Hello!
Please don't kill me for this but If I don't write it I will never be able to write anything ever again. Ever!
Anyway, this is one of the extremely overdone Coffee shop AU's because they're too cute for me to pass up, and there's something about them that makes them my favourite France/UK fanfic to do.
I needed to add to that. I just had to. Anyway, all the nations that are mentioned are, in fact, human. The fanfic focuses mostly on FrUK, but mentions PruCan and SpaMano. Also I made Mattie Francis's brother, while Alfred is Arthur's brother, and the boys are pretty good friends. Also, Arthur is a bit on the punk-ish side. Anyways, enjoy!
Disclaimer: All characters and the Hetalia universe belong to Hidekaz Himaruya, and are not mine.
Tea, Coffee, and Pick Up Lines
Monday
Francis was bored. No one had walked through the doors of the café in fifteen minutes, and he was getting a bit tired of winking at the two girls in the booth on the far right, and checking out the mildly attractive American's ass. He turned his attention to the doors, hoping something exciting would happen. And by exciting, Francis did not mean walking in on his younger brother and his best friend making out, despite their utter perfection as a couple. Seeing Mathieu like that just wasn't on his to do list. Though it seemed to be very much on Gilbert's. Francis shook his head, trying to remove the unwanted image from his head. Thankfully, at that moment, Antonio walked out of the back room, effectively distracting him.
"Ah, mi amigo! Not dying out here I hope!" The cheery Spaniard beamed at him. His happiness was so contagious, that Francis smiled as well.
"Not yet, mon ami. Not yet," He laughed, throwing an arm around his other best friend.
"Bueno!" Antonio's eyes quickly searched the café, coming to rest on a brown haired man with a peculiar, gravity-defying curl, who was whispering angrily at his twin. Francis nudged his friend in the ribs.
"Ohonhonhon~! Has mon cher 'Tonio found someone at last?" He asked in a low voice. Antonio blushed slightly at the comment, his eyes shining happily when the person he had been watching turned around to look at him. His eyes widened, and his face went very red as he muttered something akin to, "Bastard," under his breath. The Spaniard didn't seem to have heard, and just kept staring at him lovingly. The Frenchman disentangled himself from his friend, and continued to watch the door.
To his surprise, and gratefulness, the door was suddenly thrown open, causing the bell above it to jingle violently.
In stormed a very angry and very attractive blond, at least by Francis's standards. He had green eyes, and his hair was in complete disarray. He wore very dark green skinny jeans, that Francis quite liked, black combat boots, an old band t-shirt and a leather jacket. A guitar case hung over his back. The gorgeous stranger marched up to the counter with such authority, that Francis forgot how to speak for a few moments. He looked at the list of drinks intently before glaring up at the Frenchman.
"I'll have a large Earl Grey, thanks," He said hotly. Francis smiled flirtatiously at the blond. Of course, he couldn't be anything but a Brit, with that glorious accent.
"Will that be all?" The stranger looked visibly surprised, and his cheeks reddened a bit, much to Francis's enjoyment, but soon recovered, scrunching up his incredibly bushy eyebrows.
"Yes, frog," He muttered, pulling out his wallet. Francis smiled, despite the jab. He loved a challenge.
"That'll be $2.50," he said lightly, "Your drink will be ready in a moment, monsieur." He spun around, making sure to move a lot more than necessary as he retrieved the correct tea bag, and poured the hot water. Of course, though. A challenge is a challenge. Francis pulled a permanent marker out of his apron, and wrote a small note on the cup. Smiling cheerfully as he handed over the cup and accepted the payment, the Frenchman acted as if he had done nothing.
"À demain, mon chère~!" He called as the adorable Brit left, keeping an eye on him as he looked down at the cup. The scowl on his face quickly became something else as his cheeks reddened to the point where they were the same colour as a fire truck.
Francis chuckled, causing Antonio to give him a look.
The words on Arthur's tea seemed to jump out at him as he tried to think of anything but that bloody annoying, (and attractive!" his mind shouted at him), Frenchman.
