(no subject)
Matt barely remembers the first time he met Al's father. He remembers a lot of Christmases afterwards and the tall tree the man insisted on having. He remembers getting lost in the halls with Al and playing hide and seek for hours only to fall asleep on the couch and have him come spread a blanket over them. He remembers burnt eggs and burnt sausage but very good tea.
But the first time is hidden so deep, it startles him when he recalls it.
The world was different then, seen through childish eyes, and all he really thought about then, as they wound their way up the long road, was that he would see Al soon. He peered up at his own father? Father. Papa. That was slowly growing on him, that this man could be his father. A small hand tugged at Francis's sleeve and the man glanced down at the boy.
"I'm going to see Al right?" He asked anxiously. The scant month they had been apart had been far too long in Matt's eyes, far far too long after the constant closeness twins share.
"Oui mon cher. C'est bien mon petit." The words flow over him, he barely understands them yet, but the comfort in the voice makes him happy and he curls up to him. But it's far too short a time before Francis is nudging him out of the car.
The man that greets them has green eyes that disappear under eyebrows and the most forbidding look on his face as he looks up at Francis. Then the eyes drop to him and Matt almost ducks behind Francis, but his seven years have taught him more dignity than that and he meets his gaze.
It's friendly and that catches Matt off guard. He smiles up at him shyly, this is Al's papa, his twin's papa and so it's sort of like his dad too right? He doesn't have long to dwell on the fact before arms hit him hard around the waist and Al takes Matt to the ground in his enthusiasm.
The rest of the visit is a blur of tea and scones that he only nibbles, and kind servants who smile at him and sneak him cookies. Al is constantly tugging him off to look at this tree and his room, isn't it big, and look at the library, who would ever read that many books. Honestly, Matt stares in wonder as they go through the place. Francis' home is smaller, but cozy. It's full of beautiful things and the kitchen has become like his second home.
But this could be a home too, he thinks. Al is here.
Leaving is a torture that comes suddenly. Night fell and snow has started to fall and now he has to leave Al. Arthur is gruffly tugging something out of his closet and Matt tilts his head sleepily, tears pricking at his eyes, but warm wool wraps around him in a swift movement that startles him.
"There now you'll be warm. Al will be here, have no fear. No harm is going to come to your brother." Arthur reassures and Matt reaches up to cling to the scarf, eyes wide with wonder. He nods slowly and Al shoves Arthur aside for a long hug.
But he's reassured. Al's dad is a nice person. He snuggles into the scarf as Papa leads him back to the car.
Matt stands in his room, hair back in it's usual ponytail. He stares down at the scarf and quietly sets it back in the box. It's pushed back in the closet and as he stands, he smiles.
But the first time is hidden so deep, it startles him when he recalls it.
The world was different then, seen through childish eyes, and all he really thought about then, as they wound their way up the long road, was that he would see Al soon. He peered up at his own father? Father. Papa. That was slowly growing on him, that this man could be his father. A small hand tugged at Francis's sleeve and the man glanced down at the boy.
"I'm going to see Al right?" He asked anxiously. The scant month they had been apart had been far too long in Matt's eyes, far far too long after the constant closeness twins share.
"Oui mon cher. C'est bien mon petit." The words flow over him, he barely understands them yet, but the comfort in the voice makes him happy and he curls up to him. But it's far too short a time before Francis is nudging him out of the car.
The man that greets them has green eyes that disappear under eyebrows and the most forbidding look on his face as he looks up at Francis. Then the eyes drop to him and Matt almost ducks behind Francis, but his seven years have taught him more dignity than that and he meets his gaze.
It's friendly and that catches Matt off guard. He smiles up at him shyly, this is Al's papa, his twin's papa and so it's sort of like his dad too right? He doesn't have long to dwell on the fact before arms hit him hard around the waist and Al takes Matt to the ground in his enthusiasm.
The rest of the visit is a blur of tea and scones that he only nibbles, and kind servants who smile at him and sneak him cookies. Al is constantly tugging him off to look at this tree and his room, isn't it big, and look at the library, who would ever read that many books. Honestly, Matt stares in wonder as they go through the place. Francis' home is smaller, but cozy. It's full of beautiful things and the kitchen has become like his second home.
But this could be a home too, he thinks. Al is here.
Leaving is a torture that comes suddenly. Night fell and snow has started to fall and now he has to leave Al. Arthur is gruffly tugging something out of his closet and Matt tilts his head sleepily, tears pricking at his eyes, but warm wool wraps around him in a swift movement that startles him.
"There now you'll be warm. Al will be here, have no fear. No harm is going to come to your brother." Arthur reassures and Matt reaches up to cling to the scarf, eyes wide with wonder. He nods slowly and Al shoves Arthur aside for a long hug.
But he's reassured. Al's dad is a nice person. He snuggles into the scarf as Papa leads him back to the car.
Matt stands in his room, hair back in it's usual ponytail. He stares down at the scarf and quietly sets it back in the box. It's pushed back in the closet and as he stands, he smiles.