Chapter 12

Matthew sits covered in a blanket with his legs pulled up under him and sipping a cup with hot cocoa. He sat in the red couch, the TV on with the lowest sound so it was like background music to the rain slamming against the glass of his windows. He sighs and looks lazily on the screen, saying the snow will probably turn into snow later this evening. He's not really surprised, it's late autumn and he would expect the snow around now anyway. But it can't snow too much, Gil will be coming tomorrow, and what will happen to him if the roads are blocked by snow? He notices that the cup is empty, and sighs heavily. Is it worth getting up? Not really, but he wants more chocolate.

Suddenly the doorbell sounds and he looks up, surprised. Had Gilbert decided to come earlier? Damn, he hasn't prepared anything! The doorbell sounds again and he forces himself to throw out his legs and face the cold, a shiver travels up his spine when his bare feet touch the ice-cold wooden floor.

"Coming!" he yells when the doorbell sounds for the third time, and he hurries to open it. He's prepared to see a grinning-like-mad-I'm-so-freaking-happy-you-opened-the-door-to-let-the-awesome-me-in Gilbert outside, but the sight of who actually stands outside makes him freeze, and his mind blank out. "F-Francis?" he manages to choke out when his tongue isn't glued to the top of his mouth anymore.

"Oui, salut mon cher" the slightly taller male smiles and leans forward to briefly kiss the stuttering Canadians cheeks. "Can I stay for a while? My house is being renovated."

Matthew can't do anything else than nod, his cheeks getting flushed and he hopes Francis thinks it's the cold. He looks down, and notices the suitcases that stand at Francis feet. He looks up with a puzzled look on his face. "How long are you planning to stay?" he asks and moves so Francis can get in.

"Just a few nights, if that's fine with you" Francis picks up the suitcases and steps inside. "I'll make myself useful right away by cooking you dinner."

Before Matthew can protest, Francis disappears into the kitchen and starts to look through the cupboards. Matthew stands in the hallway for a minute, staring at the suitcases. Francis is going to stay over at his house. They will spend time together, eat together, watch TV together and sleep together…

He can feel his cheeks grow hot, and panicked he tries to shake it away. No, he's supposed to have a boyfriend! A happy relationship! He's not supposed to have dirty thoughts of someone else! He slaps his hands against his cheeks, feeling them burn. Crap.

Suddenly Francis head pops out from the doorway to the kitchen, causing Matthew to yelp. "Care to help?"

"A-ah! Y-yes…. Oui! Of course!" Matthew shakes his head again and manages to smile at Francis. "I'm coming."

Francis beams a smile and heads back into the kitchen, giving Matthew a second to slump against the wall and take a deep breath before going to the cooking area, where Francis has put out all the ingredients. Matthew rises and eyebrow at the familiar mix of cooking supplies.

"Pancakes?" he asks in amuse.

"If I don't remember wrong, you love them" Francis smiles and holds out a bottle of maple syrup to the younger man. "Drenched in this."

Matthew's chest goes all warm and fuzzy as he carefully takes the bottle in his hands like it's a baby. He looks at the smiling face of the French who proceeds to prepare the pancakes, and he feels so happy. Francis actually remembers. Even though it's been years since they last ate together and talked about food, Francis actually remembers. He feels so happy and special that the small little detail that Matthew loves pancakes with tons of maple syrup has been burned into the others memory. He must mean something if Francis cares so much he remembers… right?

A small light of hope lights up inside Matthews chest and he feel warm, here in the kitchen, besides Francis making pancakes he feels calm and safer. He haven't felt like this since he was a kid, and lived together with France. When they spent every awake (and asleep; since they slept in the same bed) moment together. Maybe they can go back to that? For only a few days….

It actually feels like the old times when they stand there cook together, and when they eat, all during casual small talk. The small smile on Matthew's lips never leaves, and he can see how the corners of Francis' mouth twitches upward. The dinner proceeds in the same way, small talking and just being together again after so long time. It has been years since the two French speaking nations spent some alone quality time together. But with all their nations' problems, the work piling up and their relationships, they never got time to be together. Matthew couldn't remember the last time they were like this, simply together. Not caring what they talked about, or what they did, just being together. He missed it. This was what he missed when he thought of Francis. The French's soft touches, warm smiles and gently flirting'. He wanted to touch him, feel those lips curl beneath his, feel his body pressed against his and those hands travelling everywhere where no one else had access to.

But even though all of this was in his head during the late afternoon, it wasn't until he was back in the red couch; legs pulled up beside him on one side, and on the other Francis sat. He was leaning on the French, listening to the light breathing and feeling his long hair tickle his forehead, but he didn't care. He was this close to Francis. He just focused on the heat radiating from his body, wanting to save it inside him to pull out on days when he felt alone or down, and remember this day when he and Francis had been close again. It was like the old times, but something had changed. Matthew didn't love him as a brother anymore. He loved him like a lover. He wanted him.

