Welcome to the adventures of Kiku Honda and Francis Bonnefoy as they adjust to new life as roommates, a collaboration series by two best friends with far too much time on their hands.
In summary, you'll read about: gourmet cuisine, break-ups, romance, awkwardness in random situations, cats, rotten tomatoes, new encounters, a blooming friendship, and much more.
Rating: T, just because it is. I highly doubt it'll go up, but if it does, oh well.
Pairings: FrancexSpain, Giripan, implied EnglandxAmerica, slight (until a certain point) Spamano, (friendship-wise) JapanxFrance, and (just plain fluffy) Franada.
Enjoyeth ~ ;D
Episode 1: Moving In
How the Japanese man came to live so far away from his home is still a mystery to him. Standing outside the "flashy" Frenchman's apartment, he banged his hands reluctantly on the large brass knockers of the door, and began rehearsing various lines he would use.
Kiku Honda was moving in with Francis Bonnefoy. He had a profound curiosity about the Western world, particularly Europe. When he had announced his request to explore and observe the European culture during the last World Conference, Francis had offered his home right away; seeing as most other countries had said they had no available room or that they were too busy for the time being. Kiku eagerly accepted his offer.
This brings us to where the Japanese man is now. Letting out a sigh, he made an attempt at knocking once more, just raising his arm and making a fist, when the door flung wide open, and the blonde Frenchman nearly tackled the smaller Japanese man in an attempt to hug him.
"Bienvenue, mon cher Kiku!" he cried, lunging in for some sort of embrace. Kiku, unaccustomed to such forwardness, shoved his new roommate away forcefully, and began bowing deeply.
"Gomen nasai, gomen nasai. Please keep minimal physical contact between us!" he said. He didn't get much of a response from the Frenchman, and when he looked up, he realized just how strong he had pushed Francis away. Ceramic pieces were scattered about the floor, while water seeped through the carpet. Rushing into the room, Kiku noticed that Francis was holding a rose delicately, and with trembling fingers, to his chest. Few petals had been torn off.
"A-are you all right, Francis?" Kiku asked, crouching down carefully next to him. For one odd reason or another, he felt as if he shouldn't step on the fallen petals.
"My vase…my poor rose…"
"Sumimasen?"
"The very container that allowed my flower to thrive indoors…it's broken." Francis let out a sigh. Kiku wanted to point out to Francis that there were plenty rose bushes outside the complex, but figured the Frenchman was already aware.
"I promise I'll pay for the vase," the Japanese man said at last. Francis raised his shimmering blue eyes to meet Kiku's dark ones and chuckled, grinning brightly.
"No, no…don't worry about it. I have plenty of them in the storage room; I'm certain I'll find another," Francis assented. However, Kiku's face still betrayed worry.
"Are you sure? P-please, allow me. It was entirely my fault –"
"If anything, the fault is mine for not having considered the cultural differences. Ne t'inquiète pas, Kiku. Now, let's clean this mess up and get you settled in!" he reassured. He pushed himself from the ground and stood so that Kiku could finally let it sink in just how tall the Frenchman was. He knew that nearly everyone, excepting his family, was considerably to more of an advantage when it came to height, but Francis was taller than any other he'd encountered, though there was still only about four inches between them, at the most.
After Francis brought the dustpan over, Kiku remained silent and marveled at how gingerly he picked up every single one of the broken ceramic pieces and promptly disposed of them, as though he had done it a thousand times before.
"Et, le voilà!" Francis declared with a clap of his hands. "Now, allow me to show you around your new home."
As they engaged in the "très bien tour", as Francis enjoyed calling it, Kiku tried his best to keep up with all the random blabbering of information he was being fed. The two passed through a long, dimly-lit hallway where the walls, of a creamy off-white color with green and gold fleur-de-lis patterns, were adorned with many impressive paintings. The Frenchman noticed Kiku eyeing them, and noted with a hint of pride in his voice,
"My little brother, Feliciano, made these for me. He's quite an amazing artist."
"Yes, I've noticed. They're lovely!"
