[fanfic] the switch - 01
Title: The Switch - Chapter 01
Author: silentside
Characters: F/A/C/E
Note/Warning: Based on this very random update of the same title here and now few days later...orz
- Drunken Arthur being constantly referred as DAD and nothing else :|
- Some usage of french words (well, it is Francis)
00 - Prologue
Summary: In his drunken rage, Arthur placed a spell on Francis, causing him to de-age by half a millennia. However there is a side-effect: His son Matthew Williams matured 500 years ahead of his time. Hilarity and chaos ensue
The Switch
{ Chapter 01 }
Last Night - During a World Event Post-Awards Party
“Where is he?!” Arthur spat, soaking wet from head to foot as he slammed the doors wide open. It caught little attention: everyone else was busy having a good time in there. He strode in furiously, looking like a wet dog and missing one shoe as he searched for Bonnefoy.
From outside, one can catch a glimpse of Gilbert and Antonio trying to suppress their laughter.
“Where is that bloody pillock?! He is going to get it!” He roared, which again made little difference, unless Arthur’s shout can match the loud blaring music inside.
“Hey!” A cheery Asian with a hair curl perked up, approaches the bar area where Alfred is drinking, tapping his shoulder. The bespectacled blond turned around. “You have been looking for your old man right?” He pointed with his thumb, “He is over there!”
Alfred placed his drink down and tilted his head a little, trying to scan the surroundings behind Yong Soo. With the bright amalgam of flashing colors and sea of people’s heads, its difficult to spot Arthur at first--until he saw him dripping wet and flailing, his angry brows contorted in an angry frown as he struggled to surge forward. Alfred heads out towards him and as he came nearer, he saw his clothes and his brows raised up to his hairline.
Wearing assorted jewelry, tight torn jeans and a leather vest, Arthur Kirkland looks like he is having a mid-life crisis.
“Whoa!” he hollered, “Hey pops, wait up!” Arthur didn’t bother turning around, moving faster as his vision homed in on a certain Frenchman who is clearly enjoying himself, conversing and flirting with a group of women by the lounge area. Alfred’s eyes squinted only to cringe after seeing what the man was wearing, for only Francis is man enough to pull off an impossible pair of man-leggings. These two are really HAVING some serious mid-life crisis.
“Francis!!”
“Why, hello there, mon cherie~” he purred, turning around to face his comrade. “Enjoying the party?”
“Enjoy this!”
Arthur’s fist almost came in contact with the Frenchman’s jaw if Alfred wasn’t there to stop him and pull him away.
“You!” he turned around, struggling with the strength of Alfred’s grip. “You stay away from this, you meddling prat! This is none of your bloody business!”
“Hold it. Are you drunk?”
“I’m..I’m not!” he sputtered. It was an obvious lie, as Arthur reeked with the scent of scotch. “--Let me go!”
Alfred rolled his eyes as he pulled Arthur away, and then looking at Francis, who merely returned his exasperation with a naughty wide smile.
It’s probably better off not knowing what the two were arguing about this time.
“What a spoil sport!” he laughed and said something in French that Alfred certainly didn’t understand, but Arthur caught it quickly and wriggled violently against the American’s grip once more.
“C’mon! Dad!” Alfred grunted, “You’re causing a scene!”
“Mon petit...”
“Ahhh!” Arthur broke from Alfred’s hold, long enough to grab Francis’s arm. He lets out an evil snicker.
“Sed ut perspiciatis unde omnis iste natus error sit voluptatem accusantium doloremque----” his voice trembles with malicious excitement, as he took hold on Francis’s arm with such a vicious grip. “eaque ipsa quae--”
“That’s it!” Alfred growled, mustering enough strength to yank off the drunk and half-crazy Englishman. Arthur let out a strangled cry as Alfred pried him off and whisked him over his shoulder casually like a sack of potatoes. “You’re batshit crazy! We’re going home!”
“Ahhh! Bugger you! Put mer down you berk!”
A stream of English curses flew out continuously from Arthur’s mouth as Alfred whisked him away, kicking and struggling over his shoulder. This time it created quite a scene and the crowd quickly made way for them to pass through as Alfred headed out to the nearest exit.
“What happened?” came a soft voice. “Are they alright?”
Francis glanced at the fast approaching figure smartly dressed in a charcoal gray suit and pinstriped blue shirt. “Ah, Alfred! That was fast~!”
The tall figure frowned, he was holding a small tray filled with various bottles of liquor and handed it to Francis. “Very funny, Papa.” Matthew said sarcastically, looking visibly miffed. “Of all people you should--”
“Papa ez joking!” He laughed, placing the tray down as the women excitedly get their drinks.“You should have seen the look on your face~! Mignon! Come now, cher. Du calme!”
“ Uhum. Bien sûr, Papa...” Matthew warily glanced at the exit, he swore he heard loud English cursing, a loud sickening thud and something getting smashed into pieces. “What did you do to Dad this time? I saw him trying to beat you up a while ago...”
“Ah! It’s nothing!” he exclaimed, dramatically swiping his blond hair as he exudes sparkles. Matthew rolled his eyes. “You know Angleterre, he eez a tempestous one! He eez overcome by his emotions upon seeing my gorgeous self again!”
“Ez..I mean is there anything else you need, Papa?” Matthew sighed, “I will be joining the guys over there in a few minutes and I wouldn’t back for a while so let me know.”
“It’s okay, my dear. I can take it from here.” He re-assured him with a nod, “You can go to your friends now.”
Matthew politely excused himself from his Papa’s company and they responded in kind by sending giggles and flirtatious looks towards his direction, enough to make him squirm. As he turned around to leave, Francis gave him a playful slap on the rump, surprising him.
“P-Papa!” he yelped, his face growing red. “C’mon!”
“You want another one, mon fils~?”
“NO!”
And with that, Matthew immediately left. He can still hear his Papa’s laughter as he caught up with his other brother nations.
“That would be my boy, Mathieu. He ez one of the ‘biggest’ in ze whole world!” He can hear his Papa say. “After all, he does take from moi...if you know what I mean!”
“I’m sorry I’m late!” Matthew apologized to the taciturn Asian and to their other brothers waiting quietly on the other end of the room. “But knowing Papa...”
“That’s alright, mate.” the most tanned among them answered, “We all know how it’s like...so yeah!”
“Are you alright?” The Asian nation with slightly thick brows asked, looking concerned. “You look a little pale.”
“Oh it’s nothing!” Matthew shrugged, “I probably need some fresh air. So, are we heading out yet?”
--
“You should have let me--huurggh!”
“Dad, NO! NOT at the CARPETING!” Alfred turned around, almost unbuckling himself as he tried to toss some tissue rolls at Arthur. “Great! Just... GREAT!” He lifted his hands in exasperation, “I just had that washed the other day!”
The older blond wiped his mouth with the back of his palm, “Bollocks...” he groaned weakly as he tried to sit up, only to end up groggily slumping at the back of the driver’s seat. His green depths looking glazed as he turned his attention to Alfred.
“Arr you even my boy?” he drawled from the corner of his mouth, “Well, are you?”
“Here we go again...”
“You look nothing like meh, even have hish eyesh!” It sounds like he is starting to cry, “Hish bloody brows and his blue eyesh...”
