You were kind enough to write me a gift fic for my birthday, so I figure I should return the favor. I've been planning it since Dec, but guess what I did. I procrastinated. XP So, it's not done yet... Hehe... But, as rushed as it is, I hope you enjoy Part 1. Part 2 will be up ASAP. (So it might take a while...*headdesk*) Oh, and pardon my French. Srsly. I used a cheap translator off the Internet to find it, so it's probably not entirely accurate. But whatever, it's just there for flavor and doesn't necessarily need to be correct. This features France x Canada, with some US x UK.
Enjoy, mi amiga.
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Roses are Red, but Matthew is Blue
BRRZT! BRRZT! BRRZT!
Matthew flung his arm out and hit the snooze button. With his other hand he rubbed at his eyes, slowly sitting up. He really needed to get a less annoying alarm clock. His current one didn't do anything to make him more alert in the morning, considering that he couldn't even remember today's date.
He squinted at his alarm clock, unable to make out the date. It took a minute for him to realize that he wasn't wearing his glasses. It then took him another minute to find them and shove them on his face. Again he looked at the clock. February…
Oh.
Maple.
Matthew groaned and fell back onto his pillows, hands over his face. Not Valentine's Day…
Kumajiro, curled up at the foot of the bed, sensed his master's distress and padded next to Matthew's head to lick the hands hiding his face. When that garnered no response, the polar bear sat back, thinking. Then he asked, "Who're you?"
"I'm Canada," he responded automatically, removing his hands from his face to frown at his companion. Kumajiro leaned forward again, this time to lick his nose.
Matthew's frown faded into a smile and reached up a hand to pat his friend on the head. "Thanks, Kumajiro," he mumbled as he pushed himself upright again. "Ready for breakfast?"
Faster than Matthew would have believed possible for his polar bear, Kumajiro had hopped off the bed and was standing by his bedroom door, staring at him as if to say Well, what are you waiting for?
"I'll take that as a 'yes.'" Matthew stood up and stretched, the bear on the floor watching him impatiently. Still rubbing sleep out of his eyes, the Canadian pushed open the bedroom door and proceeded to trudge groggily downstairs to the kitchen. He found Kumajiro already sitting in the kitchen, again with that expression of Really, I haven't got all day now.
Sighing, Matthew grabbed a frying pan from the cupboard and started it heating for pancakes. He actually didn't eat pancakes as often as most other Nations thought he did, but today called for comfort food. Not that he had anything in particular against Valentine's Day, but he usually spent the holiday alone, and it was a painful reminder that most of the Nations didn't remember that he existed, let alone remember to send him a card.
That's not entirely true, he reminded himself as he mixed the pancake batter. Alfred usually comes out to see me for a bit on Valentine's Day. Morosely, Matthew handed the batter-covered spoon to Kumajiro, who snatched it up eagerly and began liking it clean. Not this year though.
Alfred had called him up yesterday, so excited that Matthew had to hold the phone a foot from his ear, as opposed to the usual two or three inches.
"Mattie! Guess what! Guesswhatguesswhatguesswhat!"
"What, did you find that the best way to end world hunger is to air-drop hamburgers to needy countries?"
"Hey, that's a great idea! I should've thought of that. But no, my news is more amazing than that."
"More amazing than – ah – 'ending world hunger?'"
"Arthur agreed to go on a date with me tomorrow!!!"
"Seriously? That is amazing. I would've expected world peace before England finally agreed to date you."
"I know, right? Aaand technically, he's only agreed to this one date. He's says he's 'reserving his judgment' until after tomorrow."
"So how are you going to convince him to continue dating you?"
"Are you kidding? I'm THE Alfred F. Jones! How could he not agree to be my boyfriend?!"
"Um, Alfred…"
"Buuut, just in case, I'm planning the best date he's ever been on! We'll be spending practically the whole day together!"
"Oh, Alfred, that's gr-"
"Gaaahhh! Tony! Don't touch that! Give it back! – Sorry, Mattie, I gotta go. Catch you later! – No! Not in the firepl-"
-Click-
And Matthew had been left with a dial tone and the realization that he would be spending Valentine's Day on his own. As well as with the smell of something burning…
He jerked himself back into reality as he realized that his pancakes were now smoking.
Hurriedly Matthew turned off the stove and scraped the now black pancakes into the garbage, cursing under his breath.
"Sorry, Kuma, I'll make another batch-" He broke off when he saw what the bear was doing.
