Dancing [fanfic] Seychelles-France
Just a drabble(Dont know if you could call it that...) about one of my OTP's France and Seychelles. Oh and please if you notice any errors with the French please point it out, I am no French major thats for sure!
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He swayed back and forth while cooking as she flipped through the stations. It was a quiet day, only the sounds of Francis, as he stood at the stove making lunch for him and Seychelles, as she was sitting at the small windowsill in the kitchen flipping through the radio stations. She was tired of hearing the same old thing all morning and wanted to listen to some soft music for their pleasant evening.
“Seychelles, Ma chérie, can you pick a station?” He turned around to look at her focusing on finding a station she would like.
She was furiously flipping through the channels of the radio, each time interrupting something it tried to say. “I don’t want to listen to all this other stuff…” He chuckled at her poking her lip out with being frustrated at the radio.
“Wait! …” he said as he lifted his finger.
Cet air qui m`obsède jour et nuit
Cet air n`est pas né d`aujourd`hui
Il vient d`aussi loin que je viens
Traîné par cent mille musiciens
“Ahhh, I love this song…” he hummed to the song as he stirred to the music. The beautiful lyrics poured out of the radio through the kitchen.
Seychelles saw that Francis was at peace when listening to it, he hummed happily to it and swayed to the women’s words. Maybe this was another one of his lovers knowing he had countless. “Francis, who is this?” she said walking over to him as he added seasoning and spices she didn’t know to the pot.
He looked back at her holding the spoon. Seychelles studied the surprised look on his face as he began to speak. “How could I have not taught you who this is?” He turned around to finish stirring what he was cooking a few more times as he continued on starting what would we his long diatribe on French culture to her. “Honte a moi!”
She just sat there as the Frenchmen turned down the stove to go over to her and lecture her on French culture and music. “This, mon cher is the wonderful Edith Piaf!”
“Ooooh…” She sat down as she looked at Francis, obviously excited about this woman. “I think you’ve mentioned her before…”
C`est un air qui me montre du doigt
Et je traîne après moi comme un drôle d`erreur
Cet air qui sait tout par cœur
The music still played on as the women’s voice spread across the kitchen. She could tell why Francis was in love with her sound, she was truly amazing. The voice told pain but rang with sweetness. She looked up at his eyes that happened to be staring at her. He face went red as he looked at her. “What are you looking at?”
He put his hand out offering it to her “Dance with me ma chérie?”
She looked up to him as his lavender eyes focused on her. Her face probably was now even redder at the thought of dancing with him but still she replied with a “Non… I can’t dance…”
“Well! … I will have to teach you.” He said with a smile.
“Non, non, non! I can’t dance! It’s okay Francis! ” He pulled her out of the seat with tug as she bumped into his chest. She was so close to him, she could take in his scent so easily. She buried her face into his shirt hoping he wouldn’t see her face which the blush had spread across.
He looked down into her eyes as she seemed to be at unease about dancing. “Calm down ma chérie…” She looked up and concentrated on his eyes. Soon she was guided across the kitchen floor as the music still played across the kitchen. It almost felt effortless the way he leaded her. This was partly a surprise, he danced so well, but what else would she expect from a high class Frenchman like himself.
Comme si tout mon passé défilait
Her blue dress followed her body as it was taken for loops around the tile. She was at piece being between both of his arms as he gazed into her eyes. “You dance beautifully Ma Chérie”
Red, yet again spread across her face when he spoke in his native tongue. She soon felt his lips against the corner of her mouth along with his sweet sent that almost made her dizzy. He was so close and she felt the need to touch his cheek just to make sure this wasn’t one of her dreams. As she touched his face hoping it wouldn’t disappear he sighed.
“Well then” He grabbed her hand and held it in both of his. He took a small step back and with a smile spoke quietly as the music ended “That’s enough dancing non? I think I shall finish our lunch!” He immediately let go of her hands and made a turn on his heel and resumed cooking. He opened the pot as the steam rose into the air along with the smell. “Ahhh, doesn’t it smell delicious Ma chérie?”
Seychelles just stood there almost in awe of what seemed to be a short dream sequence. She looked up to Francis who was looking at her. “Oui…” was all she could say before she left the kitchen. She closed the bathroom door behind her as she slid down the door and sat on the floor. Her fingers gently touched her cheek as if she would ruin the kiss that he left by her lips.
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just so ya know:
The lyrics are from the song Padam, Padam by Edith Piaf; Because she was one an amazing singer and two highly loved by France at the time I would think that Francis would be a fan of her.
"Honte a moi!"- Shame on me! (Someone tell me if this is wrong I used a translator...)
"ma cherie"- My darling