Francis nodded as they turned the corner sharply.
"This is your bedroom. Mine is just across the hall, if you ever need me,"
Kiku nodded and opened the door as Francis stood behind him, waiting.
"I hope it isn't too...uncomfortable for you. This apartment only came with two bedrooms, and I didn't want to subject you to sharing a room with me, so…"
"No, no. It's just right. Thank you," Kiku replied. In fact, it was much more than just right – it was magnificent! Kiku could not believe how spacious it was compared to the room he had back home, and only a standard one, as well. The walls were an elegant pale blue, with thin white stripes stretching all around. There was a window with a small balcony, overlooking the busy Paris streets, a light wooden desk, a matching dresser, a walk-in closet, and a bookshelf with only about four books actually within it. Francis had probably left the rest for Kiku to fill, he figured.
But perhaps the greatest installment of all was the giant and insanely gorgeous bed on the far left side of the room, which was clearly unlike the futon that the Japanese man was used to. The bedspreads were all a pure, ivory white, with tiny golden flowers patterned neatly around the edges. The many pillows were much the same, but somehow still very essential to the overall presentation. Kiku saw that they had been monogrammed for him, a large cursive "K" on each one, the fact that the Frenchman had taken him into such consideration making him blush slightly.
"F-Francis, it's stunning." He whispered.
Francis grinned.
"Good. I'll be in the kitchen. Meanwhile, feel free to make yourself at home."
Once the Frenchman had left, Kiku gave a small sigh, put down his bags, and let himself test out his new bed. Unlike the futon he owned and slept on in Japan, this mattress was big, and very thick; but above all, extremely soft. He bounced on it a little and felt the springs within the mattress bouncing underneath with him. A small smile made its way to his lips and he, eventually, stood up and began unpacking.
The closet was no mystery to him. Hangers and shelves for his clothing had already been placed for him; Kiku would be sure to thank Francis for that later (and everything, it seemed). Hanging his shirts, pants, and kimonos; folding his undershirts and underwear, the Japanese man worked diligently and quietly, absorbed in his thoughts. Afterwards, he moved to the desk, which was finally covered with perfectly aligned papers, pens, and ink brushes, while he then filled the bookshelves with his favorite literature (nothing X-rated, mind you.)
A loud knock on the door snapped him from his tasks, and he looked up from where he had been getting out the last of his belongings.
"Hai?" he called out.
Francis entered his room cautiously.
"I see that you've settled in," he remarked.
"Ah, yes. Just about."
"Splendid. Come, dinner is ready!"
Having re-entered the illustrious kitchen, Francis gathered two glasses (of the likes Kiku had never seen in real life, only through the media), and poured an unfamiliar dark red liquid into both of them from a large, equally dark bottle.
"I-is that wine?" Kiku asked with a puzzled expression on his face.
"Yes. It is a vintage Bergerac Merlot, the pride of southwestern France. And we," Francis explained, swishing the wine around in the glass in order to aerate it, "are celebrating your first night here, as my new official roommate!"
Kiku accepted the glass hesitantly and slowly put his nose to the edge, taking in the scent. It was strong. Very strong.
"Now, you haven't had wine before, have you, Kiku?"
He shook his head in the negative.
"That's what I thought. Now, I chose this kind of wine for that specific reason. Merlot is known for being the mildest of all wines, so it is perfect for beginning drinkers. I would not wish to overwhelm you on your first night here." The Frenchman replied.
Kiku felt a warmth invade his body, and he had not even taken a sip of the alcohol yet. Again, he found himself touched that Francis thought of him and his feelings so much, and appreciated all that had been done for him up to this point.
Francis now took hold of his own glass and swirled the burgundy contents.
"Would you like me to demonstrate?" he posed.
"Please, yes."
Francis gracefully brought the glass to his lips and took a large sip, much like the way Kiku would have had it been green tea, though not completely emptying it.