While Matthew had been spacing out, the polar bear had somehow found his stash of maple syrup, and, by the looks of the surrounding pile of empty bottles, had eaten through all of it. Kumajiro gazed at him as innocently as possible, syrup still dripping from his face and paws.
Matthew facepalmed. He really needed to find better hiding places; Kumajiro was finding his syrup way too easily.
---
Matthew ran into the store as fast as possible; it was colder than it looked outside, so he had only grabbed a jacket. Bad idea.
"Matthew, you know better than to be out without a coat in February."
Shivering, Matthew turned to the speaker.
"Eva! I thought you weren't working today."
Eva made a face. She was one of the few employees of the little store, and the only one there that could recognize easily Matthew. "Pheobe called me last minute. Said she was sick. The bum probably just wanted to sleep in."
"You had no plans today?"
"Nope, no Valentine's Day plans for me," she said, still grimacing. "You?"
Matthew shook his head, trying to rub feeling back into his arms.
Eva raised an eyebrow. "Really? You sure you're the same Matthew who's begged me to hide him in the back room from rabid fangirls before?"
Matthew huffed. "It was only one time. Besides, do you think I would want to spend my Valentine's Day with one of them?"
Eva laughed. "Touché. So, what do you need today? Not another order of syrup, I hope?"
Matt grinned sheepishly.
"Cripes, Matthew!" She facepalmed. "You were just here last week! How fast did you go through that?"
"Actually, I hardly touched it," he said, still looking sheepish. "Kumashiro got into it this morning. Ate all of it."
"Kumajiro ate the whole crate?" Eva asked, surprised.
"Yeah, while I was busy burning my pancakes." He sighed and rubbed his eyes. "It's been one of those mornings."
Eva gave him a sympathetic look. "I'll go fill up another crate. You look like you're in need of comfort food."
"No rush," he said, waving his hand. "I've got some other stuff to get."
Matthew meandered through the store, replenishing his supplies of pancake ingredients, as well as several bags of chocolate chips. Because it was Valentine's Day and he wanted chocolate, regardless of whether or not it was a valentine.
Just as he was placing a fourth bag of chocolate in the basket, he felt a strong pair of arms seize him from behind.
"What the-" Matthew shrieked and almost dropped his shopping basket.
"Francis! Don't scare me like that!"
"Désolé, mon chéri, but you looked too adorable!" said Francis in his ear.
Matthew attempted to wriggle out of his captor's grasp, suddenly feeling a little too warm for comfort. He managed to loosen the arms around his shoulders, but he also managed turn himself around so that he was now facing Francis. "You can't just go around assaulting people like that, eh!"
"Who said anything about assault?" Francis kissed him on both cheeks before releasing him. "I was wishing you a happy Valentine's Day."
Matthew's eyes widened. Francis was holding out a bouquet of roses. Matthew took them and resisted the urge to bury his face in them and inhale deeply. Not that he would ever admit it, but he had had a soft spot bordering-on-obsession-with roses ever since he was France's colony.
Francis watched as Matthew took the roses with a slightly dreamy expression, smiling warmly. "Happy Valentine's Day, Mathieu."
Matthew's face felt warm as he smiled back. "Merci beaucoup, François."
---
Matthew paid Eva for his syrup and proceeded to walk home with Francis. She had quirked an eyebrow when he came around a corner with the Frenchman draped across his shoulders and a bouquet of roses in his hand, and he could have sworn that he had heard her giggling as he walked out of the store.
Francis still had an arm draped over his shoulder, despite the fact that Matthew now had a crate of syrup in his arms in addition to everything else. Yet Matthew wasn't complaining; it was still frigid outside, and the little bit of body heat from Francis was pleasant. Matthew had a sizeable soft spot for the Frenchman, perhaps enough to call it a crush, but Matthew brushed that thought out of his head. Even if it was a crush, the chances that Francis would return his feelings were, in his mind, slim to none. Best not to get his hopes up. It was enough for Matthew right now to walk side by side with his former father figure, enjoying a companionable silence. In fact, he was afraid that if he became involved with Francis, moments like this would be lost. He worried that if he changed the dynamics of their present relationship, he would open an unwanted can of worms. When he and Francis were alone, Francis became a different person, more charming and less perverted.
"Thinking of me and my good looks, mon Mathieu?" inquired Francis teasingly, apparently noticing Matthew's wandering attention.
Well, less perverted was always a relative term with Francis. Matthew rolled his eyes. "No. Well, yeah, kind of. Minus the good looks part. We're here," he added, turning up the sidewalk to his house.
