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It was around 8'o clock in the morning.
Francis and Arthur were sleeping peacefully, much to Alfred and Matthew's relief.
The twins slowly crept around the kitchen, making sure everything was in order. They just had to wait, now, and hope that neither of their parents woke up.
They would ask Arthur to help them, but he can't cook for shit, so they didn't.
Obviously, they couldn't ask Francis, since it was his surprise.
Honestly, they just needed Arthur to stay out of the kitchen otherwise he might demand to help them.
And, well, nothing goes right when it involves Arthur and cooking.
The oven timer, despite how quiet they tried to be, went off. And the oven timer, to their dissatisfaction, was not quiet.
Alfred quickly scrambled to turn it off, taking the scones out.
They were definitely lopsided, slightly over-floured, and definitely not the same size.
"Are you sure they're supposed to look like this?" Matthew whispered, eyeing a particularly deformed scone.
"Don't even worry, dude! Once we decorate them all nice with strawberries and jam no one's gonna notice. It'll be great."
Matthew opened his mouth to respond, but they both froze when they heard footsteps coming down the stairs.
"Aw, fuck, man." Alfred whined.
"Why are you two up?" Arthur's tired voice called.
Matthew immediately shielded the oven, while Alfred, in his panic, grabbed the (still very hot) tray of scones with his bare hands.
"Ow!" He hissed, instantly dropping it on the counter. Luckily, there were no casualties.
Arthur appeared in the doorway, eyes narrowed. "What are you guys doing?" He asked.
"Nothing- ow, that hurts, dude!" Alfred complained, clutching his burnt hand.
"We're making breakfast for Papa, you know, since its Mother's Day." Matthew sighed.
Arthur blinked, and tried to respond but was quickly cut off.
"No, you can't help. You aren't trusted in the kitchen anymore since you set a towel on fire trying to make French toast." Matthew interrupted.
"It's an English pastry! I'm literally England! I can cook scones just fine.." He muttered.
Another pair of footsteps was heard down the hall, unmistakably belonging to Francis.
"Quoi..? What's all the ruckus down here?" Francis questioned, his head popping out from the side of the doorframe.
The twins scrambled to finish preparing the scones, sending Arthur off to distract him.
The butter was haphazardly smeared on the pastries, the jam was sliding off the edges, and the cup of coffee had enough sugar to kill a man. That was how Francis liked his coffee, though, so that worked out.
Alfred pulled a slip of paper out of his pocket that read "Happy Mother's Day" and set it on the edge of the plate before placing the tray on the checkered placemat.
He carefully carried it over to Francis, followed by Matthew.
"Here, Dad." Alfred handed him the tray as Matthew guided him to sit down. Arthur was at the other end, staring with his arm crossed. His expression carried a hint of fondness, though.
"These look nice, good job." Francis said with warmth in his voice, ruffling both of the twin's hair.
"I helped!" Arthur interjected.
"No you didn't." Everyone else said in unison.
"Happy Mother's Day." Matthew and Alfred said, sitting across from Francis at the table.
"Happy Mother's Day, Francis." Arthur grumbled.
Francis chuckled at that.