"Caution, both you and this cup are incredibly HOT!"
Tuesday
Francis had gotten to work late that morning. The Brit from the day before had refused to leave his head, and had burrowed himself there as Francis had served coffee and various caffeinated drinks to various costumers. He hadn't even been able to sleep well because of the thoughts that shouldn't have been invading his mind but still did.
He looked at the clock.
7: 45.
Still no strangely attractive Englishman to bother and mess him up for the rest of the day. With a hollow feeling, he thought, "Maybe he isn't coming in today?" Only to shake his head, and to reassure himself otherwise. But, really. What about him had caused Francis to act like this? Usually, even when he meets someone who looks like a supermodel, he is able to keep his head. His confused musings were interrupted by a hard slap to his shoulder.
"What's on your mind, Francey-pants?" Gilbert asked, slyly, "Or shall I say, who?" Francis blushed lightly, causing the self-proclaimed Prussian to jump back in shock.
"Mein Gott! What happened to you? You never blush!" Francis hung his head.
"I don't know, mon ami-" he started to say, before he was interrupted by Antonio.
"Some Brit came in yesterday, and our Francis appears to be smitten by him! Fusososo~!" Gilbert smirked.
"Kesesese~! Has our little Frenchman got a crush?" Francis looked up indignantly, before sighing.
"Oui, it would appear that I've been caught in the clutches of amour." The albino laughed. But, before he could tease the Frenchman further, the Spaniard interrupted him again.
"Oh, isn't that him?" Francis looked up, and brightened. The object, or person, of his affections was crossing the street towards his shop. Today, he looked less angry then the day before, thankfully, but he didn't look any less appealing. Francis hurriedly picked himself up from the mental ditch he'd landed in, and appraised the man who was still walking towards the shop with a determined expression on his face. He still had a guitar case slung over his back. And he still wore a leather jacket and combat boots despite the distinctly warmer weather. Though instead of forest green skinny jeans, this time he wore really tight black ones and a red and black plaid shirt.
He didn't blow into the shop like a hurricane like he had the last time. He carefully opened and closed the door, wasting no time in strutting up the counter and, once he saw who it was, glaring up at Francis.
Realizing that he had been staring, Francis blinked, and smiled down at him.
"Welcome to the BTT Café, what can I get you, mon cher?" The blond before him barely flushed, much to Frenchman's disappointment.
"A large Earl Grey, and don't you dare write anything on it his time, wanker," He said, finally blushing as he mentioned the note Francis had left the day before. Of course, that was all the encouragement that the Frenchman needed in order to start thinking about what to write. He winked at the man at the counter.
"Of course, mon amour," He said, "That will be $2.50." He left to prepare the drink, pretending not to notice Gilbert waggling his eyebrows at him from the back room.
Just like yesterday, Francis pulled a black marker out of his apron, and wrote something down on the cup. With a cheeky grin, he held it out to the Brit, who looked at him dubiously before reaching for it, only to have it jerked back. He once again glared at him, but before he could say anything, the Frenchman spoke.
"Wait! Before you go, you must tell me your name." The Englishman froze, thinking a moment before obliging.
"Arthur. Arthur Kirkland. It's a pleasure" He held out a hand for a handshake.
"Francis. Francis Bonnefoy." Before Arthur could tell him that he knew his name due to his nametag, the Frenchman had grasped his hand bringing it up to his lips.
"The pleasure is all mine." The Brit blushed to his roots as he snatched his hand away, grabbing his tea, and rushing out of the shop. Francis only smiled. He had gotten the response he'd wanted.
Once out of view of Francis's shop, Arthur inspected the cup, trying to calm his blush. He failed miserably, when he caught sight of what the Frenchman had written this time.
"No wonder the world seems so gray today; all the colour is in your eyes!"
He sighed. These were just going to get cheesier, weren't they?
Wednesday
Francis was distraught. Well as distraught as he could be over someone who he had met two days ago.
It was 4:30, and Arthur still hadn't made an appearance. The Frenchman tried to contain his moping, but, it proved futile. He would jump every time the door so much as creaked, and his mood would visibly worse each time it wasn't his angry Brit.