Alfred sighed, turning the ignition of the vehicle and starts to drive away, turning the player on, just loud enough to drown Arthur’s moping while hitting his forehead repeatedly on his new leatherette covered car seats. Alfred stole a quick glimpse of him from the mirror as he finally collapsed to the back seat, whimpering.
It is a strange evening, when they came for the event, it looked like the older ones are dressed like they’re trying to relive their glory days (or something like it). Suddenly, he felt he and Matthew are a bit too overdressed for the occasion.
At that moment his phone started to ring, playing to the tune of the star-spangled banner. He flipped it open.
“Yo, Matt!” he answered the other line, “I’m on the road right now, so yeah. What’s up?”
He quickly glanced over his shoulder. “Oh, Dad just had too much drinks. ” he chuckled, as Arthur slowly slipped from his view by the mirror and collapsed face down groaning on the seat. “As always. Didn’t expect him to create a scene though. What happened anyways? Huh, You don’t have a clue?”
“I wur huv my rehvungh...”
“Oh! You found his shoe!” He laughed, “Well...I didn’t notice THAT was missing! I think that would explain why he is dripping wet. Nope, I dunno why he got wet either. But it seemed like old man Francis was involved, so I guess it’s better off not knowing! Haha!”
“Hul seee”
“Heh, just take it home with you! I’ll tell him to get it once he is sober!” He glanced over his shoulder again, “Ahaha! You should have seen this! He is face planting on his own puke right now!”
Arthur let out another moaning sound, cursing as he tried to push himself up, realizing he is lying in his own pool of vomit. “We are almost here now, I think he is awake, catch ya later or something, bye!”
--
Arthur vaguely remembers the events that transpired that evening, he recalls being drunk--and pissed. Very pissed with Francis Bonnefoy for some reason he hardly remembered, but he knew it involved the hotel’s pool and his Bad Touch friends.
And there is Alfred, whom he told him to wait for him since they were supposed to discuss something--he also forgot what it was, but he took the responsibility of calming him down and taking him home. Alfred F. Jones, in one of the rare times that he gets to act maturely, pried him off of Francis and took him home, made sure he is alright and not break anything before he left.
Oh dear lord, he remembers it now, he puked in his bloody car.
“Ahaha! You should have seen this! He’s face planting on his own puke right now!”
He swore he heard something click and some snickering as he tried to lift himself up. Goddamn it, that git! I will get him for this!
But first thing’s first, why on God’s green earth is he in the bloody attic?
“What the...” Arthur grumbled, trying to move his lips from the dusty wooden floor. He probably passed out there, because the last thing he remembered is Alfred clearing the living room as he tried to get him to sit down, and now, he somehow he ended up in the attic.
He slowly got up from the floor, pushing himself up wearily, blinking a couple of times as he tried to steady himself, getting his vision to focus. There are chalk-drawn markings on the floor which led towards an intricate circular pattern a few feet in ahead of him. A slight distance away from his left were several books, thrown into a corner, most of them open. Some of the pages have been torn and scattered all over the room.
What did he do? He asked himself. He couldn’t remember who all this came to be. “Heavens, I don’t remember doing any of this!” He finally said out loud, his eyes searched frantically as he scanned the room, fumbling over the books, the incantations, to find any clue or indication to what he did. He is not familiar with the circular pattern , it’s probably one of those spells from long ago that he didn’t use often.
With notes, torn pages on his hands; books and scrolls tucked underneath each arm, he paused for awhile, panting, staring at the circle as he stood barefoot right in the middle. It’s very--bloody intricate, he couldn’t believe how he was able to draw and write all of this during his drunken state.
“Relax, Arthur. Relax..” Arthur closed his eyes briefly, trying to figure and sift mentally through all his acquired esoteric knowledge from the past millennias, trying to recall anything or something, from the past night that could give him a clue.
Suddenly he was overwhelmed by a strong wave of nausea and a pounding headache. Of course, a hangover. He muttered a curse under his breath, pressing a palm over his right eye, mentally exerting himself. “What did I do...” he asked himself helplessly.
Then his phone started to ring. Arthur almost tripped over. He didn’t realize it was in his back pocket until this morning.
“Hello?” He answered, raking one hand towards his hair, glancing at the phone. There is no record of the number. “Who is this?” he asked irritatedly, “Oh..it’s you Matthew. You changed numbers? You didn’t? Well it’s not in the directory...anyway...what is it? My shoe? You called me for just my bloody...Hello? What’s that screaming?” Arthur winced at what sounds like a shrill, high-pitch voice at the background. “Your Papa? Did he take a girl home? No? Well, I can’t hear you! You need to stop whispering, son! What is it---”
There came a loud crash and the other line went dead.
“Hello? Matthew! Matthew!”
It was then that a fragment of what happened last evening flashed before Arthur. He remembered clawing himself away from Alfred’s grip, grabbing Bonnefoy’s arm for a good few minutes, laughing manically, muttering something.
“Sed ut perspiciatis unde omnis...”
His eyes widened, finally connecting the dots of last night and the sudden urgent phone call.
“Shit---!” Without a minute to spare, Arthur ran out of the room.
--
Few Hours later
After rushing for a hot shower and immediately hitting the road, Arthur tried to reach Matthew on his phone to no avail. He’s not answering it, but he’s certain that his soft-spoken son is with his Father, so he decided that the first place to stop by is his place.
No sooner has he reached the front door did Arthur start rapping furiously, only to realize, much to his embarrassment, that there is a doorbell. Just as he was about to press the button, the door finally opened. The tall blond figure stood wearily, rubbing his eyes, wearing nothing but a pair of jeans and maple boxers peeking out of the sides.
“I came for Matthew, where is he?” He spat, looking straight ahead and letting himself in, not noticing the confused expression on the other blond’s face. “I know he’s here. He called me. There was screaming. There’s a girl here too! What have you done to him?!”
“T-There is no girl.”
“I knew what I heard!” He bristled, calling out as he went in, “Matthew!”
“D-Don’t!”
“What is it now, Frog?!” He turned around furiously, stomping forward when he noticed the peeking undergarment. The jeans are starting to give way. Francis just have the natural ability to shed clothes at will, especially in front of him. “I gave those maple boxers to him last Christmas! Why are you wearing them?!”
“Dad!” the blond cried, affixing his glasses and then shaking him. “It’s me, Matthew!”
“Unhand me you, per---” then the words finally sunk into him. He sputtered, his eyes widening. The well structured face with that all-familiar facial hair is definitely Francis, but the eyes, they were of a shade of purple.
“God Save the Queen...” he gasped. But wasn’t Francis the one he...
“VIVE LA REPUBLIQUE!” came a shrilll voice, making Arthur turn around, he was greeted by a pair of furious bright blue eyes, a flash of blond hair and a frying pan solidly striking his face.
And everything went black.
--
Wake up, ma cherie~”
Arthur felt the left side of his face throbbing as he slowly swam into consciousness.
“Wake up! I know you can hear me!”
This is the second time he passed out within the day, with little recollection on what has transpired earlier, he felt somebody’s weight pressing on his torso and tiny fists pounding on his chest.
Oh god, why is that annoying voice so familiar.
He slowly opened his eyes. He’s in someone’s room and the bright light is making his head pound once more. He remembered driving all the way from his place to reach Matthew and when he came in...
He blinked, finally realizing that a very young and feminine Francis is staring down at him, sitting on his belly with a frying pan on his grip.