"You mean that you do not find me attractive?" he asked, pretending to sound hurt.
"No, I mean that I was just thinking other endearing thoughts about you." Matthew set his crate down and began to search his pockets for his keys.
"Oh, really? What innumerable attractive qualities of mine came to mind?"
"Well, I was thinking about your charm, but now I'm considering retracting that particular thought." Matthew had located his keys and opened his door.
"You wound me, Mathieu," he said as he carried Matthew's syrup inside for him.
"Since when have any of my offhand comments wounded you, Francis?" Matthew took off his jacket and hung it up on the coat rack. "Why don't you join me for breakfast?"
Francis shook his head. "Non, I do not wish to impose on you."
"What impose? It's not like I have any other plans today. You can consider it my Valentine's Day gift to you, if you like." Matthew closed the door and nudged Francis further inside.
"If you insist, mon chéri." Francis smiled and removed his coat. He was just about to hang it up, when…
"Um, Francis, why did your coat pocket just wiggle?"
Francis' eyes widened. "Oh, I almost forgot about that!" He shoved his hand in the pocket and pulled out what looked like a fuzzy yellow tennis ball.
Matthew stared at the ball incredulously. "Why is Gilbird in your coat pocket?"
"Ah, Prusse is busy playing fifth wheel to Allemagne and Italie and Autriche and Hongrie today, so he asked me to watch Gilbird today. And Espagne is spending the day with his Italie du Sud, who for some reason does not like Prusse's pet." Francis carefully placed the bird on his head. "Apparently, Gilbird is very clingy and does not like to be left alone."
"Why couldn't Prussia take Gilbird with him?" asked Matthew.
"Because he worried that Hongrie would hit him with her frying pan sometime during the course of the day, and he did not want le petit Gilbird caught in the cross fire," he answered. Francis took a few cautious steps, and when it was clear that Gilbird was nestled firmly in his hair, he turned to Matthew. "Coming?"
"Yeah, I'm coming." Matthew followed after Francis to the kitchen, carrying the pancake materials.
Once there, he donned an apron and proceeded to dump ingredients into a bowl.
"Francis, could you set a skillet on the stove and start it heating for me?" asked Matthew, stirring.
"Bien sûr, mon chéri." Francis knew where Matthew kept everything in his kitchen, and started the skillet heating with no trouble. He then perched himself on a nearby countertop. "Where is Kumajiro?"
"Locked in my room, presently. He ate all my syrup this morning, which was why I had to go get more."
"All day?"
"No, just until after breakfast, and after I hide the- Hey!" Matthew smacked Francis' hand as it wandered towards an open bag of chocolate chips, using his batter-covered spoon. "No snacking before breakfast. You'll ruin your appetite like that."
"Mon Dieu, Mathieu, so mean!" he pouted, obediently removing his hand and licking off the batter left on it.
Matthew turned back to the stove and started pouring the batter onto the skillet. He was just about to flip the first batch when he felt Francis standing directly behind him, chin just barely able to rest on his shoulder. How did the Frenchman learn to move so quietly?
"You're wearing the apron I got you for Christmas," he said nonchalantly, his breath tickling Matthew's ear.
Matthew looked down. Indeed, he was wearing his Kiss The Cook apron. He smiled and replied, "It appears that I am. But it should probably say Don't Kiss The Cook Unless You Want Burnt Pancakes."
Francis laughed at that. "But chéri, I have not actually kissed you yet."
"Yet?" he asked Matthew apprehensively.
Before he could protest, Francis placed a feather light kiss on Matthew's ear. The Canadian could feel the place where Francis' lips touched his ear flush.
Francis retreated to the countertop, chuckling. "And now you have been kissed. Please, continue with your making of unburnt pancakes."
Matthew just nodded and flipped the pancakes, which were burned almost not at all. Finally he found his voice. "You, Francis, are a lecher," he joked.
Francis just sighed dramatically. "Today is Valentine's Day; it is not considered lechery to show affections to loved ones on this day."
Matthew rolled his eyes. "Nope, still lechery. You just want an excuse to pretend it's not."
"Ah, Mathieu, you are just not romantic enough to appreciate it."
Matthew finished up his pancakes and grabbed a bottle of syrup from the crate in the hallway, but before he served breakfast, Francis laid a hand on his shoulder.
"Attendez, you have batter on your face."
