Legato

A/N – Using French terms of endearment makes me feel embarrassed even when I'm writing for a fictional character. Anyway, regardless, if you are reading this then I have managed to struggle through my embarrassment to post this chapter. So yeah. The usual stuff; hope you all like it, reviews make me feel loved and special, I'm still alive and I might keep updating this fic.

Disclaimer: If I owned Hetalia, Russia would wear an ushanka.

Chapter VII – First Dances

Ivan made his way down the dark, empty street, the long scarf that he wore whenever he was out of his work clothes ruffling slightly in the faint breeze that tugged at the very edges of his enormous coat. It was late; far too late to be going out, and he knew that Natalia would have his hide if she caught him. But tonight was more important than avoiding his foster sister's wrath; tonight, he was finally going to start fixing everything.

The young man's violet eyes lit up at that thought, his wide mouth curling up in a blissful smile as he reached his destination. A tall, ramshackle building tucked away within the street, lights glowing gently from the windows; yes, this was the place. His memory had served him well.

Countless times, he had followed the brown-haired man to this place, never daring to actually speak to him. It was about the time that he would be finishing his work and leaving; about the time that Ivan would ordinarily hide himself, watching with fascinated curiosity as his quarry disappeared into the night.

But tonight things would be different. Tonight, he would find out whatever secret it was that made the brown-haired man so interesting, take that secret and keep it for himself. Something in his eyes made Ivan absolutely positive that the brown-haired man would be able to solve all of his problems; that he was somehow more fairy than man, and that if only he could capture him for a moment, his wishes would be granted.

The front door swung open; with a flurry of voices and a hurried "goodbye," the very same man that Ivan had been following this whole time stepped out into the street, turning to face Ivan, who by now stood absolutely motionless, eyes boring into his face as the smile remained, unmoving. For the briefest of moments, a slightly panicked look flickered across the brown-haired man's face, but he quickly covered it up with a friendly, accommodating smile.

"Can I help you?" he asked. For a moment, Ivan stood utterly still and silent, trying to think of an answer to the question. He had no doubt that the man could help him, but he didn't have any idea how he was supposed to do so. After a moment of silence that seemed to stretch out forever, the man cleared his throat, moving to brush past Ivan.

"I- I'm sorry for disturbing you," he said quickly. Almost automatically, Ivan's hand reached out, his fingers latching onto the man's shoulder. With a quiet, terrified yelp, the man stopped, and Ivan, conscious that he had probably hurt him, loosened his grip slightly.

"Yes," he said finally. The man blinked, turning back slightly to face Ivan.

"Yes?"

"Yes, you can help me," Ivan repeated. The man's green eyes widened slightly as he tried to process the information.

"What- what did you need help with?" he asked hesitantly. Ivan's smile widened. He had been right about the brown-haired man. He was as kind as he appeared to be.

"I'm not sure yet," Ivan replied, before pausing. "Where are you going?" The man blinked, taken aback by the question.

"I'm… going home," he said at last.

"Why?"

"Because it's late, I guess…" the man responded, gently trying to tug Ivan's hand off his shoulder. Eyes narrowing, Ivan strengthened his grip slightly, and the man stopped, face turning slightly pale.

"What's your name?" he asked abruptly. The man swallowed, eyes flickering slightly to the side before he answered.

"Tolys. I'm Tolys," he said. Ivan tilted his head to the side slightly, his smile still firmly in place.

"That's a nice name," he remarked, before pausing. "If I let go of your shoulder, will you run away?"

"N-No-"

"Ah, good." In an instant, Ivan's grip on Tolys' shoulder had subsided, and the same hand was extended before him.

"It's nice to meet you, Tolys," he continued. "My name's Ivan." For a moment, Tolys looked blankly between the hand and Ivan's face, unsure how to respond. Again, Ivan's eyes narrowed.

"I'm told it's polite to shake hands," he informed the other man, a slight edge to his tone. Hastily, Tolys extended his own hand, tapping it against Ivan's before finding it bound in a vice-like grip. Slowly, Ivan raised and then lowered the trapped hand, before letting go. There was a moment of silence as he scrutinised his new friend's face; the moment extended, until Tolys took a tiny step backwards.

"I- Can I go?" Without speaking again, Ivan nodded reluctantly. He would have to return home himself soon, in case Natalia noticed his absence; he didn't want to leave now that he had just introduced himself to the man who could almost certainly solve anything, but he had no other choice. A barely disguised look of relief sinking into his features, Tolys turned away and began to walk hastily away. Ivan watched, waiting until he was out of sight, before slowly turning to leave himself.

