Something fluffy I did during a shortened day school. English class is quite boring when others do half-assed presentations.

Disclaimer: Hetalia doesn't belong to me!

In a room in Paris a young boy by the name of Matthew Williams-Kirkland Bonnefoy was crying, hugging a polar bear to his little chest. A large flash of lightning came followed by the load boom of thunder. The boy quivered into the covers even more.

Deciding he needed comfort, Matthew slowly crawled out of bed and walked though the halls and toward the Master bedrooms.

"Papa tu es réveillé?" he asked sniffing back tears.

"Matthew? Quel est le problème?" He asked getting out of bed going toward his son.

"I-I can't sleep" he said quietly, holding his stuffed polar bear closer to his chest. Francis picked him up and got him settled into his bed.

"Can you tell me a story?" Matthew asked needing something to take his mind off of the storm.

"Of course my Matthew. What type of story?" Francis inquired smiling.

"Something new." Matthew said snuggling into the covers.

"Hmmmm something new . . . something new, how about the story of how I met the love of my life." Francis said fondly, a far away look in his eyes.

"I thought mama was the love of your life?" Matthew asked looking confused, storm already forgotten.

"Exactly . . ." Francis stated.

Francis had just finished setting up camp. He had come to explore the new land called England. Apparently Ecosse had found yet another charge to take care of. That poor unfortunate soul, having to live with someone like that! Francis decided it was time to catch up on his beauty sleep, he didn't get much on that damned ship. Finding a shady tree a ways away from camp he settled on the ground to sleep, but before he could even close his eye an arrow can flying in his direction. He let out a (manly) scream. He heard a rustle in the bushes; he scrambled to get his sword. Out of the bushes came a small figure, dressed in a hooded cape with the most atrocious hair, grabbed the arrow and tried to walk away. He grabbed on to the figures hood and pulled, making the child fall.

"What was that for?" the child screamed glaring at Francis.

"For attacking me, vous mioche!" Francis glared

"What does vu myoshe mean?" the child asked, big green eyes getting even bigger.

"It means 'you little brat'." Francis stated, unintentionally smiling at the little one. The child frowned.

"What is your name little one?" Francis inquired.

"I'm England!" The chilled said with a smile. Francis looked down somewhat amazed. This little thing was England?

"Who're you?" The child asked.

"I am the human personification of the great nation of France. You can call me Francis." Francis said bowing, now just about face to face to England.

"Oh, well I should get going. Big brother Fang said not to talk to that 'queer ol' frenchmen' if he ever comes by. So, Bye!" The child shouted back happily and ran away with his arrow. Francis looked toward the retreating figure shocked.

'That definitely sounds like Ecosse.' He thought. He Frowned, shook his head, and turned away to go back to camp.

- The Next Day -

Francis was now face to face with a glaring England, who was pushing dark blonde bangs away from his face.

"What do you want frog?" England said. Francis gave him a weird look, as he watched small hands messing with unruly hair.

"Frog?" Francis asked taken aback..

"Well?" England shouted, giving Francis, in his opinion, a venomous glare.

"I was wondering if you'd like me to help you with that hair of yours." Francis stated.

"What's wrong with my hair!" England asked, grabbing onto his locks.

"It is obviously in your way mon ami. I could cut it for you" Francis said kneeling down to the boy's eye level.

"My big brothers said not to though." The young boy stated.

"Well it is your decision mon ami. You would look much better with shorter hair though." Francis stated.

"Really? Well . . . ok!" England said happily.

"Good choice Angleterre." Francis said smiling. He settled the young boy in front of him and took the scissors that were in his bag and started snipping away.

- A few minutes later -

"Done!" Francis yelled feeling accomplished. He took out a mirror from his bag and let the young boy see himself.

"What do you think?" Francis asked. The young boy's fingers grabbed onto the mirror.

"It's wonderful! I gotta show big brother." England screamed getting up and running away.

"Thank you!" England called back.

Francis smiled to himself and packed up.

- The Next Day -

Francis was sitting near the tree he met England at thinking about the young lad.

Francis then heard rather loud stomping and cursing. Then all of the sudden he was face to face with Ecosse, who was holding young Angleterre, whose face was buried in Ecosses' shoulder and Irlande, Irlande du Norde and Pays de Gales, all looking very angry. Fang grabbed Francis's' collar and pulled him to stand up.

"What did you do to Abigail!" Fang yelled in Fances' face.

"What are you talking about? Who is Abigail?" Franics asked confused. In all his time on earth he never met anyone named Abigail.

"This would be Abigail." Fang said as they all pointed to Angleterre, glaring.

"Angleterre, you're a girl?" Francis asked confused. He stared at the young figure who slowly turned her head toward him.

"Mmm hmm I'm sorry I thought you knew." Abigail said making a noise of confirmation and nodding, jumping off Scotland.

"I'm sorry I cut off your hair." Francis said kneeling down and grabbing her small hand.

"It's alright. If you like it then I like it" She said giving him a small smile, blushing. Francis leaned in and kissed her forehead and gave her a smile, her brothers were appalled. Abigail fell to the ground, a dazed look on her face. Her brothers decided to jump in.

"She's to young to be thinking bout' boys . . ." Fang began.

"Besides her brothers. You damn pervert! Patrick and Paul finished. The three oldest advanced towards Francis a murderous aura around them, looking at him with glares that promised pain.

Pervert! C'mon let's wash his icky germs off ya." Wales said tugging up Abigail and leading her towards home.

"And that mon Matthew is how I met . . ." He cut himself off. The storm was long gone and Matthew had been lulled to sleep. The story might have put Matthew at peace but he was missing his Angleterre even more. It doesn't seem like a bad time to make a surprise visit to his island girl and end their stupid fight. Francis fell asleep with a plan to do just that.

****-**** The End****-****

So how was that? Cute right? Hope you enjoyed it. I like to write fluff. Can you tell? Any thanks for reading and please review!


Please excuse the probably wrong translations of incorrect use. I do not speak any of the languages included into these fics . . .

Ecosse = Scotland

vous mioche = you little brat

mon ami = my friend

Angleterre = England

Irlande = Ireland

Irlande du Norde = North Ireland

Pays de Gales = Wales

Quel est le problème? = What is the problem?

tu es reveille? = You awake?