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We're Crazy (Franda)	By : socksnbacon Category: +G to L > Hetalia: Axis Powers Views: 1166 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia, or it's respective characters, all credit to Himaruya Hidekazu. No profit was made with this story.

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
Matthew was still trying to get over the fact that Francis had actually talked Arthur into letting him go. Clearly Arthur hadn’t been that attached to the so called “punishment” that he’d been given, or he’d actually known that Alfred had been the one to coin the phrase. Matthew was just a victim of peer pressure... Right?
Despite the fact that they’d made their way across the meager parking lot and now sat in Francis’s car, Matthew felt like he’d orchestrated some sort of jail break and that they should get out of there as soon as possible lest they be caught.
The nervousness he was feeling was obvious because he was jumping his knee a little bit, and studying the fancy floor mat that Francis had in his car. How did he even manage to find something fancy? Or maybe the car had just come with incredibly fuzzy mats... Maybe-
Francis’ hand came to rest on the knee he’d been jumping, the one that was closest to the driver’s side.
“Cher.” Francis’ voice was incredibly relaxing, considering how suggestive it could sound when he felt like it. Matthew felt himself take a deep breath and release it, as if Francis had done it for him. When Matthew opened his mouth to protest, or apologise, he looked up at Francis and found the man smiling gently at him, his mouth snapped shut again and he turned away.
At this point his gaze fell to his knee, the one with Francis’ hand on it. He wanted to place his hand ontop of Francis’, to hold his hand and memorise the feeling of it in his own. His fingers were practically twitching at his side, but he couldn’t do it. For a moment that was too long and too short all together Matthew battle whether he should or should not do it, but Francis pulled his hand back and put it on the keys that were sitting useless in the ignition.
Matthew found himself watching Francis, which wasn’t uncommon considering how much Francis commanded control of an entire room just by walking into it. The way the man just flicked his wrist and the car started with a calm yet stuttering breath from the engine. The way Francis reached for the gear shift- And them missed and took Matthew’s wrist which had been pushed, hidden, against the side of his leg.
The same control Francis had took over Matthew and he relaxed, while his mind went into over drive at the same time. His wrist was guided to the gear shift, and then Matthew decided he loved this car.
With a shy smile Matthew took the gear shift, and Francis placed his hand ontop of his. Francis’ car was a standard. For all the easiness of an automatic, Francis apparently enjoyed holding onto the gearshift and applying just that amount of pressure to the clutch.
“If you can relax, cher, we can do this together.” Francis stated beside them, his voice thick like honey. Matthew realised he had been staring at their hands, the way that Francis’ fingers so perfectly intertwined with his to also take hold of the gearshift, the way that Francis’ hand was gentle enough not to feel like he was squishing Matthew’s. With a weak smile he turned to Francis, nodding his head slowly, and allowing Francis to maneuver their hands and the gearshift to the right place.
The feeling of the car roaring to real life from the idle putter it had been producing was exhilarating. Matthew hadn’t driven a car in a really long time, and really didn’t want to considering he might be able to sit beside Francis and have this happen more often... Oh he wished he was the only one that Francis did this with.
The drive to the park was silent, Matthew switching between watching Francis drive and watching their hands. By the time Francis pulled into the parking spot he’d chosen with the ease of a seasoned pro Matthew was overcharged from the touch. When Francis pulled his hand away, simply to take the keys out of the ignition, Matthew let a small sound of disapproval escape he hadn’t noticed until it was too late.
Francis turned to him with a look that was a mixture of disbelief and amusement. The disbelief could have been that Matthew had made the sound at all, or that Matthew had the audacity to make the sound. The amusement could have been playful, or mocking. Matthew felt his face flare and quickly escaped out into the parking lot.
The cold quickly reminded him why he’d wanted to go there. He heard the door on the other side of the car shut, and then another open. “Mon lapin, no matter how much you wish to believe you are a penguin you must wear heavier clothes in this weather.” He heard Francis’ slightly muffled voice, amusement overflowing from it, and then the door shut again.
“Polar bear.” Matthew replied softly, his eyes had settled on the glorious white that had overtaken the park. He skipped over the parking lot, stubbornly plowed by people who didn’t understand the wonders of this weather, and looked at the trees, the slight hill of the park, the snowmen that children had made. He smiled and felt like he was home, “Besides, how am I a bunny and a penguin at the same time?” As he turned to express his confusion he found that Francis had already rounded the car and was approaching him with a grin on his face.
