It was late September, a time when the warmth of summer began to fade away into the cold days of autumn. However, far more than the seasons were changing. Perhaps the most change of all was taking place in an average Connecticut home.

Arthur Kirkland stood in front of his hallway mirror, combing at his blond hair nervously. He never seemed capable of getting it to lie down. The bushy-browed, green-eyed, Englishman normally wouldn't have fussed so much, had he not been expecting a visitor at any moment.

He paused a moment to glance at his watch, "Seven- fifteen in the morning." He clicked his tongue in disapproval and made his way over to the bottom of a flight of stairs that led to the second level.

"Boys!" he called up, "I know it's Saturday, but I told you to get up half an hour ago!"

"Mm. Mommy would have let us sleep in!" a young voice called back grumpily.

Arthur paused; his late wife had passed away three months prior as the result of a prolonged illness. He remembered the day before she'd died… she'd seemed like she was finally getting better. She had been so happy, so full of life… if only he'd known then that it was the last time he'd see her smile…

He shook his head to clear it, "I suppose I could always bring you breakfast in bed!" he replied.

At once a loud thump was heard from upstairs as two little boys hurried to get ready, rushing down the stairs with a shout of, "Please don't cooooooooooooook!"

Arthur laughed dryly as he regarded the pair of eight-year-olds, "Come now, is my cooking really all that bad?"

"Yes! It's yucky!" Alfred, the bolder of the two, declared.

Though both boys bore similar features, they were not completely identical. Besides their polar opposite personalities, they had some visible differences. Matthew, the quieter of the two, wore his blond hair slightly longer than his twin. Sweeping bangs sometimes hid his violet eyes that were in contrast to his brother's blue ones. However, perhaps the most obvious difference was the fact that Matthew was always found clutching a stuffed polar bear. He absolutely refused to go anywhere without it. And while Arthur was concerned that Matthew might be made fun of at school, he didn't have the heart to tell the boy to leave the bear at home. After all, his mother had made it for him.

"You need to work on your manners, young man." Arthur said plainly before turning to Matthew, "I suppose you don't like my cooking either, eh lad?"

"Not really, Daddy." He murmured softly.

Arthur smiled softly and patted the boy on the head, "Well then, I suppose it can't be helped. Perhaps when our guest arrives, he can whip us up a meal?"

The twins glanced at each other and then to their father, "Who's coming over, Daddy?" they asked in perfect unison.

Arthur sighed, "Ever since your mother passed, Daddy's been having some trouble taking care of you boys, so-"

Alfred cut him off, "Ooh! Did you hire a maid, daddy? Or a butler? Can you even afford a butler, Daddy?"

"No, Alfred, now calm down." Arthur found himself chuckling slightly.

"Is it someone from your side of the family in England?" Matthew asked softly.

"No, I'm afraid not, love."

The twins had never met his side of the family. Arthur dare not tell them that his side of the family hadn't so much as sent a single sympathy card. He supposed it was to be expected, they'd never approved of him marrying a Frenchwoman. And when they'd moved to America shortly thereafter, well, his side of the family had almost completely stopped corresponding with them altogether.

Ding-Dong!

The door bell rang, announcing the guest had arrived.

"I'll get it!" Alfred announced, speeding for the door.

Arthur chuckled amusedly as he and Matthew followed at a steady pace behind him.

Alfred threw the door open, studying the tall man on the doorstep. In either hand was a large suitcase. Alfred recognized all too well the shoulder length blond hair, stubble-covered chin, and sparkling blue eyes.

"Uncle Francis!" both boys exclaimed in a mix of surprise and excitement.

"On Hon Hon! And how are my two favorite nephews?" Francis asked as he stepped inside, setting the suitcases on the hardwood floor.

"We're good... 'Cept Daddy made us get up early on a Saturday." Alfred told him.

"How horrible! But I suppose it is a good thing after all, no? Or we may not have seen each other." Francis replied, patting the boy on the head.

"Did you come here all the way from France?" Matthew asked softly.

"Oui, mon petite. Tell me, how is Monsieur Kumajiro? Well I hope."

"He's good. I just wish he could remember my name." the timid boy said, holding up his stuffed polar bear.

"Perhaps all he needs is a gentle reminder, no?" the Frenchman humored him.

Arthur cleared his throat loudly, gaining the looks of the other three, "Anyway, Francis, you made good time. I've been trying to explain to the boys, but perhaps you'd rather tell them why you've come?"

"Oui." Francis smiled. Both twins now stared at him intently.

"As of this morning I am moving in with you. I will take care of the cooking, and help to take care of the both of you." He explained.

