Hey guys! This is a new fic for you all. I wrote it some time ago. Enjoy!
.:|Silver|:.
England and France were sitting at a small breakfast restaurant opposite of each other, both gazing into the others' eyes lovingly. A waitress shuffled over to them, trying to flirt a little before realising it was hopeless and just setting the menus down, going away again.
"We should do this more often," sighed the Englishman with a smile, reaching across the table and taking the Frenchman's hand in his own, brushing his thumbs across the older nation's knuckles. France chuckled and copied the gesture (the thumb-over-knuckles one) before trying to peer at the upside down writing as England opened the menu with his free hand.
"Of course, mon cher. Anyzing zat you wish," he replied, pulling Arthur's hand up to his lips and brushing them across the smooth skin of the other's pale hand. Arthur flushed lightly, rolling his eyes, before jolting as a waitress came over.
"May I take your order, sirs?" she asked politely. Francis glanced up at her then back at the menu before giving her a smile.
"One Earl Grey wiz lemon and two sugars, one cafe au lait and the full english breakfast," he ordered, watching as the woman bobbed her head in a nod and hurried away. The Brit opposite him let out a laugh, gripping the blue-eyed man's hand tighter.
"I don't know if I should be pleased you know how I take my tea or not. Are you becoming a stalker, Mr. Bonnefoy?" he teased. Francis laughed back.
"Only for you, cher. And I've known you for far too long to not know 'ow you like your drink."
"Mmm, true that."
There was a companionable silence which was abruptly broken by a familiar voice.
"Wassup dudes!"
Arthur's eyes narrowed and Francis' smile fell into a grimace. Great, their day was ruined. America walked over, dragging Canada behind him as they both sat down, uninvited, into the booth with their 'parents'. England glared ferociously, his gaze softening as he noticed the Canadian looked a bit apologetic.
"What do you want, git?" he asked, not releasing France's hand as he continued to glare. America pouted a bit before grinning widely and raising Canada's hand which was intertwined with his.
"We're together!" he announced cheerily. There was a sharp silence before France was pulling Canada closer to himself and spouting all sorts of French stuff.
"Canada? C'est vrai? Vous etes un couple?" he asked. Well, at least that's all England managed to hear properly, his green eyes filling with protectiveness a he turned back to America.
"You are coming over for a dinner to our house tonight. We would like to meet you properly," he said strictly. The American looked a bit nervous.
"Hehe. Uh, why? You already know me, Artie."
"This time it's because you're coming as a potential relationship for Matthew. And I would like a proper introduction of you as his boyfriend, do you understand Alfred?"
"Yes sir."
"Good. I expect you both to be on time. Seven on the dot."
"Yes sir."
"Good. And proper clothes."
"Of course."
France and Canada were apparently having a similar conversation except in french. It seemed that the teenager then noticed that the older nations were on a date and they excused themselves hurriedly, leaving before the food even arrived. Arthur sighed, running a hand through his hair and looking at the Frenchman. They both let tired smiles flit across their faces.
"Zey grow up fast."
"Yes. I really hope Alfred doesn't let me down. Otherwise I really will have t break off any ties relating us together."
"I'm sure e'll be great."
"Yeah right. Have you seen how utterly fobbish that twat can be?"
"Well..."
"Exactly."
Meanwhile, outside the restaurant...
Alfred winced as he walked with Canada, swing their intertwined hands together.
"Artie'll kill me if I go wrong won't he?"
"Of course not. He didn't kill any of my previous boyfriends. Except that one guy who both Papa and Dad killed. I think they even stuck his head on a stake outside..."
"Oh man."
