hetalia_kink | Past Part Fills Part 2 -- CLOSED

Past Part Fills Part 2 -- CLOSED

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Dinner was, well, Francis had never tasted anything like it before, and he sincerely hoped to never again. He did not even know what the meal was intended to be but this certainly was a curse on the name of good taste.

He ate it anyway, with a smile on his face, for she wished for him to. As he ate Al told him at length how he’d helped to make the meal for them all. It was truly a wonderful meal.

By the time they cleared their plates it was late and the excitement of the day was wearing on the boys, even Al had become quiet as he was so tired. Francis felt more then a little privileged when, after dinner, his sons came to sit on either wide of him on the couch and promptly fell asleep. He was touched that he was able to carry Alfred upstairs in his arms, following a beautiful woman who held his other son. He was charmed by the sleepy way they changed, brushed their teeth and allowed her to steer them to bed. He felt humbled as he kissed his sons goodnight and received a tired “I love you” from each of them.

When he pulled himself away and went downstairs he found England waiting, holding some blankets.

"Sorry about the mess," she said, holding them out to him, "I'm knackered, going to go to bed. See you in the morning."

"One moment, England," Francis said, standing and reaching towards her, though stopping short of actual contact. "I was hoping that it would be possible for us to talk. We have not talked since you told me the boys existed."

"What do you mean?" she asked, frowning. "I e-mail you, and you phone once a week."

"That is not what I mean and you know it,” Francis said, returning her frown. “We communicate, yes. You will tell me you are ok before handing the phone to Al or e-mail me to say what times and days are good to call but that is not talking. My dear, I have missed much of the lives of my sons, unavoidable but still. I hoped, well, I had hoped that you may talk to me about them. I wish to know how they were as babies, I wish to know about their first words and steps and how it was for you."

"Shut up," she mumbled.

He blinked. There was real malice behind the words, hatred of the kind he had not heard in her voice for a long time. A glance showed him her fists were clenched.

"Just shut up. I don't want you to sweet talk me. I don't...just...shut up." She turned and ran up the stairs, leaving Francis standing shocked in the living room.

~*~*~*~

"Come along, Matty, papa will go and wade with you in the sea," Francis said, extending his hand to his quieter son. Matty bit his lip, looked contemplatively at the waves, then took a few steps forward and took his father's hand. His heary swelled with pride at the show of trust.

The beach was not as busy as he had feared it would be. It seemed that most English people did not see fit to spend the last day before their children returned to school at the beach but Francis could think of no better adventure. It had taken an amount of effort he had not anticipated to make England agree to him plan but, in the end, she had accepted and they had pilled into the car with a picnic and headed to a nice quiet beach.

Al had been as enthusiastic about the beech as he was about everything, stripping down to his swim suit the moment they hit the sand and running into the waves. Francis had followed him quickly. The plan had been forming in his mind for a week or so now so he had brought swimming trunks and a loose shirt with him. Matty and his mother had been more hesitant. England had set up well away from the sea and insisted that everyone be covered in sunscreen. Al had objected to this to the point where Francis had caught him and carried him back to his mother.

He could not seem to decide if England enjoyed the beach or hated it. She enjoyed it, surely, but she complained. She refused to wear a bathing suit, instead dressing in shorts and a t-shirt, and she sat on a towel reading a book rather then playing. She complained about the sand getting in everything but she sat there with a smile on her face and when Matty had asked her to help find shells to decorate his sand castle she had.

Matty's sand castle was a sight to behold. Matty had been working on it with tight concentration for most of the day, using a plastic bucket and spade to craft towers and build walls and using shells and seaweed to decorate. It looked beautiful, even if his pride as a father demanded that he say so.

Alfred, as expected, had been more boisterous and Francis had enjoyed running and playing with him in the surf. He was very grateful for that. Al had been more then a little reluctant towards him, he had hoped this outing would allow them to bond and that did seem to be the case.

As the hour had begun to grow late Francis had noted this and began to set his final plans into motion. He wanted to drag Matty to the sea at least once, or this would not be a trip to the seaside, then they would head to a supermarket as he would insist on cooking dinner for them and they would end with a pleasant evening in the living room.

Matty seemed oddly distrusting of the water. He studied the ground intensely before every step and gripped Francis' hand tightly. It was quite adorable. He would jump and shiver every time a wave washed over their feet.

Francis knelt and was about to pull Matty up into his arms, sparing the child a walk he did not enjoy and taking him back to his family when he heard a familiar scream. A scream of outrage. He spun then froze. The scream had been England. She sat on her blanket, her mouth hanging open and her book on her lap entirely covered in sand. It may have been hilarious were it not for Al stood grinning triumphantly in the ruins of Matty’s castle.

"Alfred," England screamed, jumping to her feet. "Do you have any idea how hard your brother’s been working on that?"

Francis didn't hear Alfred's reply but he did hear the soft sound of a choked sob from his other son. Quickly he completed his earlier motion, pulling Matty into his arms and standing, holding his close.

