, Al, he could die in there!!”
Alfred was just about to open his mouth in protest, but a well aimed glare from Arthur stopped him. Instead he twiddled his thumbs and repeated “Sorry.”
“Hm… it’s okay. Just don’t do it again!” Matthew commanded, wagging his finger at his older brother, who put his hands up defensively.
“I won’t, I won’t!”
“Good.” The younger twin smiled, settling himself in his chair and pulling Kumajirou into his lap, and Alfred climbed up into his chair as well, the table already having been set.
At this point Francis walked in, blew kisses to both his sons, and motioned for them to keep quiet with a finger to his lips. The kids consented, nodding, and the Frenchman quietly snuck up behind Arthur, who was once again at the stove, adding spices to his concoction.
Wordlessly, he brushed his hand over the Briton’s derrière, before grabbing a hold of it and squeezing appraisingly.
Arthur, for his part, reacted quite beautifully, first turning a bold shade of crimson and squeaking, before coming to his senses and swinging his food-covered stirring spoon into Francis’ face threateningly.
“KEEP YOUR HANDS OFF OF ME, WINO!!”
“Ah, mon coeur, that’s not what you said last night~”
Arthur got even redder, if that was possible, and gaped like a fish out of water. Alfred was rather amused, while Matthew was too busy distracting himself with his napping bear to pay it any heed (besides, he was a bit more used to Francis than Alfred was at this point, and had seen this millions of times before).
“Francis!” He snapped, tone hushed and violent. “Don’t say things like that in front of the boys, you’ll corrupt them! And if you so much as look at me lecherously again, it’ll be the last thing you ever see!”
Francis pressed a chaste kiss over Arthur’s knuckles, and looked up at the Briton with a smirk. “At least it will be a lovely lasting image, non? Viens, if you are done cooking, let us eat before it burns.”
Though, to be quite honest, Francis suspected that the food was already burned, or somehow beyond consumption. Was it really supposed to bubble like that? And that odor… looking back at his boys, Francis felt a pang of pity, and something in his mind wondered if he could be arrested for allowing his sons to eat Arthur’s cooking…
Still, they had to eat something, and knowing Arthur the man would become offended and upset if they did not eat his food (and,
consequently, Francis would have a much tougher time getting into his bed that night). So, catching sight of Alfred and Matthew’s alarmed looks when they realized that, no, he was not about to save them, he simply gave them a look to prepare themselves while Arthur cut the fire off the pot, and brought it over to the dining area.
When Alfred and Matthew’s bowls were put in front of them, each boy held his breath immediately. Alfred seemed to conjure up a bottle of ketchup, and was now liberally coating his… whatever the hell it was, while Matthew was doing the same with his special bottle of maple syrup.
It was only when their bowls were more condiment than cooking at they felt safe even trying a tiny spoonful. Arthur’s face had fallen a bit at that, so Francis held his breath and tried the stew exactly as it was…
…and instantly started choking. The thick, chunky liquid practically stuck to his throat and burned, so much so that he started up a hacking cough, reaching wildly for the glass of water on the table, and knocking over Matthew’s maple syrup as he grabbed it.
It was not until he was finished with the entire glass, his throat thankfully significantly calmer, that he realized he’d not only knocked over the syrup, but that he sent it pouring all over the younger twin as it fell, settling nicely in his lap as it spilled out all over Matthew and Kumajirou.
The stickiness was becoming a problem, as Matt’s hands were covered, and therefore so was everything else he touched. Confused and panicked, he could not get a good grip on anything at all, much less the syrup, and his struggles were starting to make him hysterical.
“Don’t worry Mattie!” Alfred exclaimed, grabbing the bottle and setting it upright with one hand, and picking up the messy Kumajirou with the other. It was only a few seconds later when Arthur was up, clicking his tongue at the mess, but smoothing Matthew’s hair back in an attempt to soothe him.
“Don’t cry now lad, let’s just go get you cleaned up. I’m certain you can take care of this mess, Francis?” The bite at the end of Arthur’s tone let Francis know that now he was not only hurt about the choking, but that he fully blamed Francis for the entire situation, and so the Frenchman simply nodded as his partner lifted Matthew up off his seat from his underarms, everything else too sticky to touch, and carried him off to the bathroom.