He then remembered what happened.
“Oh, bloody hell no!” He sat up with a start, only to be shoved back by Francis’s bare foot.
“Oh, bloody oui!” He remarked, making an emphasis on the last word, jumping up and pressing one foot hard against the Englishman’s jaw. “You have some explaining to do, Angleterre! I want some answers!” he shouted, as a white creature loomed behind him.
Is that Kumajiro? Even the bear has transformed?!
“Mrff--” Arthur struggled. Even in his reduced petite frame, Francis still proves to be quite formidable, pinning him down on the floor with one foot on his face and the other by his arm. He’s only wearing a loose collared shirt that, Arthur believes, belonged to Matthew.
And nothing else underneath, as the englishman dreadfully realized. The now de-aged Francis is standing with legs wide open as he hovered above him, giving him quite a view.
“Then let me, you idiot!” He yelled, taking hold of the feet underneath his jaw and giving him one strong shove, making Francis trip backwards and temporarily lose momentum. The blond took this opportunity to snatch the lethal pan away, tossing it aside and pushing Francis hard enough for him to fall back on the floor. By this time, Arthur’s face was already blue.“A-And put something on underneath that shirt!!!”
“Pourquoi?” he tilted his head on the side, mockingly asking as he sat with his legs partially spread open. “Don’t you like what you see?”
Before Arthur can have his rebuttal, he heard a low growl and saw Matthew’s polar bear once more. So he wasn’t seeing things. Francis took this distraction as an opportunity and leap up to his feet, charging towards Arthur.
“Papa, enough!”
“Waah!”
He almost forgot about Matthew. Suddenly he was behind him, his lean long arms reaching out and pulling him into a tight embrace. With Francis’s de-aged state, Matthew was a giant, even taller than him and Arthur by a good few inches even before being accelerated to his current state. His height matched his strength, a fact that hardly anyone knew since people keep forgetting him or mistaking him for Alfred.
“Let me go!” He struggled in his grip, as Arthur tried to register the chaos around him.”Listen to your Papa! This ez for the best!”
“No, it’s not!” Matthew argued, trying to press the wriggling figure close to him, “Beating Dad for answers won’t solve anything!”
“Zis eez how we did it for centuries! Do not question my authority!”
“And how many times have you won an argument trying to beat Dad up?”
Francis stopped struggling.
“Yeah, I thought so too.” Matthew sighed, his arms finally relaxing around his paternal figure. “We can resolve this like grown-ups. He wouldn’t be here if he wasn’t worried about me.”
Francis mumbled, but not loud enough to be heard. “Only you?”
Arthur watched in disbelief, the de-aging has affected the Frog’s behavior in more ways than one and observed him throw a brief tantrum in his son’s loose embrace while slowly getting reduced to tears.
“He can do anything to moi! Beat me up, seize my vital regions, t-turn me into burnt pudding! b-but---” he stammered, sniffing as his blue round eyes mists up. “But look what he did to you, mon garcon!”
“I-it’s not intentional...he is drunk at that time remember?” Matthew said awkwardly, trying to re-assure him yet not knowing what to do. Francis is rubbing both eyes with one hand as Matthew slowly pulled him close. He then looked over his Papa’s shoulder and to a gawking Arthur, “I’m sure he didn’t mean this. Am I right....Dad?”
“Y-yes...” Arthur nodded, swallowing hard. “I came here to explain.”
Which is hard, seeing them like this. He thought grimly.
“I lost you once! Do you know how hard it was for me, having no choice but to give you up? Do you know how it hurts knowing he will feed you with all zat sad excuse of a cuisine?!” He cried, “He treats you like you’re not even there and now this...this is beyond unforgivable!”
“Nobody’s perfect, Papa.” he re-assured him once more, “Look, I turned out fine! And he said he can explain everything. Come now!” He gently prodded him towards the nearest chair, by the kitchen counter. “Everything will be alright, please...stop crying now...”
“I’m not crying..” Matthew heard him grumble weakly. “And...Matthew?”
“Yes?”
“Can you lift Papa up? S'il vous plaît? My dainty legs cannot reach the chair.”
--
Francis has considerably calmed down after crying (which he still wouldn’t admit. Pouting and mumbling that he was merely ‘appalled’ by what has happened to his favorite son.) and along with Matthew, patiently listened to Arthur’s explanation.
“Papa, I believe him.” Matthew said, looking at the small pouting face drinking a glass of fruit juice. “When I meet up with the guys, I called Alfred up to know what happened. Dad was really terribly drunk, which is why he hardly recalls anything!”
“Oh? How drunk?”
“Uhm...Alfred sent me a pic as a proof...”
“Let me see~”
“Oh no you don’t!” Arthur quickly reached out, stopping Matthew from taking out his cellphone. “Matthew, that is not necessary--” he glared at the smirking Francis, “Whatever Alfred sent you last night, delete it now!”
“Or you can just tell me, dear heart.”
Matthew looks torn, “Dad passed out face down on his own vomit...”
“I figured.” Francis resisted the urge to burst out giggling as Arthur shot him a deathly glare. “But that does not explain how you got affected and that’s what I want to know.”
“Delete it, Matthew. NOW.”
“Y-yes...”
“As I told you before...” Arthur answered, his gaze not leaving Matthew’s phone until the discriminating photos were deleted. “I can’t remember what I exactly did, but I do remember it was only YOU that I cast a curse upon.”
“And that curse was?”
“I only remembered a few words when I took hold of you...I know it has something to do with time and balance.”
“But why my Mathieu? What has he got to do with any of zis? It’s me you want!”
Arthur placed both palms on his forehead, sighing heavily. He tried to figure that out as well. Then it hit him. “Wait.” he said, looking up with a start. “Did you have any form of physical contact with anyone after I cursed you?”
“Non...” Francis pondered wistfully, “I only held my fine glass of wine zat evening. And all these women all they do was talk about zemselves....”
“Papa, you did.”
“Moi?”
“Before I left, you squeezed my bottom. Remember?” Matthew continued, “You even asked me if I want another!”
Francis blinked a couple of times, slowly straightening up as the words sunk in. “Oh dear...” he tapped his fingers on the table edges, biting his lip. “I think I do remember doing that...”
Arthur facepalmed, “There you have it!” he exclaimed, “You passed it on to Matthew!”
Then came a brief moment of silence, before Matthew finally spoke up, shifting uncomfortably. “So...uh...what will happen now? To the two of us?”
“I’ll go back and check in my library once more.” Arthur answered, “If there’s any clue to which incantation I used in particular, I can sort it out from the pile. It might take awhile, because I’m not familiar with it at all. this...it’s...it’s probably a spell that I haven’t used for god knows how long or something I shouldn’t even be using.”
“Well, you can try asking someone else for help?” Francis asked, swinging his legs under the chair as he propped his chin on his hands, looking at Arthur impatiently. “Our dilemma will be resolved faster that way.”
“Don’t be foolish! No one is as familiar with what I do or have the same knowledge as...”
Francis smiled.
Arthur’s face grew pale, “NO! I’m not asking my brothers’ help for this!”
“Your older brothers, Angleterre.” Francis rolls his eyes, “If there is anything beyond you, it is highly possible that they know all about it.”
“You just want to know how he is doing!” Arthur sputtered, a dash of red becoming evident on his cheeks.
