Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

In the heart of London in a small, dingy apartment lived two men in their early twenties that were as opposite as day and night. One was a quiet, bookish Englishman with unruly hair that could never quite be tamed. The other was an overly self-confident, creative Frenchman who made sure to look his best no matter what time of day it was. The first preferred to spend his time at home, reading or writing his own book. The second was a party animal who had already had more relationships in his twenty seven years than most people had in a lifetime. Even with all their differences, they lived together quite harmoniously and managed to become close friends. Currently they were enjoying a lazy Saturday before the second man had to prepare for his job.

Three loud knocks suddenly rang through the apartment.

“Who could that be?” Arthur asked as he looked over the top of his newspaper.

“I am not sure. I will go look,” Francis replied, putting down his mirror and walking towards the door. “Perhaps I had plans that I forgot about.” He peered out the peephole but didn’t see anyone on the other side so he opened the door to see if a package had been delivered instead.

A package was waiting on the doormat but it was definitely not one he would have expected.

“Ah, Arthur…? Do you have a niece or nephew? Or did you start babysitting to earn some extra money?”

The other man snorted.

“No one should allow my brothers to reproduce and I already have a job. Why?”

Francis stepped back into the apartment, eyes wide and shaking a little, holding a large basket.

“Because this was at our door.”

Curious about the contents of the basket, Arthur folded his newspaper before standing and coming to examine it. Peering over the edge, he saw a tiny, newborn baby wrapped loosely in a red blanket. He also noticed something that Francis, in his shock, had missed.

“There is a letter,” he informed the other man as he pulled it out. “Maybe this can explain why this...gift...was left on our doorstep.” Carefully opening it, he began to read aloud.

Francis,

I know we haven’t spoken in quite a while but now you know why. We had our fun and decided to break it off. However, about a month after we parted I realized that I was pregnant but I did not tell you about it. I decided that I was going to have the baby and raise it on my own but now that he’s here, I’ve changed my mind. I’m not ready to be a mom. A few hours with the baby showed me that so I’m leaving him to you. If you do not want to be a dad, I understand. I thought I could handle it and spent several months trying to be ready but I couldn’t. You didn’t have any time to prepare and I apologize but I’m not coming back. If you do decide to keep him, don’t ask me for help. I’ve made my choice and am not going to go back on it. I don’t want to be part of his life.

Signed,

Alice

Arthur looked up as he finished the letter and was surprised to see that Francis was no longer listening to him. Instead, he was cradling the baby in his arms and gazing at it with such adoration in his eyes.

“Un bebe,” he whispered. “Mon bebe.” He gently rocked the baby back and forth, cooing at it. “Je suis ton Papa.” Suddenly he stopped and carefully laid the baby back in the basket. “But I cannot keep you either,” he murmured sadly, head hanging. “I cannot afford to stay home with you to raise you and I cannot leave you alone so I can go to work. I will also have to give you away.” Tears sparkled at the corners of his eyes and he reached a hand up to wipe them away. “You will have a better life without someone like me trying to be your papa.” He picked up the basket and moved towards the door. “I will be back, Arthur.”

Even the far less emotional man could tell that his roommate was heartbroken at the thought of giving up the child he had only known for a few minutes. “Francis, wait!” The man paused and looked at him. “You should keep the child. I think you would be a good dad.”

The man sighed and shook his head. “No, Arthur. I have to be realistic. I cannot be a papa to this baby. What about when I have to go to work? I cannot leave a baby alone.”

“But he wouldn’t be alone. I’ll be here.” An idea struck him. “Francis, I can watch the baby while you are at work and when you arrive home, you can take him back. That way you can be a dad and the baby will never be left alone.”

“I could never ask you to do that. You have your own job and life. If I kept the baby, I would not force any responsibility onto you.”

“But you’re not asking me to do it. I am offering. And I work at home so it would not be difficult to help you while you are at work.”

For a long time Francis didn’t move, hand still on the doorknob and basket in his arms. Slowly his hand lowered and he put the basket back on the kitchen island. Then he ran to his English roommate and threw his arms around him, hugging him tightly.

“Oh, thank you, Arthur! That means so much to me! I promise I will be the best papa I can!” A quiet cry came from the basket and Francis instantly let go of the other man to rush over to his baby. “Oh petit trésor, you are okay. Papa is here.” He swept the baby back into his arms and rocked it until the whimpers stopped.

“I know you will be,” the Englishman murmured, watching the other. “You’ve already proven that to me.”

Chapter Text

Two hours had passed and not much had changed in that time. Arthur was reading at his desk and Francis was sitting next to the baby, adjusting his hair in his mirror. The baby, who was now sleeping, had been named Mathieu.

Francis had to leave for work in a few hours and Arthur and he had already decided that Mathieu’s basket would be placed on Francis’ bed while he was gone. If he needed anything, Arthur would attend to him but they both hoped that he would continue to sleep until the next day.

A cheery tune began to play in the room and Francis dove for his phone, worried that the sound would wake the baby.

“A-Allo?” he answered in a whisper.