"Hey Francis" he says softly, nuzzling closer into Francis shoulder. "Why did you come here?"

"I told you" the other answered just as softly. "My house is getting renovated. I need a place to stay."

"Then why aren't you at Arthur's?" He can feel how the warm body underneath his cheek is tensing, and he tilts his head up so he can get a glimpse of the stern face staring stubbornly on the TV.

"We broke up" He says, keeping his face straight. Matthew opens his mouth for further questioning, but Francis talks first. "During the last world meeting, we told everyone but you weren't there. They all seemed kind of relieved. Bastards."

Francis huffs and Matthew can't help but giggle as he takes in what the other just said. He's broke up with Arthur. They're not together anymore. The warm feeling deep in his chest grows hotter, filling his whole body with hope. Francis doesn't have a relationship anymore. He's single again. And it makes him want to laugh. He has a boyfriend, and yet here he wants a man who had raised him, been his brother and one of the few that actually remembers him and loves him for who he is.

"I'm sorry" he says when the giggling has finally dies down and he's back to normal. He has to keep it up. He's not in love with Francis, he's not in love with Francis, and he's not in love with Francis… "You two were good together."

"Apparently not since we broke up" Francis gets quiet, brows falling and he looks as if he's thinking about something very important.

Matthew let's his gaze wander, from the cloud white curtains over the midnight blue ones, over the white bookshelf filled to the brim and finally to the wooden roof. Alfred helped him decorate this room. He wanted it to be original with some kind of connection to both France and America, so they ended up with the colors white, red and blue all over and a huge TV.

That was really so Alfred.

Matthew slowly moves him hand along the couch, without realizing what he's doing before his hands rubs small circles on the other man's tight.

"Mathieu" the melodic voice of Francis suddenly calls his name, Matthew's hand stops, sure he'll be scolded for it.

"Ah, sorry" he retreats his hand, but doesn't come too far when his wrists are suddenly grasped and he yelps as Francis presses him to the back of the couch, almost straddling him, and comes dangerously close.

Matthew feels his face heat up immediately, it burs worse than ever and he knows it's impossible to hide it when Francis is that close eyeing closely. It's almost disappointing to think that the French will probably just say "Kidding" and kiss his forehead, just like he sometimes did during their playful fights, but the painful pounding of Matthew's heart tells him he still hopes for Francis to do something better, something more romantic than saying "Just kidding" and laugh it off.

"Mathieu" Francis mumbles again, resting some of his weight on the younger's thighs, making Matthew's pulse race. "I want to tell you something, so listen closely, okay?"

Matthew nods quickly, he can't take it anymore. IF it's disappointing, let it be. He can't stand the pounding of his own heart any longer. All of his senses are lost in the blue sea of Francis' eyes that stare deep into his own violet ones.

"Je t'aime" he says softly, making Matthew freeze in shock. His brain has stopped working. Those words… The translating section in his brain has gone totally numb and he tries to take it in. Je t'aime. What?

Before he can do anything else, he feel Francis lips against his own and he melts. If it weren't for Francis arms around him, he'd be a puddle of jelly on the floor now. Eagerly he answers the kiss, wanting to take in more. The heat in his chest is about to explode, and the only cure is Francis. The hands running along his body, the lips pressing firmly against his own, the hair he runs his hands through. This is what he wants; this is what he's dreamt of. This is him, now with Francis.

As they pull away, Matthew's eyes are dazed and they pant softly. "J-Je t'aime aussi…" he manages to say between breaths. Francis chuckles and kisses his still hot cheek. Then his look turns stern and once again he makes eye contact with the violet irises of the younger man.

"What about Gilbert?"

Matthew freezes. Gilbert. His boyfriend. Who's coming over tomorrow. Who loves him more than anything in this world. Who trusts him with his heart. Who he tought he loved back. Apparently no.

What will I say to Gilbert?

A/N Yeah, Crappy chapter is kinda crappy =w=''' But I don't care since I'm tired Dx I guess I should apologize for last chapter too... (even though you loved it xD) It was written in the middle of the night (on ONE night! don't get how I did it O_o) on a school night... I just wanted it published D'''x And this... It's 2AM over here =_='' This is mostly rambling, and if I start explain chapters how I see them (IN COLORS AND FORMS AND OTHER SPARKLY SHIT) it would take the rest of the night. So yeah xD I hope you enjoyed it~ I tried my best to get Franada (FUDGING FINALLY!) but it just seems silly now xD I won't change it, oh no, that's a pain. So hope you enjoyed 8D Please review and make a even-more-tired-than-the-last-chapter-tired author happy OuO You guys are awesome if you do and I will love you forevahz and evah inside a rainbow~

I DON'T OWN HETALIA.