At Alfred's house…
It was Time. Yes, Time with a capital T. Because it wasn't just any time, oh no, it was Time. Time for what exactly? you may be thinking. Well, you can call it Time for many things, like:
1. Time for The Dinner (yeah, you practically hear the italics and capitals that come with it)
2. Time for Matthew to finally introduce his brother as his boyfriend
3. And last but not least, Time for Alfred's demise.
You see, there was this...thing. France and England were very protective of their 'sons'. And while America was considered England's 'little brother' or 'son', Matthew was the more sensitive one and the one who looked like he could easily be damaged. Not true, of course. Canada could beat up anyone given the right occasion. He was just naturally quiet. Which led to both England and France being overprotective of him, than of Alfred. Which explains why they both totally wouldn't mind disowning the American or killing him. They would have no qualms. They would probably be grinning while they do it... mused Alfred. He shuddered and shook himself out of his thoughts and adjusted his tie, looking over himself again. He had decided to wear his best suit and had made an effort to at least try and look good. Not that that needed much of a stretch, but still. He smiled a nervous smile and then hurried downstairs, grabbing his car keys as he rushed outside. He jumped into his silver Cadillac Cien and revved the engine before driving over to Canada's house.
At Canada's House…
Matthew was dressed in his best clothes and was staring out of the window blankly, scratching Kuma's head as he did so. He was going over the warning his fathers had given America. And even though the Canadian should have been a little more sensitive that his brother might get killed, he couldn't help the small grin that flitted across his lips. It would be fun. He knew how much England and France could go through to make someone's life living hell. A roar of an engine attracted his gaze outside and he stood up, straightening his elegant suit (well he had inherited his sense of fashion fromsomeone) and he opened the door into the grinning face of Alfred. America gave his a bright smile and kissed him gently before escorting him out to the Cadillac.
"You know where we're going?" he asked nervously as he got into the car. Canada snorted and shrugged.
"First to Papa and Dad's place and then somewhere. They probably already have somewhere in mind."
"That's why I'm worried. They won't take us to a strip club will they?"
"Of course not, Al! Honestly, the scenarios your brain can come up with! I worry sometimes..."
At England's house...
When the two teens stopped in front of the Englishman's house, they had expected to be invited inside. Instead, their fathers were standing outside, both dressed sharply and making the two younger nations feel a tad underdressed. Even though they were dressed in their best suits too. It seemed like France had decided to design his and England's clothes personally or something. They were top notch. America glanced at Matthew before following him out of the car. Arthur nodded sharply at the two, pressing a button and making the garage door open. Inside was a sparkling Bugatti Veyron, making the Cadillac seem a it crude in comparison. France eyed both the teenagers with a critical eye before deeming them okay and walking to the car.
"Follow us," he said smoothly, letting England get behind the wheel. America silently got back into his car, letting Matthew sit back in before following the black Veyron.
"Are they trying to show me something here?" he mumbled to himself. The Canadian next to him seemed to be a bit nervous now too.
"I think they're showing off. They want to show you the power and money they've got."
"They don't have to do that. I know that already."
"Al, imagine you dating a girl and your girlfriend bringing you to her parents. Her father would obviously try to intimidate you and would still hate you anyways. And we've got two fathers. Obviously they both don't trust you to take care of me. And just so you know, you making all those jokes about Papa doesn't help this situation. Papa can be really overprotective at times..."
"But he's not that good at fighting!"
"He's wicked with a sword, Alfred. Trust me."
"Don't go all British on me, Mattie!"
And the rest of their ride was spent in bickering. They were rudely reminded of their night out with their parents when the Bugatti honked its horn and slowed down, the doors opening and both the older blond nations came out. Alfred and Matthew followed them out and stared at the restaurant with awe. The place was looking brilliant, all shiny and elegant. Not to mention five star. Even more five-star than five star actually. Alfred and Matthew glanced at each other before swallowing uncomfortably and then shuffling in after the two older nations.
"Reserved under ze name of Bonnefoy," said France with an elegant nod. The man nodded, checked on the registered names before smiling and showing the blonds across the beautiful marble floor and to a table. A table in a dark corner. America was now a hundred percent sure they wanted to kill him. Nice and slowly. And hidden away from plain sight.
"'ere you go, Monsieur Bonnefoy. Someone will be wiz you shortly," said the maître d' with a smile and quick bow before he walked away. All the bonds sat down, France and England opposite America and Canada. They sat together in an awkward silence before England decided to start a conversation.
