The FACE(S) family

Alfred or Matthew?

Arthur stood over the cot, smiling softly. He stroked one of the sleeping babes' cheek. "My babies." He whispered, pride swelling in his stomach. He felt his eyes water, and laughed softly. "Oh, darlings."

Francis walked past the nursary, carrying the laundry basket. He stopped short when he heard his fiancée's voice. Setting the basket down, Francis entered the room and wrapped his arms around Arthur's waist. "Salut, mon lapin." He whispered in the Brit's ear, nipping it gently.

Arthur shivered, leaning back. "Stop biting my ear... I don't think we're ready for a third baby, not when our boys are both just four days old. Four days, Francis!" He laughed loudly.

"Hush, cher. Don't wake them up just yet..." He moved one of his hands to stroke a baby's cheek. "Petit Matthieu." He whispered.

Arthur snorted. "That's Alfred, Francis." He said confidently. Francis raised an eyebrow.

"No, this is Matthew. I named him, Arthur." He grinned.

Arthur scowled. "That is Alfred."

"Oh, and how would you know any better than myself?"

"Because I gave fucking birth to them, shit for brains!" He hissed.

Francis looked them over. "Well, they have birthmarks in different places, no?" He asked.

Arthur nodded. "Alfred has his on his hip, like me. Matthew's is-"

"On the back of his neck, like his Papa." Francis picked the reason for their argument up and gently pulled down the light blue sleeper suit the baby had on.

There was no mark.

"Haha!" Arthur laughed triumphantly. "See! A mother's instinct, you silly Frog!" He stole Alfred away from Francis, and rocked him gently. "Your mummy knows who you are, little one. Isn't your daddy silly?" He kissed Alfred's forehead.

Francis picked Matthew up, delighted when the baby peered up at him. "Mon Matthieu. Your Papa cares about you. Your Papa loves you so much."

The two men looked at each other, and Arthur laughed softly, leaning on Francis. He closed his eyes, and sighed softly as Francis kissed his neck.

They were a happy family.