DISCLAIMER: I don't own hetalia.

Parler Françis

To Speak French

"Hey, Matt?" America asked, looking at his northern neighbor who was sitting on his couch reading a book. The blonde with blue eyes closed the fridge door and walked over to his brother.

"Hm?" came the soft reply.

"You speak French right? Like fluently?"

"Père!" a small voice screamed, a pale hand outstretched.

"Non, Well, Oui... Je parle Françis." Matthew said and looked up at the American that took a seat next to him. "Why?"

"I was just checking, because your country speaks it. You never speak it around me so I was wondering if you even spoke French." he said, popping the soda open to drink it.

"Père!" the voice shrieked, tears forming in young amethyst eyes. "Au secour!"

"I never speak it around you because I have no need. You speak English just fine." The paler male retorted to what his couch mate was implying. "Besides, I don't enjoy switching languages in the middle of the sentence."

"Like what Francis does?"

A boy screeched on the top of his lungs in a tongue that some would call beautiful. This didn't sound beautiful though, it sounded pained and full of fear. "Père! Père! Au secour! S'il vous-plaît, Papa! Ne le laissez pas me prendre Papa!" he was struggling against a man with the hair colour of wheat. The man wouldn't let up on his hold against the small boy in his arms as he slowly dragged him to a gate. The wheat haired man with acid eyes and a top hat wasn't as young as he believed himself to be as his grip slip enough so the boy slipped away. Quickly responding the male grabbed back a wrist to prevent the boy from going too far.

"Père!" a small voice screamed, a pale hand outstretched.

"Père!" the voice shrieked, tears forming in young amethyst eyes. "Au secour!"

The man shook his head and grabbed the boy back. He didn't seem to care much of how much the lad no older then 9 years of age squirmed and screeched, refusing the best to his small body's abilities to be released. Nor did this man seem to care that the man to whom the young one was screaming to just stood there on the patio with a sad smile and tears pricking his cerulean eyes.

"Papa! S'il vous-plaît, je vais être bon, promis!" once again the small boy pleaded to the man on the patio. He didn't go unheard, nor did he draw an action from the honey blonde. The boy kept calling in the only tongue he knew to this man until he was not so gently shoved into the carriage and it drove off. is last memory of the man on the patio was him calling out just before the gates shut.

"Je t'aime, Mattieu! Rappeles-tu que!"

Ever since then, after he learned the language of the man who took him away, Matthew(His name was changed shortly after he was settled into the new house) hated French. It was full of lies.

Matthew hadn't realized Alfred was calling his name. He hadn't realized the American was cradling him in his arms and rocking him in a comforting manner. Once he did however he also realizing he was crying. Because of that memory. In front of the proud US of A. He also noticed he was being comforted by the best brother in the world.

"Shhhh Mattie. Hush..." Ameri-no they weren't repersenting their countries right now- Alfred murmured the mantra over and over until Matthew wiped his tears away and they stayed away.

"Sorry, I've become a mess." He said with a sniffle.

Alfred chuckled and messed up his brother's pretty blonde locks. "Yeah, now you are. Come on let's watch us some hockey!"

Random ass ending, yeah I know but...I have no reason...

TRANSLATIONS:
Père- Father.
Au secour- Help Me!
S'il vous-plaît- Please.
Ne le laissez pas me prendre- Don't let him take me!
Je vais être bon, promis- I'll be good, promise!
Je t'aime, Mattieu- I love you, Matthew
Rappeles-tu que- Remember that (The informal way)

I've been relit in the ways of writing so drop me a reveiw to tell me how I'm doing okay!