His footsteps beat against the concrete of the pavement, their rhythm irregular as he sped up and slowed down, pace matching the ebb and flow of his thoughts. The first step of his plan had been completed; now it was only a matter of time before everything was fixed. Natalia would stop acting so strangely, and everyone he loved would stay with him forever. He'd have enough food to eat every day, and he would be able to buy a house with a big garden full of sunflowers…

Tolys would stay with him too, and they'd make friends with other people and bring them all to live in the house as one big family. They might fight a lot, but Ivan didn't mind. He was the head of the house, so he'd be able to make them go quiet if he just wanted to sit in the sun that day.

Ivan still didn't know exactly how he was going to make that dream come true, but he knew that he needed Tolys to make it happen. Watching the young man walk past his workplace every day had gradually convinced him that he had some sort of magical power to make things better.

A smile curled at the corner of Ivan's lips, and he began to hum softly as he made his way down the street.

Yes, it was all going to be fine from now on.

Matthew ran a weary hand through his silky blonde curls, violet eyes going over the room once more as he searched for any messy spots he might have missed. There were none; the Slinky was spotless, with the only sign that it had been alive at all that night given by the ancient jukebox, which still stood pumping out music in the corner of the room. Working at the Slinky had been a lot more chaotic that night without Emma around, but Francis had filled in for her, doing her usual job of mixing cooking with waiting on tables. Despite appearing to be more suited to leisure than work, Francis had proved himself to be extremely capable, charming the patrons and managing to create meals that really could only be called works of culinary art.

As he often did, Gilbert had disappeared shortly after the performance, loudly announcing his exit as he swaggered out the door, managing to bowl over a youth trying to make his way into the Slinky he did so. After the albino's exit, the atmosphere of the Slinky gradually began to die down; people finished their meals and began to leave, and fewer and fewer walked through the door. By around eleven, the semi-café was empty of customers, leaving a mountain of cleaning to do. Some time past midnight, they were finished, and Tolys and Antonio began to head for home.

That left Matthew in the somewhat awkward position of having to actually deal with Francis, without the comforting barrier of cheerfulness that Emma ordinarily provided.

The aforementioned displaced landlord was currently in the process of draping himself across one of the chairs, wine glass held lightly in one hand, the red liquid rippling slightly as he slithered smoothly into place.

"We've done well tonight, have we not?" he asked, waving a hand to indicate the café. "I didn't expect all of this to be so tiring. I sincerely don't know how you can keep this up."

"It's… really not that hard…" murmured Matthew, hesitantly sliding his way into the chair opposite Francis, before pausing. "Thanks for helping, by the way!" he added hastily. "You really… didn't have to…" Francis shook his head, a soft curl flicking onto his cheek as he gave a small, amiable smile.

"It was interesting. It's been a long time since I've cooked so much in one night. I thought I had forgotten how much I enjoy it." Matthew blinked.

"You… enjoyed it?" he repeated, trying and failing magnificently to keep the note of surprise out of his voice. He hadn't pegged Francis as someone who would enjoy work of any kind, but here he was.

Francis chuckled slightly as he swirled the wine glass in his hand, deep blue eyes locking onto Matthew's own. "Of course I did. It's hard not to enjoy something when someone as lovely as yourself is around, no?" At that, Matthew blushed bright red, sinking into his chair a little with a small, mortified sound that might have been a protest. Francis continued to laugh, before placing the glass down on the table.

"There's no need to look so embarrassed. It was only a compliment."

Matthew ducked his head down again at that, trying to pretend that he wasn't acting like a child. It was strange. In general, people didn't seem to notice him; compliments were few and far between, as were conversations like this one.

He liked it this way. He liked that Francis had made an effort to talk to him, and that he actually seemed to be enjoying their conversation. True, it made him feel slightly uncomfortable at times, but-

The last song on the jukebox faded out, to be replaced with a new, much slower and softer song, the deep vocals crooning out across the room, serenading an invisible audience. Without missing a beat, Francis rose to his feet, gracefully extending a hand to Matthew.

"It would be a shame to waste such a lovely song, would it not?" he asked, smiling gently at his companion. "Will you dance with me, mon cher?" Matthew blinked, a little taken back as he glanced first at the hand, and then at Francis' face. It was the kind of song he would associate more with romance than anything; not the kind of song Matthew was used to dancing to at all, let alone with someone like Francis.

