Past-Part Fills Post 1 -- CLOSED
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This would be Part Six.
And the food there at the little café was amazing, though Canada had sort of a hard time keeping his mind on it, great as it was, too focused on . . . everything else, on the exhilaration brought simply by talking to France-it was always sort of strange, being with France, because of the way France encouraged him to talk. By the end of lunch Canada had nearly forgotten about his depressing thoughts in the joy of simply being in France’s company. As their plates were cleared he bit his lip and looked down. “Sorry for talking your ear off,” he said, “I just . . .”
“No, no!” France said quickly. “Not at all, mon cher. In fact, it is a dear wish of mine that you would talk like this more often.”
It was nice of him to say so, but Canada could recognize more flirting when he heard it. France’s eyes were bright and warm with interest, and very focused on-on Canada, who bit the inside of his lip to quell his flustered stammers before they managed to escape. France did nothing, merely sat and looked at him for a moment, leaning slightly over the small table. He was staring at Canada with such intensity that Canada felt his ears going red. “Wh-what?” he stammered, reaching up to swipe at his cheeks, rub his hand over his mouth. “I have lunch on my face, don’t I?”
The look in France’s eyes was so . . . soft, inexpressibly tender. “Non,” he said. “You do not.”
“Why are you looking at me, then?” Canada asked, swallowing hard and trying to tell himself that he didn’t feel like he was falling at that look in France’s eyes. “Like-like that?”
“Because,” France said, “it is a very great pleasure looking at you, Mathieu. Especially while you talk.” Canada could feel his face shading into deep red, and France smiled. “Besides,” he added, with just a hint of teasing in his tone, “it is only natural to look at one who is speaking, is it not?”
Canada looked down and started folding and unfolding his napkin, unable to look across at France any longer without . . . spontaneously combusting from the heat of his own blush or something. Or simply grabbing France by his loosely knotted tie and kissing the smile right off his lips. The thought made Canada’s face feel even warmer. He was starting to get a little dizzy. “Is it?” he muttered. “I suppose I wouldn’t really know.”
He needed to get a grip on himself. France had just said that it wasn’t anything; that it was just-just courtesy-hadn’t he? Canada needed to think about that. Carefully. Couldn’t get his hopes up. Couldn’t let his own feelings get too out of hand. It had always been too easy to read . . . things into France’s actions; that was just the way France was.
And Canada had always been guilty of doing it; he needed to remember that, too. After all, wasn’t that exactly what he’d done as a child? Assumed that France’s fond words and attention and affectionate gestures meant they’d always be together, that France would never give him away, or forget him, or give up on him, or even just go back to his life without him-but it hadn’t, hadn’t meant that at all, hadn’t meant any of those things, and Canada realized now that it hadn’t been altogether realistic for him to expect it. Well, he’d been a child then, and that was the kind of thing little kids thought; he hadn’t realized how unreasonable it was.
But he didn’t have that excuse anymore. Now he knew the truth perfectly well. Canada took a deep breath and bit the inside of his lip, swallowing until his throat was clear and he felt like he could trust his voice again, felt like a smile would stay on his lips. He smiled and looked up at France. “So,” he said. “You’re the one with the plan. What’s after lunch?”
The look in France’s eyes shifted a bit, his expression sobering, and Canada felt a quick shock of startled panic-why was he looking like that? Had Canada’s bizarre behavior, his strange jumpiness, finally gotten too frustrating for him?-before the smile returned France’s face in full force, and Canada felt his shoulders relaxing again. “Ah,” France said. “It is a surprise, cheri-”
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That aside, this two here are just so painfully adorable and sweetly awkward and just... Ahhhhhhhhh~~~~~~~~~ Oh Matthew you stammering bumbling cute blushing guy... Stop making me love you even more, it's one of my weakness. XD
Much love to the way you're writing them! ^^ Looks forward to more!!!
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reCaptcha: Sigmund bedtimes. I. Uh. I-- ah. What.
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