Fanfic: 7 Laughs
Title: 7 Laughs
Author: Deegeeak
Rating: PG13
Warning: Fem!Canada, GaukenAU, and science.
Prompt: Gakuen AU -- Paired together for a science project. Matthew is very enthusiastic about science, and Francis can't help but think giddy and geeky science rants are cute.
Summary: Francis Bonnefoy was the exact opposite of Mathilda Williams; and doesn't understand why he can't not want her.
Note: Written for MapleandRoses's 2010 Gift-a-thon.
Some people say that the universe was created when God laughed. He laughed seven times. "Hha, Hha, Hha, hha, hha, hha, hha." With every laugh something new blossomed until the universe was created.
God laughed, and there was light.
Francis Bonnefoy was not a deeply religious or scientific man. He saw things, accepted them, and moved on. The whys and wherefores of the universe didn't fascinate him the way others were. A starry night was more of a backdrop to a romantic encounter rather then a fascinating experience for him. As a French major, minoring in Culinary arts and Fashion, he had little use for telescopes, or physics.
That was until he met Alfred's twin sister, Mathilda. Mathilda was the exact opposite of what Francis thought he desired in a companion. For one, she played hockey, which Francis found rather vulgar. She had no sense of fashion, and preferred worn jeans, and over sized t-shirts to a well tailored outfit. Her glasses were huge, she wore no makeup, and mon dieu, the food she ate! Francis was only sure of one thing when it came to poutine - that it was created by the devil to offend him. By all rights Mathilda should have been the last person Francis wanted in his bed.
God laughed, and water poured.
Mathilda Williams was a deeply scientific soul. She saw things, quantified them, sorted them and placed them just so. She wanted to know why humankind was here, what was coming and what lay just outside of her telescope's reach. Where her roommate had photos of models and actors on her walls, Mattie had hi-res photos of nebula and galaxies. An Astronomy major, she chose to break from her brother's path and pursue Philosophy as her second major, minoring in Physics.
She was a tall, thoughtful girl, who had it all planned out. She knew where she was going to apply to work at once she got her degree. She'd even drawn up a time line for when she wanted to meet her future life partner, when she was going to have kids, and even retire. Francis should have been the last person she ended up dating. It wasn't in her plan at all to fall for an attractive Frenchman. He couldn't stand poutine or hockey. He twitched at her beloved jeans and flannel. Most importantly, he had no idea of what a pulsating neutron star was or the effects a black hole had on the time-space continuum.
God laughed and life looked up to the sky and wondered.
They met, as the story goes, on a dark and stormy night. Except it wasn't that stormy, and it was actually pre-dawn. Both Mathilda and Francis were trying to sneak back into the dorms without getting caught. He'd been out with one of his very many elegant lady friends, and she , from star gazing. They bumped into each other. She was carrying her telescope case, and he was holding his coat in one arm. Her papers spilled out and he paused to help pick them back up.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. Mathilda was used to being forgotten and not seen. Her brother took all the attention with his type A personality - she was fine with that, really. It let her get so much more done. She knew of Francis, who wouldn't? Alfred and Arthur had both warned her about Arthur's womanizing cousin, but really, no one could be that bad.
"Non, it was my fault, ma petite." Francis frowned, he didn't know this one, and he thought he could identify all the members of the fairer gender by sight at school. It was somewhat irksome that here was one, a bit ugly duckling to be sure, that he didn't know. He'd eat his hair ties if she wasn't related to that loudmouth Alfred. There was something in the face, the eyes, even the hair, that reminded him of the American. He glanced down briefly at the book he was holding, "The Soul Of the Night." "Heavy reading for class?"
She blushed at him. "No, I just like it."
He smiled at her, and she smiled back. "Have breakfast with me? It is the least I can do for so rudely running into you." She accepts, and that is how it begins.
God laughed again, and there was love.
Francis never planned on falling in love with her. Somehow he takes her out for dinner the next night, lunch a few days later and waits around the dorm so he can 'bump' into her for breakfast a week later. Mathilda becomes something he's never had before - a true female friend. He tells her everything, from life in Paris, to what he dreams about. She tells him her secrets, her plans - and makes him try poutine. It isn't until he sees her come storming up one afternoon that his heart stops.
