So here I am, making another story. Hopefully I can finish this before the snow melts this spring!
I was in the mood to write Romance, and naturaly, I as a proud Canadian, wanted to whore out Matthew some more in my stories. (My latest obsession being Belarus.) This ended up as a good idea for a multi-chapter story. So here you go, you Crack-pairing fangirls and fanboys, My first real straight fanfiction that I have every intention on finishing.
I do not own Hetalia, any Original Characters that may or may not be included are in fact mine; unless I stole them from someone else in whitch case I will give full credit for.
You see France, in all his glory, sitting there in his plush, comfy chair at the fire-place. A fine, Persian rug keeps his slippers from getting dirtier then they gave to. He's wrapped in a soft-looking and cozy house coat. A vague thought of wanting one crosses your mind, but you stop immediately. If he dare's catches you off guard, there was no telling what would happen to you.
You close the door softly behind you, alerting Francis of your presence. "Hm? Is there someone in my study?" He says, not looking back from the warm, tender fire in his hearth, you glance around in worry. There are many beautiful paintings and books, possibly hundreds of old, long-forgotten tomes and dozens of immaculate art that could possibly turn to ash if that blaze were to ever get out of control.
You gulp, forcing down your worry for this man's foolish disregard for his own culture and history, placing it so close to peril. "O-oui…" You say, somewhat unsurely as you step into the warm are emitted by the flames burning so comfortingly, though they brought stress only seconds before.
His eyes widen upon spotting you, he tilts back his wine glass for another swig before setting it down gently onto the nearby table with barely a sound. "Yes, is there something wrong?" He asks, somewhat slyly. You find yourself trembling like an Italian, your memory becoming a blank. What the hell did you come here for? You completely forget in your fear of this man, this man you know to have charmed much studier people than you into his bed.
"I…I…" You begin, trying to choke out a coherent sentence, swallowing as you remember your reason for staying in Francis's home in the first place. "May I sit?" You evade the real request, fearing for both your virtue and your dignity. He nods, and you sit in the chair parallel to his, angled more to the fire then to him but still able to see the Frenchman staring at you, as if he were intrigued, thought your peripheral vision.
"You 'ave not answered my question, Mon cher. Is there something wrong?" He asks, his voice still as smooth as you remember when you had found him flirting with a friend of yours.
You swallow, nodding no. "No…Nothing is wrong…" You begin. "I…I was just wondering…If…Possibly…" You stumble over yourself, trying not to look into his eyes as if he were the Medusa. "May I ask for a story, Mister Bonneyfoy?"
He turns back to the fire, tilting his head back and laughing his French laugh. "All that for a story, my sweet? Oh how you are so innocent!" You try not to blush, slightly embarrassed that it took you so long to ask for a simple story. But he turns back, still grinning his charismatic grin as he looks to you like you remember your grandparent smiling at you; and you instantly, foolishly relax. "If it is a story you desire, then a story you shall receive."
You nod, turning to him and listening completely. (Oh how your school teacher's had wished you'd done this during their lessons!) He smiled again, his eyes growing lost and distant as he began. "Now, Mon cher; this story happened only so many years ago; Only a few decades before you were born. This is the story of my own son, and his Forever." He left off, and soon you were entranced.
The seemingly young couple held each other; skin felt nearly as cold as the howling wind that blew the snow every which way outside their current confines; a comfortable cabin that he decided would be the perfect place to spend their secretive tenth year anniversary, though they were cuddled up all warm and tight in three blankets their flesh was only so warm. Their faces were brought together in a sweet kiss, she felt something even colder her flaxen-blonde boyfriend's hand on hers, something…metal.
She brought her hand from the confines of the warm blankets, her eyes widened upon seeing the sparkling, white gold engagement ring with little engravings, tight little swirls and two upraised parts that looked like leafs around a fifteen karat diamond, three smaller diamonds on each side so that it was symmetrical.
She looked back from her ringed hand back to him, speechless in her shock. He smiled at her dumbfound expression; it wasn't often that a woman as strong as her was caught off-guard. He kissed her; the sweet action turned lustful as she finally came to; understanding the gift.
He pulled back, holding the frame of her face as she tried not to cry. "Will you do me the favor of becoming my bride? Will you marry me?" he whispered, holding his love close as she held onto his neck.
"I will! I will!" She assured, kissing him again in her astonishment and complete happiness, forcing the larger, heavier male to the couch with little problem.
He grunted, looking up while looking slightly shocked at his fiancé, not because it happened but because it was happening so fast. Her lips latched onto his in a hungry, lustful kiss, tongue's swirling and teeth meshing.
He smiled, holding his dearest love. Right…tonight was a night for forgetting, he would worry about their families discovering their love when the time for worrying came.
America sighed, running a hand through his hair as he tossed the paper onto the table. Why was there so much paper work! Sometimes he really hated being the United States, these freaking World Meetings drew him of every ounce of energy he had; and it was only nearing lunch!
But he couldn't help it as another of his grins made its way across his face, at least the day was almost over, at least his beloved British boyfriend was gonna come over to his hotel room tonight!
He loved being in love, To Alfred it was like a refresher, even more than those purely-caffeine drinks he had every other hour. He honestly couldn't remember a time when he wasn't happy to see his sour English tea-sucking love. He leaned back in his admittedly comfey-but-not-when-you-sit-in-it-for-five-hours-straight-chair, head lolling to the side in his slightly dazed, love-struck and slightly demented state.