“And when he sees me now I assume flames of young love will be re-kindled once more~!” Francis answered sarcastically, to which Matthew reacted by facepalming. The blond reached out from across the table, giving Arthur a quick headslap. “I’m not just referring to him, you imbecile! You have other brothers, the one who lives near you for instance!”
“Yes Dad, he seemed pretty nice!” Matthew agreed, “Except that one time when we have a Rugby match or was that football...”
“Wait!...what?!”
“Well Papa thought I need to learn from the best when it came to field sports so he told me t...” and Matthew was abruptly cut off when Francis kicked him from underneath. “Yeow!”
“And I don’t know this?”
“What? You are not his only parent!” Francis pouted, as Matthew whimpered clutching his leg underneath the table. “He needed assistance and I have closer ties to them than you, your own kin!” He saw Arthur’s brow twitch. “Zat’s right. Brings back memories, non?”
“Enough already!” Arthur pounds his fists on the table, “I get it! I’m going to pay them a visit and see what happens. There! Satisfied?”
“Completely~!”
Matthew can almost feel the heated stares the two are silently exchanging. “So...it’s settled then? Dad...Papa?”
Arthur was the first to break away from the stare, standing up. “Yes, Matthew.” he answered wearily, grabbing his coat. “I will head back home, grab a few notes and call them up.”
“Pay them a visit!”
“Yes, I will also pay them a visit.” He said against gritted teeth, glaring at Francis before turning back to Matthew. “This might take awhile, so if you feel anything strange, just call me up and let me know.”
“You mean, both of us.” Francis answered, trying to get down the chair with some difficulty. It’s one of the disadvantages of being reduced to his youthful state. Matthew sighed and helped him down, sensing the sadness and disappointment in his Papa’s voice.
“Well, I suppose you can manage.” Arthur said tersely, not even bothering to look up. “For now, the only choice both of you have is to adjust to your current bodies. And you--” he pointed at Francis, like a father scolding a child. “You will not have a problem with that, but Matthew will need a lot of time getting used to his.”
They both turned to Matthew, looking awkward and uncomfortable in his sudden ‘growth.’ He resembled the frog in some physical aspects that sent shivers to Arthur’s spine. In fact, mistaking him as Francis earlier, with the same toned built and the...hair. No doubt, the hair. No he is not referring to his blond locks, but the bloody hair that is all over his body and his face. He watched as the lad scratched his chin impatiently and rubbed his arms about, feeling naked with only a loose robe draped over his shoulders.
“..I...I will try shaving later.” He said, as if to answer Arthur’s mortified expression. “---or have myself waxed, I dunno.”
“Non!” Francis squealed, almost piercing both of their eardrums. “You are not going to get rid of ze body hair! Non! I wouldn’t allow it!”
“But Papa!” Matthew objected, standing up and towering Francis. “It’s uncomfortable! I’m--I’m not used to all this hair!”
“By now, we all know you have inherited my gorgeous looks. It’s no longer a surprise that you will grow zat amount of hair in a few centuries!” He threw his arms in the air, “You might as well get used to it now!”
“I suggest you shave, Matthew.” Arthur pointed out, ignoring the puffed little blond-framed face in front of him. “Waxing will be bloody painful. Make sure you wear your glasses all the time...”
“I wear my glasses all the time.”
“That’s good...jolly good.” Arthur cannot bring himself to look at Matthew straight in the eye, despite the lad’s harmless expression.“Tie your hair. Make sure that curl of yours really stands out. I mean, it’s already bad you’re being mistaken for that idiot brother of yours---”
“I’m sorry...”
“You have nothing to apologize for, Matthew!”
“Dad, you’re terrified of me. I know it’s because of the way I look---” he points at himself, “I look very much like Papa.”
“Oui!”
“NO!” He almost screamed, “That’s not it, Matthew! Look--” he grabbed him by his arms. “This is just on the outside! Deep inside you are still my sweet, polite, little Matthew...”
“I doubt the ‘little part’...ahonhon...”
“Shut up, Francis!”
“ Dad, I-I’ll be just fine... I think I’ll be going out to er... get something... that fits... ”
Arthur sighed and gave his son a pat on the shoulder. Those shoulders felt quite harder than usual and it made Arthur feel extremely uncomfortable. “ And will you please give your... your father some decent clothes. Your clothes are making him look like...”
Francis cocked an eloquently phrased eyebrow. “ Like what, Angleterre?”
Arthur snorted. “ Will you please help your son get through this phase at least? You’re enjoying your second lease in youth while he has to grapple with everything you are... or were. I will be going now and I don’t want you causing him anymore trouble.”
Francis excitedly grabbed Matthew’s hand. “ So we are going shopping, mon fils?”
Matthew sighed. “ It’s not actual shopping, Papa. We’ll be getting some clothes for you so you won’t feel too small in mine. At least until Dad figures out how to get us back to normal.”
“ As soon as possible.” Arthur agreed and opened the door. “ This has to be done quickly before anyone else figures out what happened and everything falls into utter chaos. I will be going now Matthew. I’ll be checking up on you and the frog later.”
“Okay, Dad.”
“Au Revoir~!”
Arthur grunted, briefly glancing worriedly at Matthew before heading towards his car. As they both watched his vehicle head out of the main driveway, Francis squeezed Matthew’s hand tight.
“I think we better get going now...” Matthew whispered, “I still have some extra cash with me from last night, we could drive by the local outlet and....”
“NON!” Francis stomped his foot. Honestly, his Papa’s habit of suddenly shouting is going to give him a heart attack, if it’s possible or worse, a burst eardrum. “Have you forgotten, who I am, garcon? I would rather impale my bottom on cacti than don such cheaply manufactured clothes!”
“Papa!” Matthew rubbed his ear, tugging Francis back inside, closing the door behind them. “Be reasonable! I don’t have that kind of money with me!”
“Oui, you don’t.” He answered happily, “But I have a special priviledge card! You look for ze owner, show it, and 80% off in all the latest items! If they’re in a better mood, we get everything for free!”
“R-really?”
“Really!” he chirped, “Now, try to get into some of your comfier clothes and let’s go to your car! Hurry! The shops will open in about half an hour!”
Matthew caught up with his excitable father, “Well it’s not exactly a car...it’s more like a Jeep actually.”
“Car, Jeep.. Who cares! Let’s go!” He hopped excitedly towards the stairs and twirled around. “ Oh... And Matthew?”
“Yes?”
“We will buy some new clothes for YOU as well!”
-- end of chapter 01 --
A/N: AHHH LOL readers need to read.
- I blitz this chapter for 1-2 days as fallenangelkat beta/re-phrase/add that French authenticity to Francis. Basically, it's like we live streamed the whole thing ahaha when I should be working I love you google docs.