Even Gilbert had abandoned teasing him in favour of patting his shoulder in a vaguely caring manner. The door opened again. Francis decided against looking at the person who had jus walked in, in favor of burying his head into his arms on the counter. How miserable life could be when your loved ones were missing.
"Excuse me? Are you Francis Bonnefoy?" The voice asked. American, as he could tell from his accent. Francis looked up.
"Oui, that's me."
"Wonderful. My brother asked me to come get him tea, and he said something about only getting it from this coffee shop." Francis's eyes widened a bit.
"Your brother wouldn't happen to be Arthur Kirkland?"
"Yeah, that'd be him!" The blond American stated happily. Francis got up from the counter, taking a better look at the teen before him. He had blue eyes, glasses, a giant brown bomber jacket, and a cowlick sticking up in his blond locks. He looked really familiar.
"Do you happen to know anyone by the name of Matthew Williams?" His eyes brightened a bit.
"Mattie? He's one of my best friends at Uni!" Francis sighed.
"You would be Alfred then, correct?"
"Yep! And you're Mattie's brother?"
"Oui!" The two grinned at each other for a moment before Francis remembered what Alfred was doing here.
"So, why wasn't Arthur able to come today?" He asked lightly as he began making the tea, as he had memorized Arthur's order by now.
"Oh, he got sick! Got stuck in the rain yesterday, on his way home from band practice!" Francis froze. He suddenly felt really guilty for no reason. As usual, once he finished the cup, he wrote a message. Handing the cup to Alfred, he smiled.
"Will that be all?"
"Yeah, thanks!"
"Your total is $2.50." Alfred paid him; saying something along the lines of, "Say hi to Mattie for me!" as he left. Francis smiled again. Maybe this day hadn't been a complete waste.
Arthur sat on bed, covered in blankets and tissues, as he held the cup in his hands. He definitely hadn't given his brother specific instructions to get Francis to make his tea. He looked down at the cup, hiding a small smile.
"Mon Cher," Francis had written, "If kisses were snowflakes, I would send you a blizzard. Get well soon, I miss you."
Arthur was definitely not falling for the Frenchman. Absolutely not.
He was also not lying to himself right now. Nope. Not at all
Thursday
To say Francis was pleasantly surprised when Arthur walked into the coffee shop half an hour before he normally did, would be quite a large understatement.
"Ah, bonjour Arthur! Are you feeling better, mon chou?" He sang, as the blond Englishman walked through the doors. The man wasn't frowning. The Frenchman almost fainted at the sight of Arthur's smile. Sure, it was small, but it was a smile, nonetheless.
"I feel marvelous, thank you. I'll have a-"
"Large Earl Grey tea. I know, mon amour." Francis went to prepare the drink. He didn't notice how Arthur's smile widened.
"So, you have a band?" He asked, making light conversation as he fished around for the tea bag.
"Al told you about that, huh?" Arthur mumbled, before saying, "Yes, I do. Not sure if it'd be up your alley, though."
"Oh? Why is that, cher?"
"Because, you don't seem like the type to listen to rock music." Francis turned to face him with a smile on his face.
"I'd listen to anything if you were the one playing." He turned back around before he saw the blush on the other's face.
"Well, if you're interested, we're playing at the bar on the intersection of 42 and Main next Friday."
"I wouldn't miss it 'pour le monde'." Having finished writing his message, Francis handed Arthur his tea, who in turn handed him $2.50. But, before he could leave, the Frenchman grabbed his wrist.
"Please, don't get sick again, amour. I was worried," He whispered, rubbing small circles into the back of the Brit's hand. Blushing deeply, Arthur nodded, quickly pulling his hand away and rushing out of the shop. Francis smiled softly, watching him as he half-ran across the street and out of sight.
"You've got him, amigo." Antonio leaned casually on one of his shoulders.
"Ja, that you do. Kesesese~!" Gilbert leaned on his other shoulder.
