You stretched, your back popping as you yawned loudly. Matthew smiled softly, kissing the back of your hand. He was still lying in bed on his side, his blond hair crowning his head as it splayed out over the pillow. With a smile, you leant back down to peck his lips, a gesture which he returned sleepily.
As you slipped your cold feet into his large red slippers, you blinked some remaining sleep from your tired eyes and tried to tame your hair. Matthew’s smile only grew wider as he watched you comb through your bed hair, laughing gently at your failing attempt to untangle it.
Sitting up quietly, he grasped your wrists and pulled you back against his chest. “Let me.” He murmured, crossing his ankles whilst running his dexterous fingers through your matted locks of hair.
Twisting around in his arms, you reached up to do the same to him. His golden hair was sticking up in several places and you quickly set about flattening them. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” You whispered back, your gazes settling on the other’s pair of lips. In unison you leaned forward to press your lips to one another. “So early in the morning?” A voice interjected and you both froze, heads snapping to the door.
“ ‘Morning love birds.” Alfred commented in disinterest, a smirk on his face. Matthew took hold of one of the pillows and threw it at his brother who merely cackled wickedly.
“Papa’s making pancakes, that’s what he told me to tell you.” He said, chucking the pillow back at Matthew. Afterwards the blond left, still chortling loudly.
Matthew scowled at his brother, taking his glasses from the nightstand and hooking them over his ears. Ruffling his hair lightly, he rubbed his neck. “Y’alright?” You asked him, taking his hand. Kissing your nose softly, he nodded and smiled.
You followed him down the rickety wooden stairs adorned in his large red hoodie and slippers, successfully clinging to the side in fear of slipping at tumbling down. Francis gave you a wave, his frilly apron swishing along with his steps as he flipped pancakes onto a large plate.
“I ‘ope you like crêpes, ma petite.” He said with a wink, chuckling when Matthew moved closer to you. You nodded at him animatedly. “Yes, I do sir.”
“Please chérie, ‘ow many times ‘ave I told you to call me Francis?”
Matthew showed you to your seat, sitting down next to you as Arthur greeted you. “ ‘Morning love, sleep well?” He asked, sipping some tea as he straightened out the newspaper he’d been engrossed in.
“I did, thanks for asking.” You murmured back, a shy smile on your face. No matter how many times you were with your boyfriend’s family, you couldn’t get over how handsome all four of them were. Granted Alfred could be a slob at times, Arthur couldn’t cook to save his life and Francis could be quite a suggestive perv but there was something about them.
Arthur was almost as embarrassed to show affection in public as Francis was ecstatic about doing lovey-dovey things in front of people. The two were a couple of course, their opposite personalities fitting together like two puzzle pieces.
Alfred was a video-game nerd with a thing for all manner of sweets and fast food, a fact he proved to you due to his batman hoodie which was worn down so that the black actually resembled more of a dark blue and that he was currently stuffing his face.
“Leave some for us.” Matthew protested quietly, taking the plate from him, pancakes stacked high on it.
“Take some before he eats them all.” He muttered to you and with a smile you complied, sliding some on your own plate. He copied your actions, setting the plate down with a clink, stretching his hand to get hold of the maple-syrup.
After helping himself to the sugary treat, effectively drowning his pancakes in them he passed you the glass bottle which was now significantly lighter than when it’d first been set on the table. You all started eating, including Francis since he’d taken off his apron, telling you to say when you wanted some more of his crêpes.
With a large smile, you finished eating and also downed your mug of milk in the same speed. Noticing Francis’ blue eyes on both you and his quiet son, you looked up and tentatively smiled at him. He took this as a prompt to ask the question that had been nagging at the back of his mind.
“So tell me ma petite, ‘ow far ‘ave you and Matthieu gone?” Arthur spat out the tea he’d just drunk, staring at his lover in distaste. “What kind of a question is that?!”
Alfred snorted and laughed boisterously. “Papa, you should’ve heard her last night.” He mimicked your higher voice with a smirk. “ P-pleas, please Mattie! Mo-moreee!’” The Englishman smacked his son with the rolled up newspaper.
“Honestly we’re at the table!”
“But zhere is nozhing to be so embarrassed about Artie~ you were much the same when we were youn-“ Arthur cut off his sentence by giving him the same treatment. The two smacked ones laughed weakly, rubbing the spot that had been targeted.
With a burning red face, you looked at your legs feeling the need to hide your face from them, not that that had happened of course. You shot Matthew an embarrassed look which he returned with a sheepish smile on his face.
He took your hand under the table, squeezing it with subtle force hoping that the action would make you feel a bit better knowing that he was feeling just the same as you were. Leaning over, he kissed your temple tenderly.
Even if they were probably the strangest family you’d ever encountered, you couldn’t help but feel but feel part of it.
“See they’re at it again!”