“I’ll go get the towel, cuz I’m the hero!!” Alfred proclaimed, running into the kitchen and grabbing the tea towel, running it under the tap and rushing it back over to the mess excitedly. Francis could only laugh at Al’s energy, ruffling his hair as he accepted the wet cloth. Alfred frowned, fixing his hair, and watching intently as Francis wiped down the chair, table, and floor.
“What is it, mon petit, is there something on your mind?” He asked after a few moment’s silence, realizing that Alfred’s mind was wandering, even as he was watching his papa clean up.
The blond nodded bashfully, and Francis found that curious; what was it that it had Alfred acting shyly?
“Why do you squeeze Daddy’s butt?” The words spilled out of his mouth quickly, and he instantly put his hands over the orifice when he was done talking, but his eyes were shining with curiosity. Amusement spread quickly across the Frenchman’s face, as he crouched to look
Alfred directly in the eyes.
“I do it to show him how much I love him, of course.”
“Really? But… he doesn’t look like he likes it much.” Alfred seemed so willing to believe it, though, that Francis knew it would be easy to convince the boy. Wearing he most serious expression he could muster, the man shook his head.
“Trust me, mon petit, he loves it. Your father is simply too shy to say so, so he pretends he does not appreciate it.”
Alfred took a moment to take it all in, before repeating, “So, you touch Daddy’s butt because you love him, and that’s okay?”
Francis smiled, tapping his son lightly on the nose. “Exactement. Now, come help me prepare something that is edible, while your father is not here.”
Matthew and Alfred were once again in their rooms, a wet Kumajirou napping on the younger twin’s bed while both boys lay on their stomachs on the floor, scribbling crayon drawings to hang up on the fridge.
“Alfieeeee, please, give me the red crayon.” Matthew pouted, begging for what must’ve been the tenth time for the color. Why was his brother
so stubborn…
“No, I already told you, I need it!”
“But I need it too! I can’t draw my leaves until I get the red crayon!”
Alfred scoffed. “Leaves aren’t even red, dummy, they’re green.”
“My leaves are red!” Matthew frowned. “You’re such a meanie, Alfred! Don‘t call me a dummy!”
Alfred sneered, intentionally jabbing the red crayon harder against the page to rub it in Matt’s face, but immediately after he felt a little guilty, especially when he caught sight of his baby brother’s pouty lips and furrowed brow. Wordlessly, he dropped the red crayon over Matt’s page, trying to seem nonchalant about it, as if he no longer needed the color. Matthew looked up confusedly, and when he saw Alfred’s bored expression he silently took the crayon and started scribbling.
That’s when Alfred knew he messed up; his brother would usually have said “thank you,” and since he didn’t it was obvious he wasn’t happy. Thinking back to the conversation he’d had with his papa, Alfred decided he was going to show Matt that he really loved him.
Reaching his hand out, he quickly squeezed Matthew’s butt.
The tiny Canadian yelped, his face instantly getting redder than the crayon as he jumped up and sat properly.
“Al! What are you doing!?” He flushed; Alfred was suddenly very confused.
“Papa said that’s how you show someone you love them! He said that’s why he does it to Daddy all the time!”
Matthew shook his head, obviously embarrassed. “That’s a no-no thing to do! Remember when Uncle Gilbert did it to Lovino and Uncle Antonio yelled at him? It’s …in-a… inappr- bad!”
When Alfred realized that his argument was futile now, he was becoming embarrassed as well, but his pride refused to let it show.
“Well then… how am I supposed to show you I love you so that you stop being mad at me?!” He countered, and was surprised when
Matthew’s eyes suddenly widened.
“So that I can stop being mad at you…?” He repeated, and Alfred nodded vigorously. Matthew timidly tapped his fingertips to his chin in thought, before shifting over on the floor, closer to his brother. When they were sitting as close as they could to one another, the younger twin leaned forward and pressed his nose to his brother’s, brushing them together in an Eskimo kiss.
