The sweet smell of food drifted in the air of a certain Frenchman's kitchen. A smell of strawberries and sweet batter begin cooked. Surprisingly enough, the Frenchman himself was not the cook. He sat quietly at the table; his golden hair tied back by a blue ribbon, and his clear blue eyes watched the movements of his little cook of the day. He watched with a small smile and every so often, let his eyes trail down to her bottom.
She was an olive-skinned and slender girl with auburn brown hair that was wavy and long, reaching the bottom of her shoulder blades. Her eyes were hazel, almost emerald and shown with bright happiness and excitement.
Though, that quickly changed.
"Stercum!" She yelped in pain. Francis looked up from where he was staring. He saw her hold her hand, closer to the tips of her fingers.
"What is it, Vianca?" he asked in French.
"N-nothing, just burned myself," she said as she ran to the sink for cold water.
"Again?" He sighed and rose from his seat. He knew it would be a bad idea to let her cook. It was going all too well, something was bound to happen.
Every once in a while the two would get together, usually at Francis's place and he'd cook for obvious reasons, and have a meal together. It gave them a chance to just sit down and talk. It was something they started during the 19th century, dropped in the 20th century since all the wars and recently pick back up.
He decided to finish what she was cooking while she ran cold water over her burn. Light profanities in Latin and Italian were heard being muttered by the brunette. Once finishing the food, Francis started plating it. Vianca pouted as she watched him finish her work.
He looked up from the plates and looked at his friend, noticing her holding her hand. "Let me take a look," he said.
"I'm not a child anymore, Francis," she whined, but showed it. He quietly examined her hand. The tips of her fingers burned a bright pinkish-red, thankfully nothing too serious. He sighed again and went to get something to help the burn.
Sadly, he came back empty handed. "Sorry, I couldn't find anything, chérie ," he apologized. Gently, he took a hold of her hand again, "Maybe this would help?" He kissed her fingers lightly.
Vianca blushed madly at the small gesture and pulled back her hand. She took their plates and walked towards the table.
He smiled at her reaction.
Author's note: Right, so Vianca is Vatican City.
Alright, so sorry if you don't like OCs, just don't flame. I didn't actually plan on pairing these two either. My friend, who was partial custody of Vianca, thought these two would be a cute couple. She got me to love them. LOL
Disclaimer: Don't own Hetalia or it's characters. Merely the character Vianca. C:
Stercum - latin for shit