- The frenchness in his Anglais ez inspired by Pepe Le Pew. Even one line that Francis said there is derived from one of his many quotes. I do not kid. And Arthur is Penelope the cat
- I do not follow canon and Matt here is about a little over 6 ft and Pansy!Francis probably almost around 5 ft...or less
- THINK DISNEY
- Arthur and his OC!Brothers: The first one brought up is Scotland (when Francis mentioned sarcastically the 'rekindling of young love') and the other one is Wales. I read a couple of fics involving this OC and is often described as Proto-Matthew Williams o_O idk. I'm not going to elaborate them here, but imho, they're well-versed with magic and folklore probably even a little better than their brother XD
Author: silentside
Characters: F/A/C/E
Note/Warning: Based on this very random update of the same title here and now few days later...orz
- Drunken Arthur being constantly referred as DAD and nothing else :|
- Some usage of french words (well, it is Francis)
00 - Prologue
Summary: In his drunken rage, Arthur placed a spell on Francis, causing him to de-age by half a millennia. However there is a side-effect: His son Matthew Williams matured 500 years ahead of his time. Hilarity and chaos ensue
The Switch
{ Chapter 01 }
Last Night - During a World Event Post-Awards Party
“Where is he?!” Arthur spat, soaking wet from head to foot as he slammed the doors wide open. It caught little attention: everyone else was busy having a good time in there. He strode in furiously, looking like a wet dog and missing one shoe as he searched for Bonnefoy.
From outside, one can catch a glimpse of Gilbert and Antonio trying to suppress their laughter.
“Where is that bloody pillock?! He is going to get it!” He roared, which again made little difference, unless Arthur’s shout can match the loud blaring music inside.
“Hey!” A cheery Asian with a hair curl perked up, approaches the bar area where Alfred is drinking, tapping his shoulder. The bespectacled blond turned around. “You have been looking for your old man right?” He pointed with his thumb, “He is over there!”
Alfred placed his drink down and tilted his head a little, trying to scan the surroundings behind Yong Soo. With the bright amalgam of flashing colors and sea of people’s heads, its difficult to spot Arthur at first--until he saw him dripping wet and flailing, his angry brows contorted in an angry frown as he struggled to surge forward. Alfred heads out towards him and as he came nearer, he saw his clothes and his brows raised up to his hairline.
Wearing assorted jewelry, tight torn jeans and a leather vest, Arthur Kirkland looks like he is having a mid-life crisis.
“Whoa!” he hollered, “Hey pops, wait up!” Arthur didn’t bother turning around, moving faster as his vision homed in on a certain Frenchman who is clearly enjoying himself, conversing and flirting with a group of women by the lounge area. Alfred’s eyes squinted only to cringe after seeing what the man was wearing, for only Francis is man enough to pull off an impossible pair of man-leggings. These two are really HAVING some serious mid-life crisis.
“Francis!!”
“Why, hello there, mon cherie~” he purred, turning around to face his comrade. “Enjoying the party?”
“Enjoy this!”
Arthur’s fist almost came in contact with the Frenchman’s jaw if Alfred wasn’t there to stop him and pull him away.
“You!” he turned around, struggling with the strength of Alfred’s grip. “You stay away from this, you meddling prat! This is none of your bloody business!”
“Hold it. Are you drunk?”
“I’m..I’m not!” he sputtered. It was an obvious lie, as Arthur reeked with the scent of scotch. “--Let me go!”
Alfred rolled his eyes as he pulled Arthur away, and then looking at Francis, who merely returned his exasperation with a naughty wide smile.
It’s probably better off not knowing what the two were arguing about this time.
“What a spoil sport!” he laughed and said something in French that Alfred certainly didn’t understand, but Arthur caught it quickly and wriggled violently against the American’s grip once more.
“C’mon! Dad!” Alfred grunted, “You’re causing a scene!”
“Mon petit...”
“Ahhh!” Arthur broke from Alfred’s hold, long enough to grab Francis’s arm. He lets out an evil snicker.
“Sed ut perspiciatis unde omnis iste natus error sit voluptatem accusantium doloremque----” his voice trembles with malicious excitement, as he took hold on Francis’s arm with such a vicious grip. “eaque ipsa quae--”
“That’s it!” Alfred growled, mustering enough strength to yank off the drunk and half-crazy Englishman. Arthur let out a strangled cry as Alfred pried him off and whisked him over his shoulder casually like a sack of potatoes. “You’re batshit crazy! We’re going home!”
“Ahhh! Bugger you! Put mer down you berk!”
A stream of English curses flew out continuously from Arthur’s mouth as Alfred whisked him away, kicking and struggling over his shoulder. This time it created quite a scene and the crowd quickly made way for them to pass through as Alfred headed out to the nearest exit.
“What happened?” came a soft voice. “Are they alright?”
Francis glanced at the fast approaching figure smartly dressed in a charcoal gray suit and pinstriped blue shirt. “Ah, Alfred! That was fast~!”
The tall figure frowned, he was holding a small tray filled with various bottles of liquor and handed it to Francis. “Very funny, Papa.” Matthew said sarcastically, looking visibly miffed. “Of all people you should--”
“Papa ez joking!” He laughed, placing the tray down as the women excitedly get their drinks.“You should have seen the look on your face~! Mignon! Come now, cher. Du calme!”
“ Uhum. Bien sûr, Papa...” Matthew warily glanced at the exit, he swore he heard loud English cursing, a loud sickening thud and something getting smashed into pieces. “What did you do to Dad this time? I saw him trying to beat you up a while ago...”
“Ah! It’s nothing!” he exclaimed, dramatically swiping his blond hair as he exudes sparkles. Matthew rolled his eyes. “You know Angleterre, he eez a tempestous one! He eez overcome by his emotions upon seeing my gorgeous self again!”
“Ez..I mean is there anything else you need, Papa?” Matthew sighed, “I will be joining the guys over there in a few minutes and I wouldn’t back for a while so let me know.”
“It’s okay, my dear. I can take it from here.” He re-assured him with a nod, “You can go to your friends now.”
Matthew politely excused himself from his Papa’s company and they responded in kind by sending giggles and flirtatious looks towards his direction, enough to make him squirm. As he turned around to leave, Francis gave him a playful slap on the rump, surprising him.
“P-Papa!” he yelped, his face growing red. “C’mon!”
“You want another one, mon fils~?”
“NO!”
And with that, Matthew immediately left. He can still hear his Papa’s laughter as he caught up with his other brother nations.
“That would be my boy, Mathieu. He ez one of the ‘biggest’ in ze whole world!” He can hear his Papa say. “After all, he does take from moi...if you know what I mean!”
“I’m sorry I’m late!” Matthew apologized to the taciturn Asian and to their other brothers waiting quietly on the other end of the room. “But knowing Papa...”
“That’s alright, mate.” the most tanned among them answered, “We all know how it’s like...so yeah!”
“Are you alright?” The Asian nation with slightly thick brows asked, looking concerned. “You look a little pale.”
“Oh it’s nothing!” Matthew shrugged, “I probably need some fresh air. So, are we heading out yet?”
--
“You should have let me--huurggh!”
“Dad, NO! NOT at the CARPETING!” Alfred turned around, almost unbuckling himself as he tried to toss some tissue rolls at Arthur. “Great! Just... GREAT!” He lifted his hands in exasperation, “I just had that washed the other day!”
The older blond wiped his mouth with the back of his palm, “Bollocks...” he groaned weakly as he tried to sit up, only to end up groggily slumping at the back of the driver’s seat. His green depths looking glazed as he turned his attention to Alfred.
“Arr you even my boy?” he drawled from the corner of his mouth, “Well, are you?”
“Here we go again...”
“You look nothing like meh, even have hish eyesh!” It sounds like he is starting to cry, “Hish bloody brows and his blue eyesh...”
