Chap VII – The Absolute Secret

Ludwig turned and turned back in frustration in his sleeping bag. Damnit … where had Gilbert gone off too! He's taking too long for just a stroll! Turning his head sideways, the German had to sigh in defeat at his own situation. What agony to be witnessing the vision of his dream yet be so far that he couldn't even touch the angel next to him. It was only a couple of meters yet Ludwig felt like there were two kilometres between him and Francis.

"Hm …? Gilbert! Shut up! Uh? Oh Ludwig …! Where's Gil?" Francis yawned, half-asleep and half-conscious, in a dazed state that made him lull his head to the side slightly. His lips parted in a way that should be called criminal and his dishevelled golden hair cascaded around his sleepy face perfectly. Ludwig barely could answer the man's question as he registered the words. Propping himself on his elbows, the German avoided looking at the Frenchman as he answered.

"He went out for a walk … he'll be back soon. You should go back to sleep. We have a long day tomorrow and we'll need rest to …"

"No way!" Francis almost shouted, crossing his arms and pouting childishly, his expression still like one of a child in his own world that hasn't woken up yet. Ludwig blinked, surprised by the unusual reaction. He had never slept with Francis before and so couldn't know that the Frenchman was a very deep sleeper and when woken up can be either in a horrifying mood or in this light-headed state of half-conscious almost like he were drunk … minus the alcohol.

Crawling softly next the taller German, Francis hopped on Ludwig and straddled him like a horse. Germany's eyes nearly bulged out and he tried prying away with no success. France was wearing a serious yet completely dazed look that was so contradictive it made it hard to take him seriously. And he looked just too gorgeous and cute that Ludwig didn't really want to stop the older blonde. Pointing a warning finger and pocking at Ludwig's forehead, Francis began scolding him.

"You don't get to tell me what to do! You're always dishing out orders and being mister proper and serious! It's annoying! Stop it! Stop being so fucking perfect!"

Leaning his face closer such that their breaths mixed and their lips nearly touched, Francis whispered his next words with a dead serious glare in his sapphire eyes.

"I. Don't. Like it."

Ludwig gulped silently, clenching his fists into balls or he would have already wrapped his hands over the defenceless France before him. With this much proximity, Germany could smell the delicious Lilies and Roses that emanated from Francis. Was it cologne or his natural scent? It was so delicate and flowery, just like an aphrodisiac that made your mind blank out.

Francis seemed to ponder on something. He ignored the lack of response from Ludwig and instead leaned in closer, burying his nose in the crook of Ludwig's neck, to the shock of the younger nation. Before Germany could either push back or pull closer the Frenchman, France had already pulled away with a pensive grin. He spoke again with that dazed sleepy look, tapping his chin.

"You smell different! Usually I only smell your cologne and it's nice but I like that smell better! I like your scent! It's like … like burnt wood and iron! It's strong and rough." Francis made a pause before smirking seductively, licking his lips. "I love it."

Ludwig let out a breath he didn't know he held as the French nation lulled its head back and forth, seeming about to go back to sleep. Had he been serious? Love it? His scent? Ludwig didn't dare to hope anymore. He knew that Francis held no romantic feelings for him! How could he? In France's eyes, Germany is no more than a child! Yet, Germany couldn't stop the hope from blooming in his mind at Francis' oddly honest words. He knew that in this state, France was probably not even aware of his own actions. Maybe not even conscious of them at all! Taking this chance, the blonde German gently took one of Francis' hands in his, making the Frenchman glance up at him with hazed blue orbs bordering lavender. Francis had really deep beautiful eyes, much softer than Ludwig's own icy harsh blues. Francis' eyes are like the evening sky, intense blues dying of soft purples slowly sinking your mind into them.

"Francis … may I ask you something?" Ludwig was careful with his tone not to frighten the half-asleep nation. He didn't want Francis to snap out of his reverie and find himself in this position. Not only will France be in a terrible mood, he will probably blame this mess on Germany and stay mad at him for weeks! France could be like that: very resentful.

"Yeaaaaaah?" Francis tilted his head, clearly not bothered by his hand linked with Ludwig's and in fact, he began to intertwine their fingers together.

"I'd like to know … Is there someone you like?" Ludwig held his breath as Francis went silent for a moment. A second later the French was smiling blindingly in response.

"Of course! I like Arthur! Arthur's my cute little brother! And I like Alistair! He's my best friend! And I like Antonio and Gilbert even when Gilbert is being a jerk! I like Italy because he's cute and nice! I like Austria and Hungary! I like America and Canada!"