She's lit up by the sun, those curls she refuses to let him do anything to flying around her face like some kind of halo. Despite the flannel she looks like a goddess to him, and he just stares until she reaches him. "The hell, eh?"
"I'm sorry, ma petite, but," he begins, still locked on how majestic she looked as she stormed across the campus greens to him.
"You're failing Astronomy 101," Mathilda bites out. Francis blinks. She glares. He gulps.
"Oui?"
"How can you fail that class," she wails, pacing in front of him. "It's so easy! They're not asking you to memorize String theory!"
She's gorgeous like this, all snappy fire and passion, how blind has he been? Francis leans back and without letting himself think about the risk he's taking goes for it. "Perhaps I need some tutoring?"
Mathilda stopped to look at him. "That's," she starts, "that's brilliant. My room at 7pm."
Francis thinks he's doomed.
Weeping, God laughed for the fifth time and it was destined.
Mathilda never planned on falling in love with Francis Bonnefoy. He was a playboy, a womanizer and while he's great as a friend, she's seen first hand how casual he treats intimate relations - plus her brother and his boyfriend might want to hurt Francis and she likes (loves) him too much for that. It's not for his sake that she offers to tutor him in her favorite subject, but more for her own benefit. Mattie realized long ago just how pretty Francis was, and how he looks when he's studying never fails to make her heart beat a little faster.
Just like right now. Francis is sitting at her desk watching her, his eyes focused on her as she paces in front of him, lecturing. In one hand is a copy of her beloved star chart, and in the other a pen to draw on her white board. She can feel his eyes trace over the lines her hand draws on the white board - the Crab Nebula, the Horse-head. Twice a week she draws the shapes of constellations for him, Orion, Pegasus, the Little Dipper and Big Bear. His hand echoes her own as she traces the path of the planets and comets for him.
Somewhere in the back of her mind she can hear Alfred telling her that she's all but throwing herself at him. She tells her brother's voice to kindly shut the fuck up, and keeps going. Francis just watches her like she's the center of the universe, and he flying straight towards her drawn in by gravity. It's like a dream.
Which is why she doesn't see it coming in all likelihood. It's a Thursday evening and she's walking back from class with a new transfer student from Germany. Gilbert's in Astronomy like she is, with his second major being Math. He's bright, cheerful, and likes hockey. The first day they met, he walked her to her car, proclaiming that no one would dare come near her with his awesome self there. About a week later, she's walking along the path to the commons to meet Francis for coffee when Gilbert runs up, picks her up and swings her around. "I got the grant," he yells. She's laughing with him when she catches a glimpse of Francis in the corner of her eye. He looks devastated. It all goes down hill from there. He avoids her, cancels the study sessions, and doesn't answer her worried text messages.
It hits her that she's really, truly, madly deeply in love with Francis early on morning as she hauls her telescope back from a late night meteor show. She stops in the parking lot in shock. This wasn't in her plan at all. He's not what she laid out for herself. It's not till her brother and Gilbert start asking her questions worriedly that it dawns on her she's crying in shock.
"Mattie? Mattie are you all right?!"
"Mattie, it's all right, I promise"
She loves Francis Bonnefoy and the tilt of her orbit will never be the same.
God laughed and time began to march onwards.
Francis has been friends with Gilbert since childhood. He was one third of the Bad Friends trio throughout high school, and there's no one Francis would rather have at his back - except maybe Antonio, or if he's particularly drunk, Arthur. Which is why it hurts so much that Gilbert's spending so much time with Mathilda. Before Gilbert showed up, Mathilda spent most of her free time with him, often going on about the mystery of the universe. He'd never been one for such things, but when Mathilda talked about it, she lit up from the inside. She glowed for him as she spoke of the beginning of the universe, and the ends.
He hasn't seen her for a month and the ache of it throbs deep in his chest. At first he thought he was ill, so he went to the the campus clinic. With a clean bill of health he left, leaving behind the nurse's phone number and several invitations from a few fellow students. The brightly lit commons that had previously been a sanctuary for him, one where he could sit back with a cup of fine, hot espresso, and listen to his Mathilda go on about the stars, had turned into a torture chamber.
