(Disclaimer: Hetalia is not mine.)

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America always loved when France came to visit. He loved England and all, but France was different, new… and weird. But America loved weird things, therefore, America loved France!

And France's visits were always a secret. America found great joy in having to keep his visits a secret from England because England had so many secrets of his own, and America liked having one, too.

He bounced around in one of the rooms, avoiding and ducking under the arms of the various maids left to look after him. France was supposed to visit today, and America knew it. And when France came, the maids would be dismissed for the day (…or most of them. France always kept one around but she only came back after America went to bed, and America wasn't sure why, but he thinks it's because they like to play games) and he got to have France all to himself!

"Alfred, dear, please come with us," one of the younger maids pleaded, holding her hands out for the boy. "The French diplomat will be here soon and you aren't decent."

America tilted his head at her and then looked down at his clothes. He was dressed and not covered in mud. What was wrong?

"I'll let you have a couple of candied cherries if you allow me to change your outfit," the maid cooed, her hands still outstretched. America's expression brightened and he ran into her arms, laughing as she picked him up and walked off.

A few minutes and candied cherries later, America found himself waiting for France while wearing a very uncomfortable pair of trousers and a shirt. They were hard to move in and itchy and every time he thought he could get away with taking them off, a maid was right there, hitting his hand and telling him to stop. And, worse yet, he had been forced into shoes! He couldn't run with those things on his feet!

So America sat in a chair, pouting and fidgeting, but still very excited. Any minute now, France would walk through that door and then they would spend time together and it would be fun!

"Alfred, stop fidgeting," an older maid snapped, and America tried to stop, he really did. But the second the maid had her back turned, there he went again.

The maid shot him another stern look, but America was saved from her lecture by a knock on the door. He jumped to his feet and ran, but the youngest maid beat him, opening the door and falling into a curtsy. "Welcome, Monsieur Bonnefoy," she muttered and straightened.

"Thank you, my dear," he said with a smile that made the girl almost swoon. He whipped off his hat and coat with a flourish, and handed it to her just in time for America to collide with his legs. "Ah, hello there, Alfred," he cooed, bending down to give him a hug. The maids stood around awkwardly, not moving, just watching.

France stood straight, picking America up with him. "After depositing my coat in the proper area, you may leave," he told the maids before walking into the next room.

"America," France began after they were finally alone. "Tell me what I have missed since I was last here."

And tell him, America did. France heard all about his escapades with England, the maids, animals, what was going on between that rabbit couple, new people in town, new places he'd been, and countless other trivial-to-France but important-to-America information.

"It sounds like you've been busy, mon petit," France said when America paused for a breath.

America nodded enthusiastically. "Uh-huh! Oh and I forgot to tell you about the deer!"

France's eyes widened briefly before he suddenly stood, chuckling. "You can tell me all about it while I make dinner, how does that sound?"

"Ok!" America chirped and followed France, his non-stop, mile a minute talking keeping up. France only half listened to the chatter, focused more on his food than the 'conversation.'

"It's done," France finally announced, putting a plate down in front of America. "Enjoy."

America looked at the plate in absolute wonder. "This smells… different."

France raised an eyebrow before realization dawned. "I am not like England. Of course our food is different. I'm sure you will find mine to be superior."

Nodding absently, America stuck a bite in his mouth. His eyes grew wide and he looked like he was in heaven. "Wow, France! This is really bad!"

France had to fight the urge to strangle the kid. "What?" he asked in a strangled voice.

America looked at him, innocently tilting his head in honest confusion.

"You have a look of pure joy on your face and yet you proclaim that my food is 'bad.' Explain," France ordered after a silent countdown to ten.

"Oh!" America beamed and shoved another bite in his mouth, savoring the flavor before swallowing. "Well, England said that his food is good! And this isn't like England's food at all and the opposite of good is bad! But…" America trailed off, looking down at the plate. "…but if 'bad' is bad, then I shouldn't be eating this! I'm done!" America pushed the plate away and jumped off his chair.

France stared at him in shock before shaking his head. "No, no. America," he said sternly. "I have already failed with England's tastes, and he has ruined the tastes of all of his colonies. I will not let the same happen to you. Assieds-toi et mange!" He pointed at the chair for emphasis.

"But it's bad!" America protested. "Besides, I want to go play now! Please?" He gave France those puppy dog eyes that he knew worked on everyone.

France fought valiantly against the eyes, still pointing at the chair, but gave up in the end. With a huff and a couple of muttered words about England, France followed America out of the room, a delicious meal left behind to go to waste.

(And, to this day, as he sits staring at a greasy hamburger on his plate, France regrets not forcing his food on America.)

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(A/N: Assieds-toi et mange - Sit and eat)