Like a Fairy Tale

-8-

Francis didn't leave his bedroom all the next day. He even skipped work, causing Matthieu to skip school and take his place.
By the time the day ended, Francis hadn't even moved. Matthieu crawled into bed next to him, nestling into his side.
"Papa? Are you okay?" He squeaked.
The thing about Matthieu was that he always knew when Francis wasn't alright. But the Frenchman hated his child seeing him that way.
"Oui. It's just a stomachache."
"Are you mad at me? I didn't want to lock you in the basement. It was Alfred's idea."
"Mon Garson, do not worry. I'm not mad at you." He stroked his son's hair. It helped both males to calm down.
"Can you come out for dinner? Arthur wants to cook and Al says he's not very good."
For the first time that day, Francis smiled. "I'll be out in an 'our. Just let me shower first." Matthieu sat up, smiling brightly.
"Okay! I'll go tell them!" He jumped off bed and headed out of the room.
"'Ow can I be sad wizh a son like zhat?" Francis whispered to himself. He got up and shuffled out to the bathroom to take a shower.
He avoided looking at Arthur throughout the entire meal. The boys seemed to sense the tension and kept up conversation as much as possible, but it always fizzled.
A tiny voice deep inside Francis's head told him that this little family setting wouldn't last, that he pushed Arthur away with that kiss.
And that tiny voice...it felt right.

Arthur's POV:
Why did his mind keep going back to that kiss? Why did his chest feel all light when Francis accidentally brushing him while serving the meal? Why did he want to see those two blue eyes looking at his again?
This wasn't normal. No. It was unhealthy.
"I'm going to bed." The Frenchman announced the moment he settled his son into bed. Arthur desperately wanted to talk to him, but decided against it. He watched the Frenchman disappear into his bedroom, leaving the door half open.
Arthur cold see the silhouette of him stripping down and crawling into bed.
Why did he have to sleep naked? Arthur's face turned red.
After lying on the couch for half an hour, he heard some muttering followed by a loud "This is all your fault!"
Matthew burst out of his room, slamming the door behind him.
"Matthew?" Arthur sat up but the boy didn't see him. He stormed into Francis's room.
The man's lamp flickered on and he looked at his child with large eyes.
Arthur couldn't hear much but Francis was listening closely as Matthew sat on his bed and spoke in a hushed tone, bursting into tears halfway through.
The Frenchman pulled his child into his arms, rubbing his back and letting him cry.
The Brit wished he was that God with his son, but he just wasn't a natural parent. Maybe Alfred would be better off here...
Maybe...they should stay...forever.

This may end up shorter than I usually write but I'm low on ideas and excited to write the ending. But better short and sweet than drawn out and without romance amiright. Okay I'm out. Bye.
-Shick.