Somehow his grades don't slip, but that's likely because he's spending all his time in the departments trying to avoid...whatever this feeling is inside of him. He just had to stay away from everything that reminded him of Mattie and he'll be ok.
Really.
His Polish classmate got tired of seeing the flowing, elegant dresses he's been designing lately and somehow, word gets around to Arthur, who drags him to a bar. It's standard for them. Whenever one of them is suffering from emotional hurt, the other drags the sufferer out to get smashed. This time is no different. They wind up at some seedy bar just south of the campus. Arthur matches him drink for drink and before long, the emotional pain's not quite as bad. At some point in time Arthur gets out his cell phone and starts calling Alfred, while Francis mumbles into his wine about how much he wants to carry Mathilda off to France with him, and have her whisper the story of life into his ear as they sit and watch the sun set.
"Allll," he heard his drunk English friend slur into his phone, "iss worsse than we thunk. He's in loove!"
Francis cringes and downs another bottle of wine. He's not quite as drunk as Arthur is but, he realizes that he is very, very drunk, when Mathilda walks into the bar and sighs. He's pretty sure seeing Alfred behind her isn't a delusion, given how many times Alfred's had to come drag them home from a bar. But oh, Mathilda, she's got to be an illusion of his drunken fantasies. There's no way she'd be here, walking towards him, not when one of his best friends seems to be all she wants. Her hair's golden, her eyes shining behind her glasses. And even though she's wearing jeans and flannel, there's nothing more gorgeous to him.
"Ma ange," is all he manages. Mathilda just sighs at him and then the world goes black.
God laughed one final time, like a bird's laugh, and it was true.
Mathilda never expected to get a drunken phone call from Arthur while sobbing her eyes out to her brother. Alfred had been awkwardly feeding her cookie-dough ice cream covered in maple syrup all night. He'd sent Gilbert out for more tissues and ice cream about half an hour ago. Alfred was briefly mortified that his beloved twin sister had to endure his boyfriend's angst until they both realized what Arthur was saying.
" 'E loves the chit, Al! 'E really does!" That had sparked the idea that Mathilda should go with Alfred to drag his soggy lover home, and rather then a certain Frenchman sleeping the effects of the night off in the guest room, Mathilda ought to drag him to her dorm room.
She had no idea why she'd agreed. Alfred was the one who did things like this. He was the wild child, the one who was into surfing, and bungee jumping. Their parent's hair was white and it was all Alfred's fault She was the good child. She got good grades, tried hard and didn't cause trouble. Taking Francis back to her dorm room would be trouble. Mathilda knew this, and told Alfred as much.
"Don't be a party pooper," Alfred responded as he stuffed Arthur into the driver's side seat. "Use it a chance to shove certain facts down his throat and then make him beg for forgiveness. Oh, and Mattie?"
She rolled her eyes at him, "What is it Alfred?"
"If he hurts you, I'll pound him into the dirt." Her twin looked serious as he looked at her from across the top of the car. "I mean it."
Every so often her twin surprised her. It wasn't often, but on occasion, Alfred was indeed capable of feelings and emotions.
The, somehow without her quite knowing how it happened, Francis ended up in her dorm room, still asleep. She was sitting on her computer chair, wrapped up in an afghan, staring at the sleeping Francis. From what Alfred had said he'd sleep off his hangover with no issue. The only problem was that it while she was capable of pulling an all-nighter, she was tired and wanted to sleep too. She eyed Francis.
Francis started snoring.
She couldn't help but giggling at him. Tension gone, Mattie slid next to him, still wrapped in her afghan. The street lamp's lights faded into her room and washed over them. Mattie tried to stay awake and watch Francis sleep, fascinated by the play of light over his face, but before she knew it, she faded off curled up next to him.
Morning didn't wake her up. It was the sense of someone watching her that finally pushed her awake. Groggily raising her head, she tried to sit up only to find herself being firmly held to a warm chest. "Good morning ma petite."
Francis was very carefully holding her in his arms.
"Good morning," she ventured. Sure, he'd blabbed how much he loved her - called her his angel - but that was when he was so drunk he was all but blind. This was morning, and Mattie wasn't sure if he'd still love her. "Alfred said - "
"Stuff what Alfred said," he interrupted her. "I do not care about that annoying brother or that meddling Englishman of his."
