Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. Copyrights go to Hidekaz Himaruya.
I kept picturing Iggy in his Italian costume while writing this. xP Sappy chapter is sappy.
As always, reviews = love. They keep me writing.
Enjoy!~

Two Broken Halves…

Opalescent raindrops streaked across the polished windows that adorned Francis's house, a faint pitter-patter from the shower resonating in all of the hallways and rooms. Salt and pepper storm clouds obscured the sun, casting the earth in a charcoal light. Matthew had taken Alfred on an abbreviated tour of the house before settling into one of the sitting rooms in the back, dominated by a huge flatscreen television and more video game consoles than Alfred thought imaginable: it could have easily put his collection to shame. "Wow, you have a whole lot of games, Mattie! That's crazy," he breathed, plopping down on the floor about two feet away from the television screen.

An eloquent chuckle reverberated in Matthew's throat as he tossed a wireless controller to his newfound friend, taking a seat beside him with his own controller in his hands. "It's amazing that Papa bought all of these on his own. Game consoles are really expensive."

Alfred nodded in understanding, his mind flashing back to his beat-up Xbox system perched on one of the shelves in the glass-encased entertainment center in the middle of his living room at home. "Yeah, it really sucks. Especially when a new one comes out! I always have to wait for a price drop or whatever before I can get anything."

"That's what we do too," Matthew remarked, toggling between menu screens after the game decided to load and setting up a versus match between him and Alfred.

"Oh! I guess I just assumed you bought all your stuff right when it came out," Alfred laughed nervously, picking out a character from the square menu at the bottom of the screen.

Just as the game commenced, right after the hidden announcer yelled "Fight!" Francis leaned into the room, having to talk over the game's booming sound effects. "Boys, come with me for a little while, and after that you can continue your game. We have to talk."

Matthew jabbed the pause button as he hopped to his feet, eyes narrowed and a brow arched in suspicion. "D'accord, Papa," he replied as Francis disappeared from the door's archway, pivoting about face and striding out of the room.

Alfred followed suit, tailing Matthew into an expansive dining room. An elegant chandelier hung suspended from the ceiling, dappled by miniscule lights and cut crystal. A long, glass-top table sat at the heart of the room, bisecting its rectangularity. His eyes swept the room, finding Francis first before he noticed the visitor sitting on the opposite side of the table, heart automatically beating double time in his chest as adrenaline began to spike his blood. "D-Dad? How did…."

Arthur held up a hand to silence his son, beckoning him over before folding his hands against the tabletop. "It doesn't matter. I'm just glad you're safe, Alfred."

Tears blurred Alfred's vision as he ambled over, sliding into the seat next to his father. "I-I'm sorry for running away! I know you've told me a million times not to but you were so mad at me for going to the lake and I didn't know what to do, I didn't want to stay at home and annoy you any more than I already did so—" His constant stream of apologies died in his throat as Arthur shook his head, raising one finger to Alfred's lips.

"Alfred, like I said right now that doesn't matter. You're in no trouble for running away. I pushed you to do that… and I'm truly sorry. You shouldn't have to ever feel the need to run away from your own home. I promise that this will never happen again." Raw guilt shimmered in Arthur's chartreuse eyes as he stared down at his son, his hands clasping together once again. "Now, I think we both owe our thanks to Francis and Matthew for accommodating you in their home last night."

Alfred's eyes abandoned his father's face to turn to Francis, blinking away a few tears that threatened to streak down his cheek. "Thank you, Mister Francis and Mattie. I'm sorry."

Francis whipped a hand through the air as if to dismiss Alfred's shaky apology. "No need to apologize, petit Alfred! It wasn't a problem at all."

Distant realization clicked in Alfred's head as Francis stopped talking, though a shade of his voice echoed through the abyss of Alfred's mind. "Wait… Mister Francis, how did you know who my dad was? I didn't say anything about him last night, not his name or nothin'… but you called him by his name last night on the phone. I heard you before I fell asleep."

He noticed Francis's eyes dart from him to his father for a fraction of a moment before glancing back to him. "You can say that we have already met, long before you were born."

"Francis," Arthur interjected before Alfred could retort, his emerald eyes locking with the aquamarine of the Frenchman sitting in front of him, "I think it's time to stop being vague for once and tell him the truth. Both of them, actually."

A solemn expression overtook Francis's features as his periphery shifted to Matthew, to Alfred, and finally back to Arthur. "…there would be no way to hide it from them forever, oui? It would be cruel to do so."

Arthur nodded, clearing his throat as his hands unfolded. "Alfred," he spoke, an edge of indescribable emotion prevalent in his tone, "did you ever wonder why you only have one parent, while the other children you've met usually have a mother and father?"

"Yeah, a few times," Alfred answered, robin's egg-hued eyes narrowing in confusion, "but why does that matter right now?"

Arthur tipped his head toward Francis before he replied, "It matters right at this exact moment because… Francis and Matthew have something to do with it. They are the other half of our family."

