Alexei: This is my first Hetalia fic. I saw this tumblr post about someone's headcanon where Canada actually curses a lot and thought it would be fun to write.
Disclaimer: If I owned Hetalia it would be so full of sexy times that it's genre would be hentai. Tee Hee "Hentalia"
I hope that the language does not offend any french speaking people who happen to come across this fic. :(
Matthew Williams had a dirty mouth. Not that anyone would know it. The only other person who spoke French was his father-figure, and he was often too tangled up in an argument with his british rival to hear the words that slipped off of the Canadian's tongue; words that tumbled through his lips in particularly strong fits of emotion. It wasn't like any of the other nations necessarily wanted to learn the language either, for fear of actually understanding what Francis was saying whenever he whispered into their ears.
"Merde!" Matthew muttered when he dropped a particularly heavy binder on his toe.
"ça pute," he said when China announced a trading deal with Russia.
"ça me fait chier," he said when China complained to him about America hogging all of the speaking time.
"fils de salop," he said to Alfred's face when the American forgot that he was talking to Matthew in the middle of the conversation.
"Je m'en fou," he told Italy when he asked him -again- what kind of sauce he liked on his pasta.
"Ta gueule," he said when Prussia started rambling about how awesome he was.
"C'est des Conneries," he announced after another long meeting of patiently waiting but never getting called on.
"Nique ta mere," he told Britain, who had been lecturing him on how to handle a parliament.
"Matthieu!" The Canadian froze upon hearing the familiar, accented gasp of his name in horror. He hadn't realized that France had been hiding near by; near enough that he heard exactly what had slipped off of the Canadian's tongue as he waited to ambush his English lover. Of all the times for Matthew to be noticed, it just had to be then.
"Y-yes, Papa?" Francois Bonnefoy just stared at the younger country, his mouth agape, sputtering out half sentences of shock. Credit must be given where it is due, and boy did Canada deserve some credit for rendering the frenchman speechless.
"Please tell me I did not hear what I think I just heard."
Matthew swallowed, hoping his father-figure didn't notice his nervousness. "I have n-no idea what you're talking about, Papa."
France waved it off with a flustered swish of his hands. "Nevermind, ma chérie. My ears are just deceiving me in my old age." The father nation just didn't want to believe that his beloved child was capable of such vulgar words, even in such a beautiful language.
Matthew let out a sigh of relief, making a mental note to be more careful to watch his tongue when his father was near.
Merde - "Shit"
ça pute - "that whore"
ça me fait chier - "that pisses me off."
"fils de salop" (son of a bitch).
Je m'en fou "I don't give a fuck."
Ta Gueule! "shut the fuck up,"
C'est des conneries! "this is bullshit."
Nique ta mere! "fuck your mother."