Wherever

Explanation (Winning?)

There was a lot of yelling, that was the first thing Alfred noticed. There were hands on his own, trying to pull his hands away from his head. He didn't know who was there. People were talking to him. Softly, he wasn't sure if it was safe. Too much yelling, gun shots. No pain, did he feel pain the last time? He couldn't remember. So much yelling.

"Shut up you bloody gits!" Arthur shouting, realizing Alfred was panicking from the yelling now. Francis shut up and glared at Antonio who, wisely, stayed quiet as well. Although Alfred winced at the loud noise Arthur had made while shouting it was okay. He started to calm down, logical thinking was starting to kick in.

"Al, Alfred. It's okay, we're here and you're safe. It's me, Mattie." Matthew told him in a quiet voice as he rubbed Alfred's back in soothing circles.

Matthew. Safe. Alfred thought. The man. Gun. Matthew. Matthew wasn't there. Safe. Not real. Not real. Not real. Safe. Father. Hotel. Safe. Not real. He repeated to himself quietly, trying his best to breathe normally. He was okay, it was fine. It was just a tv show, the tv in the hotel room. No one was actually holding a gun to him. He was fine. He blinked a few times, looking up and recognizing faces. His father was there, Matthew was also there. He blinked a few more times, getting his vision clear. He brushed his hands against his eyes, under his glasses. He hadn't cried but he was close to.

"Alfred?" Matthew asked.

"I- I'm here. I'm okay." He muttered. "I- I'm sorry, I just wasn't expecting that. It- um, took me back." Arthur didn't waste a moment before pulling him close into his chest.

"Never apologize for this, Poppet. It's not your fault." He whispered. Alfred smiled weakly at him.

"As long as you stop blaming yourself too." He replied. Matthew smiled at them, sitting on his heels. Arthur hesitated for a moment but nodded.

"If it makes you happy."

"Are you okay?" Francis asked, walking closer. Alfred nodded before seeing his hand. It was bleeding from the glass.

"Dad! Your hand!" He cried. Matthew and Arthur gasped.

"Are you okay?" Matthew asked, standing up on legs that weren't quite awake yet and shuffling over to him. Francis brought his hand up and looked at it, wincing. Arthur stood up, helping Alfred up with him. Alfred made his way over to Ivan's open arms. Although Arthur glared at him, he couldn't deny the look of relief and safety over Alfred's face when Ivan embraced him. Antonio coughed from the other room, everyone turned and glared at him (save for Alfred whose face was still buried in Ivan's shoulder.).

"Out." Francis growled. Antonio looked like he wanted to protest but noticed everyone's glares and Ivan fuming in the corner before paling and scurrying to the door. Leaving the dysfunctional family alone to themselves.

"Let me take a look at that." Arthur said, grabbing Francis' hand and examining it. Failing to notice the ever so light blush on Francis' face. Matthew did and pressed his lips into a thin line, trying to suppress a smile. He practically skipped over to Alfred, tapping his shoulder lightly and pointing to their parents. Alfred smiled and the twins (plus Ivan) made their way to the bedroom.

"I don't think you'll need stitches but this definitely needs cleaning up." Arthur said. Francis only nodded.

"I could do it." He muttered once Arthur walked back with the first aid kit in the room. Arthur raised an eyebrow at him.

"I doubt it. You'd have to be pretty skilled with your left hand to do that and I know for a fact you're right handed." Arthur told him. Francis winked and Arthur blushed crimson. "I-I've seen you write, you bloody frog!"

"I see the nickname is back, Angleterre." Francis teased. Arthur rolled his eyes at the familiar name before guestering for Francis to sit down. "I assume you want to know what happened then?" Arthur asked, cleaning some blood from Francis' hand.

"I do." He said. "I may not have known Alfred for long but I have never seen him react like that." Arthur sighed, tossing the bloodied gauze into the trash can.

"Alfred was quite young. Only seven years old. It was late June and we were going to a fancy restaurant. It was a small place but we both loved the food there. We went there often but I hadn't made a reservation that day. I hadn't thought it would be an issue, afterwall it wasn't well known. But we had to wait, and it was hot. Alfred had gone to stand by the door, hoping for a cool breeze or something along those lines. Someone had a gun, trying to rob the place. Unluckily for us Alfred was the closest person around and he had grabbed him holding the gun to his head." He paused, the cuts were still bleeding and Arthur had started to pull out glass shards now. "This might hurt a bit... Alfred was smart enough to know he could've died there. I haven't seen him look so scared in his entire life. He knew that his life depended on the decisions of the people in the restaurant. We were lucky a police officer was able to come in and tried to stop him but it didn't work. The robber pointed the gun to the officer and the officer was faced with no other option to shoot him while Alfred was in his arms. Alfred had blood splatter all over him and he was shaking and crying." Another pause, all the glass was out and Arthur started to wrap his hand. "It took us a while, but we got past it. There was a reason why I've been protective over him for so long. I didn't want to ever see that look on his face again."

"Arthur..." Francis let his voice trail off.

"I still see it sometimes. We both still have nightmares about it. It's never twice in the same month but I'll occasionally wake up in a cold sweat, a different ending. Other times he'll climb into my bed at night." He admitted quietly.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Francis asked, It wasn't an acoustroy, it was an actual question. "He is my son too."

"Only by law." Arthur said, halfheartedly. It was the excuse he told himself every time Alfred had something bad happen to him. He didn't need Francis, neither one of them did because he was only Alfred's dad on paper.

"No." Francis replied, using his good hand to make Arthur look at him. "They're both our sons." 

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Me posting on time??? What magic is this? 

Fun fact: I am left handed (technically ambidextrous but that's neither here or there)

Also we're getting close to the end guys! Thank you so much love you all!

- Wes <3