Fated

Forewarning: rated T for swearing, slightly mature content (implied) and probably incorrect French. And fluff. Not the plushie kind of fluff either.

Francis was in love.

It couldn't be anything else. He has never felt so light before, each step felt springier as if the ground had turned into a sponge. His heart soared high above in the air. Each morning was another day full of bright opportunity and every night was brought sweet dreams of her. No rose, however perfectly bloomed or vibrant its colors, could compare to her natural beauty. Porcelain looked blotchy and ugly compared to her smooth, pale complexion. Even the ocean couldn't compete with the depth she held in her eyes. She was a queen, a shining star, she was magnificent, she was...

"Oh bullocks."

...very rude.

Francis turned his attention toward the young woman sitting alone at the cafe table crammed in a lonely corner. She was scowling viciously at him, her slender fingers wrapped around the stem of a cigarette. A thin trail of pungent smoke curled from its tip and into the clear late spring air. Her short choppy hair fluttered with every merry breeze that passed as the sun reflected the blonde locks into gold. The most striking feature about her were her eyes, deep green and as sharp as cut emerald.

"Mon cher Alice!" Francis exclaimed, immediately taking the empty seat across her. "It's been too long! I almost didn't recognize you, you've grown so much!"

Alice's frown deepened.

He was sure it was due to her irritation toward his presence more than his words, although they had been carefully placed. Francis didn't recognize her at first but that was because of the vastly different style she took since he had last seen her. She wore a dark ragged blouse with a black leather jacket over top of it, small silver spikes running along the shoulder pads. The ripped skinny jeans revealed fishnet tights underneath its gracious holes and the whole outfit was complete with thick black boots. When Alice opened her mouth to exhale smoke, Francis was surprised to see a large piercing on her tongue. Her makeup was also notably different, before she had barely bothered with the stuff but now her eyes were lined in dark colors and her lips were a deep blood red. It wasn't an unattractive look but it was certainly surprising for the Frenchman.

"What the hell are you doing here?" She asked.

"Presumably the same as you," he answered smoothly, propping one arm against the table.

She cursed. "I should have known better than to trust a website."

Francis chuckled. "I am just as surprised as you to be reunited in this way. But since we are here, why don't we have some coffee and catch up with each other?"

Alice idly flicked ash off the tip of her cigarette onto the pavement below, eyeing him from across the table as if a toad had somehow gotten into her underwear drawer. "Alright, but this isn't a date. And I want Earl Grey tea, not coffee."

A sliver of pain shot through Francis's chest but he didn't protest, instead rising to go back inside the cafe to order their beverages. It seemed like such an odd coincidence but the Frenchmen firmly didn't believe in such a thing, especially not when it came to love. Who knew that signing up for a dating website would lead him to a childhood friend?

The Kirkland family would vacation during the summer in France and that was how Alice and Francis had met as children. Back then, Alice had long hair usually pulled into adorable pigtails that he used to tug to tease her, which she would smack him for in turn. Her family also provided her with adorable little dresses that she despised. At one occasion they had decided to trade clothes and their families were horrified to discover Francis skipping about happily in the dress while Alice laughed at him in her boy clothes. The situation had been righted much to their dismay. The hardest part of the year for Francis was when she had to go home to England, he enjoyed her company even if she tended to be short tempered. For many years in their adolescence they exchanged letters. Francis often boasted of the many beautiful places he had been to in France and complained of the latest fashions that didn't please him. Alice's letters were filled with stories about her brothers that he had found amusing to read. She also confessed to him about her magical friends. Occasionally she might add a favorite poem she discovered or even make up her own. And then, one fateful year, her letters grew shorter and blander. It was hardly noticeable at first, but before he realized what was happening the letters had stopped altogether. He continued writing for months afterwards but it was no use. Francis had prayed desperately for the summer to come faster but when it did he was very disappointed to discover that Alice was spending the summer with distant relatives. He hadn't seen her again until now.

In the meantime, Francis had been in many good and bad relationships. He was looking for the right one to spend the rest of his life with, although he did enjoy a simple flirtatious encounter along the way. A few meant nothing more than to temporarily fill the deep longing that persistently resided in his heart. There had been moments where he despaired but he refused to give up. He knew someday he would find the right person and that often eased any infliction. So when a notification on one of his dating apps stated that a match had been found, he was over the moon. He didn't spare a second thought when he contacted this young woman. They chatted at first and he found that he liked her very much, although a strange feeling often plagued him each time he saw her name. It looked so familiar. Her pictures weren't very helpful, they were always blurred and artistically messy so it was hard to discern her exact features aside from the fact that she was clearly beautiful. Eventually he decided that it was time to meet this lady and asked her on a date. And here he was now on this 'date' with Alice Kirkland, his elusive childhood friend. The world certainly worked in strange ways.