Alfred sighed, turning the ignition of the vehicle and starts to drive away, turning the player on, just loud enough to drown Arthur’s moping while hitting his forehead repeatedly on his new leatherette covered car seats. Alfred stole a quick glimpse of him from the mirror as he finally collapsed to the back seat, whimpering.
It is a strange evening, when they came for the event, it looked like the older ones are dressed like they’re trying to relive their glory days (or something like it). Suddenly, he felt he and Matthew are a bit too overdressed for the occasion.
At that moment his phone started to ring, playing to the tune of the star-spangled banner. He flipped it open.
“Yo, Matt!” he answered the other line, “I’m on the road right now, so yeah. What’s up?”
He quickly glanced over his shoulder. “Oh, Dad just had too much drinks. ” he chuckled, as Arthur slowly slipped from his view by the mirror and collapsed face down groaning on the seat. “As always. Didn’t expect him to create a scene though. What happened anyways? Huh, You don’t have a clue?”
“I wur huv my rehvungh...”
“Oh! You found his shoe!” He laughed, “Well...I didn’t notice THAT was missing! I think that would explain why he is dripping wet. Nope, I dunno why he got wet either. But it seemed like old man Francis was involved, so I guess it’s better off not knowing! Haha!”
“Hul seee”
“Heh, just take it home with you! I’ll tell him to get it once he is sober!” He glanced over his shoulder again, “Ahaha! You should have seen this! He is face planting on his own puke right now!”
Arthur let out another moaning sound, cursing as he tried to push himself up, realizing he is lying in his own pool of vomit. “We are almost here now, I think he is awake, catch ya later or something, bye!”
--
Arthur vaguely remembers the events that transpired that evening, he recalls being drunk--and pissed. Very pissed with Francis Bonnefoy for some reason he hardly remembered, but he knew it involved the hotel’s pool and his Bad Touch friends.
And there is Alfred, whom he told him to wait for him since they were supposed to discuss something--he also forgot what it was, but he took the responsibility of calming him down and taking him home. Alfred F. Jones, in one of the rare times that he gets to act maturely, pried him off of Francis and took him home, made sure he is alright and not break anything before he left.
Oh dear lord, he remembers it now, he puked in his bloody car.
“Ahaha! You should have seen this! He’s face planting on his own puke right now!”
He swore he heard something click and some snickering as he tried to lift himself up. Goddamn it, that git! I will get him for this!
But first thing’s first, why on God’s green earth is he in the bloody attic?
“What the...” Arthur grumbled, trying to move his lips from the dusty wooden floor. He probably passed out there, because the last thing he remembered is Alfred clearing the living room as he tried to get him to sit down, and now, he somehow he ended up in the attic.
He slowly got up from the floor, pushing himself up wearily, blinking a couple of times as he tried to steady himself, getting his vision to focus. There are chalk-drawn markings on the floor which led towards an intricate circular pattern a few feet in ahead of him. A slight distance away from his left were several books, thrown into a corner, most of them open. Some of the pages have been torn and scattered all over the room.
What did he do? He asked himself. He couldn’t remember who all this came to be. “Heavens, I don’t remember doing any of this!” He finally said out loud, his eyes searched frantically as he scanned the room, fumbling over the books, the incantations, to find any clue or indication to what he did. He is not familiar with the circular pattern , it’s probably one of those spells from long ago that he didn’t use often.
With notes, torn pages on his hands; books and scrolls tucked underneath each arm, he paused for awhile, panting, staring at the circle as he stood barefoot right in the middle. It’s very--bloody intricate, he couldn’t believe how he was able to draw and write all of this during his drunken state.
“Relax, Arthur. Relax..” Arthur closed his eyes briefly, trying to figure and sift mentally through all his acquired esoteric knowledge from the past millennias, trying to recall anything or something, from the past night that could give him a clue.
Suddenly he was overwhelmed by a strong wave of nausea and a pounding headache. Of course, a hangover. He muttered a curse under his breath, pressing a palm over his right eye, mentally exerting himself. “What did I do...” he asked himself helplessly.
Then his phone started to ring. Arthur almost tripped over. He didn’t realize it was in his back pocket until this morning.
“Hello?” He answered, raking one hand towards his hair, glancing at the phone. There is no record of the number. “Who is this?” he asked irritatedly, “Oh..it’s you Matthew. You changed numbers? You didn’t? Well it’s not in the directory...anyway...what is it? My shoe? You called me for just my bloody...Hello? What’s that screaming?” Arthur winced at what sounds like a shrill, high-pitch voice at the background. “Your Papa? Did he take a girl home? No? Well, I can’t hear you! You need to stop whispering, son! What is it---”
There came a loud crash and the other line went dead.
“Hello? Matthew! Matthew!”
It was then that a fragment of what happened last evening flashed before Arthur. He remembered clawing himself away from Alfred’s grip, grabbing Bonnefoy’s arm for a good few minutes, laughing manically, muttering something.
“Sed ut perspiciatis unde omnis...”
His eyes widened, finally connecting the dots of last night and the sudden urgent phone call.
“Shit---!” Without a minute to spare, Arthur ran out of the room.
--
Few Hours later
After rushing for a hot shower and immediately hitting the road, Arthur tried to reach Matthew on his phone to no avail. He’s not answering it, but he’s certain that his soft-spoken son is with his Father, so he decided that the first place to stop by is his place.
No sooner has he reached the front door did Arthur start rapping furiously, only to realize, much to his embarrassment, that there is a doorbell. Just as he was about to press the button, the door finally opened. The tall blond figure stood wearily, rubbing his eyes, wearing nothing but a pair of jeans and maple boxers peeking out of the sides.
“I came for Matthew, where is he?” He spat, looking straight ahead and letting himself in, not noticing the confused expression on the other blond’s face. “I know he’s here. He called me. There was screaming. There’s a girl here too! What have you done to him?!”
“T-There is no girl.”
“I knew what I heard!” He bristled, calling out as he went in, “Matthew!”
“D-Don’t!”
“What is it now, Frog?!” He turned around furiously, stomping forward when he noticed the peeking undergarment. The jeans are starting to give way. Francis just have the natural ability to shed clothes at will, especially in front of him. “I gave those maple boxers to him last Christmas! Why are you wearing them?!”
“Dad!” the blond cried, affixing his glasses and then shaking him. “It’s me, Matthew!”
“Unhand me you, per---” then the words finally sunk into him. He sputtered, his eyes widening. The well structured face with that all-familiar facial hair is definitely Francis, but the eyes, they were of a shade of purple.
“God Save the Queen...” he gasped. But wasn’t Francis the one he...
“VIVE LA REPUBLIQUE!” came a shrilll voice, making Arthur turn around, he was greeted by a pair of furious bright blue eyes, a flash of blond hair and a frying pan solidly striking his face.
And everything went black.
--
Wake up, ma cherie~”
Arthur felt the left side of his face throbbing as he slowly swam into consciousness.
“Wake up! I know you can hear me!”
This is the second time he passed out within the day, with little recollection on what has transpired earlier, he felt somebody’s weight pressing on his torso and tiny fists pounding on his chest.
Oh god, why is that annoying voice so familiar.
He slowly opened his eyes. He’s in someone’s room and the bright light is making his head pound once more. He remembered driving all the way from his place to reach Matthew and when he came in...
He blinked, finally realizing that a very young and feminine Francis is staring down at him, sitting on his belly with a frying pan on his grip.
He then remembered what happened.