"Y-you mean Daddy's never going to cook again?" Matthew stammered.

"Not ever?" Alfred asked, just as astonished.

"Oui. Starting from this day I promise to cook every meal! This house shall have the finest French cuisine!" Francis declared.

Both boys hugged him tightly.

"We're saved!" Alfred cried, "Uncle Francis, you're my hero!"

Arthur turned faintly pink in annoyance, "Francis, the kitchen is down the hall to the left." He turned to his sons, "Come along now, boys. We'll take Uncle Francis's luggage up to the guest room."

"A-Actually Daddy… I kind of wanted to help Uncle Francis in the kitchen… Mr. Kumajiro wants to help too..." Matthew said softly.

"I have no problems with that if you don't, mon ami," Francis said to Arthur.

The Englishman gave in, "Alright then, make sure Uncle Francis doesn't set the kitchen ablaze, will you?" he said lightly.

"Only you are capable of that, Daddy." Alfred stated.

"And that will be enough out of you, young man." Arthur chided, "Now come along." He said, attempting to get Alfred to assist him in settling the luggage in the guest room.

Alfred watched his brother and uncle disappear down the hall with a sigh before following his father's lead up the stairs. "Ah well. Maybe Uncle Francis brought me and Matty presents in his suitcases." He thought to himself.

As they set the suitcases on the ever vacant guest bed, Alfred began to fiddle with the metal clasps of the one he'd been carrying. He nearly had it open, when his father's hands firmly grasped his own, "Alfred! What on earth do you think you're doing?"

"Searching for presents," Alfred replied shamelessly, turning to his father.

Arthur shook his head and clicked his tongue disapprovingly, "We do not go through our guest's luggage, Alfred. In fact it's quite rude."

"Aww, but can't I just take a tiny peek inside?" Alfred pleaded.

"Certainly not," Arthur replied, steering him toward the door, "Off with you, why don't you see if Uncle Francis and Matthew need any help?"

"Aren't you coming?" Alfred asked, staring at his father with big blue eyes.

"I will in a moment. I must double check that everything is in order." Arthur said calmly, "Off with you." He repeated, with a dismissive flick of his wrist.

"Okay, okay. I'm going. I know when I'm not wanted." Alfred grumbled, shoving his hands in his pockets as he trudged out the door.

In an instant, Arthur moved to follow his son, "Now just a minute, Alfred. You know very well that's not what I meant, don't you?"

Alfred turned to his father, a big grin plastered over his face," Gotcha!" he said brightly.

Arthur rubbed his temples," Yes. Quite. Well now…carry on."

Alfred giggled and scrambled down the stairs without another word. He was satisfied with the fact he'd managed to aggravate his father to a degree.

When he was certain Alfred was down the stairs, Arthur quickly went back into the guestroom and threw open both of Francis's suitcases. "Sorry old boy, nothing personal." He muttered as he searched through the Frenchman's belongings. There would be no alcohol or… adult books in his house if he could help it, not where a pair of curious eight year olds might get a hold of it at any rate. His search turned out to be less than paranoia as he discovered a bottle of fine French wine.

"I'll just put this away somewhere safe for a special occasion." Arthur thought to himself dryly.

Perhaps he could lock it away within the cabinet in his study. Yes, that seemed like a good plan. He set the bottle aside a moment as he refolded the disheveled clothes and placed them neatly inside their suitcases. He snapped the metal clasps shut and trudged out of the guest room, wine bottle in hand. All he had to do was sneak it into the study and then join his family for breakfast. It seemed simple enough.

That was, until he heard an eerily happy chortle from behind him, causing him to freeze. He'd been caught red-handed.

Arthur turned to face the Frenchman who was now regarding him with arms crossed. He smiled weakly, "I can explain."

"On Hon Hon! It is too early in the day to be drinking, mon ami! I know you have lost your wife, but you are not setting a good example for your children." Francis said smoothly.

Arthur's face flushed, "Oh shut it, Frog! You know very well this wine isn't mine."

"Oui. I know, mon ami. Which raises the obvious question: Why is it in your hand?" Francis inquired calmly.

"Don't you dare try to paint me the villain!" Arthur huffed.

Francis smirked oddly and put a finger to his lips, "Shh."

"Don't you hush me!" Arthur spat, "You have no business bringing this into my household!" He hissed, lifting the bottle up for emphasis.

Francis simply lifted his palms in the air, smiling smugly, "Whatever you say, mon ami. However, you may want to reconsider how loudly you are talking… Your children will hear."

Arthur's face colored further, but he continued on in a hushed tone, "What made you think it would be okay to bring wine with you? For God's sake, you think alcohol is appropriate when you're coming to help look after my children?!"