"So, how long have you been dating Matthew, Alfred?" he asked casually. Glad to have a chance to talk, Alfred spoke.
"About three months Artie!"
"Its Mr. Kirkland to you, lad. Three months you say? How have we heard nothing about this?"
"Sorry Mr. Kirkland. I thought Matthew told you."
"Don't bring Mathieu into zis," warned Francis, his eyes gleaming as he propped his chin on his hand and studied both the younger blonds in front of him. Matthew was looking calm, relaxed, as if he did this all the time (which had actually happened quite a few times, so it was no surprise). Alfred squirmed a bit uncomfortably and was glad as the waiter appeared to take their orders. After their orders were taken, there was another small silence which Matthew broke with a small comment. Instantly the atmosphere relaxed and Arthur and Francis laughed freely and everything was normal for a while. At least until the main course were over. They were waiting for dessert when Arthur and Francis switched back into interrogating-parents mode.
"So, Alfred, we want to lay down some rules about dating Matthew," said Arthur conversationally. The glint in his green eyes matched the one in Francis' blue eyes. They both glanced at each other before looking back at America. Canada held the American's hand to reassure him. He would need it.
"Premierement, if you are picking Mathieu up, you will not sit in ze car and 'onk ze 'orn. You will come to ze door and pick 'im up properly," said the Frenchman, an evil look in his eyes as if he knew America's picking-up-dates techniques (it was true, Alfred usually honked the horn). The American nodded minutely.
"Secondly, you do not touch Matthew in front of us. You may glance at him, but that's it. If you cannot keep your hands or other parts of your body off him, I will remove them," continued the Englishman, his voice dripping with malice. Alfred cowered some more and dropped Matthew's hand immediately, as if burned. France let an evil looking smirk settle on his face.
"I know it is your 'fashion' to wear ze pants zat are too loose and 'ang off your 'ips. So, we can make a compromise. You can wear your pants zat fall off, and to ensure zat zey don't come off in your date wiz Mathieu, I will use my electric staple to secure zem to you."
"You must know that sex without a barrier can kill you. So let me make it clear to you, I am the barrier and I will kill you."
By this time Alfred had wide eyes and was shaking, terrified at the violent glares he was receiving.
"I know you may zink zat like your citizens, you should try to 'bond' wiz Angleterre and I zrough sports. Please don't even try zat. Ze only information we will require is an indication of when you will drop Mathieu safely back to 'is or our 'ouses. And ze only word we require from you on zat subject is 'early'."
"IF Matthew is by any chance at our house and taking a lot of time in coming downstairs to where you are waiting for him, you will not fidget. You will not even sigh. If you want to be on time for a film, you shouldn't be dating. He can take all the time he needs because he Francis' son. Instead of fidgeting, you will do something helpful, like doing the dishes or cleaning the toilet."
"I know you are popular, Amerique. And I 'ave no doubt many people want to date you. Zat's fine by me. But when you are dating Mathieu, you cannot date anyone else until 'e is done wiz you. If you break 'is 'eart, I will break your everyzing."
"And lastly, you may not be with Matthew in any of the following places. Places where there are beds, sofas, or anything softer than a wooden stool. Places where parents, policemen, or nuns are not within eyesight. Places where there is darkness. Places where there is dancing, holding hands, or happiness. Places where the ambient temperature is warm enough to induce Matthew to wear shorts, tank tops, or anything other than a goose down parka zipped up to his chin."
"And films wiz romantic and sexual zemes are to be avoided at all costs. 'owever, films which feature chainsaw, preferably sawing off male genitalia are encouraged," said Francis. There was a short silence while Alfred trembled and whimpered. Oh god, kill me now, he pleaded.
"Good. Now that that's over, dessert anyone?" asked Arthur cheerily. Yep. They'll definitely kill him, mused Canada.
How did you like it? Good? Bad? Okay? Please review!
.:|Silver|:.