Her heart fell. "I see," when she tried to get out of bed, to hide the way his words were breaking her, he tightened his grasp on her. "Francis, let go."
"No," he shot back.
"Let me go!"
"Ma petite -"
"Don't," she hissed. "You made it clear - you don't care." She felt his arms loosen around her and jerked upright, only to have her wrist grabbed. Before she knew it, he'd pulled her down and rolled them so he was on top of her caging her in. "Goddamnit Francis, don't you dare!"
"You don't get it," he yelled.
"I get that you don't love me," she yelled back.
He was silent for a moment. "Just - just let me go, okay?" She whispered into the still air, "We don't have to ever see each other again."
Francis huffed out a breath above her. "You are my sunshine, the soul in my heart," Mathilda froze. "You make the day shine and I have no more words for how much I love you!" His voice rose with every word until he was shouting. "I love you Mathilda Willams."
"You love me," she repeated in shock.
"Oui."
"Why," she asked. "I'm nothing like those girls you like to date."
He smiled and lowered his head to hers, and breathed out his words before kissing her. "You outshine them and every star in the sky with just the way you are. "
Mathilda grinned, and felt him grin back.
God laughed seven times and the Universe sprang into being.
Francis felt life was perfect. It was a week since he'd woken up in his beloved Mattie's arms, and currently they were curled up on the couch watching some sort of science program. At least they had been up to when Francis hadn't been able to take Mattie's hissed insults any longer. She'd been mocking the TV host for a good half hour when he'd decided to shut her up with some heavy kissing.
Mattie ripped her mouth from his and yelled at the TV, "That's not what Blue type stars look like you morons!" He chased her mouth and slid a hand up her shirt.
"You like it when I yell at them don't you," she laughed. He just smirked and slid her shirt off.
"OH MY GOD."
"Oh bugger this."
AN: The poem I used in this is an ancient Mediterranean creation myth that I was first introduced to in a book called "In the Soul of the Night", which is a collection of essays about Astronomy and life written by Chet Raymo. It's a book that I can easily see Canada, or in this case, Fem!Canada loving.
Author: Deegeeak
Rating: PG13
Warning: Fem!Canada, GaukenAU, and science.
Prompt: Gakuen AU -- Paired together for a science project. Matthew is very enthusiastic about science, and Francis can't help but think giddy and geeky science rants are cute.
Summary: Francis Bonnefoy was the exact opposite of Mathilda Williams; and doesn't understand why he can't not want her.
Note: Written for MapleandRoses's 2010 Gift-a-thon.
Some people say that the universe was created when God laughed. He laughed seven times. "Hha, Hha, Hha, hha, hha, hha, hha." With every laugh something new blossomed until the universe was created.
God laughed, and there was light.
Francis Bonnefoy was not a deeply religious or scientific man. He saw things, accepted them, and moved on. The whys and wherefores of the universe didn't fascinate him the way others were. A starry night was more of a backdrop to a romantic encounter rather then a fascinating experience for him. As a French major, minoring in Culinary arts and Fashion, he had little use for telescopes, or physics.
That was until he met Alfred's twin sister, Mathilda. Mathilda was the exact opposite of what Francis thought he desired in a companion. For one, she played hockey, which Francis found rather vulgar. She had no sense of fashion, and preferred worn jeans, and over sized t-shirts to a well tailored outfit. Her glasses were huge, she wore no makeup, and mon dieu, the food she ate! Francis was only sure of one thing when it came to poutine - that it was created by the devil to offend him. By all rights Mathilda should have been the last person Francis wanted in his bed.
God laughed, and water poured.
Mathilda Williams was a deeply scientific soul. She saw things, quantified them, sorted them and placed them just so. She wanted to know why humankind was here, what was coming and what lay just outside of her telescope's reach. Where her roommate had photos of models and actors on her walls, Mattie had hi-res photos of nebula and galaxies. An Astronomy major, she chose to break from her brother's path and pursue Philosophy as her second major, minoring in Physics.