“There,” he said as he slid back over to where he’s been sitting before. “That’s our special ’I love you’, okay?” It was obvious that Matthew was a bit embarrassed, and with good reason; usually when he did things only about half as sissy as that his brother would never let it go, and so he was preparing himself for the worst.
But Alfred wasn’t about to laugh at him this time; instead he grinned brilliantly. “I like it, it’s awesome!!”
And he and his brother shared a laugh, a noogie, and a light shoulder shove that was more playful than violent before they went back to their drawings.
The rest of the day was mostly uneventful, and only because Francis had taken it upon himself to make dinner that evening. Soon enough it was time for bed, but Alfred was far too restless that night to go to sleep.
…In retrospect, the noises coming from the room down the hall weren’t helping matters much.
“Mattie!” The elder whispered urgently, sitting up in his bed when the shouts and bangs from their fathers’ room started to get too loud.
“Wake up, Matt!”
“H-huh? Al, you had a bad dream?” The younger twin murmured, almost used to being awoken by his scaredy-cat big brother. Alfred shook his head, but it couldn’t be seen in the dark room.
“There are noises coming from Daddy and Papa’s room.”
“Al, don’t be silly, Daddy and Papa don’t get attacked by monsters.” Matthew dismissed, turning over to snuggle with his bear once more, but Alfred was out of his bed and shaking him by the arm only seconds later.
“No, listen!”
True enough, loud groans and the occasion smash could be heard, as well as the colorful curse word every now and again.
“You wine basta- nnngh, Francis!”
Now Matthew was concerned. “Is Papa hurting Daddy?”
Alfred’s brow was set in concentration, and he was quick to decide “We have to go save him!”
Sadly, a locked door was not a part of Alfred’ heroic plans. Still the little boy refused to be deterred, and even though Matt was tugging at his sleeve and telling him to just forget it, and go back to bed (“You can even sleep in my bed if you’re scared,” he’d offered), he knocked on the door. Hard.
“Fuck, Francis, stop that!! Can’t you hear the knocking!? You woke them up, you bastard!!”
“Ah, but mon cher, you’re the one making all the noise. Fear not, I’ll take nos petits back to bed and come back for you~”
There were sounds of shuffling and wrestling from the other side of the door, before it opened just enough for Francis to slip out (though Matt though he saw his daddy in the bed, bare-chested and absolutely red-faced before the door shut).
“You boys should not be awake. Allez, back to bed for you.” He sounded a bit disgruntled, and his was red and sticky with sweat as he scooped the boys up and walked them back down the hall.
“No! We heard you hurting Daddy, and we don’t like it!!”
Francis chuckled. “I’m not hurting him, we are merely doing things that all married grown ups do.”
“Really?” Alfred asked, sounding like one of those interrogators on cop shows; what was the boy watching?
“Oui.” The older man responded, dropping Matthew on his bed and turning to cross the room, before Alfred tugged his (severely mussed)
shirt and said “I wanna sleep with Mattie!”
The Frenchman sighed, but smiled as he put Alfred down beside his brother, and the twin instantly curled together under the covers.
“Bonne nuit, papa.” Matthew yawned, smiling as Francis’ beard ticked his cheek when he got his goodnight kiss.
“Bonne nuit, mes anges.” He replied after kissing Alfred as well, and quickly he left the room, shutting the door behind him.
“See Al -yawn-, there was -yawn- nothing to be scared of.”
“I guess you’re right…” Alfred frowned, still not completely convinced (after all, Papa had lied to him just a few hours ago, hadn’t he?).
“Yup. Now -yawn- goodnight, Alfred.”
“Wait!”
“What?” The younger boy sounded more groggy than before, apparently already half asleep, so Alfred was quick to press their noses
together once again, a smile on his face.
“Love you, Mattie.”
“Love you too, Alfie. Goodnight.”
“Night.”
It was only moments later when both boys were asleep, still lying close in each other’s arms.
End.
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So, good, bad, OOC, totally insane? Tell me what you guys think of this one; it was certainly a blast to write~
Also, there is a sort of accompanying fanart to this (also done by me), which you can find here: HERE!!