Author's Note: While it is not easy to tell from the writing, it is implied that Francis is a cartographer employed by a Spanish noble, "Uncle Antonio", as he tells Mathieu, the cabin boy of Francis's ship. I always thought that the fandom needed more familial Franada. Everyone focuses on how Arthur and Alfred being all father-son, but there isn't much for Francis and Mathieu. This kind of goes hand-in hand with the other father-son Franada oneshot I have posted.

Warnings: Butchered French (Mathieu is learning, but it is not implied that he has a learning disability)

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or any of its characters.

"...P-Papa...?" Mathieu muttered quietly, looking over the various parchments that lined the captain's desk. He was far too little to see the top had it not been for the lap of his Papa he sat on. "What do papier say?" (("What do(es the) paper say?"))

Mathieu looked it over intently, his speech skills were getting better recently, and that was a good thing. His language classes seemed to work, but he was still behind where he should be. Mathieu's sentences seemed to break, switch between English and French languages, or not make sense at all. He was still learning.

The captain looked over, finishing wrapping his wrist with the bandages. "Quoi? Ah! Mon petit, those are maps. They show all of the places that Papa's been to." He set down the few supplies he'd been working to patch himself up a bit, adjusting slightly under the boy. "I'm working on finishing them as much as possible before I bring them back to Uncle Antonio." He put a finger to one of the marks of ink, "These are all the places that Papa's found."

Francis noticed that Mathieu would look the papers over but he'd always return to the same place.

"...Papa?" Mathieu looked up at the blonde Frenchman. He pointed at the writing that he'd been having a tough time reading. "What happen?" ((as in, "What happened there?"))

Why there? What made Mathieu so intent on learning about that place? Of all places...

"Ah, well..." Francis hesitated, feeling a tug at his chest. He didn't want to explain. "Papa found a lot of fur there."

Mathieu seemed to accept the explanation, but he still looked at that island. It was a part of what was considered the New World, a northern island that was of decent size just east of the mainland. Mathieu put his hands to the map and flattened it, leaning in closer as if to see it better. Perhaps the young lad needed glasses. They would help him see, but maybe not read.

"..." Mathieu was silent, appearing confused. "...he dit tu not mon papa." (("He said you('re) not my papa"))

Francis froze.

Did Mathieu know what he was saying?

Why... h-how... How did that come up?

"W-What...?" Francis cleared his throat a tad, eyes widened as he grew increasingly nervous.

Mathieu continued to stare at the paper, pointing to it again. "...he say you found me," he tapped the page of that island, "there."

"Who told you?" Francis muttered quietly. He'd tried. He'd tried so, so very hard to raise Mathieu to believe he was his own son. Who the hell would ruin that?!

"Pi...Pi." Matthieu focused hard and tried to say the first mate's name, Pierre, but he had been unable to come up with the second half. He didn't need to for Francis to know. Mathieu teared up slightly, thinking over what Pierre told him meant. While the boy may have been unable to express himself clearly, he could certainly put pieces together. "...d-do...do maman.. et daddy not w-want Mathieu...?" He whimpered out quietly.

Francis held Mathieu close- he wanted his son as close to him as possible. "Dear, love, please... I love you. I don't need to be your dad to be your Papa." Francis pet the boy's hair as Mathieu snuggled close to his chest, finding comfort in a love that couldn't possibly be rendered invalid by the negative blood relation. "You don't have to be my son to be mon petit." His eyes started to water gently, but he blinked them away in order to stay strong for his adopted son. "You were meant to be mine, and I was meant to be yours."

Clinging to Francis's nightshirt in little fist fulls, Mathieu nuzzled close to him and cried quietly into his chest. Certainly this child was an angel, and Francis was sure of it.

"I've always wanted you. God just brought you to a different place and I needed to bring you home. He didn't have a map."