Matthew protested, brushing Francis' hand off his shoulder. "I can get it off myself, Francis." But Francis just grabbed the Canadian's shoulder again and scrubbed at his cheek with his thumb. Francis was wearing a warm, caring expression, part the indulgent smile that one gives a child, and part something else that Matthew couldn't put his finger on.
"Voilá. All clean." Francis released Matthew's shoulder and (now pinkish) face. "Shall we eat?"
"Yeah. Actually, hang on a moment." Matthew scurried out of the room. When he returned, Matthew was carrying a vase containing his Valentine's Day roses from Francis. He set it in the middle of the table.
"There. Now we can eat." Matthew and Francis sat down at the kitchen table, and Matthew poured a little maple syrup into a saucer when Gilbird looked interested in the food.
"Bon appétit," they said together.
---
It turned out later that giving Gilbird syrup had been a bad idea.
Not long after Matthew and Francis had hidden the syrup and freed Kumajiro, Gilbird had taken flight off of Francis' head so fast that several hairs were yanked form his scalp.
Gilbird then proceeded fly rampant around Matthew's house for hours, flying into walls, knocking over small objects, and once even flew out of an open window. Matthew and Francis hadn't panicked for long when Gilbird zoomed back inside, unable to take the cold weather.
Currently, Gilbird was perched on the ornate light fixture in his darkened, high-ceilinged dinning room, preening. Matthew, the taller of the two, was standing on the tips of his toes on the tabletop, doing his best to reach the oblivious Gilbird.
"Francis, go shut the door, so he doesn't fly out again." Matthew strained even farther, but nothing he did could get his hand quite high enough. He heard Francis, still panting from sprinting around the house, quietly close the door, and a huff from Kumajiro, who had been following them around the whole time, amused by their antics.
Matthew brushed his hair out of his face. "It's no use. I can't reach that high."
"Could you put a chair on the table?" Francis whispered.
Matthew shook his head. "Too much noise. We'll startle him." Matthew had had enough of being pecked by a startled Gilbird.
Francis silently clambered onto the table next to Matthew. Kumajiro followed, with surprising grace for an animal his size. "How about I give you a boost. You only need another few inches, non?"
"Yeah, that'll work," he wheezed. The syrup had been a really bad idea.
Francis knelt down and held out his interlocked hands for Matthew to step on. Matthew placed a hand on Francis' shoulder for balance and pushed himself up.
There, on the edge of the light, was Gilbird. He appeared to have hit his crash from the sugar high, his head under his wing. Finally...
Unfortunately, Kumajiro chose that exact time to decide that he wanted to help. Wanting to be closer to the action, he stood up and leaned on Francis' shoulders for balance. Francis' hands slipped and Matthew came crashing down directly onto his backside. Francis fell forward from Kumajiro's weight and landed directly on top of Matthew.
What followed was arguably the most awkward silence of his life.
He and Francis were literally nose to nose, their lips almost touching. Matthew stared at the bright blue eyes just inches above his own violet ones. They looked just as shocked as he felt. Matthew expected them to calm, expected to see a familiar spark of mischievousness shine in them, expected some teasing or perverted phrase to come out of the mouth directly above his own.
What he did not expect was for Francis to close the distance between them.
Matthew's eyes widened, and he felt his heart rate double. Was Francis really...?
Before he could even finish the thought, Francis had pushed himself off of Matthew and sat up, not looking at him. "Désolé, Mathieu. Je suis désolé..."
Matthew remained silent, not sure what to say. He sat up slowly, a hand pressed to his lips. His heart was pounding double time, both from the fall and from Francis' kiss. Had Francis really meant it or was he just being Francis? Emboldened perhaps by adrenaline, Matthew leaned forward and rested a hand on Francis' shoulder. "Francis, what's wrong?"
"Rien. Nothing. Je- I am fine." Francis' voice shook slightly.
Matthew frowned. "I'm not stupid, Francis. Please tell me what's wrong, eh."
Francis let out a shaky breath. Matthew had never seen Francis so unnerved before. "Mathieu, I- I think...Je pense que Je t'aime." Francis rushed out the last five words, as though he though he would have lost the nerve to say them if he hesitated.
Matthew blinked, lost for words. Francis, perhaps taking his silence for rejection, tried to pull away from Matthew's grip. But Matthew grabbed Francis' hand before he could pull entirely away. Francis looked at him. In the dim light, Matthew could see that Francis was scared and embarrassed. His heart did another funny little palpitation. Matthew leaned forward and pressed his lips to Francis' forehead.
"I'm glad to hear you think that."
Matthew didn't think that he had ever seen Francis smile like that before.