Okay so I have this Franada/side USUK fashion!AU stuck in my head...and I really just wanted an excuse for writing shameless fluff.
If you see any grammar/spelling errors or just want to give me constructive criticism, please, notify me in a review, as this is un-betad (and I'm not too fond of it. I kinda scribbled it on my iPod after school).
Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
Author: Alix the Alien Cyborg
Rating: K+
Pairing(s): Franada
Warnings: Uh, illegal amounts of fluff?
/
"No, I don't want the creams! How hard is it for you to understand? I don't care that your Seaside Collection doesn't come in separate pieces. Do you know who you're talking to? Francis Bonnefoy, the best designer this side of Paris! Yes, I know it will cost extra, I'm prepared to pay. I only want the lavender and baby blue chiffon, not the cream or pale green.
"Oh, your manager told you not to break apart the collection? Run along to her now, and tell her who I am. See if she changes her mind...that's what I thought. My secretary will be by to pick up the material on Wednesday. My address and credit card are in the system. Pleasure doing business with you." Not giving the woman a chance to respond, Francis ended the call. Normally, he would have been more polite to the poor lady, but his patience was running very, very thin. The frustrating phone call was a prime example of how his week had been going. The Frenchman had endured one trial after another and right now, he wanted nothing more than to go home, curl up with his lover, and sleep.
Francis rested his head on the desk and buried his hands in his thick blond hair. The usually silky and soft locks were tangled and unkempt, much like the rest of his appearance. God, he was so tired. So, so tired. Surely he could take a few minutes to rest...
A knocking roused Francis, just as he was beginning to doze. He started, head snapping up, guiltily eying the door. "Francis?" The blond relaxed, a smile drifting onto his face. Very few people in this company would refer to him by his first name, and only one had such a soft voice.
"Matthew," Francis called. His lover's head poked around the doorframe, worried violet eyes scanning the office. "Come in, come in, I haven't seen you in hours..."
Matthew smiled, clicking the door behind him and walking briskly.
"Mon cher, not that it isn't a pleasant surprise, but why are you here? Surely you have projects to work on, things more important than me-"
"You canceled our lunch plans! Don't worry, I've got Alfred handling my stuff, he had a photo shoot this morning but his afternoon's light. And I had every right to be worried. Look at you! What kind of day have you had? Your hair is a mess!" Clicking his tongue like a worried mother, Matthew leaned across Francis' desk. "You need a break. Now." Taking one of Francis' hands, Matthew pulled him up and out of the soft desk chair. Leading him over to the comfy living room-esque area that expanded his luxurious office, Matthew flicked on the fake fireplace and sat Francis on a small sofa. He knew Francis had a secret stash of beauty products hidden in the drawers, and he pulled out a smooth brown brush. Matthew pulled Francis onto his lap, sighing at the state of his lover. The other man's eyes were bloodshot and bagged, skin pale and lacking its usual rosy tint.
Matthew began pulling the brush through Francis' hair. He marveled at how tangled it had become. He had never seen the blond so...distressed before. It rather worried Matthew.
Francis let out a yawn, lips bright but chapped and parting in a movement that couldn't be more different than his usual catlike grace, instead calling to mind thoughts of a lumbering bear with his weighed down limbs. While Matthew really liked bears, the look didn't exactly fit his collected lover.
Francis yawned again, the soothing strokes of the brush lulling him to much-needed sleep. His eyes fluttered shut and his head brushed the front of Matthew's chest, nuzzling into the warmth, then starting back awake. Matthew chuckled, setting the brush down on the creamy couch. "You really need rest, don't you. C'mere. Let's take a nap."
"But-I have work to do-and you must be getting back-"
"Francis. You aren't going to get anything done if you're this tired. Just a couple minute nap, okay, honey?" Francis hesitated, then nodded, curling closer around the blond as Matthew reclined the sofa. The taller of the two pulled Francis closer, burying his face into the newly brushed hair. He could feel Francis' chest rising and falling, breaths slowing as he slipped into unconsciousness. The atmosphere was rather peaceful, quiet and calm, just the two of them. Exactly how Matthew liked it.
Unfortunately, they didn't get much time to be like this. With Francis' recent workload and Matthew constantly studying, evenings together were often short and hurried. It was more than a little frustrating at times, but Matthew wouldn't give it up for the world.
He tightened his hold on Francis. "Love you," he whispered. No response-Francis was asleep. That was fine. There would be many more opportunities to say it.