"Christ! Did you see that guy get clipped? What a pansy!"
"Jesus Mattie, you should talk like that more often!" Alfred jostled his brother's shoulders with one strong arm, shoving (another) handful of cheese poofs into his mouth with the other. Matthew and Alfred were seated on the former's couch, drowning in a sea of junk food and soft drinks that could rival a department store, glaring and shouting fervently at a large television displaying a rather intense Hockey game.
Matthew wailed victoriously and raised his red-and-white, jersey-clad arms in triumph as his team scored another point, the players maneuvering around and into each other like dancers in a very violent ballet. The twins hooted and cheered various jeers and congrats at the screen, laughing and screaming and spilling food, all the while not caring one bit.
Francis, on the other hand, was not pleased. At all. He wore an expression of utter misery and hopelessness from his position on the opposite end of the couch, grimly nursing a glass of red wine, one leg crossed over the other. He simply couldn't understand what his cher liked about this 'game', and why on earth he thought Francis would want to watch grown men throw each other into walls and smear their blood to the glee of the spectators.
Although, he really couldn't resist the soft, pleading look that blossomed in Mathieu's eyes as he asked him if he wanted to come over to watch the event. Francis would have agreed to pledge his allegiance to England just to see that sweet, boyish look of pure adoration and yearning for their love's company in his boyfriend's eyes. No matter how he looked at it, Francis was a hopeless romantic, wooed into a warm little puddle under the eyes and touch of a certain Canadian every time. His current demeanor, however, was the polar opposite; loud, physically vibrant, and brutal in his comments and insults. A regular Alfred F. Jones as far as Francis was concerned, never having seen the normally sweet boy act so much like his brother in his life.
The Frenchman was jolted from his thoughts as another shout pierced the air, but whether it was from Alfred or Mathieu, Francis hadn't the slightest idea. He flashed a false, brittle smile as Matthew grasped his sleeve.
"Are you having fun Francis? Great game, isn't it?" Matthew tugged affectionately on Francis' arm, gifting him with the thin, shy smile he was used to, perhaps with a little more fire and passion behind it.
"But of course, mon petit lapin, I am entranced." Francis grasped Matthew's hand gently and brought it to his lips to emphasize his false content. He smiled again as a deep blush crept across the Canadian's soft features.
"Good. This is a really exciting match, after all. Four guys have already been put in the penalty box, and the game's not even half over yet!" Francis smiled again and turned his attention back to his wine as Matthew, in turn, focused his mind back to the television.
The Canadian was so invested it the game that he barely noticed when Alfred rose from the cushion he was sinking into and spread his arms in a back-popping stretch.
"Yo Mattie, want anything from the fridge?" he asked, noticing that the portable cooler the two had filled to the brim with soda and dragged into the living room was devoid of said drinks, nothing left but half melted ice cubes.
"Hng…" Matthew grunted, waving a hand at his brother and wrinkling his brow in concentration, eyes never leaving the tv screen.
Francis, however, saw Alfred's absence as the perfect opportunity to 'distract' his Mathieu. As soon as Alfred rounded the corner into the kitchen, the Frenchman sprung his plan into action. In an instant he had closed the distance between himself and Matthew, straddling the latter's slim waste in a firm grip, grasping his face with two hands.
"F-Francis! What the hell are you doing?" Matthew's face immediately flushed crimson and his eyes doubled in size. Francis could only chuckle seductively at the bundle of blonde, blushing, Canadian beneath him, removing his hands from the boy's face and running long fingers along his waste and snaking them under his jersey, drinking in the feeling of creamy flesh beneath.
"F-Francis, I'm still watching the game, you-" He was interrupted by a playful hand groping him in a place that should NOT be touched while watching a hockey game, making him let out a strangled groan, much to his annoyance.
"Non, non mon cher, there are more important things to attend to," He paused to run his tongue up the side of Matthew's face, from his chin to his forehead, giving him a devilish smile as the Canadian shivered and twitched beneath him, "than this silly game. Like this, for instance." Francis simultaneously groped Matthew through his pants again and captured his lips in a gentle, yet passionate kiss. Matt was taken completely by surprise and released another (more embarrassing) moan, accidentally granting Francis access to his mouth. Big mistake. An experienced French tongue wormed it's way into Matthew's mouth, eagerly exploring every inch, every crevice.
Finally deciding that he wouldn't get to see the outcome of the game no matter how hard he tried, Matthew gave in to Francis' plea for attention and relaxed into the kiss, prodding the foreign-yet-oh-so-familiar tongue with his own, wrapping his arms around the other's neck.
Well, so much for hockey night.
~oOo~
Alfred, as usual, couldn't make up his mind. He had opened the fridge looking for a good ol' fashion Coke, only to be greeted with, not Coke, but a multitude of other, Canadian sodas, none of which he recognized. After several minutes of internal debate, he grabbed a couple different ones that to him looked like cola-based sodas, kicked the fridge door shut, and made his way back into the living room.
"Hey Mattie, which one of these tastes the most like Coke, 'cuz I couldn't find… any…" He trailed off into silence as he saw a flurry of hands, blonde hair, and what he decided (hoped) were kissing sounds. Thankfully, the pair didn't notice him enter the room, too lost in their little game of 'who can keep their tongue in the other's mouth the longest.'
It wasn't news to Alfred that the Frenchie was dating his brother, but he still didn't want to stand there and watch them –almost- go at it! He decided that the best plan of action would be to leave 'em to it, so he put the sodas back in the fridge and let himself out the back door.
He hopped in his car and began driving to Arthur's house, a devious smile creeping across his face. The saliva-swap-fest he had just witnessed really made him yearn for a certain prickly Englishman in his arms. Or, more accurately, his mouth.
A/N: W00t! I love Franada! XD And USUK is my OTP, so I couldn't leave it out! Please review ~
Translations:
Mon cher - My dear
Mon petit lapin - My little rabbit