Knull Meg Hardt, Pappa

Kavalér

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A week had passed and Alister hadn't heard a thing from his younger brother. He was worried sick, but there wasn't much he could do other than call.
At the very least, he knew Arthur was alive. His calls went through and were cancelled every time. Alister decided to only call once a night after he tucked the kids in. He didn't want the Brit angry at him.
For once.
"Uncle Alister?"
"Yeah, lad?" The Scot turned to the tiny Canadian child clutching onto the bottom of his kilt, which he was just casually wearing. Don't ask. Also he was wearing it like a true Scotsman so he really hoped that Matthew wasn't looking for a peek.
"I miss dad."
"He misses you too." Alister knelt down so his eyes were level with the boy's.
"I want to see him."
"It's almost Christmas, Mattie, boy. He's making plans with Santa to give you the best Christmas he can." Uh oh. It probably wasn't a good idea to get their hopes up about Christmas. Alister really doubted that Arthur had even thought about decorations let alone presents for the kids. There had to be something he could do about this?
"I want to see him."
"Do you?"
"Please! I miss him!" Matthew's eyes started to water and Alister immediately pulled the boy into his arms, stroking his back to comfort him.
"Shhhh. You'll be back with him soon." He assured.
"I want to see him now!" If there was one thing Francis and Arthur had always told horror stories about, it was Matthew's temper tantrums. They hadn't happened much, but when they did, they were arguably worse than any other child's tantrums. Not even Alfred, who did this a lot, could compare to his brother in these regards.
Alister had never actually witnessed this phenomenon, and he wasn't looking forward to it now.
"I'll call him and tell him to hide all the Christmas stuff, okay."
"But I wanna-"
"Hey, I just told you. I'm warning him to hide the Christmas stuff because I'm bringing you over."
"Thank you." The way he said that didn't sound cute. He sounded like they had just conducted a business transaction. What the fuck was this child?
"Go get your brothers. Where are they, anyway?"
"Alfred went outside to roll in the mud and Peter is playing with a dead rat he found.
"I don't know what part of Arthur they inherited that from but I'm glad they're having fun."

Eventually, Alister got all the children cleaned up and drove them back to their home. He hadn't gotten an answer from Arthur's phone, so he was worried that he would be walking in on something he wouldn't be pleased with, like a floor covered in empty bottles or maybe a botched suicide attempt. As much as he pretended to be the fun, teasing big brother, he was extremely concerned.
"We're here, lads." Alister pulled the car into the driveway and quickly unpacked them all, bracing himself for what the boys might find.
There were no whiskey bottles, no crying, no...anything.
The house was relatively neat, but Alister could smell the faint scent of something burnt. He found Arthur lying on the couch, arm dangling over the edge and eyes dull.
The boys hesitated to approach him. It was probably terrifying, seeing your only remaining parent in such a shape.
"Arthur, when was the last time you ate?" If he engaged the Brit in conversation, maybe he would look more lively for the kids.
"Dunno." Arthur mumbled. Matthew nervously grabbed onto Alister's kilt.
"I'll go make you something. Want to play with the boys?" Alister knew what this was. It was the depression stage. As heartbreaking as it was, it meant that Arthur was close to recovering.
"Yeah...sure..." The Brit slowly sat up, holding out his arms for the children. Alfred jumped forward immediately. He wasn't the type to show affection, not more than Matthew, which meant he really missed his dad.
Alister nudged the other kid forward, watching as he joined the other half of his family in the embrace. He set Peter on the floor and stepped away to give them some privacy. This wasn't his business, even if Arthur was his annoying little brother.

Fuck this is long.