Alfred's expression completely broke on the last syllable of his father's life-altering statement. He could not recall a time when he felt so speechless, jarred completely from what he thought was normal: his periphery shifted from Arthur to Francis, who couldn't help but to beam at him, and then to Matthew, who appeared just as starstruck as he himself felt. The feeling of nostalgia that seemed to hum through the high-ceilinged rooms of this endowed home abruptly made sense, as if someone had tugged on a light bulb in the pitch blackness of his mind. "S-So…" Alfred managed to stammer after a few long, silent moments elapsed, broken only by the faint spattering of rain against windows, "Mister Francis would be my mom… or my other dad. And Mattie's my brother…?"

"That would be correct," Arthur affirmed with a nod.

"Why… why didn't you tell me about this before? I thought it was just you and me all this time… what happened to our family?" Alfred asked, his voice ascending in octaves as he reached the end of his question.

With a quick glimpse in Francis's direction, a malignant sigh heaved from Arthur before he began, "I was going to wait until you came of age to tell you. I figured you would have an easier time wrapping your head around it when you're older instead of now, but in any case it is inevitable that you would find out sooner or later. Our family disintegrated because of my doing… I pushed Francis away, when you boys were two years old. It's hard to believe that it's already been six years since that happened… it feels like it's been a bloody eternity…."

Francis reached across the table, prying one of Arthur's hands free and grasping it, drawing circles across the back of his hand with his thumb in a soothing gesture. "Alfred and Matthieu… I hope that you can forgive us one day. We hopped into parenthood when we weren't ready, and we both cracked underneath the pressure of raising and being responsible for two children that we ourselves brought into the world! So… we split the responsibility. I took leave with you, Matthieu, and Arthur was left with Alfred, and somehow… it was easier that way. For once in our lives, we weren't down each others' throats day in and day out though we kept the communication lines open. It has been hard being away, hasn't it, mon chou?" Francis's dodger blue eyes locked with Arthur's faceted peridot, and in that moment it felt as if the hands of time whirred counterclockwise: instead of seeing the straight-laced gentleman that sat across the table, he envisioned the reckless blonde that had captivated his heart in one abnormal way or another countless years ago, the one that could bark insults in one breath and speak sweet nothings in another.

Arthur could only nod, his viridian irises swimming though he never broke eye contact. One flaxen brow quirked as Alfred's eyes slid from his father to Francis and back again, attempting to comprehend everything that had come to pass in the past ten minutes. "Okay, so we're all family. What does that mean though? Are we all gonna live together and stuff? What's gonna happen now?"

Francis's eyes flashed from Arthur's face to Alfred's, a tenderhearted smile breaking across his countenance as he took notice for the first time since they've been together in the dining room of how similar the two looked when sitting almost shoulder to shoulder, except that the hue of the boy's eyes matched his own. "It's up to ton père, but if you would like, you both can move into my home—we have more than enough room to share."

"If Alfred wants to move in and Matthew is fine with it, then we will live here," Arthur stated ultimately, his eyes trailing first to the son that he had painstakingly raised and then to the son that he had spent limited time with throughout the current duration of his life.

Alfred nodded with his brother simultaneously, a huge grin upturning the corners of his lips. "Y-Yeah I wanna move in!"

"It'd be fun to have our family back together," Matthew mused, adjusting to perch on his knees to grant him a few inches of height that he lacked before. "Besides, I really want to get to know my brother… and my other papa."

An amused chuckle waltzed in Francis's throat as he slid out of his chair and onto his feet. "I think it's settled then, don't you think mon cher?" he inquired as he rounded the table, crouching and throwing an arm around Alfred and Arthur's shoulders in an embrace.

Matthew hopped down from his chair, scuttling to Alfred's side as he reached out and clutched his hand, tugging him away from the table. "C'mon, mon frère! Let's go finish our game, oui?"

"Yeah! I almost forgot about that," Alfred laughed as the two left the room, no doubt to return to the sitting room in which Francis had found them earlier.

Arthur turned to the man that he had longed for every day for the past six years, quivering arms encircling the other's midsection in a tight hug. His chin came to rest on Francis's shoulder as elated tears cascaded down his cheeks. "I-I've missed you," he whispered into his counterpart's ear, tucking away a few stray strands of golden hair behind Francis's ear.

"So I was not the only one! I have missed you too, mon amour… much more than you will ever give me credit for," Francis responded, planting a kiss to the pliable skin of Arthur's temple as his hand flitted up to the other blonde's head, his sinewy fingers carding through choppy saffron.

They stayed like that for what felt like centuries: Francis rubbed Arthur's trembling shoulders, whispering native French into the shell of his ear until Arthur pulled away to look at the Frenchman full in the face, his moody harlequin eyes rimmed with scarlet. "I love—"

Before Arthur could complete his thought Francis claimed his lips, ultimately silencing the shorter. Their kiss seemed to embody everything that had remained unspoken between them in the past six years, climactically bringing them together in the mingling throes of pure love and crimson infatuation. "You don't have to say it, mon Angleterre, I know. I love you too."

A pleased grin traipsed across Arthur's face as he abandoned his gentlemanly ways if for just a few uncharacteristic moments, regressing into the reckless, basket case persona in which Francis had met him. Their eyes met as Arthur held up his hand in front of Francis's chest. "Two broken halves…"

"…are now a complete whole," Francis finished, ecstatic sky eyes shimmering with tears as his hand rose to meet Arthur's, fingers lacing together as if they had been predestined to intertwine.

Fin.