"No, my love, do not cry," he mumbled, rubbing Matty's back. "I'm sure it was only an accident. My love, it is all going to be alright."

Matty's fist gripped the back of his collar and his little body shuck with sobs. Al was proudly standing on the remains of the castle arguing with his mother who seemed to be growing increasingly enraged, neither of them looked over to Matty. He would have suspected that she would simply have trusted him to deal with this but he had the impression that the quieter boy was often lost in the wake of Alfred's behaviour.

He walked back up the beach quickly, Matty held close in his arms.

"Alfred," he said, as he came into normal vocal range. "Why did you destroy your brother's castle?"

Al had been in the act of taunting his mother and she looked torn between throttling him and behaving in a proper English way.

"It was stupid," Al yelled, waving his arms. "Nobody cared and it was going to get washed away in the sea anyway."

"That is hardly the point," Francis said, trying to be as firm as he could. "Your brother worked hard on that castle and he was proud of it. You would not be happy if Matty had destroyed something you had worked on. Apologise."

"Don't want to," Al yelled, falling to the floor and crossing his arms.

He looked at England only to find her looking at him, the most hopeless expression on her face. It read volumes. Of course he was aware of Alfred’s nature. He was bright, generous and caring but also loud and demanding and he knew how to throw a fit.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled, "He gets like this sometimes. He thinks he's the most important person in the world and, well, I've tried punishing him but he doesn't seem to respond to it and it's so hard..."

"I see," Francis said in what he hoped was a reassuring tone. "He does seem rather...brash. It can not be easy to raise a child like that. For now, shall we leave the beach? Maybe that would be best. If we just picked up our belonging and left?"

"Al..."

"Leave him," he mumbled, leaving closer. "Maybe if he is ignored he will behave himself? He does not wish to listen to reason, maybe this will help? I know my mother did the same with me in my more boisterous childhood years..."

"Well, I wouldn't know," England replied, reaching down to scoop up her towel. "I was always a little angel as a child, just like Matty."

"Of course, my dear," Francis grinned. He watched as Al watched her fold her towel and collect her book and the rubbish. This had clearly not been the result the child had been expecting. He remembered it well from his own childhood. He remembered what it was to wish to be the centre of the world, he thought it was likely that England did also. He wondered what had caused him to throw such a fit and spoil their otherwise nice day. Once their things were gathered England set of to the car and Francis moved to follow, Matty still held in his arms.

"Hey," Al yelled, jumping to his feet again.

"Ignore him," Francis whispered. It would not hurt him, he parents had done this to him many times. His mother still told the stories about the time he'd thrown a tantrum in the supermarket and by the time he'd finished they had already finished shopping and left the shop.

As they walked Matty drew his face from where he had been hiding it in Francis neck and threw a worried look back to his brother. He wiggled until Francis released him then ran to take his mother’s hand. She looked at him, the remains o tears staining his face, dropped her belongings and knelt down to hug him close.

"I'm sorry Matty," she said. "I do love you both, I'm sorry you tend to get ignored since Al's so loud but I do love you."

"I know," Matty mumbled, wrapping his arms around his mother's neck, and Francis couldn't help feeling proud. His son seemed to mature. He was only a baby really, so very small, but such a little adult. He wondered if that was part of the reason Al acted out so. Maybe his trouble was the only way he knew of to gain attention against Matty's quiet charm. It must not be easy for one with such a desire for attention to be a twin.

"Hey!"

Fancis turned to find Al on the path behind them, his arms folded.

"You left me on the beach, that's not fair."

"Apologise to your brother."

"Won't!"

"My boy, if you do not then when we get home you will sit alone in your room until you do!" England said, her arms tightening around Matty.

"Won't!"

"I think you will," Francis replied, smiling. "Your mother way well be overwhelmed with the two of you, but I am here now and I even out the numbers. You will do as you are told eventually. I think you will find that I can be a very patient man."

"I hate you."

It felt a little like being kicked in the gut to have Al say that to him. His own son, with such an angry face, telling him that he hated him.

"Al!" England exclaimed, but Francis threw his hand up to stop her.

"You may hate me if you want," he said, though it felt terrible to say. "But you will respect your brother and mother. Now, apologise and we can go home.

"No," Al screamed, throwing himself to the ground and screeching. Francis turned his back resolutely though every fibber of his being screamed at him to pick him son up. England was biting her lip and looking at Al, Matty still in her arms, but it seemed that for now she was happy to play things his way. He hoped this was a play for attention because if it was not then he did not wish to think he had distressed his son for nothing.

When Al made no immediate moved to apologise he went to the car and waited for England. She followed more hesitantly, glancing over her shoulder and holding Matty’s hand. Francis could only hope that this worked, he did not wish to appear cold towards his children in front of her.

They dried of with a new towel and got into the car. Matty seemed particularly glad to have the sand away from his body and England complained constantly about the places she found the substance. Then all pretended to ignore Al but his presence was there in Matty's worried glances and his clenched fists and Francis' and England's tense backs.

Eventually, when they had all moved to sit in the car, the back door was swung open.