“Oh, bloody hell no!” He sat up with a start, only to be shoved back by Francis’s bare foot.
“Oh, bloody oui!” He remarked, making an emphasis on the last word, jumping up and pressing one foot hard against the Englishman’s jaw. “You have some explaining to do, Angleterre! I want some answers!” he shouted, as a white creature loomed behind him.
Is that Kumajiro? Even the bear has transformed?!
“Mrff--” Arthur struggled. Even in his reduced petite frame, Francis still proves to be quite formidable, pinning him down on the floor with one foot on his face and the other by his arm. He’s only wearing a loose collared shirt that, Arthur believes, belonged to Matthew.
And nothing else underneath, as the englishman dreadfully realized. The now de-aged Francis is standing with legs wide open as he hovered above him, giving him quite a view.
“Then let me, you idiot!” He yelled, taking hold of the feet underneath his jaw and giving him one strong shove, making Francis trip backwards and temporarily lose momentum. The blond took this opportunity to snatch the lethal pan away, tossing it aside and pushing Francis hard enough for him to fall back on the floor. By this time, Arthur’s face was already blue.“A-And put something on underneath that shirt!!!”
“Pourquoi?” he tilted his head on the side, mockingly asking as he sat with his legs partially spread open. “Don’t you like what you see?”
Before Arthur can have his rebuttal, he heard a low growl and saw Matthew’s polar bear once more. So he wasn’t seeing things. Francis took this distraction as an opportunity and leap up to his feet, charging towards Arthur.
“Papa, enough!”
“Waah!”
He almost forgot about Matthew. Suddenly he was behind him, his lean long arms reaching out and pulling him into a tight embrace. With Francis’s de-aged state, Matthew was a giant, even taller than him and Arthur by a good few inches even before being accelerated to his current state. His height matched his strength, a fact that hardly anyone knew since people keep forgetting him or mistaking him for Alfred.
“Let me go!” He struggled in his grip, as Arthur tried to register the chaos around him.”Listen to your Papa! This ez for the best!”
“No, it’s not!” Matthew argued, trying to press the wriggling figure close to him, “Beating Dad for answers won’t solve anything!”
“Zis eez how we did it for centuries! Do not question my authority!”
“And how many times have you won an argument trying to beat Dad up?”
Francis stopped struggling.
“Yeah, I thought so too.” Matthew sighed, his arms finally relaxing around his paternal figure. “We can resolve this like grown-ups. He wouldn’t be here if he wasn’t worried about me.”
Francis mumbled, but not loud enough to be heard. “Only you?”
Arthur watched in disbelief, the de-aging has affected the Frog’s behavior in more ways than one and observed him throw a brief tantrum in his son’s loose embrace while slowly getting reduced to tears.
“He can do anything to moi! Beat me up, seize my vital regions, t-turn me into burnt pudding! b-but---” he stammered, sniffing as his blue round eyes mists up. “But look what he did to you, mon garcon!”
“I-it’s not intentional...he is drunk at that time remember?” Matthew said awkwardly, trying to re-assure him yet not knowing what to do. Francis is rubbing both eyes with one hand as Matthew slowly pulled him close. He then looked over his Papa’s shoulder and to a gawking Arthur, “I’m sure he didn’t mean this. Am I right....Dad?”
“Y-yes...” Arthur nodded, swallowing hard. “I came here to explain.”
Which is hard, seeing them like this. He thought grimly.
“I lost you once! Do you know how hard it was for me, having no choice but to give you up? Do you know how it hurts knowing he will feed you with all zat sad excuse of a cuisine?!” He cried, “He treats you like you’re not even there and now this...this is beyond unforgivable!”
“Nobody’s perfect, Papa.” he re-assured him once more, “Look, I turned out fine! And he said he can explain everything. Come now!” He gently prodded him towards the nearest chair, by the kitchen counter. “Everything will be alright, please...stop crying now...”
“I’m not crying..” Matthew heard him grumble weakly. “And...Matthew?”
“Yes?”
“Can you lift Papa up? S'il vous plaît? My dainty legs cannot reach the chair.”
--
Francis has considerably calmed down after crying (which he still wouldn’t admit. Pouting and mumbling that he was merely ‘appalled’ by what has happened to his favorite son.) and along with Matthew, patiently listened to Arthur’s explanation.
“Papa, I believe him.” Matthew said, looking at the small pouting face drinking a glass of fruit juice. “When I meet up with the guys, I called Alfred up to know what happened. Dad was really terribly drunk, which is why he hardly recalls anything!”
“Oh? How drunk?”
“Uhm...Alfred sent me a pic as a proof...”
“Let me see~”
“Oh no you don’t!” Arthur quickly reached out, stopping Matthew from taking out his cellphone. “Matthew, that is not necessary--” he glared at the smirking Francis, “Whatever Alfred sent you last night, delete it now!”
“Or you can just tell me, dear heart.”
Matthew looks torn, “Dad passed out face down on his own vomit...”
“I figured.” Francis resisted the urge to burst out giggling as Arthur shot him a deathly glare. “But that does not explain how you got affected and that’s what I want to know.”
“Delete it, Matthew. NOW.”
“Y-yes...”
“As I told you before...” Arthur answered, his gaze not leaving Matthew’s phone until the discriminating photos were deleted. “I can’t remember what I exactly did, but I do remember it was only YOU that I cast a curse upon.”
“And that curse was?”
“I only remembered a few words when I took hold of you...I know it has something to do with time and balance.”
“But why my Mathieu? What has he got to do with any of zis? It’s me you want!”
Arthur placed both palms on his forehead, sighing heavily. He tried to figure that out as well. Then it hit him. “Wait.” he said, looking up with a start. “Did you have any form of physical contact with anyone after I cursed you?”
“Non...” Francis pondered wistfully, “I only held my fine glass of wine zat evening. And all these women all they do was talk about zemselves....”
“Papa, you did.”
“Moi?”
“Before I left, you squeezed my bottom. Remember?” Matthew continued, “You even asked me if I want another!”
Francis blinked a couple of times, slowly straightening up as the words sunk in. “Oh dear...” he tapped his fingers on the table edges, biting his lip. “I think I do remember doing that...”
Arthur facepalmed, “There you have it!” he exclaimed, “You passed it on to Matthew!”
Then came a brief moment of silence, before Matthew finally spoke up, shifting uncomfortably. “So...uh...what will happen now? To the two of us?”
“I’ll go back and check in my library once more.” Arthur answered, “If there’s any clue to which incantation I used in particular, I can sort it out from the pile. It might take awhile, because I’m not familiar with it at all. this...it’s...it’s probably a spell that I haven’t used for god knows how long or something I shouldn’t even be using.”
“Well, you can try asking someone else for help?” Francis asked, swinging his legs under the chair as he propped his chin on his hands, looking at Arthur impatiently. “Our dilemma will be resolved faster that way.”
“Don’t be foolish! No one is as familiar with what I do or have the same knowledge as...”
Francis smiled.
Arthur’s face grew pale, “NO! I’m not asking my brothers’ help for this!”
“Your older brothers, Angleterre.” Francis rolls his eyes, “If there is anything beyond you, it is highly possible that they know all about it.”
“You just want to know how he is doing!” Arthur sputtered, a dash of red becoming evident on his cheeks.