She was a tall, thoughtful girl, who had it all planned out. She knew where she was going to apply to work at once she got her degree. She'd even drawn up a time line for when she wanted to meet her future life partner, when she was going to have kids, and even retire. Francis should have been the last person she ended up dating. It wasn't in her plan at all to fall for an attractive Frenchman. He couldn't stand poutine or hockey. He twitched at her beloved jeans and flannel. Most importantly, he had no idea of what a pulsating neutron star was or the effects a black hole had on the time-space continuum.
God laughed and life looked up to the sky and wondered.
They met, as the story goes, on a dark and stormy night. Except it wasn't that stormy, and it was actually pre-dawn. Both Mathilda and Francis were trying to sneak back into the dorms without getting caught. He'd been out with one of his very many elegant lady friends, and she , from star gazing. They bumped into each other. She was carrying her telescope case, and he was holding his coat in one arm. Her papers spilled out and he paused to help pick them back up.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. Mathilda was used to being forgotten and not seen. Her brother took all the attention with his type A personality - she was fine with that, really. It let her get so much more done. She knew of Francis, who wouldn't? Alfred and Arthur had both warned her about Arthur's womanizing cousin, but really, no one could be that bad.
"Non, it was my fault, ma petite." Francis frowned, he didn't know this one, and he thought he could identify all the members of the fairer gender by sight at school. It was somewhat irksome that here was one, a bit ugly duckling to be sure, that he didn't know. He'd eat his hair ties if she wasn't related to that loudmouth Alfred. There was something in the face, the eyes, even the hair, that reminded him of the American. He glanced down briefly at the book he was holding, "The Soul Of the Night." "Heavy reading for class?"
She blushed at him. "No, I just like it."
He smiled at her, and she smiled back. "Have breakfast with me? It is the least I can do for so rudely running into you." She accepts, and that is how it begins.
God laughed again, and there was love.
Francis never planned on falling in love with her. Somehow he takes her out for dinner the next night, lunch a few days later and waits around the dorm so he can 'bump' into her for breakfast a week later. Mathilda becomes something he's never had before - a true female friend. He tells her everything, from life in Paris, to what he dreams about. She tells him her secrets, her plans - and makes him try poutine. It isn't until he sees her come storming up one afternoon that his heart stops.
She's lit up by the sun, those curls she refuses to let him do anything to flying around her face like some kind of halo. Despite the flannel she looks like a goddess to him, and he just stares until she reaches him. "The hell, eh?"
"I'm sorry, ma petite, but," he begins, still locked on how majestic she looked as she stormed across the campus greens to him.
"You're failing Astronomy 101," Mathilda bites out. Francis blinks. She glares. He gulps.
"Oui?"
"How can you fail that class," she wails, pacing in front of him. "It's so easy! They're not asking you to memorize String theory!"
She's gorgeous like this, all snappy fire and passion, how blind has he been? Francis leans back and without letting himself think about the risk he's taking goes for it. "Perhaps I need some tutoring?"
Mathilda stopped to look at him. "That's," she starts, "that's brilliant. My room at 7pm."
Francis thinks he's doomed.
Weeping, God laughed for the fifth time and it was destined.
Mathilda never planned on falling in love with Francis Bonnefoy. He was a playboy, a womanizer and while he's great as a friend, she's seen first hand how casual he treats intimate relations - plus her brother and his boyfriend might want to hurt Francis and she likes (loves) him too much for that. It's not for his sake that she offers to tutor him in her favorite subject, but more for her own benefit. Mattie realized long ago just how pretty Francis was, and how he looks when he's studying never fails to make her heart beat a little faster.
Just like right now. Francis is sitting at her desk watching her, his eyes focused on her as she paces in front of him, lecturing. In one hand is a copy of her beloved star chart, and in the other a pen to draw on her white board. She can feel his eyes trace over the lines her hand draws on the white board - the Crab Nebula, the Horse-head. Twice a week she draws the shapes of constellations for him, Orion, Pegasus, the Little Dipper and Big Bear. His hand echoes her own as she traces the path of the planets and comets for him.
Somewhere in the back of her mind she can hear Alfred telling her that she's all but throwing herself at him. She tells her brother's voice to kindly shut the fuck up, and keeps going. Francis just watches her like she's the center of the universe, and he flying straight towards her drawn in by gravity. It's like a dream.