“François?” a familiar voice replied. “Are you alright?”

“Maman? I am fine. I just was not expecting you to call. Is there a special reason?”

Arthur looked up when he realized who the other man was talking to, curious as well about the sudden call.

“Do I need a reason to call my son?” the woman on the other side asked. “We have not talked for a while and thought we should.”

“Of course not, Maman. I was curious.” Behind him Mathieu had woken up and started to cry softly. Panicking, Francis picked him up and tried to soothe him while still talking to his mother. “Did your piece make it into the show?”

“Am I a professional artist or not, François? Of course it made it!” She paused for a moment. “Am I calling at a bad time?”

Frantically shaking his head, even though his mother couldn’t see it, he responded, “No no no. Sorry, Maman.”

“Are you sure? It sounds like a baby is crying but that would be strange since surely you would have told your dear Maman if you had settled down and had a child, yes François Rene Bonnefoy?”

The accusation in her voice did not sit well with him.

“Actually…” He took a deep breath before continuing. “There is a baby here but-”

“Do not go anywhere! I will be there in three hours!”

He tried to protest but the phone had already been hung up.

Sitting back with a sigh, he put the phone down and tightly wrapped Mathieu in his blanket.

“What did she say?” Arthur’s voice asked from the other side of the room, head buried in his book again.

“She is coming to see Mathieu.”

With those words, the book fell to the floor.

“Where is the baby?!”

Francis turned to the door that Arthur had just opened, Mathieu held securely in his arms.

“Ssh,” he called quietly. “I do not want to scare him.”

His mother stomped over to him, looking around the room.

“Where is the mother?” she demanded, focusing on her son for the first time since entering the apartment.

“She left,” Francis whispered sadly, gazing down at the child.

“Then tell her to come back so I can meet her!”

Francis shook his head.

“No, Maman. She left the baby. She does not want to be part of his life.”

The woman stared at him, shocked.

“So you are going to raise him? By yourself?” He nodded, raising his head to meet her eyes. “Oh François,” she sighed, shaking her head in sympathy. “You cannot possibly do that. You do not know the first thing about babies.”

Eyes widening in surprise, Francis didn’t say anything for a moment.

“You think I cannot take care of a baby on my own but if I had his mother here, then you would be fine with it?”

“Well not fine, of course. Clearly you two made a huge mistake with your lives and were not careful. But you know that you are not nearly responsible enough to raise a baby alone.”

“Maman!” Francis cried, furious and frustrated. “I am always careful in bed! You raised me better than that!”

“Clearly not! 

At this Arthur stepped in, outraged and ready to defend his friend.

“I believe that is far enough, Madame Bonnefoy.” The older woman turned to him, regarding him with slight annoyance. “Francis is going to be a great dad. And if he did give up Mathieu, the boy would be given to an orphanage where he may never find another family.” Sensing that she was wavering, Arthur continued. “Mathieu is your grandchild. Do you truly want him to lose his mother, father, and grandmother…?”

It was quiet while she considered this information. Did she have her son give up this child for the good of them both and lose her only grandchild or does she not interfere and become a grandmother? After several minutes she reached her answer.

“Fine. You may keep the child but you need to prove that you will be a father worthy of raising this child. I will make a list for you of all that needs to happen within a month to show me that you can do this. If you do not succeed, the child will be removed. Do we have a deal?”

“Maman!” the Frenchman exclaimed, shocked by his mother’s words. “You cannot be serious!”

“François, you know that I do not make jokes like that. Do we have a deal or not?"

The man stared at his mother, trying to read her eyes. There was no playful shine in them as could be found often; his mother was completely serious.

“Alright, Mama. Tell me what I need to do for Mathieu.”

A smile appeared on his mother’s face.

“Wonderful. First, let me see my grandson.”

Stepping over to her quickly, Francis passed Mathieu to his mother. He was quickly swept into her arms while she began cooing at him in French.

“Allo, mon petit ange. Tu es trop mignon. Je suis ta grand-mere!” The men let her continue for a few moments until she looked up. “Get a piece of paper and a pencil,” she ordered. “There is a lot for you to do.”

Chapter Text

The list his mother had dictated was lengthy and it weighed heavily in his hand as he scanned through it. A quick glance at the clock on the stove told him that he did not nearly have enough time to purchase everything on the list. With only a little over an hour until he was expected to be at work, he had to pick the most essential items and get those so that Mathieu wouldn’t go without what he needed to survive.

He would definitely need bottles and powder formula so that he didn’t starve. Diapers were also going to be an immediate need so that he wasn’t stuck in a dirty one. Thinking back on it, Alice hadn’t left Mathieu with any extra diapers so he had been in the same one for several hours already. Was that normal? How often were you meant to change a baby’s diaper? Would he get sick from wearing that one for so long? It didn’t smell so maybe it was okay? 

Shaking his head, Francis got himself back on track but mentally moved diapers high on his short list as well as added the wipes and diaper cream that were on his mother’s list.

