I doubt I will be able to keep up this pace with my updates, but this was just begging to be written! So here you go, Chapter two.
I don't own Hetalia.
Days had passed and the meeting was over. Countries returned to their home gratefully for what felt like only a second's worth of relaxation.
France himself was sitting in his kitchen, enjoying an early morning cup of coffee much like most people around the world did when it was their turn to have the sun rise on their next day. His ears pricked when he heard the phone, picking it up after confirming that it wasn't a telemarketer but his bushy-browed friend/enemy through the use of caller I.D. (Wasn't technology grand?)
"Oui, Francis Bonneyfoy speaking." He said, taking another sip of his drink when he heard England speak.
"Ah, yes. Francis it's me, Arthur. Would like to ask you to come down to London for a few days? Just to talk, I need to speak to you on a matter most pressing." He could obviously hear embarrassment, but for no legitimate reason why.
"Alright, though I must ask why you are asking this so suddenly." He asked, setting his drink and newspaper down in the living room before leaning back in his chair.
"You see…I'm worried about…" he left off, what was his name again? The nice brother, the quiet one…Oh screw it, he'd just use something else until he could remember. "Our son; He seems to be drifting off every now and again, and for longer periods each time; I didn't raise him to be an air-head like his brother."
"Like your lover?" Brittan blushed bright red, he didn't like to be reminded that he was well over twice the age of his boyfriend, and the fact that he had raised said boyfriend since he was a child.
"Yes, yes…So will you come? Even if it is just to talk?"
"Sure, I'll be there Tuesday."
"Great."
"By the way, it is very cute how you fawn over Mathieu like a mother." France hung up before England could get a word in about being the 'mother' role in their children's lives. He chuckled to himself quietly, how on earth had he let somebody like Arthur go?
England opened the door that early afternoon to see Francis standing, a small suitcase in hand and a laughing rape-face on. "Oh honhonhon! What if your beloved Alfred found out that you had come to me? Does he not satisfy you?" Came the French-accented purr, though a laughing tone was used greatly as his British friend smacked at his head lightly a few times.
"It's just like you to hit on a man you know is already taken." He sighed, smiling slightly when France faked a tear or two in his smacking.
"I was just kidding! I would never break a love, never!" Defended the Frenchman before standing to full height and running his hands through his hair a few times if only to get the kinks, caused by England, out. "So what is it that you wanted me for? It's not often you call me up from Paris 'just to talk'."
He heard Alfred's voice somewhere in the depths of England's large home. "Iggy? Who's here, the Pizza guy?"
"It's Francis, Alfred!" A few seconds later and America himself was looking down at the pair from a balcony from the floor above.
"Oh, hey France!" Alfred waved enthusiastically, turning back to his games with little disregard for his boyfriends visitor as he returned to his video games.
Francis entered the home as Brittan told him where his lodgings for the next few days would be, telling him that he already had prepared some tea and he would like to get right to the problem he wanted to discus.
Soon, the old pair were sitting together in Brittan's sitting room as Francis drank some of the Earl Grey he had set out. Arthur couldn't cook worth a wooden nickel, but damn could he make a cup of tea! "France, I'm concerned about Canada." Said England, getting right to the point.
"I could understand that much from your phone call. But why are you so concerned for him all of a sudden? He usually manages to slip under your radar when he has something urgent to tell you." Sighed the French sadly. If Canada had remained under French rule then this painful, English-born need to be polite meshing with his French-born need to be sweet and caring wouldn't be such a problem, though France hadn't intended to instill such vulnerability within his former colony.
"I know, and it gets to me everything I think about it. But what I'm talking about is the fact that he is nearly two hundred years old and he hasn't held a girlfriend for more than a few months, letting him drift from woman to woman like that makes me nervous for his future." He sighed, picking at his nails in an annoying habit from his youth.
"Have you thought that maybe he isn't interested in woman?" came the indignant reply, slightly insulted that someone would be so unknowing about the fact that being closeted could bring forth such behavior.
The sudden look of realization told him that England had only just come across this little tidbit as possible fact. "Alright, let's just assume that what you say is fact. What do we do? I really would rather Matthew being a little more open to us, or at least with me."
France breathed another sigh. "Oh England, you say are just so concerned about Canada and all you can think about is yourself, I believe that this is called pride." He didn't bother on the glare that the Brit sent his way, but continued onward with his helping. "If he is indeed gay then I wouldn't know what to do. He knows that we both are quite friendly when it comes to homosexuality," Francis's head lolled to the side, where they could both hear the loud sound effects of Alfred's games and his furious swearing. "Perhaps we are just not friendly enough for him to consider us his parent's anymore. Though there is a possibility that he just hasn't found a nice boy that he truly loves enough to convince himself that he does indeed prefer men."
"Alright, we could set him up!" Said England, completely ignoring even the idea that Canada didn't consider them parental-figures anymore. "You've dated a lot of people, who would be good for Matthew?"
"Well…" If this wasn't a surprise to him, Francis would never, ever be surprised ever again. England coming to him for love advice on their son whom he mostly forgot when meetings came around? Honestly… "My advice is to just let him be and he will find love on his own. He is a big boy Iggy, we will just have to trust that he knows what he's doing."
