A/N: Hiya everybody ! So this story is just something cute I've had stuck in my head for awhile. I was trying to write the 11th chapter to my main fic, but then my sister said something like "How did Claire meet Francis?" And then this story was born :D So I hope you like it, but if you don't well I'm sorry. There is minimal French in this because I was too lazy to think in a different language today. Coincidentally I'm too lazy to translate what little there is. Sorry for that ... Google translate should work on it if you're clueless. It's nothing too complicated.

Claire, her mom, and Giovanni are all my brain children...i own them. I do not however own Hetalia.

This story's for you Manders :D Luv Ya.

For what seemed like the hundredth time that day, Claire's phone rang in her pocket, but she did not need to check it to know who was calling. All day long, she had been getting texts and calls from her mom. It was as if she was some crazy stalker or something. Of course, this is what Claire had expected from her mom. Most sane parents would try to contact their kid if they came home from work to an empty house. It was nice to know her mom was sane.

Right now Claire was walking down the streets of Paris, searching for three men in a bar. Seeing as this is not something you should tell your mom at 11:30pm, she dialed a different number instead of answering her mom's calls. About a minute later her best friend answered, his Italian accent thick with sleep.

"Ciao?"

"Giovanni! I thought you were covering for me!"

"… Claire? It's like 3am! I'm sleeping!"

"Gio, it's 11:30. And you were supposed to keep my mom occupied while I was gone! Not sleep!"

"You've been gone for 10 fucking hours! How long did you honestly think I could keep her from noticing you were gone?"

Claire could hear his anger rising through the phone, not that it surprised her. Her supposed best friend spent 95% of his time yelling at her.

"Don't you get nasty with me! That is no way to talk to a lady!"

Audibly sighing the Italian calmed himself a bit."

"On the inside I don't think you're a human Claire. Much less a lady."

"Well if I'm not human then what am I?"

"French."

Her next sentence was shouted into her cell phone, causing several people on the street to stare at her.

"You bastard! You're half French!"

"I prefer to forget that half and tell myself I'm just Italian."

"Twat!"

"Whore!"

Faking a sob Claire dramatically cried into the phone.

"Well then I guess you don't care if I live or die. Excuse me whilst I go wander into this dark alley full of strange men."

On the other end of the phone there was a loud groan and a string of uninterpretable Italian.

"Claire stop. I care if you're alive ok! But it's not my fault you ran away to Paris in your obsessive search to find your father."

This much, Claire had to admit, was true. It had been her idea to come here, but Giovanni had done nothing to stop her.

"First off, I didn't run away. I'm coming home…eventually. Second, let's not forget who bought me the train ticket Gio."

"…. I hope you get run over by a moped."

"I love you too best friend. "

"Did you only call me to bug the shit out of me?"

"Hmmm yeah. I'm done now so go and get some sleep."

"Your mo-"

"I'll talk to her later. Goodbye."

She was about to hang up the phone when Giovanni whispered into the phone.

"Claire?"

"Yes Gio?"

Claire could not help but notice his tone was soft and sweet. A sharp contrast to his usual angry, sarcastic one.

"Come home safe ok?"

"I promise. Nighty night."

"Night."

So maybe this adventure had not been the smartest thing to do, but she had been planning this her whole life. Ever since she was five, she had been asking about her dad, and when she did not get the answers she wanted she had planned to get them herself. She knew that her blonde hair, blue eyes, and stubborn pride had to come from somewhere, and it most certainly was not from her sweet chestnut haired, green-eyed angel of a mother. It might just be the biggest single-parent-child cliché, but she felt like a part of her was missing.

Two months ago, when she was sifting through some papers on the desk she had found her birth certificate. To her joy her father's name was listed on the sheet, but all the other info on the sheet pertaining to Francis Bonnefoy had been left blank.

And that was when she had dragged Giovanni into the mix. The only thing the tall brunette could do better than bitch at her was stuff on the computer. He was like an extremely sarcastic robot. After two weeks on intense whining, she had roped him into her scheme and they began to research who her father was. After several nights of Claire watching "Mama Mia" whilst Giovanni typed away on the computer they (well really he) had found something. As it turned out her supposed dad was an extremely important government official. Gio had spent five hours hacking files that were classified beyond classified and all he had found was an address.

Nevertheless, that had been enough for Claire. Two days later (right after her 16th birthday) she had set off for the flat in Paris listed in the address, traveling mostly by train. In hindsight, she realized that Giovanni might be arrested for hacking the French Government and she might get killed by some roving band of thugs, but this was Paris the city of lights. And she was searching for her father, the other half of her genetic code.

Several hundred miles and 20 angry voice-mails later she had arrived in Paris. Now she knew most kids in her situation would have thought "Oh no! I am an extremely gorgeous 16-year-old all alone in a huge city. I'm going to get raped!" but at the time she had felt as safe as a child in their mother's arms. Immediately after leaving the station, she hailed a cab and made it to the person-who-might-be-her-father's house. Upon arriving at the town house, she had realized it was empty. This had put a damper on her spirits until she had seen the note. Tacked onto the door was a bright red piece of paper with the words "Dearest Gilbert, Toni and I already left. Please join us here," scrawled on it in neat flowing cursive. Right below the mini letter was an address, which she set off to find without a second thought.

Now she found herself across the street from a very rowdy looking club, in Paris, 300 miles from home, surrounded by strangers, at midnight. Yeah ….if a rapist doesn't kill me first mom will. Using her vanity as her shield, she strutted across the road and up to the last obstacle in her way. The bouncer. The man was at least seven feet tall with arms the size of tree trunks. His stern looking face glared down at her, framed by a halo of escaped club lights from the door behind him. Flashing her best smile, she tried to get past his iron personality.