The clock now showed that he only had an hour so he snagged his wallet off the counter, quickly thanked Arthur for watching Mathieu, and dashed out of the apartment towards the nearest pharmacy. He knew that a store that was meant for baby supplies would probably be a better option but he didn’t know where one was in their section of London and didn’t have time to run around looking for one. On the other hand, there was a pharmacy just a block away and it should have the few items he needed for the moment.

Ducking inside, he grabbed a basket and headed for the section he had never been to before and quickly started looking. He just needed five items and then he could drop them off at home and head to work. Just five items. That should be easy.

But, as he stood in the aisle, staring at the shelves, he was suddenly overwhelmed. They didn’t sell just one type of bottle or one brand of diaper. There were options, multiple options, for him to pick from. Which one would be best? Which one would Mathieu prefer? What if he picked the wrong one?

Grabbing a container of formula off the shelf, he inspected it.

It seemed fine. It claimed to have all the things that babies needed so it should be okay, right? He started to put it in the basket on his arm but froze.

But what if Mathieu didn’t like it? What if he wouldn’t eat it? What if he starved because Francis couldn’t pick the right one? 

Deciding that brand wasn’t the one, he set it back on the shelf and grabbed another but again his thoughts ran away from him. He imagined a severely ill baby suddenly because he was too idiotic to figure out how to even get the right food for one. How little did he know about babies? He had thought they were pretty simple but looking at all the items in the store, he was overwhelmed and realized he needed to do a lot of research to be a good dad to Mathieu.

Starting to panic, he grabbed a container of each kind of formula and threw it in the basket along with a set of wipes, a jar of diaper cream, and snatched a box of diapers at random. They would have to do for now. At least Mathieu would have choices when it came to his food. The other items shouldn’t matter as much, he thought. They were just generic and Mathieu probably wouldn’t mind. If he did, Francis would do his research and get the right thing next time. He would do better going forward.

Hurrying back to his apartment, he practically threw everything on the counter, kissed Mathieu’s forehead, and ran to work. Luckily, he made it to the restaurant with a few minutes to spare and washed his hands, throwing on his apron.

“What’s the rush, amigo?” a laughing voice called. A moment later the tanned face of his friend and coworker, Antonio, appeared around the corner. “I haven’t seen you so worked up in quite a while!”

Tying his hair up, Francis turned to him and let out a breath.

“You are not going to believe me, mon ami.” Strolling past him, he looked around the nearly empty kitchen. “Where is Ludwig?”

At his name, the tall, blond man appeared.

“Did you need me, Francis?”

The man barely managed to stop himself from gasping in surprise as he turned to his boss, painting a warm smile on his face.

“Oui! I needed to talk to you.”

“What did you do now?” another voice mocked. A second man stepped into the kitchen, coming to lean against the German’s side.

“Ah,” Francis began, smile sliding off his face at the arrival of this coworker. “Hello, Gilbert. I was hoping to talk to your brother in private if you did not mind.”

Laughing loudly, the newest arrival shook his head.

“Anything you need to say to him, you can say in front of me, Frenchie!”

Francis had been hoping to avoid such a conversation including his boss’ older brother. It wasn’t that he disliked the man, but he could be irritating and didn’t tend to keep private matters to himself. With a sigh, he gave in as he realized it was going to get out either way.

“There has been a change in my home life,” he explained, making eye contact with Ludwig. “You see, this morning I became a father. Due to my new responsibilities, I wanted to inform you of this change since it may occasionally affect my schedule.”

Silence hung in the air of the kitchen. All three of the others in the room were frozen in shock, staring at him. 

Gilbert eventually broke it by laughing again.

“You-! You-!” He couldn’t even finish his sentence. Taking a breath, he tried again. “You knocked someone up! You gotta wrap it, Frenchie! And now you have to live with your poor choices!”

Bending over, he kept laughing.

Protective anger surged in Francis but he pushed it down.

“Mathieu is not a poor choice!” he defended, eyes shining. “He is my son and I will do what I can for him! And, not that you need to know, but I was careful!” He crossed his arms and looked away in frustration.

Always the kinder of the two, Antonio stepped over to his side and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Francisco, did you know?” 

The question was simple but he knew exactly what the other was asking.

“No,” he admitted quietly. “His mother didn’t tell me anything. We dated for awhile and then one day she stopped talking to me. I found Mathieu on my doorstep this morning with a note.”

“And where is his mother?”

“Gone.”

That made Gilbert stop laughing.

“Wait, what?,” he asked while straightening up, unusually somber. “Seriously?” Francis nodded. “She left the baby and ran?”

“Oui. She does not want anything to do with him.”

His two coworkers shared a glance over his head. Antonio decided to be the one to approach the subject.

“Francis,” he began slowly. “If you are here, then where is the baby?”

“He is at home.”

“Alone?!” Gilbert demanded.

The Frenchman turned to him and rolled his eyes.

“Oui, I am a terrible father. I left him alone!” With a scoff, he explained, “Arthur is watching him. He offered to do so when I am at work.”

Nodding, they understood.

“Well good luck to you,” Gilbert said, clapping a hand on his shoulder and walking off.