"Bullocks!" Came the slightly angry reply, his massive brows furrowed in concern and concentration. "I do trust him more than most (he does still have my queen on his money) but, it still doesn't help ease my worries…"
Francis stood, putting a hand to England head as he passed by, heading to his quarters. "Then call him, make small-talk, be a friend. Maybe he will tell you when he does fall in love."
England sighed, slumping back in his chair as he thought the conversation over. He picked up his phone, going through the contacts until he found the one belonging to Canada. He pressed the green button before putting the cell to his ear. God damnit, why did France have to make so much sense? He heard the phone being picked up. "Oui, Mathieu William's speaking."
"Hello Matthew, its England." He paused.
"…You do know that this isn't Alfred's, right?" Said Canada, slightly suspicious of the sudden call.
"Yes, yes, I am the one who called you."
"It's just that you sometimes accidently call me when you're trying to call Alfred, or when you want to borrow money." The last half of the sentence was muttered, though England heard it clearly.
'Insolent little… Grumbled the brit internally, trying to smile through his annoyance. "I know, forgive me for my transgressions. But the reason I called you is that…" He slowed his speech slightly; he should've thought this through! As he cursed silently, he turned his head when he heard France and America locked in a furious battle of Halo. "Quiet down would you? Honestly!" He turned back to the phone, a light-bulb going off in his head. "I-I have America and France over for dinner, you know, like back when we lived together when you boys were colony's; it won't be the same without you."
He heard the smallest sound of hesitation from his 'good' child. "I…I don't know England, it's kind of short notice…" Canada scratched the back of his head, wondering how the hell he could evade a Family dinner.
Was it just England's imagination or could he hear whispering behind Matthew's already-soft voice? Damnit all, was he interrupting on his having his possible in-law over? Just as the Brit was about to go back and tell him that it was alright, that he really didn't have to go, Canada spoke up. "I-I'm sorry England, I'll have to get back to you on this. I'll call back in an hour or two."
"It's perfectly acceptable if you don't want to come Matthew, I don't want to pressure you or anything…"
"Bye England…" Canada sighed again, putting the wireless landline back onto the charging port as he turned back to his chair, leaning back into the plush furniture and setting his feet on the foot rest in front of him as his bride-to-be, the ever volatile and beautiful Belarus, came around from the shower wearing a pair of cotton, purple plaid Pajama's. He smiled slightly; did he really have that much of an influence over her that she took to lumberjack sleep-wear?
Belarus sat in her loves lap, sitting so that her back and his chest were pressed together and letting his arms snake around her waist. She brought her hand to her husband's slightly cute but still very handsome face and making him look at her. His expression was one of unfortunate gloom; he buried his nose in the nook of her neck and shoulder as he sighed sadly.
"Is there something wrong?" She asked, slightly concerned for her love.
"Oui..." He muttered against her skin as she attempted to quell the giggles the tickling-sensation he drew forth. He set his chin so that it was on her shoulder. "England wants me to go visit him this weekend but this is the only time we've actually had together since the cabin a month ago…" As if he needed proof that the night in question had actually happened, he wrung the white-gold ring around Natalia's finger.
She nuzzled against him and sighed sadly. They hadn't a moment of peace since that night, Ukraine had been after her, questioning her about her ring and Ivan…Ivan was being uncomfortably quiet for her tastes. Two-thirds of the Baltic States had been too afraid to ask her anything and Lithuania had started bursting into tears even at the sight of her. "You should go…" she mumbled against him, though there was an obvious reluctance to let her fiancée go.
Canada held onto her waist a little tighter. "Why…? I was looking forward to a peaceful night with my bride…"
Belarus smiled and laughed a light, airy giggle. Matthew could be so cheesy. "And I'm looking forward to a lifetime with my husband." She traced small circles on Matthew's palm. "But I can't have that unless my fiancée's family and my family know that I am engaged." She moved so that she could wring a lock of his blonde hair in her finger tips as Matthew pouted slightly, childishly.
"Who is this guy? It sounds like you really like him. IS he better looking them me? Better hair? Better body? C'mon, what does he have that I don't?" She giggled again, and sighed before she got up and off her Canadian-concubine.
She leaned over him, placing a sweet kiss on his forehead as he tilted his head back to receive another on his lips. Just hovering above his mouth, she whispered; "He has a sense of humor…" before up and leaving, dashing up the stairs as Matthew shot up, sitting to stare after his bride who stood at the very corner of the L-shaped stair case, where he could just see her PJ-bottoms.
"You meant me, right?" She laughed and continued up the rest of the stairs. "Right? Natalia?" He scrambled after her.
England sighed as both his boyfriend and frienemy began arguing; something about America not believing that France designed and manufactured cars. He blinked, feeling his pocket vibrate. He picked his cell from its confines and flipped it open. A smile drew itself on his face when he read the message.
"I'll be over by Friday evening. It'll be fun to have the entire family over for once. ~ Maple Canuck~"
Alrighty, I hope I get a few more reviews this time around! T^T
Plus, a cookie goes to KarimeA, my first reviewer of this story and the one who guessed who it was spying on our lovely and somewhat-mismatched couple! Hurrah! Until next time, Maplepaw of Canada signing off!