“And when he sees me now I assume flames of young love will be re-kindled once more~!” Francis answered sarcastically, to which Matthew reacted by facepalming. The blond reached out from across the table, giving Arthur a quick headslap. “I’m not just referring to him, you imbecile! You have other brothers, the one who lives near you for instance!”
“Yes Dad, he seemed pretty nice!” Matthew agreed, “Except that one time when we have a Rugby match or was that football...”
“Wait!...what?!”
“Well Papa thought I need to learn from the best when it came to field sports so he told me t...” and Matthew was abruptly cut off when Francis kicked him from underneath. “Yeow!”
“And I don’t know this?”
“What? You are not his only parent!” Francis pouted, as Matthew whimpered clutching his leg underneath the table. “He needed assistance and I have closer ties to them than you, your own kin!” He saw Arthur’s brow twitch. “Zat’s right. Brings back memories, non?”
“Enough already!” Arthur pounds his fists on the table, “I get it! I’m going to pay them a visit and see what happens. There! Satisfied?”
“Completely~!”
Matthew can almost feel the heated stares the two are silently exchanging. “So...it’s settled then? Dad...Papa?”
Arthur was the first to break away from the stare, standing up. “Yes, Matthew.” he answered wearily, grabbing his coat. “I will head back home, grab a few notes and call them up.”
“Pay them a visit!”
“Yes, I will also pay them a visit.” He said against gritted teeth, glaring at Francis before turning back to Matthew. “This might take awhile, so if you feel anything strange, just call me up and let me know.”
“You mean, both of us.” Francis answered, trying to get down the chair with some difficulty. It’s one of the disadvantages of being reduced to his youthful state. Matthew sighed and helped him down, sensing the sadness and disappointment in his Papa’s voice.
“Well, I suppose you can manage.” Arthur said tersely, not even bothering to look up. “For now, the only choice both of you have is to adjust to your current bodies. And you--” he pointed at Francis, like a father scolding a child. “You will not have a problem with that, but Matthew will need a lot of time getting used to his.”
They both turned to Matthew, looking awkward and uncomfortable in his sudden ‘growth.’ He resembled the frog in some physical aspects that sent shivers to Arthur’s spine. In fact, mistaking him as Francis earlier, with the same toned built and the...hair. No doubt, the hair. No he is not referring to his blond locks, but the bloody hair that is all over his body and his face. He watched as the lad scratched his chin impatiently and rubbed his arms about, feeling naked with only a loose robe draped over his shoulders.
“..I...I will try shaving later.” He said, as if to answer Arthur’s mortified expression. “---or have myself waxed, I dunno.”
“Non!” Francis squealed, almost piercing both of their eardrums. “You are not going to get rid of ze body hair! Non! I wouldn’t allow it!”
“But Papa!” Matthew objected, standing up and towering Francis. “It’s uncomfortable! I’m--I’m not used to all this hair!”
“By now, we all know you have inherited my gorgeous looks. It’s no longer a surprise that you will grow zat amount of hair in a few centuries!” He threw his arms in the air, “You might as well get used to it now!”
“I suggest you shave, Matthew.” Arthur pointed out, ignoring the puffed little blond-framed face in front of him. “Waxing will be bloody painful. Make sure you wear your glasses all the time...”
“I wear my glasses all the time.”
“That’s good...jolly good.” Arthur cannot bring himself to look at Matthew straight in the eye, despite the lad’s harmless expression.“Tie your hair. Make sure that curl of yours really stands out. I mean, it’s already bad you’re being mistaken for that idiot brother of yours---”
“I’m sorry...”
“You have nothing to apologize for, Matthew!”
“Dad, you’re terrified of me. I know it’s because of the way I look---” he points at himself, “I look very much like Papa.”
“Oui!”
“NO!” He almost screamed, “That’s not it, Matthew! Look--” he grabbed him by his arms. “This is just on the outside! Deep inside you are still my sweet, polite, little Matthew...”
“I doubt the ‘little part’...ahonhon...”
“Shut up, Francis!”
“ Dad, I-I’ll be just fine... I think I’ll be going out to er... get something... that fits... ”
Arthur sighed and gave his son a pat on the shoulder. Those shoulders felt quite harder than usual and it made Arthur feel extremely uncomfortable. “ And will you please give your... your father some decent clothes. Your clothes are making him look like...”
Francis cocked an eloquently phrased eyebrow. “ Like what, Angleterre?”
Arthur snorted. “ Will you please help your son get through this phase at least? You’re enjoying your second lease in youth while he has to grapple with everything you are... or were. I will be going now and I don’t want you causing him anymore trouble.”
Francis excitedly grabbed Matthew’s hand. “ So we are going shopping, mon fils?”
Matthew sighed. “ It’s not actual shopping, Papa. We’ll be getting some clothes for you so you won’t feel too small in mine. At least until Dad figures out how to get us back to normal.”
“ As soon as possible.” Arthur agreed and opened the door. “ This has to be done quickly before anyone else figures out what happened and everything falls into utter chaos. I will be going now Matthew. I’ll be checking up on you and the frog later.”
“Okay, Dad.”
“Au Revoir~!”
Arthur grunted, briefly glancing worriedly at Matthew before heading towards his car. As they both watched his vehicle head out of the main driveway, Francis squeezed Matthew’s hand tight.
“I think we better get going now...” Matthew whispered, “I still have some extra cash with me from last night, we could drive by the local outlet and....”
“NON!” Francis stomped his foot. Honestly, his Papa’s habit of suddenly shouting is going to give him a heart attack, if it’s possible or worse, a burst eardrum. “Have you forgotten, who I am, garcon? I would rather impale my bottom on cacti than don such cheaply manufactured clothes!”
“Papa!” Matthew rubbed his ear, tugging Francis back inside, closing the door behind them. “Be reasonable! I don’t have that kind of money with me!”
“Oui, you don’t.” He answered happily, “But I have a special priviledge card! You look for ze owner, show it, and 80% off in all the latest items! If they’re in a better mood, we get everything for free!”
“R-really?”
“Really!” he chirped, “Now, try to get into some of your comfier clothes and let’s go to your car! Hurry! The shops will open in about half an hour!”
Matthew caught up with his excitable father, “Well it’s not exactly a car...it’s more like a Jeep actually.”
“Car, Jeep.. Who cares! Let’s go!” He hopped excitedly towards the stairs and twirled around. “ Oh... And Matthew?”
“Yes?”
“We will buy some new clothes for YOU as well!”
-- end of chapter 01 --
A/N: AHHH LOL readers need to read.
- I blitz this chapter for 1-2 days as fallenangelkat beta/re-phrase/add that French authenticity to Francis. Basically, it's like we live streamed the whole thing ahaha when I should be working I love you google docs.
- The frenchness in his Anglais ez inspired by Pepe Le Pew. Even one line that Francis said there is derived from one of his many quotes. I do not kid. And Arthur is Penelope the cat
- I do not follow canon and Matt here is about a little over 6 ft and Pansy!Francis probably almost around 5 ft...or less
- THINK DISNEY
- Arthur and his OC!Brothers: The first one brought up is Scotland (when Francis mentioned sarcastically the 'rekindling of young love') and the other one is Wales. I read a couple of fics involving this OC and is often described as Proto-Matthew Williams o_O idk. I'm not going to elaborate them here, but imho, they're well-versed with magic and folklore probably even a little better than their brother XD