"Oui, I hope so…" Francis trailed off, before snapping out of the trance that his Brit always seemed to put him into.
"What are you guys doing? We're at work!"
Arthur gazed warmly at the cup in his hand. He had begun looking forward to seeing the Frenchman in the mornings. He reread the note for what felt like the tenth time.
"Bonjour mon cher, Cupid called. Said he needed my heart back."
Arthur really needed to do something about that. He would have been fine with the pick up lines if they didn't make his heart race for no reason. Or, if Francis's weren't the only ones that made it do that.
Friday
Today was the day. If Francis didn't do it today, then he just might die. He leaned back against the counter. He was so absorbed in his own thoughts that he didn't even hear the door open.
"Morning, frog." Hot breath tickled his neck for a second as the greeting was whispered in his ear, before he jumped a foot in the air in shock.
"Arthur, mon Dieu!" He breathed out heavily, before looking fondly at his Brit. Arthur was smirking, which wasn't a look that Francis had seen on him, but he liked it very much.
"I'll have you drink ready in a moment, cher," he said, only to have Arthur call his name.
"Francis?"
"Oui?"
"Did it hurt?"
"Did what hurt?" Francis didn't even notice what he had walked into.
"When you fell from heaven?" He almost dropped the cup he was holding.
"Arthur!" He looked at the Brit accusingly, only to be met by that teasing smile. He turned back to the drink he was preparing.
"Were you arrested earlier? It's got to be illegal to look that good." Francis laughed a bit, looking at the Brit, who winked at him, causing his blush to deepen. He pulled out his marker and began writing.
"You're so hot, I bet you could light a candle at ten paces."
Finally, the Frenchman snapped. He placed the cup down.
"Hey, Arthur," he called as he turned to face him.
"Yes?"
"If you could price tag beauty, you'd be worth more than Fort Knox." The Englishman blushed.
"If beauty were time, you'd be eternity," He retaliated. Francis took a step closer.
"I must be dancing with the devil, because you're hot as hell."
"Apart from being so bloody sexy, what do you do for a living?"
"Someone should call the police, because tu as volé mon coeur."
They didn't notice that they'd been steadily getting closer and closer until their noses touched. They stared at each other for a bit, Francis smiling before placing a quick kiss on the Brit's lips. He went to retrieve Arthur's drink, having long finished making it. As he made a move to hand it to him, he was grabbed by the tie and pulled down, only to have his lips crushed angrily by a certain Englishman. They stayed like that for a bit, moving together 'till they had to come up for breath. Francis laughed.
"Maintenant, I can die happy."
"Don't you dare," Arthur growled, glancing at the clock. He was going to be late. He pressed another kiss to the Frenchman's cheek before grabbing his tea and leaving the shop, stopping only to wink at Francis, who blew him a kiss.
He didn't stop to read the message on his cup until he had gotten onto his bus. He smiled, for what felt like the hundredth time that day.
"Mon Cher Arthur,
It has taken me much too long to do this, which I am so ashamed of. Call me, mon amour.
426-372-6231
Mon coeur est avec toi,
Francis."
And that's done! I'm sorry if that sucked, but I needed to get it out of my system so that I can finish my other fanfics. Below is the translation for all the non-English that I used.
Mi amigo- My friend (Spanish)
Mon ami- My friend (French)
Bueno- Good (Spanish)
Mon cher- My dear (French)
Monsieur- Mister/Sir (French)
À demain- Until tomorrow/ See you tomorrow (French)
Mein Gott- My God (German)
Oui – Yes (French)
Amour-Love (French)
Bonjour- Hello (French)
Mon chou- Literally, it means my cabbage (French) (It's a term of endearment, I swear)
Cher- Dear (French)
Pour le monde- For the world (French)
Ja- Yes (German)
Mon Dieu- My God (French)
Tu as voler mon cœur- You have stolen my heart (French)
Maintenant- Now (French)
Mon cœur est avec toi- My heart is with you (French)
Any questions, comments, or concerns just review. Actually, review in general because I want to know how I did.
Ciao for now!
-FrozenhuntressofSlytherin