Which is why she doesn't see it coming in all likelihood. It's a Thursday evening and she's walking back from class with a new transfer student from Germany. Gilbert's in Astronomy like she is, with his second major being Math. He's bright, cheerful, and likes hockey. The first day they met, he walked her to her car, proclaiming that no one would dare come near her with his awesome self there. About a week later, she's walking along the path to the commons to meet Francis for coffee when Gilbert runs up, picks her up and swings her around. "I got the grant," he yells. She's laughing with him when she catches a glimpse of Francis in the corner of her eye. He looks devastated. It all goes down hill from there. He avoids her, cancels the study sessions, and doesn't answer her worried text messages.
It hits her that she's really, truly, madly deeply in love with Francis early on morning as she hauls her telescope back from a late night meteor show. She stops in the parking lot in shock. This wasn't in her plan at all. He's not what she laid out for herself. It's not till her brother and Gilbert start asking her questions worriedly that it dawns on her she's crying in shock.
"Mattie? Mattie are you all right?!"
"Mattie, it's all right, I promise"
She loves Francis Bonnefoy and the tilt of her orbit will never be the same.
God laughed and time began to march onwards.
Francis has been friends with Gilbert since childhood. He was one third of the Bad Friends trio throughout high school, and there's no one Francis would rather have at his back - except maybe Antonio, or if he's particularly drunk, Arthur. Which is why it hurts so much that Gilbert's spending so much time with Mathilda. Before Gilbert showed up, Mathilda spent most of her free time with him, often going on about the mystery of the universe. He'd never been one for such things, but when Mathilda talked about it, she lit up from the inside. She glowed for him as she spoke of the beginning of the universe, and the ends.
He hasn't seen her for a month and the ache of it throbs deep in his chest. At first he thought he was ill, so he went to the the campus clinic. With a clean bill of health he left, leaving behind the nurse's phone number and several invitations from a few fellow students. The brightly lit commons that had previously been a sanctuary for him, one where he could sit back with a cup of fine, hot espresso, and listen to his Mathilda go on about the stars, had turned into a torture chamber.
Somehow his grades don't slip, but that's likely because he's spending all his time in the departments trying to avoid...whatever this feeling is inside of him. He just had to stay away from everything that reminded him of Mattie and he'll be ok.
Really.
His Polish classmate got tired of seeing the flowing, elegant dresses he's been designing lately and somehow, word gets around to Arthur, who drags him to a bar. It's standard for them. Whenever one of them is suffering from emotional hurt, the other drags the sufferer out to get smashed. This time is no different. They wind up at some seedy bar just south of the campus. Arthur matches him drink for drink and before long, the emotional pain's not quite as bad. At some point in time Arthur gets out his cell phone and starts calling Alfred, while Francis mumbles into his wine about how much he wants to carry Mathilda off to France with him, and have her whisper the story of life into his ear as they sit and watch the sun set.
"Allll," he heard his drunk English friend slur into his phone, "iss worsse than we thunk. He's in loove!"
Francis cringes and downs another bottle of wine. He's not quite as drunk as Arthur is but, he realizes that he is very, very drunk, when Mathilda walks into the bar and sighs. He's pretty sure seeing Alfred behind her isn't a delusion, given how many times Alfred's had to come drag them home from a bar. But oh, Mathilda, she's got to be an illusion of his drunken fantasies. There's no way she'd be here, walking towards him, not when one of his best friends seems to be all she wants. Her hair's golden, her eyes shining behind her glasses. And even though she's wearing jeans and flannel, there's nothing more gorgeous to him.
"Ma ange," is all he manages. Mathilda just sighs at him and then the world goes black.
God laughed one final time, like a bird's laugh, and it was true.
Mathilda never expected to get a drunken phone call from Arthur while sobbing her eyes out to her brother. Alfred had been awkwardly feeding her cookie-dough ice cream covered in maple syrup all night. He'd sent Gilbert out for more tissues and ice cream about half an hour ago. Alfred was briefly mortified that his beloved twin sister had to endure his boyfriend's angst until they both realized what Arthur was saying.
" 'E loves the chit, Al! 'E really does!" That had sparked the idea that Mathilda should go with Alfred to drag his soggy lover home, and rather then a certain Frenchman sleeping the effects of the night off in the guest room, Mathilda ought to drag him to her dorm room.