"Bonsoir monsieur."

"Back of the line please."

The line he spoke of was about a mile long and stretched around the block. It was the last thing she needed to wait in and besides, Claire Renault does not do lines.

"Ahh but you see monsieur, I have to go inside. There is a man waiting for me."

Still unfazed, the man took out a clipboard.

"Your name please."

Merde. He was checking the list. She needed to think of a name quick. Her name definitely was not on there, but what name could she use. Well Francis is in there right?

"Claire…Bonnefoy?"

Looking down he scanned his papers before glaring back down on her.

"There is no Claire Bonnefoy on the list. Back of the line please."

With a loud bang only audible to her ears, Claire's plan came crashing down around her. Double Merde.

"Oh! Francis….he must have forgotten to add me to the list! Such a silly man! He's always forgetting things like this. I'm not sure how I manage to stand him. If you'll just let me in I can find him and he'll clear the whole thing up."

"How about you stay out here and call him. Then he can come out and get you himself."

Arrogantly smirking, the bouncer laughed down at her. The only thing Claire could manage was to flap her mouth in a pathetic attempt to speak. Is this the end? Was all that work for nothing? Defeated, she turned to leave when an arm came from behind. In a flash of white hair the man attached to the arm draped his arm over her shoulders and faced towards the bouncer again.

"KESESE! The awesome me has arrived! Now listen Herr Groß, if this lady says Fanny's waiting for her then he is!"

Instantly the man glared at the newcomer.

"Your name sir?"

"Gilbert Fucking Awesome Beilschmidt! It'll be at the top of the VIP list, right next to Francis Sexy Bonnefoy and Antonio Tomato Carriedo!"

"Yes I see it, but the lady?"

"Is my escort. Right kitten?"

Now Claire did not know this man, or why he was touching her, but she knew when to take a hint when one was thrown at her. Without question she wrapper herself around the man and prepared her best seductive voice.

"That's right big boy. Now can we go inside? I wana get crazy with you!"

"Sure thing sexy."

Moving his hand from her shoulder to her butt, he pushed past the bouncer and through the front doors. Once they got into the club, he let go and turned around to face her. For the first time Claire got a good look at the butt-grabber who had come to her rescue. He stood tall and proud, bright red eyes glinting, smile flashing, and his white hair was glowing under the black light. He appeared to be in his mid-twenties, but somehow he seemed much older.

"Ok sweet thing. I just awesomely saved you and got you into the club. Now you can thank me later, but for now I have to-SHIT YOU LOOK JUST LIKE FRANCIS!"

Even though the man was shouting, she could just barely hear him over the pounding music coming from the dance floor to their left.

"Francis? Francis Bonnefoy?"

"Yeah… Bonnefoy. How old are you?"

The albino man's eyes darted from her to his hand, then back to her eyes widening in shock at each switch.

"Sixteen. Where is Francis?"

A sheepish one replaced Gilbert's pompous smile as he rubbed the back of his neck in apparent shame.

"Ha-ha…. Now I really wish I hadn't grabbed your ass."

"Me too, but please tell me-"

"I'm really sorry! I am not a pedo! I'm German not Spanish!"

"German …."

"Well Prussian to be more awesome. It's just that you look a lot older and skankier then a 16 year old."

Before now, Claire hadn't really been listening to what the albino was shouting, but the last comment got her attention.

"I am not a skank!"

"You're right! You're not a skank at all! You just remind me of a skank I know! AGH! Never mind, just please don't press sexual charges one me! Ludwig will kill me for sure!"

Whoever this Ludwig was, Claire felt really sorry for him.

"I'm… not. Just please help me find Francis."

"Sure thing!"

Grabbing her wrist the older man dragged her across the room. Shoving though throngs of people he finally stopped at a table in the back of the club. Seated around the table were two men who not only appeared the same age as Gilbert, but they both seemed as if they were older then they looked, just like the albino. The closest to her was a pleasant looking man with stunning green eyes and a sexy tan. Across from him was a paler man (But not nearly as pale as Gilbert) with a slight layer of scruff on his chin. This man was swirling his wine as he laughed with the tan man, his cerulean blue eyes full of mirth. Upon seeing this man, she froze. It is like looking in some strange gender-bending mirror.

"Hey! Pedo, Perv! We have a guest!"

The tan man looked away from the blond-haired person and turned to scowl at Gilbert.

"Hola mi amigo, but I am not a pedophile."

"Kesesesese. Try telling that to Romano!"

"TAKE THAT BACK!"

The blond man looked up from his wine to glance at the two new arrivals

"Stop it you two! You're scaring away this lovely young…girl?"

The Frenchman stared into her eyes, breaking her transfixion on his identical hair.

"Gilbert? I didn't think you liked your women that young… juvenescence is a desirable quality in a woman, but do you have to take them straight from the cradle?"

"Shut up Francis! She is not here with me! She came for you!"

"Pour moi? "

There was no denying it now. This man was definitely her father. Clearing her throat, she stared straight into his eyes. Blue gazed into matching blue as she opened her mouth to speak.

"Bonsoir Monsieur Bonnefoy. Je m'appelle Claire Renault. Vous êtes mon père."

So that's the end of Chapter 1 out of 2. Hope you enjoyed. The French at the end means "Good Evening Mr. Bonnefoy. My name is (literally I call myself) Claire Renault. You are my father.

Next chapter ahoy!