As he returned to their table with the warm cups in each hand, Francis took the short break to take another good look at his questionable date. Alice had certainly grown a lot, her round cheeks had smoothed out elegantly into a more angular face. Her short hair definitely complimented her features and made her look more mature.

He sat down and passed her the tea, smiling pleasantly. "I didn't know you were in France."

"I came here for a job as an editor," Alice answered. She seemed more relaxed now that the initial shock was over and took a sip of her tea before continuing. "Unfortunately it didn't follow through since I only had an English degree. They refused to believe that I understood French perfectly even though the entire interview was spoken in that very bloody language." She gave a derisive snort, clearly upset about the topic.

"That's a shame, I hope you can find a good job," Francis said, genuinely sympathetic.

"No need for such condolence, I have a job at a book shop," she leaned back in her chair as she smothered the stub of her cigarette into the ashtray on the table. "It's not much but it pays the bills."

"I'm glad to hear that."

Green eyes glanced up at him curiously. "What about you? How are you getting along?"

"Very well, thank you for asking," Francis smiled. "I've been designing and modeling for a fashion magazine. It's a good job and I enjoy it very much."

"Seems appropriate. If I remember correctly you always loved wearing a dress," Alice smirked.

Warmth flooded Francis's heart as she brought up the memory. Very quickly they fell into a comfortable conversation, bantering back and forth without really meaning any rude remark. Alice was always quick with a clever response that usually consisted of that dry British humor. But everything about her pleased Francis and he could tell she was enjoying herself just as much, even if she never would admit it. It seemed this was to be the start of something truly wonderful.

xxx Three Months Later xxx

Francis nervously smoothed the front of his jacket as he walked quickly down the street, the houses on either side of him hugging close together. He had to adjust his grip on the bottle of wine and box of chocolates to do so. The wine was one of the French wines best that he could find. It was rare for him to feel such nervousness but what he was about to undergo was a frightening experience for any young lover, however experienced that person may be.

His pace slowed as he got closer to his destination. It seemed all too soon when he stepped onto the tiny porch that lay beneath a bright red door. He took a deep breath. This was it. This would be the day that he would finally confess to Alice. Throughout those long months he had fallen for her more and more, yet she never seemed to notice. If she did then she didn't care. Francis deeply hoped that wasn't the case.

Shaking his head clear of worrying thoughts, he rang the doorbell and waited. It was tense moment before he could hear the soft padding of bare feet on the wood floors. Then there was a sharp click as the lock turned and the door swung open.

Francis stared.

Alice sagged against the door as if all will to live had abandoned her, her eyes were red and puffy as fat tears rolled down her cheeks. Her already wild hair was in such disarray it was defying gravity in many places. Francis thought he could spot a few tangles. Her slim figure was covered only by a baggy black t-shirt with some band logo on it and a pair of pajama pants. The t-shirt had slipped on her shoulder, showing part of a tattoo on her pale skin. The most shocking thing was big uneven white spots of powder that covered her head to toe.

"Alice, que se passe-t-il?!"Francis cried out in shock.

Her bottom lip wobbled. "I-it's awful, Francis, just awful..."

"What is it?"

"Come in," she opened the door, wiping her eyes pitifully with the back of her hand.

Francis stepped inside as concern flooded him. Never before had he seen her cry, not even when they were children. Alice always kept a stiff upper lip even when she was extremely upset. Whatever had happened to leave her in such a state must be something truly terrible. He followed her into the narrow apartment upstairs to the small kitchen. And there, laying in a great mess on the floor, was a murky puddle of teabags with clumps of something mixed in it.

Alice burst into a fresh bout tears at the sight. "I-I just w-wanted s-s-some tea and scones! B-but the flour was on the top shelf and I-I couldn't reach and..." her breath hitched as she swung her hand in a vague gesture. "All over the floor ruined! A-and I dropped the flour on top of it and...oh it's horrible!"

Francis stared in blank amazement at the floor before his blue eyes trailed to the counter and the open cupboard near the ceiling. It wasn't hard to picture what had happened. Alice was quite short in stature, it was clear she couldn't reach the top cupboard and had climbed on the counter to do so. Flour was dusted all over the place, there were even footprints that followed Alice where she had stepped in the mess. But the incident didn't quite explain why she was crying so hard.

Carefully, he placed the wine and the chocolate on the cleanest spot on the counter and turned to her. She had hung her head in shame, still bawling. He gently took her shoulders and guided her into a chair.

"Mon cher, spilled tea is nothing to cry over. You can easily buy some more after we clean it up."

"Oh you bloody idiot!" She wailed, throwing her head back. "You sodding rotten moron!"

Suddenly understanding filled Francis. He inwardly rebuked himself for not realizing the obvious sooner. So many of his past girlfriends had taught him the signs and how to handle this occurrence through grueling experience, yet he had failed to see it in Alice. Then again she was always such a practical person it was hard to imagine what she was like during this ah...very hormonal and delicate time of the month.