“Sit,” Francis replied, “Le neige de lapin, garçon obstiné.” Though his voice was playful. Matthew obeyed and watched as Francis set the boots and coat he’d pulled out on the dashboard. It was only now that Matthew realised that Francis was clearly dressed for winter, his jacket puffed out from the clear layers he was wearing yet still tailored to his figure and a dark brown which only brought out his blonde hair, the man also wore a black and white striped scarf which hung down to just before the jacket ended at his hips.
“L'ours polaire.” Matthew replied, trying to sound more sure of himself than he felt. Francis looked up from where he’d knelt to untie Matthew’s shoe, an eyebrow raised, “A-And I can do that on my own.” Matthew protested, Francis smiled obligingly and stood. Without much warning the man leant forward and pressed his lips against Matthew’s, a smile on his lips. Before Matthew could react the touch was gone, Matthew’s face red, his mouth gaping slightly.
“Oui, do it on your own then.” Francis replied, moving aside to lean against the car. Matthew was cognitive enough to realise how Francis’ then had sounded slightly more like “zen” than it usually did, like he’d been more concerned with something else... But quickly told himself off for the thought, and went to fumbling with his shoes. He was glad to find gloves tucked in the boots.
“Y... You didn’t have to, um... Get me new stuff.” Matthew said finally, as he pulled the second boot on. He heard Francis chuckle good naturedly.
“I would not put mon Mattieu in something someone else has been wearing.” Francis replied, and Matthew could practically hear the snootiness in his voice. Slowly Matthew pushed himself to his feet and reached to grab the coat, but it was taken from him. When Matthew turned to look up at Francis in confusion the man looked like the cat with the cream, “At least let me this one gentlemanly action, mon petite.”
Matthew looked at the ground between his knee and the car door’s lip, and nodded meekly. So many pet names, and he should have been used to it by now, but he wasn’t. He helped Francis help him into the jacket, only having to twist slightly as Francis moved with the precision of a man with much practise. Matthew’s stomach panged slightly.
Finally he turned away from the car, Francis giving him enough room to move, and closed the car door.
Matthew was glad it was so cold, despite that they may need to leave a bit quicker, because no one was around to see Francis slip an arm around his and proceed to lead him to the path with his head held high. The people who had attempted to shovel the path had done just that, attempted, and ended up turning the snow they upturned into ice along the sides. Traversing the path was probably more dangerous than running into the snow itself, and yet Francis insisted on being on the path.
They’d been walking, Francis more stably than Matthew had expected, for about ten minutes when Matthew looked up at Francis and a question tumbled rather unexpectedly from his lips, “What are your other patients like?”
Just like that Francis stopped, though Matthew pulled gently from his grip and walked a few more steps. He had trouble keeping his mind from spitting things out after moments of silence. He turned around and stepped to the side of the path, picking up a handful of snow and patting it into a ball in his hand. His gaze didn’t raise from the ball.
“This is sudden Matthieu.” Francis replied, sounding confused, “I could not tell you what my other patients are like though, it is against the code of privacy... I think it is called.” Matthew chewed on his lip, over packing the snow in his hand until it was crumbling into nothingness and melting on his gloves. He simply picked up more snow.
“Oh, I was just wondering because... Well you don’t see anyone else at the facility,”
“I do not see anyone else.” Francis stated, interrupting Matthew’s train of thought. Matthew looked up from his snow massacre and saw that Francis’ expression flick suddenly from slight confusion to one of his dangerous smirks.
The distance between them, which moments before had seemed to stretch for eternity, was closed by the even clicks of Francis’ hard heeled boots, and then more so by Francis tipping Matthew’s chin up affectionately.
“There is none other than you, Matthieu.” Francis’ voice was soft, and smooth. Matthew felt a shiver run up his spine. Francis meant his patients of course, he had to mean his patients, because even though every fibre of his being wanted Francis to mean it as a whole he couldn’t believe it.
“Francis, we’re in public.” Matthew protested, albeit weakly, to which Francis chuckled.
“There is not a soul in this park Matthieu, and you look so cold.” With this Francis tilted his head just slightly and pressed his lips against Matthew’s for the second time that day. The snow in his hand either melted, or he dropped it, because he felt his arms fall to his side as Francis’ other arm came around to wrap around his waist to hold him up steadily.
If he had been cold, he wasn’t any more, because once Francis’ lips left his he was panting slightly, the cold of the air couldn’t take the heat from his cheeks, and there was the tiniest of smiles on his face.
“Now!” Like a switch he was already over their close encounter, “Let us finish this walk, before you and I freeze.” This seemed fair enough, and Matthew took the arm that was offered to him so he could be led down the path. Matthew doubted he’d freeze.
French:

Le neige de lapin, garçon obstiné. - The snow of rabbit, boy obstinate. (Or in human speech "A snow rabbit, stubborn boy.")

L'ours polaire. - T'bear polar. (Or, you know, a polar bear.)
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We're Crazy (Franda)