J'avoue j'en ai bavé pas vous mon amour,
Avant d'avoir eu vent de vous mon amour…
The first two lines sounded so good and perfect that Gilbert thought that it was from the radio. Some cheesy French songs from the 50s gently playing on a gramophone, André loved to play those around his house.
He realised that there was no background music to it, instead accompanied by the sizzling sound of breakfast (likely eggs from the rich, savoury aroma) over the pan, and in André's smooth, jazzy voice. André's voice? He couldn't believe that he could sound so… quiet and intimate. He usually spoke in a sarcastic tone in everyday conversation, and in a rougher tone. Sure, he spoke intimately often, but passionately and vigorously as well. This time? Well, it sounded like he was whispering to a newborn baby or something, with a sense of careful fragility to it.
Prussia stepped in full view of the kitchen. Paris was still humming the song while cracking an egg into the pan, wearing an apron over a sweater with his hair loose. The morning sun framed him in a halo that to be honest... made him look stunning.
Glancing towards Gilbert, he smirked, and usual Paris was back. "So. I finally woke up earlier than you." He smirked and leaned against the door frame.
"You didn't wake up at 3am in the morning like last time, did you?" Gilbert asked, knowing how André liked to stay in bed for longer.
"Nope, just got lucky," André teased. He turned the heat off, and put the fried eggs onto a dish and garnished it with parsley and salt and pepper before carrying it to the dinner table. "Breakfast's ready, mon ange," he reminded. "Bon appétit!" Prussia sat down, though his focus was focused on Paris, who had started to indulge in his own breakfast, and he smirked.
"Mon ange?" He said with a smirk, "Little ironical, considering that you're the one with the voice of an angel." Taken aback, Paris widened his eyes and gulped down his egg, Prussia laughing at his reaction.
"Me? The voice of an angel?" He gave a shy smile, and looked to the side as a vivid red blush bloomed across his face. "Thanks."
"Hey! I made you blush!" Paris chuckled.
"Yeah. First time for everything, I suppose!"
They continued to eat their breakfast, with Gilbert wolfing down the eggs and André tasting smaller slices of it. Naturally, Gilbert finished first. He leaned forwards, arm supporting one cheek and looking at Paris.
"So," he started. "Mind if I hear some more?" At the last word, André glanced up and raised an eyebrow.
"Sure."