Kiku mimicked Francis' movements and felt the Frenchman's eyes on him as he himself slowly took a sip, feeling the slightly bitter red liquid traveling down his throat. It was only the initial taste, however. After a few seconds, feeling it linger on his tongue, Kiku could taste a vague, grapey sweetness replacing the bitterness.
"So? How is it?" Francis asked. There was something strangely seductive in the way he held his own wine glass between his slender fingers.
It took the Japanese man a few, long moments, but he ultimately nodded in agreement, and pulled out a small notebook and pen from his jacket pocket. While he began taking notes, he responded,
"It's a very interesting taste. It may take some time for me to get used to, but I think I may grow to like it."
Francis' satisfaction showed in his crystalline eyes, and he nodded understandingly.
"And now, the food." He announced, almost imperiously. Kiku beamed.
"Fantastic! The last thing I ate was the assorted fish plate they served on the plane." He was obviously eager to be having a meal once more. Francis moved about the kitchen, gathering the dishes and placing them on the previously-set dining table. Kiku seated himself, and waited patiently for Francis to explain, putting away his notebook out of propriety.
"I have prepared for us foie gras in cocotte jus, cut, spiced potatoes, and to end, a little crème brûlée with café au lait," Kiku gave a look as though he understood, but had really barely taken in a word of what the Frenchman had said. He watched in marked curiosity as Francis unveiled this new array of dishes. The portions, he noticed, were larger, but not at all monstrous or inedible like those he had seen in America.
"What is foie gras?" he asked.
"Duck liver – cooked and slightly fattened, mon cher. It's rich, buttery, and a very popular delicacy in France," Francis explained.
Knife and fork in hand, Kiku sliced a good-sized bite from his entrée and ate it slowly, savouring the foreign, but miraculous flavors that erupted within his mouth. He moved on to the potatoes, and then alternated between the two for a few good minutes before raising his eyes to meet those of Francis.
"It's absolutely delicious," he declared, smiling graciously at the chef, who ate sitting across the table from him.
"I'm very pleased you think so! I was hoping everything would be to your liking. You seemed hungry."
"Mm," Kiku hummed in agreement. Francis grinned and took another large sip of the merlot.
"You're quite adorable, I have to admit," he muttered, almost to himself. Kiku's face flushed nearly the same shade of red as the wine. He'd overheard.
"N-nani?"
The Frenchman shook his head in dismissal.
"Nothing, mon ami. Nothing."
Kiku finished up his entrees soon enough. Afterwards, the dessert was just as, if not even more, pleasing.
"Arigatou gozaimasu, Francis. I enjoyed everything."
"Good. It would do you well to head to bed now. You must have had an exhausting trip," The Frenchman recommended with concern. The Japanese man merely smiled, bowed, and exited the room.
Kiku lay on his new bed, a light kimono on his body. He gave a content sigh and turned toward the bedside table. There was a lamp in the corner, and he had left the book he was reading next to him. He let his mind wander to all the new, fascinating things he would learn about the French culture while he was here, for however long he chose. Taking his notepad from the drawer, he reviewed his notes a few times.
His notes were neat, and he had written entirely in his native language. It's not like he was uncomfortable writing in English – his English had to be impeccable, and it was, as it was the only language he and the other countries shared in common – but he just preferred to write them that way. It felt more organized.
Feeling a slight burning from fatigue in the back of his eyes, Kiku put the notepad away and reached to turn off the light when Francis knocked lightly upon the door, and let his head in through the crack.
"Kiku?" he said, as the Japanese man sat up in bed and cocked his head to the side.
"Konbanwa, Francis. Did you…need anything?"
Francis shook his head.
"Not in particular. I just wanted to say, bonne nuit. And sweet dreams,"
Kiku smiled fully, though his face betrayed his drowsiness.
"Thank you. Oyasumi nasai." He replied, as Francis took his leave and closed the door quietly behind him.
Kiku lay down once more, turned off the light, and drifted off into a world of peaceful reverie. A world he knew well.
A/N: Please review~! We apologize for the lengthiness. Honest, we tried to shorten it down without leaving any of the essence out. It'll get more interesting as each chapter comes. We'll update soon!