Ludwig sighed in disappointment as he distractedly listened to France's many names on his list of "likes". Ludwig should have known to expect that kind of answer.

"And I like Ludwig the most!"

At that, the German snapped his head up to stare at the confused and dazed Frenchman. Even Francis seemed at loss at his own words, frowning in a sleepy haze. Germany tightened his grip on the smaller hand he held, squeezing to grasp Francis' attention again.

"You like Ludwig the most …?"

"Yeah! But don't tell him! Shhhhhh …!" Francis place a finger on his lips and slowly moved closer towards Ludwig's face such that the finger was now touching both their lips as the only wall between a kiss. Smiling, Francis pulled back and was already leaning down on Germany's chest, like he wanted to fall back to sleep. Ludwig felt the weight of the French nation push him on his back and he felt the soft breath of Francis on his bare chest along with the tickling of his hair. The smaller man's pyjama top was sliding off one of his shoulder, giving an enticing view of Francis' collar bone and neck and shoulder and … Ludwig face palmed with his free hand, the other still linked with Francis'. His heart was wreaking havoc in his chest and he could feel a heat rush course through him and settle in his lower regions. Damn …!

"F-Francis … maybe sleeping here is …" The German attempted to pull off the smaller man, hoping Francis would not notice how flushed he was nor how hard he was getting. He couldn't let himself take advantage of the situation when France isn't even aware of his secondary state.

"Shhhhhh!" Francis replied, eyes shut and snuggling closer towards Ludwig's neck. "Don't tell!" He whispered again.

"I … I won't but … Wouldn't you want to sleep in your sleeping bag …?" Ludwig almost pleaded with a low guttural sound hiding a growling desire. He could feel Francis' lips now breathing on his neck and the Frenchman's aphrodisiac scent was sending him completely off key.

"Shhhh … don't tell Ludwig … he can't know because …"

Ludwig paused his struggle and listened, waiting for the rest but Francis was already drowsing back to sleep. Gently, Germany looked back at the sleeping face of the older blonde with a curious frown.

"Francis? Why can't I tell Ludwig?"

"Hn …? Because …"

"Because what? Do you not like him?"

"I like him. I like him a lot!" Germany felt France smile against his skin and it brought a tingling satisfactory feeling to him. The mere idea of Francis feeling the same way as he did towards him was almost too good to be true.

Was it true?

"You like him? As what? A brother?"

"Arthur's my brother! My cute little master! Arthur is cute and I love him!"

Ludwig rolled his eyes with a chuckled. He couldn't understand the doting feelings of Francis since he didn't have a little brother himself. But the love of family, he understood perfectly. It's adorable to see such a deep and soft side to France. Side he usually never shows in public.

"I know! I know! But you like Ludwig too!"

"Yeeees … I like Ludwig!

"As a friend?"

"Alistair's my best friend … and Antonio … and Gilbert … … uh." Francis frowned suddenly at the mention of Gilbert, worrying Germany.

"Francis? Is something wrong?"

"Can't tell Germany … can't tell him … shhhhh … secret!"

"S-secret? What secret?"

"No! You can't tell Ludwig!"

"I won't tell Ludwig! Please tell me!"

"Oooooo-k!" Francis yawned, blinking bleary eyes open as he gazed into the icy orbs of the German. A soft smile curled his lips and with a hand he caressed Ludwig's face.

"You've got pretty eyes … Ludwig has pretty eyes too. I like Ludwig's eyes. But he's always sad! His eyes are always sad and cold and serious! I hate it! He's too perfect! He's perfect! I hate it!"

"… Didn't you say you liked Ludwig?" The German felt a sudden sting at the harsh words of his love interest. The French barely noticed and nodded eagerly in response.

"Yes. I like him. But he's too perfect and I promised."

"Promised?"

"He's too perfect. I hate it. Because he's too perfect, he's making me break my promise! I hate it! But I love him! But I can't! And I hate it!"

Francis' voice climbed a few octaves and he was nearly screaming hysterically, frightening the German in his sudden panic. And just as suddenly, Francis turned silent.

"F-Francis …?"

"Can't tell him. Because he's not for me. Can't tell him." Francis coldly spoke, sending shivers down Germany until the German felt tears land on his torso. With his free hand that wasn't holding Francis' hand, Germany forced France's face upwards and gazed into the teary confused sapphires. Still in his trance-state, France was silently crying and not even realising it. Germany hated seeing France cry. It made his heart throb and a surge of rage rushed through him, wanting nothing less than to punish those that caused such pain to the beauty in his arms.

