A/N This prompt takes place, oh say, a few weeks after the running away incident of Minnesota's. (Yay, these notes are getting shorter~)
Disclaimer: I don't own APH or OC!Minnesota
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Prompt 9: "Language Barrier"
Even though Minnesota had a hard time getting used to France's language, the one thing he had memorized was the last thing the blonde heard each night; "Je t'aime."
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France sat at the kitchen table, a look of exhausting burning in his eyes. Canada and Minnesota were running about the house for the past few weeks now, often times with Canada's polar bear cub in tow ('Kumakichi, Kumahaha, Kuma-something...'). A large mess accumulated in their rooms, which the boys forgot to clean nearly everyday, but France let it go because the two were doing other productive things to worry about how disorganized their rooms became. Nowadays, however, the boys weren't really doing anything that would benefit themselves in the future.
He gave Canada a break because he'd known the boy when he was a newborn—Minnesota was a different case. He was still a newborn – not that France complained – but his knowledge on the French culture could only go so far (how the boy managed to say 'Fuck off' in French was still a mystery). He'd already gotten Minnesota plenty of skeleton suits when the boy arrived at his new home, so he was already up to date on the latest fashion in France. He barely understood what "Fous le camp" meant, so he knew just a bit of French. 'Maybe I can start there,' France thought joyfully while his two sons ran about the hallways noisily.
"Clotaire~ I need to speak with you." Minnesota screeched to a stop in front of the kitchen door. Canada had followed closely behind and unintentionally bumped into his brother. "Mathieu, if you will, we need a few moments alone," France hinted. Canada nodded and, picking up his cub, walked away in the confines with the living room. France smiled and motioned for Minnesota to come closer; the boy took a step forward with a questioning expression. "Minnesota, may I ask you something?" The boy rolled his eyes, but kept silent. France took that as a 'yes.' "How much of my language do you know?" The boy looked thoughtful for a moment before replying; "I don't know shit about your language." France's face faltered at the profanity, but he reluctantly allowed it to slide. "Well, would you like to know?"
"About what?" Minnesota smirked; the cocky brat knew what he meant, but he wanted to push the man's buttons.
"About my language."
"What about it?" Now France held a grim look on his face, which amused Minnesota. Despite the cheerful and proud attitude France had for the brunette, the boy often tormented the blond with his annoying, albeit witty retorts. It bugged Francis to no end, but he was determined to tough it out. After all, he was the one that made the rules in the house, not Minnesota.
"You know what I mean. Would you like me to teach you the language of love~?" France responded in a rapturous tone. He wasn't in the mood to play games with the boy, not today. Minnesota narrowed his eyes at the proposal. A perverse grin frolicked on the man's lips. 'Come on boy, I need an answer today.' As if answering his thought, Minnesota waved his little hand in a mock prima donna style.
"I suppose I have to..." he murmured in feigned irritation. France's smile became heartfelt and he happily grasped Minnesota's hand and hoisted the boy onto his lap. The brunette yelped and began flailing around in the nation's arms. "What the hell are you doin'?" the boy demanded to know. Francis chuckled lightly to himself as he pet Minnesota's head.
"We should learn as soon as possible," he hinted gingerly. Minnesota quit thrashing but gave the man a weird look. "How would you feel if you learned your first lesson today?" The binoojing's head slanted to the right as his face contorted in puzzlement. Today? But why so soon? He wasn't going anywhere again, not after what had happened a few weeks ago. 'Maybe he wants to bring me back to his homeland, since I've never been there before,' Minnesota pondered blithely. He didn't want to seem too excited about this, however; he had to retain his stoic nature by simply nodding his head at the question. France damn near squealed ('And he's the one taking care of me?') and set the boy down before preparing for their linguistics lesson of the day.
-.-
Minnesota sat uncomfortably on the wooden chair at the kitchen table; he wriggled about from time to time as he impatiently waited for France and Canada to enter the room. Actually, he wasn't too sure on whether or not Canada was going to show up—France was busy trying to convince the boy to join Minnesota on his ascent of learning the self-proclaimed 'most romantic language of the world.' He had a good feeling that the blond was collecting Canada in his arms and was about to march into the room any moment now.
And his gut instinct was spot on – only a few seconds passed and France's foot kicked open the door, revealing the light haired duo. The polar bear cub, Kumajirou, lazily followed in after the two as they stepped in. "Clotaire~ I promised you I'd be back with Mathieu," France affirmed while he swayed lithely towards the little boy. Minnesota glared at him, frustrated at how long the wait was. France chose to ignore the daggers and he set a miffed Canada in the empty chair next to the brunette.
Minnesota knew why Mattie was irked—Canada knew the basics and then some of the French language. But because France refused to allow Canada to wander around lonely and didn't want Minnesota to feel as though he were being punished for not playing with Canada, he'd persuaded his elder son to re-learn the basics with Minnesota. That way, they'd be all bonding like a normal family.
"All right, now that all students are in attendance," France started as he whipped out a few pieces of paper and pulled out two goose feathers from his sleeve before setting them next to a small glass of ink, "let's begin the journey of learning the marvelous language of yours truly~" Minnesota scrunched his brow in annoyance. He exchanged a look with Canada, who looked like he would rather be anywhere but there at the moment.