By coincidence, he spotted his northern brother. He paused his thoughts, searching for a name. 'M…M…It started with an M…Maa…Maddie? No…Mattie! Canada, right!' his sudden joy at remembering his own brothers name, his freaking twin for Christ's sake, was spoilt by the fact that his unfortunately quiet counterpart sat all by his lonesome, eating his fries, gravy and cheese mixture with his Tim Horton's coffee and donut, a small baggie of what seemed to be beef jerky open.
Ah…his sweet, innocent little, not-as-awesome brother…Would he ever fall in love? Alfred winced, his expression turning to one of distaste. He was starting to sound like that pervert France! So not cool!
But still, the question nagged at him. The last time Matthew had a date was like, fifteen years ago. If that wasn't lame, he had no idea what was. And thus, like the supper awesome hero he was, went up to his still eating brother and leaned against his chair. "What's up?" He began.
Matthew looked up, surprised and astonished; Glancing to the left, then the right, waving his hand in front of himself to check that someone even more invisible than he wasn't sitting on him. Was…was Alfred talking…to him? Without his having to remind him who he was! Oh happy day! This was so amazing! Maybe he was becoming a little more visible now! Maybe Alfred wanted to get some help so he could have universal Health Care too! O-or wanted advice on how to get his people to accept Homosexual marriage! Possibly even- "You haven't had a date in decades, have you?" Or not…
Matthew chewed on his Dried Moose meat, fuming. "Yes I have." He mumbled around the mouthful.
"Honhonhon!" Came France's signature laughter "Mon petite Mathieu hadn't had a taste of l'amour in that long?" He held Matthew's chin so that the blonde was forced to look up at him, he winked and smiled. "Peut-être que je pourrais vous donner une soirée mémorable, ma douce?" (-Maybe I could give you a memorable evening, my sweet?-)
Matthew swatted away the hand, and sighed before taking his coffee and bringing it to his lips before answering. "Non papa, je suis parfaitement heureux comme je suis." (-No dad, I'm perfectly happy as I am.-)
"Honestly Matthew," Oh joy, even England decided to join in on the debate concerning Canada's suddenly popular love-life. Canada slammed his head on the table before him, why did god hate him? "It's not good for a young man to be without another by his side. France didn't have anybody like that growing up and look how he turned out."
Alfred was laughing to himself at the unneeded insult regarding his old rival. "Hey! What I do is making sure that everybody is loved and satisfied, I'm just spreading l'amour!"
"Since when was the word 'l'amour' slang for 'Sexually Transmitted Disease'?" France grew scarlet in his rage, unable to think of a quick and scathing reply to his bushy-browed frienemy as his American boyfriend held tightly to his waist.
"I knew there was a reason I loved you for more than the amazing sex!" England responded by smacking him across the back of his head, hard. "Anyways, as I was so rudely interrupted, Matthew I- Hey; where the hell did he go!" During the entire exchange they didn't notice that their Canadian friend had packed up his lunch and had soundlessly left the trio without so much as alerting them of his departure.
"Whoa…" Breathed Alfred, eyes widening as he looked around the room for his closest ally. "I didn't know Canada was a ninja! I wonder if he got lessons from Japan…?" He turned, glancing to the quiet Asian nation who ate with his siblings at the other side of the room, completely forgetting about Canada with the prospect of becoming a supper awesome American ninja.
England sighed in annoyance as France slinked away in defeat, going to find some place quiet to sulk and possibly lure some unsuspecting country to lay with him.
Canada brought his modest meal to the court-yard, knowing that England's allergies and America's aversion to anything natural would keep them from bothering him there; he would just have to hope that France wouldn't show up as well.
It was a nice place; there was a roofed part in the front, between the buildings two closest walls where there were five large flower beds, most of them were only just beginning to spread their leafs with the spring season. The grass was just starting to turn green with the coming spring, the trees were mostly barren though only the slightest blossoms were beginning to show, there was a lake behind the building where this month's meeting was, a small clutch of trees to the east of it and a rolling field to the west.
He could spot Switzerland and Lichtenstein eating together at a bench overlooking the water, a smile on her face as she giggled to her brother. "This feels just like our picnics back home, brother!"
He smiled, they were so sweet. He wondered why he and Al couldn't get along like that…Oh well; at least they got along better than Romano and Feliciano. Speaking of the conflicting duo, they dashed on by with the swearing elder racing after his younger, sweeter brother, screaming about having wurst-sucking bastards in their house when he had company.
Yes…he hoped his own children would get along well, when he had them. He smiled at the thought, about to take another sip of his coffee before it was slipped from his hands. "Hey!" He said indignantly, about to turn to whoever had dared to take his precious Timmies away.
The offending female turned and sat on the bench next to him, taking a long drink for herself from the cup before handing the three-quarters empty cup back to him. "You deserve it for not getting me one." Said Belarus, smiling as she leaned back and happily helped herself to some of his Dried moose meat.
He sighed in false distain. "Oh how did I ever fall in love with such a woman?" she laughed, getting close to him and snuggling into his shoulder as he wrapped an arm loosely around her waist, enjoying the silence when it wasn't interrupted by furious-sounding Italian.
Somewhere on the second floor of the building, a pair of sweet, innocent child-like lavender eyes stared down at the pair. His shoulders became engulfed in a dark purple as he began to chuckle a deep, threatening laugh that made three young men tremble and huddle together behind him.
A cookie goes to whoever guesses who the mystery-spy is!
(If anyone wants to know, the link to Belarus's ring is on my profile, at the very bottom!)
Reviews = Food, don't let this Authoress starve! T^T