She had no idea why she'd agreed. Alfred was the one who did things like this. He was the wild child, the one who was into surfing, and bungee jumping. Their parent's hair was white and it was all Alfred's fault She was the good child. She got good grades, tried hard and didn't cause trouble. Taking Francis back to her dorm room would be trouble. Mathilda knew this, and told Alfred as much.
"Don't be a party pooper," Alfred responded as he stuffed Arthur into the driver's side seat. "Use it a chance to shove certain facts down his throat and then make him beg for forgiveness. Oh, and Mattie?"
She rolled her eyes at him, "What is it Alfred?"
"If he hurts you, I'll pound him into the dirt." Her twin looked serious as he looked at her from across the top of the car. "I mean it."
Every so often her twin surprised her. It wasn't often, but on occasion, Alfred was indeed capable of feelings and emotions.
The, somehow without her quite knowing how it happened, Francis ended up in her dorm room, still asleep. She was sitting on her computer chair, wrapped up in an afghan, staring at the sleeping Francis. From what Alfred had said he'd sleep off his hangover with no issue. The only problem was that it while she was capable of pulling an all-nighter, she was tired and wanted to sleep too. She eyed Francis.
Francis started snoring.
She couldn't help but giggling at him. Tension gone, Mattie slid next to him, still wrapped in her afghan. The street lamp's lights faded into her room and washed over them. Mattie tried to stay awake and watch Francis sleep, fascinated by the play of light over his face, but before she knew it, she faded off curled up next to him.
Morning didn't wake her up. It was the sense of someone watching her that finally pushed her awake. Groggily raising her head, she tried to sit up only to find herself being firmly held to a warm chest. "Good morning ma petite."
Francis was very carefully holding her in his arms.
"Good morning," she ventured. Sure, he'd blabbed how much he loved her - called her his angel - but that was when he was so drunk he was all but blind. This was morning, and Mattie wasn't sure if he'd still love her. "Alfred said - "
"Stuff what Alfred said," he interrupted her. "I do not care about that annoying brother or that meddling Englishman of his."
Her heart fell. "I see," when she tried to get out of bed, to hide the way his words were breaking her, he tightened his grasp on her. "Francis, let go."
"No," he shot back.
"Let me go!"
"Ma petite -"
"Don't," she hissed. "You made it clear - you don't care." She felt his arms loosen around her and jerked upright, only to have her wrist grabbed. Before she knew it, he'd pulled her down and rolled them so he was on top of her caging her in. "Goddamnit Francis, don't you dare!"
"You don't get it," he yelled.
"I get that you don't love me," she yelled back.
He was silent for a moment. "Just - just let me go, okay?" She whispered into the still air, "We don't have to ever see each other again."
Francis huffed out a breath above her. "You are my sunshine, the soul in my heart," Mathilda froze. "You make the day shine and I have no more words for how much I love you!" His voice rose with every word until he was shouting. "I love you Mathilda Willams."
"You love me," she repeated in shock.
"Oui."
"Why," she asked. "I'm nothing like those girls you like to date."
He smiled and lowered his head to hers, and breathed out his words before kissing her. "You outshine them and every star in the sky with just the way you are. "
Mathilda grinned, and felt him grin back.
God laughed seven times and the Universe sprang into being.
Francis felt life was perfect. It was a week since he'd woken up in his beloved Mattie's arms, and currently they were curled up on the couch watching some sort of science program. At least they had been up to when Francis hadn't been able to take Mattie's hissed insults any longer. She'd been mocking the TV host for a good half hour when he'd decided to shut her up with some heavy kissing.
Mattie ripped her mouth from his and yelled at the TV, "That's not what Blue type stars look like you morons!" He chased her mouth and slid a hand up her shirt.
"You like it when I yell at them don't you," she laughed. He just smirked and slid her shirt off.
"OH MY GOD."
"Oh bugger this."
AN: The poem I used in this is an ancient Mediterranean creation myth that I was first introduced to in a book called "In the Soul of the Night", which is a collection of essays about Astronomy and life written by Chet Raymo. It's a book that I can easily see Canada, or in this case, Fem!Canada loving.