"I don't see the problem, mon ami. I won't be going home to France for some time… Is it so wrong that I wanted to bring something special from home?" the Frenchman asked.

"Don't give me that. You can get a hold of wine at almost any super market. What makes this bottle so special?" Arthur inquired in turn.

"It is French wine." Francis said simply.

"Well of course, Frog." Arthur huffed impatiently.

"American wine is not the same… it lacks the flavor, the passion." Francis said with a kiss of his finger tips.

"You're bloody mad." Arthur grumbled under his breath.

"I can see because you lack an elegant palate, you are incapable of understanding." Francis countered, "However, if it makes you feel any better, I will drink responsibly and only when I am not in the presence of your children."

Arthur wanted to argue that his palate was actually quite classy, but he was sure Alfred and Matthew were nearly finished with breakfast by now. He didn't want them seeing him and Francis arguing, and so he grudgingly agreed, "Fine, but you had better find a better hiding place than your suitcase… I had to stop Alfred from trying to go through your things in search of presents."

Francis nodded, "Fair enough."

Arthur held out the bottle of wine, "Well, here. Hurry up and hide the bloody thing before I change my mind." He huffed.

With a brief smile, Francis retrieved the bottle and hastened up the stairs to stash the bottle away.

Arthur watched him go with a hardened gaze. Things wouldn't be easy if Francis was always trying to bend the rules of his household like this. Alfred and Matthew had just lost their mother! They needed order, not confrontation. Arthur sighed and rubbed his temples, "Oh well, I guess hoping everything to run perfectly was too much to expect… And it is just a small issue..." He told himself.

Suddenly, he felt a small hand tugging at his sleeve.

A small voice followed the simple action," Daddy, are you okay?"

Arthur blinked his green eyes and found himself staring down at Matthew. Instantly, he smiled and patted the boy on the head, "Yes, of course. Why do you ask?"

"Alfred and I heard you and Uncle Francis arguing." Matthew said timidly, violet eyes peering just over the top of his stuffed polar bear's head.

"O-Oh, you did?" Arthur asked weakly, smile faltering a second.

"You sounded angry." Matthew continued, "Did you make Uncle Francis leave?" he asked quietly.

"N-No. No! Of course not, Matthew. He just went upstairs to settle in a little." Arthur replied, feeling guilty to have obviously worried his son.

"Do you think he's getting our presents?!" Alfred asked hopefully as he walked up beside his brother.

"... Maybe, Alfred." Arthur said uncertainly, eyes still locked on Matthew's.

"Are you going to apologize to Uncle Francis? You might have hurt his feelings by yelling at him..." Matthew said timidly. It became apparent he didn't know what the argument had been about, much to Arthur's relief.

"Matthew, I..." Arthur began, but was cut off before he could finish the thought.

"On Hon Hon! What is this?" Francis said from the bottom of the staircase, drawing the attention of the other three.

Francis smiled and continued, "Matthew, you needn't worry about the talk your father and I had! He was simply expressing his fatherly concerns and I can respect that… It is what any good father would do when he is about to trust another person to care for his children."

"But you're our uncle!" Alfred cut in.

Francis waggled a finger, "That does not make a difference. He is your father, and he has every right to want the best for you."

Arthur couldn't believe his ears. Francis was defending him? He cleared his throat, "Yes, well, I did go a bit off the handle, old chap…I'm sorry."

"There, you see?" Francis said to Alfred and Matthew before turning to Arthur," No harm done."

The Frenchman paused briefly and then smirked, "Now tell me, who is ready for presents?"

"Oh! Oh! Me! I am! I want a present!" Alfred said jumping up and down excitedly.

"I- I want one too!" Matthew added softly.

Arthur crossed his arms over his chest as he watched. He had to hand it to Francis, he was good with the children… Though he still questioned the Frenchman's methods. While he had the rest of the weekend to adjust, Arthur was fairly certain that the real challenge would begin Monday morning, when he would be off to work, and the kids to school…

Author's Note:

I'm baaaack! Okay, so long story short, I came up with this FanFic idea in February and started typing it then. However, I acquired writer's block. Not to mention, I was spending a lot of time with things in real life and simply didn't find the time to work on this. I still can't promise how fast updates will be, but if I somehow get a flood of good reviews that will definitely inspire me to get my rear in gear and crank out more chapters. For those who can't tell, this fic is AU (Alternate universe). It's based loosely off of Full House: Arthur being the widower, Francis being the uncle that moves in… Well, not everything is the same obviously as this isn't a full on parody. *laughs* Anyway, let me know what you think and I'll see you in Chapter 2.