The world. Needs. More. Franada. And so I bring you this! Short little oneshot.

Disclaimer: I can't own a house yet, how am I going to own countries!


A quiet day in a quiet home. It wasn't an unusual sight, but still rather peculiar. One would think that, when a host had company at their home, there would be conversation, laughter, some form of interaction. And yet, somewhere amidst the many rooms of the large house two figures sat, silent, each involved in his own activity requiring no sound, no need for words.

A slightly-bearded blonde, the older of the pair, had taken up residence on a maroon loveseat idly placed not far from a flickering fireplace. Blue eyes locked onto dark lettering upon creamed, wrinkled pages- worn from age, from repeated use. The story remained the same, however. Always enticing, surprising him every time he picked up the book.

A second blonde, a younger, spectacled one who also acted as the host of the house, sat not far from the other. His own bright eyes weren't focused on literature, but rather, life. His hands were moving without a sound as his fingers threaded through soft white fur belonging to his beloved pet. Occasionally, his lips would part, as if he wanted to release a small chuckle at his pet's antics when he scratched in just the right spot, but it was a silent laugh. No real sound ever escaped- he feared if he did, he may just break the serene mood that had been set.

It surprised him when, upon opening his lips to release one of those unheard laughs, the sound that escaped him wasn't that of his own voice. It was deeper, more toned, and soon Matthew began to hear words, thick with accent and song-

"O Canada, terre de nos aïeux..."

He made not a sound as his hands paused in their roam over the soft terrain of fur and his eyes flickered upwards to the male on the couch. What he noticed right away was that the book that the Frenchman had previously been reading wasn't in his hands anymore, but rather, in his lap. The book was still open, pages crumpling a bit due to its new shift in position, and Matthew frowned a bit. He hoped they wouldn't become too wrinkled, for that book was priceless.

"Ton front est ceint de fleurons glorieux..."

Ah, the singing commenced once again. The frown was neatly tucked away after that, due to the sudden realization of what, exactly, the other was singing. Many times had that song been whispered in his ear, during restless nights when he was young and could not let slumber come. It had been a lullaby once- now, it was an anthem.

"Car ton bras sait porter l'épée, il sait porter la croix-"

But all too soon, Francis was stopping. Matthew blinked curiously and tilted his head, looking at his former mentor, and they shared this unspoken conversation with their eyes. Why were you singing that? And why'd you stop?

I do not wish to sing alone, chéri.

It was comfortably quiet for a while. Francis's blue eyes locked onto almost-mirror images of their own, focusing on its beautiful hue- a lavender diamond only nature could create. And that blush that slowly began to creep onto the younger blonde's face once he realized that the spotlight had been placed upon him... Such a stunning array of colors. Just for him.

"T- ton histoire est une épopée... des plus brillants exploits..."

Matthew's meek voice finally peeked out, wavering, unsure of how he sounded, if he was even pronouncing the French right. But it seemed to please the bearded man, and a smile came onto his features once he saw the Frenchman get down from his position on the loveseat, crawling towards him slowly, much like a lioness making her way to future prey.

"Et ta valeur, de foi trempée, protégera nos foyers et nos droits."

The words were practically being whispered now, rather than sung. They were soft and husky against Matthew's ear, and he shuddered as he fumbled around to lie down upon his carpet in a more comfortable position. His snow-colored pet even rolled off to the side to give him room before moving to curl up near the fireplace. Its beady eyes watched the scene, shifting occasionally to look at its owner and the man that was now leaning over him.

"Protégera nos foyers et nos droits." Matthew quietly sang, oh-so thankful that he'd gotten the last line. The young blonde was also glad he'd even remembered the lines Francis had indirectly appointed him to sing. Canada's anthem, although recognized by millions, wasn't usually memorized by everyone.

"Trés bien," came Francis's voice then, and Matthew focused his attention on the older male. A sheepish smile was soon on his face and he could feel his cheeks color brightly as the other praised him with multiple French phrases and kisses here and there.

Soon, the small laughs that he had been holding back for a while came forth in a tiny fit of giggles. "That was so random," chuckled the younger blonde and unknowingly began to tilt his head back, leaving his neck open, much to Francis' delight. Chaste kisses were soon placed upon the available space, and more giggles erupted.

"The turn of events from it, however, are quite rewarding, non?" Francis smiled at the amusing reactions he received and he stopped the kisses to nuzzle the other softly, feeling his stubble occasionally brush against Matthew's neck which caused him to chuckle some more. A seemingly content sigh escaped him afterwards and the kisses started again, pausing only a few times to hum that special tune.

And while Francis hummed, he swore he heard the blonde beneath him coo.

"Allons enfants de la Patrie..."


Notes!

*Totally Googled the lyrics to "O Canada" in French. So what they're singing in italic is, hopefully, that.

* What Mattie's singing at the end is the start of France's own anthem, La Marseillaise. Yes indeedy. I didn't know how well to finish this fic at first, but my beta suggested it and I thought it was a neat idea. x) Props to her!

Translation!:

trés bien - very good

And... that's it, guys. :D