"Francis, you really don't have to do this, you know," Matthew told his boyfriend – ex-boyfriend – whatever – as they trudged across the frozen parking lot. Well, Matthew trudged as Francis kind of glided, as always.

"Don't be silly, mon cher. I want to watch your hockey game!" The French man adjusted the duffle bag holding Matthew's gear across his shoulder. It was a little heavy, but he tried not to show it – after all, he had insisted on taking it from his petit ange in the first place.

It was Saturday, also known as community hockey day. Several games were played all day in the local center in which basically anyone could participate, as long as they had the proper equipment and weren't a liability to the teams. Matthew acted like it was no big deal, but Francis knew that he absolutely loved the sport, and had even gathered from Alfred that Matthieu was extremely talented and played in the very competitive matches. If he was ever going to win the boy's heart over again, it meant being more involved in the things Matthieu wanted to do.

Francis snuck a glance at the 'man', who was really hardly out of his teens, next to him. He wouldn't say it, but he was a little worried. He may be French, but he wasn't stupid. He knew that hockey was a violent sport, possibly the most violent sport, and Matthieu was… Matthieu. Soft and gentle and timid to the point of being ignored, he liked snuggling and had to cover his eyes during the scary parts of movies. It was hard to imagine him being, to quote Alfred, "a scary bastard on a pair of skates."

They walked into the building and Francis observed that while the stands were fairly abandoned, a few players were already warming up on the ice.

Matthew walked to the edge looked out at the men before cupping his hands to his mouth and yelling, "Hey, Gilbert!"

One of the players stopped dead on the ice, seemingly frozen for a minute, before half-screaming, "MATTIE!!!" and racing towards the blond, who suddenly seemed very small compared to the charging man in full hockey gear. Said man apparently forgot he was on skates, because as he went full-tilt towards the edge of the rink, stretching out his arms out in an approximation of a hug, before WHAM! The tips of his skates hit the wooden ridge and propelled him downwards, tackling Matthew hard onto the floor.

If the hockey player's hands hadn't cupped the back of Matthieu's head at the last moment to keep it from hitting the ground, Francis would have found a way to make sure that 'Gilbert' never got up ever again. As it was, he settled for harshly pushing the man off of his unofficial-boyfriend and frantically checking Matthew for bodily injury until the periwinkle-eyed boy smiled reassuringly and wheezed, "It's okay, Francis. Just got the wind knocked out of me."

Before Francis could express his relief, he was unceremoniously shoved out of the way by the skater, who had removed his helmet to reveal white hair, white skin, and pink-red irises. "Christ, Mattie, I'm sorry! You okay?"

"Yeah, Gilbert, I'm fine-" He was cut off as Gilbert wrapped him up in a bear-hug.

"It's so awesome to see you!"

Matthew laughed and did his best to hug the man back, despite the bulky padding and gear and the fact that they were all still sitting on the floor. "How've you been? How're the other guys?"

Gilbert relinquished his hold on Mattie (but was still too close for Francis' tastes) and answered, "Your little month-long disappearance because of your prick of an ex was completely not awesome. You should have just come to me, I would have totally messed up that fucker's face for fucking around on you like that! Besides, everyone missed you, dude, no one can tear up the ice like you can… and I was stuck with Captain 'No-Fun' Ludwig and his ADHD Boy-Toy Wonder for company while you were gone."

Matthieu giggled nervously at that and grabbed the Frenchman's arm. "Speaking of which… Gilbert, I'd like you to meet Francis."

The albino did a double-take. "Francis?!" He said dangerously, "The guy you dumped? The one who cheated on you, Tiger Woods-style? The whole reason you fucking vanished for a month?!"

"Gilbert, please!" Matthew pleaded, "Yes, he messed up… but I can't not give him a second chance!"

Francis decided to speak up. Addressing Gilbert, he said, "I may have hurt Matthieu before, but every moment I have I will make it up to him and adore him the way he deserves." He finished the statement with an affectionate look thrown at the smaller man, who was watching Gilbert warily.

"You're damn fucking right he deserves to be treated well," the albino growled, "Which you won't ever do. I've seen guys like you, man. Once a cheater, always a cheater."

Francis made to retort, but Matthew interrupted. Placing a hand on Gilbert's bicep, he asked with a low voice, looking up into the albino's face with adorable wide eyes and a slight pout, "Gil, please, please be nice! It's really important to me, so just… please?"

If Francis hadn't picked up on it before, Gilbert's feelings were made hopelessly obvious by the way he looked at Matthew right then. His angry and oddly hurt expression melted into something gentler, sadder, and wistful. He nodded slowly, but whispered, "Still, I want to talk to you later." Matthew nodded back with a small, encouraging smile, and Gilbert turned to look at Francis.

Pigmentless eyes met blue ones, and a tense moment passed before Gilbert gave a very chilly, "Hey."

"Bonjour," Francis answered, purposely using his native language to assert his superiority over the man. He slid his arm around Matthieu's waist for good measure, tucking the smaller blond against his side and practically in his lap. Mattie blushed crimson and the albino's eyes narrowed before he abruptly stood back on the ice, grabbing Matthew's hand to pull him up and out of Francis' grasp. Suddenly, Gilbert had Matthew's hockey bag in one hand and the Canadian's hand in the other with a vaguely menacing expression on his face as he looked down on Francis.

Matthew looked between them, worried, before clearing his throat and tugging on Gilbert's hand to get his attention. As the men stopped glaring at each other and looked to him, Mattie flushed and stuttered, "S-shouldn't we go and g-get ready?"

Gilbert managed to flash him a smile that actually seemed sincere. "Sure, Mattie! Besides, if we don't go soon, we'll lose time to rev you up for the game." He began to pull the Canadian further out onto the ice. Matthew didn't try to stop him, but sent a glance towards Francis. The aristocratic blond gave an indulgent smile and waved him away, and Matthew grinned back before turning away.

With Matthieu out of sight, Francis let the smile fall into a grimace. This was going to be a problem.