"Je suis désolé," Francis murmured as he helped her back to her feet.

Within moments he had guided her to the bathroom and turned the warm water on for the shower before stepping out. While she was there, he took off his jacket and left it in the sitting room. He found an apron hanging on a hook inside the pantry door and once he rolled up his sleeves past his elbows he got to work cleaning up the mess. Just as he finished scrubbing the counters clean, the shower stopped and the bathroom door opened. Once again there was a pat of soft feet on the floor but it was headed away from him, another door closed. She was probably getting dressed in something fresh. Francis smiled to himself and opened the bottle of wine, letting it air a little as he found a fluffy blanket in the washroom, stuffing it in the dyer for a few minutes. He timed it perfectly and was sitting on the couch just as Alice shuffled back into view, clearly much calmer than before.

Francis opened the blanket invitingly for her. "Come here, Alice."

She hesitated before walking to the couch. He stood up and draped the warm blanket around her shoulders, wrapping it around her before gently nudging her to sit. She obeyed silently and he sat as close as he dared. Then he presented her with the glass of wine and the box of chocolates, thankful he had followed through on the silly urge to buy the sweets.

"I must have a sixth sense," the Frenchman joked lightly as he handed the box to her.

Her small hands peeked out of the blanket to accept the gift. She popped one in her mouth without looking at him. "These are bloody awful," she said. But before he could speak, she had wolfed down almost half of the contents.

Francis chuckled, choosing to sip his wine rather than answer. They sat in companionable silence for several minutes while they drank and Alice binged on the chocolate. He sat straight and tall but she forewent all formality and had curled hers legs up into the blanket. At last, the woman put the box on the coffee table and leaned back against the cushions with the wineglass cupped in her hands.

"Why did you do all of this?"

He tilted his head toward her, a soft smile gracing his lips. She looked so adorable bundled up in her blanket with such a sulky expression. "I've been wanting to talk to you about something."

"Oh? What is it?" She took a sip from her glass.

"Do you think it was fate or chance that we've been reunited?" Francis asked. He hadn't intended to say that, in fact he had been forming an entirely different sentence when that stumbled from his mouth. Alice's face reflected his own surprise but he managed to keep his expression still.

"I'm...I'm not sure what you mean by that," she said slowly.

"It just seems highly unlikely that two people separated from childhood should find each other once again through a simple website," he rolled his glass slowly as he continued this train of thought. "Does that not prove that such a thing as fate exists?"

"I was under the impression that we are all in control of our own fate," Alice replied dryly.

Francis leaned forward and placed his glass on the low table. "But what if some things are destined to be, and when they're not the world does what it can to correct that error?"

"It's an interesting thought," she shrugged. "I'm not sure where you're going with it."

"What if we were destined to meet?"

That had her attention, he could feel her piercing gaze focus on him. She didn't answer.

"I've always liked you, Alice," Francis continued, pushing down the returning nervousness. "I always liked your little letters you used to send me and how I would braid your hair when we were children. I was very sad when you stopped writing to me and I thought I would never see you again."

Cautiously, he turned his head toward her. Their eyes met.

"But here you are, like a sign from heaven itself. If this is fate I don't want to miss it. And if this is coincidence then I'm a very lucky man."

Alice's eyes widened. "Y-you mean..."

Francis gently took the wineglass out of her hand and kissed her knuckles. "Mademoiselle, I think I'm in love with you."

Her hand began to tremble under his lips and he could hear her beginning to breath rapidly. "No," she whispered. "I can't possibly..."

Alarmed, he straightened up. "Alice?"

Tears were forming once again and she was slowly pulling into herself, she wouldn't look directly at him. For a moment she only bit her lip before shaking her head. "You're making a mistake. You wouldn't want to be with me."

"Why not?" It was the only thing he could think of to say.

"I'm too short-tempered, especially with you. I'm too stubborn for my own good and I can be cruel. I'm uncaring and you're always so loving," Alice finally looked at him. "It wouldn't work. I'm much too horrid for you. That's why I stopped writing in the first place, you deserve better."

"Alice! Alice, you're so wonderful!"

The confusion written on her face wasn't there after he kissed her. Instead she looked at him lovingly before leaning close to kiss him in return. Francis kissed her gently and happily, warmth spreading through him as she pressed herself against his chest. When she opened her mouth he could feel that stub of a piercing on her tongue and it made him chuckle fondly. He wrapped his arms around her and gently sat her in his lap. They remained that way for several minutes, her hands brushing through his hair as they kissed repeatedly. Then Francis felt something wet and he pulled back worriedly.

"Why are you crying?"

"It's the bloody tea! I want my tea!" She sobbed.

Francis sighed, deciding it was time to go to the store.

Author's Note:

I don't know what this is. Or why. Or how. I don't even ship FrUK. I don't even French. If I Frenched wrong tell me please. I don't even like how this turned out and I don't know why I'm posting it. *flails*