"Um- I-" he began to stutter, heat rising in his cheeks as he shook his head a little. He couldn't deal with the attention, couldn't deal with starting to think that someone like Francis actually seemed to be showing interest in him…

But Francis seemed sincere enough in his request, absurd as it was, and Matthew wasn't about to turn down the first person who'd ever asked him to dance. Quickly slipping his hand into Francis', he nodded.

"I'll dance with you," he finished. Francis smiled, placing a hand on his waist as he pulled him closer.

"Wonderful," he replied softly, placing one of his feet forward as he began to gently guide Matthew around in a circle. Matthew struggled to keep in time with the taller man's fluid steps, brow furrowed slightly as he concentrated, and Francis smiled.

"You're thinking about it too hard, chaton," he informed his partner, leaning in slightly. "All you need to do is follow my lead."

"Ah- um, OK," Matthew replied, relaxing a little. The two continued to turn in a faltering circle, their movements gradually growing more in sync with each other and the music as Francis guided the younger man through the steps. His blue eyes rested on Matthew's face, while Matthew himself glanced to and fro, eyes flickering from Francis' face to some vague spot above his shoulder and back again. At some point, he must have mastered the rhythm of the dance; as the last notes of the song began to fade, his footsteps drew to a smooth halt along with Francis'.

"Now, was that so hard?" murmured the taller man, leaning forward, his face just a hair's breadth away from Matthew's own. Matthew barely had a moment to breathe in sharply before Francis' lips brushed against his own.

"Thank you for the dance," Francis murmured as they parted, still close enough for Matthew to feel his words rather than hear them. Gently extricating himself from Francis' grip, the young man turned to stare bemusedly at his companion for a minute, before shaking his head and turning to quickly walk towards the stairwell, cheeks bright red.

Matthew wasn't the kind of person who got a lot of attention; he'd never had someone of either sex fall in love with him before, and he'd never truly been in love himself. Maybe if he'd allowed himself much time to speculate on what his first kiss would be like, he would have seen it going something like that in a perfect scenario, but…

Francis, for all his affection and charm, wasn't quite what Matthew wanted for himself. The man had just come out of a breakup and ended up sleeping on the couch in Matthew's house; he flirted with anything that moved, and despite the apparent importance of his previous relationship with Arthur, he seemed awfully too ready to do… whatever he was planning to do with Matthew.

But the kiss… It had sent shivers down Matthew's spine. Nobody had ever noticed him like that before, especially not someone like Francis. Looking into those deep blue eyes had been terrifying, true, but it had also been electrifying.

Matthew wasn't sure whether he wanted to feel that way or not.

Hey. You're up late.

The tiny box popped up on the edge of Kiku's screen, flashing as he saw the new message. Mousing over the box, he clicked to enlarge the message.

His dark eyes lit up a little with a curious gleam as he saw the words at the top of the new window: Message from: Heracles Karpusi. On anyone else, the change in expression would have been barely noticeable; in someone like Kiku, though, it was comparable to a full-blown smile. After pausing for a minute, the man leaned over his keyboard, silky black hair forming a curtain around his cheeks as he typed with a careful, regular pattern.

I didn't expect to see you up this late either. Aren't you normally sleeping by now? There was a long pause as an image of a pen drifted across the box, indicating that Heracles was typing.

One of my cats wanted to be fed, and I forgot to turn my computer off before I went to sleep.

I see, Kiku typed back. A moment passed, and then Heracles' painfully slow typing began again.

I was wondering if you were going to go to that festival next Saturday. I'd like to meet up with you there, if I can. This time, it was Kiku's turn to pause, considering the options before beginning to type again.

I'll see about it, he replied, the not-quite-smile appearing in his eyes again. It would be nice to see Heracles again; they lived on opposite sides of the city, so it wasn't often that Kiku got to meet him. Heracles was a close friend of Kiku's, and his very presence was enough to make the ambitious, uptight man relax enough to slow down and enjoy life a little. He supposed it wouldn't do if he spent too much time relaxing around Heracles, but it was nice to just forget about his work every so often and go to meet him. His answer to the invitation might have been somewhat roundabout, but he had already made up his mind that he was going to go.

After all, it was only one day.

I guess I'll see you there, if you go, came the reply at last. There was a pause, followed by more typing. I'm sleepy again, so I'll log off. Night, Kiku. This time, the smile really did tug at Kiku's lips a little as he began to reply.

Goodnight, Heracles.

Characters Introduced in this Chapter:

Kiku (Honda) – Japan

Heracles (Karpusi) - Greece