France rambled on for a long while. He was nostalgic about his early days in his prosperous nation—he remembered being a young boy and creating his own sort of language that people in today's world still use. He went on his little charade for over twenty minutes. Minnesota was getting irritated with each passing minute, knowing full well that France's incessant stories of the past came before anything and everything. When he couldn't take the mixture of English and French being used to tell the story, the raven haired binoojing abhorrently coughed into a balled up fist.
"Hey, uhh, hate to have you stop your story mid-sentence, but when is this damned lesson goin' to be over with?" the boy piped up in a hoarse voice. France stopped and chuckled nervously to himself. He'd been so caught up in the moment that he'd forgotten what triggered the sentimental frame of mind.
"Oui, of course," he chirped after collecting himself. He took a seat on the last empty chair at the table and folded his arms across his chest, a smirk dancing gracefully on his pink lips. "Now, besides Mathieu, who can tell me what the very first phrase all French citizens learn before they can walk?" Minnesota narrowed his eyes. He wasn't given too much a choice, as Corbin only taught him how to say "Fous le camp," but would never tell him what it meant. Maybe that's what France wanted to hear, since it was the only French term he knew.
"I 'unno, is it 'fous le camp'?" he guessed absentmindedly. The lack of praise made Minnesota glance up. A smile twitched on his lips when he saw the horrified look on France's face. Canada covered his mouth and hid a giggle at his papa's expression. "I'm guessing that was wrong?" Minnesota snickered. France shook his head; he had to let Minnesota in on the truth. Otherwise, the boy will always think it means something completely different than its actual definition.
"Minnesota, don't ever say that again, please?" the blond pleaded. "It's a naughty word and I'd hate to have to wash your mouth out with soap." Minnesota gave the man a dark look and demanded to know why. France chuckled nervously as he stammered out the meaning in phrases that were gentle on young kids' ears. "Um, well, it means... err..." He struggled to find a G-rated definition for the vulgar phrase while a furious Native and a quizzical Canadian looked on. At long last, he cleared his throat and pulled on his shirt's collar, thinking that maybe he'd finally found the right words to say. "Ahaha~ it's a way to tell someone to leave you alone when you're busy," France declared in a matter of fact tone. He gently rubbed his facial hair, proud of himself for his quick-thinking. Minnesota scrunched his eyebrows and thought long and hard about the meaning.
"Oh, so is it like tellin' someone to 'fuck off'?" Minnesota's genuinely confused voice squeaked out after a few minutes of silence. Oh, this was going to be a long language lesson, indeed.
-.-
The rest of the day was wasted on Minnesota's irrelevant questions about learning certain French words – mainly profanity phrases – and Canada constantly repeating who he was to Kumajirou. France was, in layman's terms, tired to the point of insanity. Or insomnia. At this point, it could go both ways. France was appreciative of the night that loomed over the northern Minnesotan prairies, as his oldest had slipped out of the kitchen and turned in early and Minnesota was growing tired of his own voice. France scratched his head warily as he used his other arm to reach down and pick up the small child. He yawned and the second he was in the blond's warm arms, he nuzzled his face into the comfortable chest.
"How did you enjoy today's lesson, mon fils?" France asked softly as he stepped up the steps carefully, so he wouldn't wake his other son. Minnesota shrugged half-heartedly and opened a brown eye.
"'S all right, I guess," he simply stated. His caretaker chuckled, but said no more. Minnesota was slowly fading into darkness' embrace, and France didn't want to say or do anything that would startle the territory. Minnesota's breathing was rhythmic; he was close to falling asleep. France opened the mahogany door to Minnesota's room and stepped towards the bed. The boy shifted lethargically while the nation set him on his bed gently and covered him up with an azure blanket.
France took in the adorable sight for a moment until Minnesota sat up suddenly, looking at him. For a moment, France was convinced that the binoojing was about to give him hell for staring at him while he was asleep, but that thought was put to rest when Minnesota rubbed his eyes sleepily. "'Ay, France, I want'd t' ask ya somethin'." France nodded for him to continue, a bit surprised by the boy's cute tone. "Y' never told me wha' the first French phrase is. Think ya can fill me in?" France let out a little laugh and tenderly pushed the boy back into the warmth of his bed.
"Oh, of course I can tell you, Clotaire~ If you can believe it, it's 'Je'taime'," the blond purred. "It means 'I love you.' It's something that everyone should learn how to say, of course, but there are people who don't know what love is. Take, for example, the British-"
"Fous le camp, Francis, I'm goin' to bed." France contained his shock from being rudely cut off by someone who was still so young. He squeaked out a 'What?' and Minnesota's response was a grumbled, "You heard me." He was about to walk out of the room in a melancholic manner when his ears picked up the little boy sighing gruffly. "... Je'taime, France." Stunned at first, the personification allowed the boy's last words of the night process through his head. After a couple seconds, the blond smiled to himself and he left the room, still smiling.
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A/N Agh~ This was a bit difficult to write. I had a few phrases I wanted Minnesota to learn, but I just threw the ideas out of my window -.-"