"Sorry Matty."

"It's ok," Matty mumbled, looking at Francis from under his fringe. "Thank you."

"Welcome back Alfred," Francis said, turning to smile at his son.

"You'd better get in the car," England mumbled, picking up the towel she'd left in his lap and handing it back to him. Quietly, he did.

~*~*~*~

"Thank you," England said softly. He looked up from his book to find her stood at the bottom of the stairs, dressed in a mid-calf length nightdress which could not have been less sexy or more English if she had tried.

"What for, my dear?" he asked, laying the book down. She walked into the room and perched on the chair, looking at him intensely. The thanks could be for anything. He'd made them a lovely dinner, helped put the boys to bed again, he'd even helped bathe them to get rid of the sand. When England had disappeared upstairs he'd presumed that was the end of his day.

"Well, for how you were with Al at the beach. He just, well, of course I love the boy but he's just too much for me sometimes, I never know how to deal with him."

"It is no problem, my dear," Francis said, smiling softly. "Actually, I was afraid that you were mad at me. After all, you were the authority and I felt a little as though I undermined you..."

"I won't lie and say I was happy about that," She said, bringing her knees up to her chest and hugging them. "But, well, I fight with Al a lot and I nearly always loose. I worry. Matty gets lost in it all more often then not. I just...I don't know how to deal with it."

"I'm sorry, my dear, but other then ignoring Al when he decided to play up I am not sure what to suggest. Though I think his temper is all yours I do believe the attention seeking to be mine. I shall ask my mother next time we speak how she dealt with me if you like."

"That would be useful," she sighed. "I...I just don't know how to deal with him any more. I keep hoping and hoping that it will get better but, it doesn't seem to. He just..."

"I know," Francis smiled. "He is certainly a handful. I hope for both out sakes that he calms with age."

"Maybe," she smiled. "Anyway, that's not all I came down for. I was thinking...about what you said last night. I, well, you do have a right to know how your sons came to be who they are. I mean, I should have told you when I was pregnant. I think...maybe I was just scared. It was easy to pretend you weren't in their lives because I didn't need you, harder to think it was because you rejected us."

She was blushing bright red now, quite endearingly. He smiled softly. He could not condone it, obviously. He had lost years in which he could have been a father, but in an odd way he understood her worry. Besides, they could not make the decision again; they must simply live with the consequences.

"England, I would be deeply thankful of anything you would share with me." he said, smiling softly.

"Ok, I guess I'll get the photo albums."

~*~*~*~

Walking in the door he took a breath then collapsed on the couch, letting his eyes fall shut.

"Move," England snapped, poking at him with the toe of her shoe. "You have a flight to catch and I have a job to get to."

"You're so cruel," he mumbled, glaring at her. "I have had barely thirty minutes of sleep and watched my two wonderful sons take their first steps on their own into the adult world, I believe I deserve a moment to collapse."

"I do wish you hadn't cried," she mumbled, moving around him to pick up the cup of instant coffee she's abandoned on the TV table in the rush that morning.

"Is it not traditional to be emotional at such times?"

"I've been sending them to day care for years," she said with a sigh. "I mean, I know it's different but you didn't need to cry so much!"

"But do you not think that their school uniforms made them look so very much younger?"

"Francis, get of my couch or so help me!"

"Yes, yes, I am moving," he sighed, pulling himself up again and reaching for his bag. He wished dearly that he could stay to pick up his children from their last day of school but there were time sensitive tasks he would need to run to the lab to complete as soon as he got back to France. He stood up, picked up the bag, then walked towards the door, waiting for her to move back and join him.

"One thing, England. Thank you very much for talking to me last night."

"Even though you didn't get any sleep?" she quirked him a small smile.

"Even so," he grinned. "Thank you." Then he lent over and kissed her softly on the cheek. Predictably she flushed red and blustered out the door. Francis smiled to himself. She was quite adorable.

These chapters keep getting longer T_T Just wanted to say thanks for the comments, I love every comment I get XD Next chapter is in progress and will be with you soon.

Wow, the story is really getting better and better. Thank you, author anon. I will wait patienly for the next part!

I just stumbled across this fills and mere words cannot hope to vocalise just how much i LOVE it.

Just the characterisation and the kids and France~ and England and, and, it's just all so awesome and asdqfadfslkl;fa

Anyway, are you ever going to say England's real name (If so, can I vote for Guinevere?)

Oh, author!anon, this anon doesn't particularly mind the length of the chapters.♥

Seriously.This keeps getting cuter(and better!), and you have me yet again waiting eagerly for more. x333

This is really the loveliest thing I have ever read. I love their family!

Aww, that was completely adorable!<33

I loved how Al is being such a nuisance because he wants attention and then learning his lesson when he's ignored. XD Can't wait for more!

TEEETH...MY TEETH

Author Anon so much cuteness is not good for me teeth now but i will let you off.

I will be eagerly awaiting for more whilst attatching me gnashers back on with some evo-stick.

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Past Part Fills Part 2 -- CLOSED

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