Even during the worst of times, wars, even when Germany had gone bonkers and forced on France the worst atrocities and tortures during WW2, not once had the proud French nation cried. Not once. In fact … this is the first time Germany is witnessing France's tears. His true tears. Not the fake ones of his act, but the real ones of his heart.

It's even worse than he could imagine.

Gently brushing the drops of water away, Germany pulled himself up in a seated position and kissed France's eyes. Francis barely seemed to notice, his head lulling to the side, his eyes dull and empty and his mind lost in memory as he kept muttering incomprehensibly. Ludwig pulled the smaller man into his embrace, a failed attempt to shield the Frenchman from any harm that polluted his mind. Germany tenderly whispered sweet nothings in the other's ear, stroking his back soothingly.

"I won't tell. I promise, I won't tell Germany. Shhhh … It's alright! I won't tell him! I don't even know what I can't tell him but I won't."

Francis seemed to have heard him as he gazed up, meeting the icy gentle orbs. The tears rolled like pearls on his cheeks as Francis leaned in closer in the warm embrace, burying his face in the larger chest and silently dulling to sleep. They stayed in this position until Germany was certain that France was fully back to sleep.

The German really had to force himself to let go of the older man. He wanted to keep Francis in his arms, especially after seeing that moment of weakness. He felt compelled to hold close and protect the smaller blonde. But knowing that it was not his place, and if Gilbert walked in, there might be a scene, Germany reluctantly pulled Francis away and wrapped him back in his sleeping bag, carrying him to his original spot in the tent. Ludwig stayed to watch over the sleeping French, tenderness as he caressed the long golden locks of the beautiful man.

"A secret you can't tell …? I really want to know now." Germany chuckled softly but bitterness tainted his words. He was almost certain that Francis was not even aware of his own feelings. Considering it was his subconscious that answered Ludwig's prayers, it was probable that Francis was unconsciously ignoring his feelings and unable to even acknowledge them.

"I can't even hear those words from your conscious self. All because you can't tell me. I wish you knew how much I'd give for you to look at me and take me seriously! Not as Gilbert's brother or a friend! I wish I can hold you like tonight, every night for the rest of eternity." Ludwig leaned down closer to the blonde's face …


Francis blinked his eyes open. He had a strange dream. Turning to his side he saw Ludwig in his own sleeping bag and deeply asleep, undisturbed. Gilbert was gone.

Uh. Just like in his dream.

In his dream, Francis was being held by Ludwig and the German kept repeating soft words in his ears, calming him down and kissing his tears. Tears? He was crying in his dream? And Ludwig was comforting him? That doesn't sound right! Ludwig is too … too … … He wouldn't do that!

France shook his head, a deep frown spoiling his face. His eyes settled once more on the sleeping German. Why is he still asleep? Usually, Francis is the one to wake up late and Ludwig is the one to wake him up by ramming against his door in mornings that he spends at Gilbert's house. This is the first time Francis got to see Ludwig asleep. Crawling closer and silently leaning over the large body of the German, Francis stared at him.

Ludwig is … actually really good-looking. Uh. Who would have known?

… What?

Francis shook his head. Why is he checking out his friend's little brother? And anyway, Ludwig is out of bound! Why is he even considering looking at the younger nation that way?! Something must be wrong with him! Definitely!

Glancing back down at the sleeping German, Francis felt himself lean closer unconsciously until he realised his action and backed away in panic. Face-palming, the French nation groaned in frustration.

"What is wrong with me … Feels like my dream when … …" Francis' eyes widened as he recalled a scene in his dream where Ludwig leans down to kiss him.

Oh god … he lost it! He's gone and done the unforgivable! Having a dream like that obviously meant that he already broke his oath. Francis shivered at the very thought!

He went and fell in love with his friend's brother … so completely out of bound.

Great …


Germany felt his heart pounding in his chest. He could hear Francis' agitation and his grumbles about "out of bounds" and Gilbert and something about a mistake and how stupid he is. Ludwig had to hold back a smile. He wasn't sure but he felt that somehow … he might have a chance at winning over Francis' heart. A small chance but a chance nonetheless. After all, Francis admitted it himself that he liked him, even if unconsciously.

Maybe kissing France in his sleep had not been the brightest idea though. Ludwig had been unable to sleep the rest of the night and even now only pretended so that he wouldn't have to face Francis just yet. He might accidentally lose all his composure if he did. It was hard enough already to stop his blush from invading his face.

But he didn't regret his action. Francis' lips tasted better than all his dreams!