Disclaimer- I do not own Hetalia or any of the characters in this.
This fiction takes place soon after the signing of the Treaty of Versailles in 1756
The wedding had ended uneventfully. We had agreed beforehand that we would spend our so-called 'honeymoon' at the Frenchman's house, which is where I was now. I had located a secluded room in the house and standing at the window and taking in the view of the scenery. Although sun was just setting over the grounds of the mansion, I could still tell the property was rather expansive. The gardens were kept well groomed and orderly, and it happened to be very aesthetically appealing. In all honesty it wasn't much different from my own home outside of Vienna.
I left the window and leaned myself against a wall, facing the opposite direction, towards the room itself. The room, which I assumed to be a guest room, was neatly arranged, and the light color of the walls reflected the natural light from the window, giving the room a more open look. I was mulling over the day's events in my mind. I really would have rather not married Francis. We had what I considered to be a less than civil history in recent years past. But I had no choice. I had come to terms with this fact not long after I was informed of the impending marriage.
This being my second marriage, I had an idea of what to expect during the actual wedding. Although I did have to admit Francis had a rather different personality than the partner from my first marriage, so I was expecting a totally different experience where the functions of the actual marriage were involved. Still I planned to ignore the Frenchman for as long as possible. I would go about my days without giving him any more attention than I had before the wedding. I didn't want to be married to him, so it seemed rather illogical for me to act like I did or for me to give him any sort of special attention. It occurred to me that we would probably have to live together through the duration of our union, but I figured I could still do my best to ignore him even if we were in the same house.
A knock at the old-fashioned oak wood door interrupted my thoughts. I walked to the door quickly, but opened it slowly. Francis stood on the other side. "I'm not trying to be rude, but unless you truly need my assistance with something I would prefer not to be pestered at the moment."
"I don't need your assistance with anything. I just thought you would like to know where your bed chambers are located. I didn't think you would appreciate sleeping together in a bed with me until we get to know each other better, so I had a room prepared for you. I figured you might prefer to sulk in there instead of here."
I opened the door and stepped out of the room into the hallway. "I was not sulking. And you didn't have to come find me, either." In honesty, though, I was glad he had. I had gotten some-what turned around in the process of finding a suitable place for my 'sulking,' and I was unsure if I would be able to find my way back to the main region of the house.
He nodded. "Of course you weren't, Roderich." Francis then laced his fingers in mine and led me down the hall. We ventured up a flight of stairs and around some corners before he stopped outside of a door and said, "Here. My room is right down the hall if you need anything. Feel free to venture about but please try not to get lost. I don't have the time to go searching for you every time your poor navigation skills make an appearance."
His smile had indicated a joking tone, but I chose to act offended by the joke. I opened the door and, stepping into the room, snapped "Good night, Francis," and let the door slam in his face.
I glanced around the room. It was much larger than the one I had been in downstairs. The walls were a light cream color that accented the dark wood floors. The room was lightly furnished. A small chest of drawers and an arm chair were the only other pieces of furniture besides the main focal point of the room- an entirely-too-large bed in the center dressed in dark indigo sheets.
I hadn't taken note of the time, but I was certain it was too early to sleep based on the degree of lighting outside. The sun was no longer visible, but it wasn't fully dark yet either. Even still I figured I'd draw the curtains and attempt to sleep anyway, for I was rather tired. As it happened, it would be hours before I actually fell asleep.
I woke up the next morning from one of the worst nights of sleep I had ever had. I sat up in bed and ran my hand over the bedspread. Silk? I figured Francis must have taken a careful attention to detail during the decoration of the room.
I slid out from underneath the sheets and wandered over to the dresser where I had placed my glasses. After putting them on, I inspected the contents of the dresser. Settling on a lavender button-down and black slacks, I dressed myself. Figuring I couldn't stay locked in the room all day, I decided to go find Francis. I made up my mind that I would ask him about attending Mass. It was Sunday, after all. I would simply ask for directions to the nearest cathedral.
I made my way to the door, but before leaving the room I noticed a piece of white paper had been slid under. I picked it up and read-
"Roderich, would you do me the honors of joining me for breakfast?
It was written neatly in blue ink. I flipped the paper over to find a hand-drawn map of the floor plans of the house.
I made my way downstairs and into the kitchen to find Francis standing at a stove in an apron. He turned around upon my entrance and greeted me with, "Bonjour, Roderich."
I nodded. "Guten morgen. And what are you preparing for breakfast?"
"I already made everything, I was just waiting for you. Croissants with homemade jam and a side of fresh fruit." Francis held a plate out to me containing the dish he had just described. "Taste."
I lifted the bread roll and took a small bite. "It's very good, Francis."
He smiled. "I hope you don't mind if we don't use the dinning room for breakfast." He indicated a small table at the end of the kitchen.
"Not at all." I motioned for the Frenchman to lead the way. He reached the table and pulled out a chair, inviting me to sit. Once we were both at the table I spoke. "Francis, I've been meaning to ask you. Is there by any chance a church near by?"
He smiled and said, "Oh, plenty. Have you any idea how close to Paris we are, my dear?"
I ignored the term of endearment. "No. I hadn't realized. I haven't spent much time in France, my knowledge of the geography is not up to par."
"But why do you ask? Are you a very religious person, Roderich."
I thought religion not a suitable thing to be discussing over morning breakfast, but since I had brought the topic up, I answered anyway. "Not entirely so. Although I consider myself Catholic and do rather enjoy going to Mass every so often."
Francis nodded. "I'm the same way, although there are some values of Catholicism I don't entirely agree with. It's still quite early in the morning. If we leave now we can make it before the service starts."
"I don't want to go today." I had realized it as he was speaking. "I'd rather… Stay here locked in my room. The better for sulking."
Francis laughed. "No sir. If we are staying home all day then I'm not permitting you to spend it locked away upstairs."
I sighed. "I didn't think you would."
"Can we just spend the day together, please? I'm not asking you for anything romantic, I just want us to know each other better. I want to know who I'm married to."
"I don't see why. Why should we forge a relationship when we're just going to be forced apart?" I knew better than to think I was Francis's first marriage. I didn't think I should have to be explaining this to him.
"Just because we were forced to be married doesn't mean we can't enjoy it while it lasts. Roderich, all I'm asking for is one day to get to know you. If you're still bitter with me after today then that's fine, I'm not asking for you to like me. All I'm asking is for a conversation and some time."
I nodded and spoke slowly. "Okay. A conversation. Would you like me to help you clear the dishes?"
After breakfast had been cleared away, Francis had decided we would go for a walk through his gardens. I agreed, figuring the fresh air would be nice. He slipped his hand in mine as we were walking. "Franc-"
He looked at me and smiled. "It's so you don't get lost," he stated matter-of-factly.
"These jabs at my sense of direction are starting to wear on me." I tried to pull my hand away but he laced his fingers with mine and tightened his grip.
"Don't you mean your 'lack there of a sense of direction'?"
"You know what I mean." I wasn't at all amused by Francis's little jokes.
He realized my ill temperament and said, "Lighten up, Roderich. Life is more fun once you learn to take a joke." We had reached a massive lawn by that point. "What do you say we stop here for a while."
"I… My pants will get grass stains." The idea of sitting on the ground in the grass and dirt was less than appealing to me.
"They're black pants, Roderich. And besides, I bought them. Don't worry about them getting stained." I rolled my eyes and sat down next to him. "So, I want to know, are you so standoffish towards me because you're still upset about losing the war?"
My eyes snapped up to look at him. "No, Francis. I'm not still upset with you. I'm still upset with Gilbert and Antonio, but I never really cared enough about you to waste my energy being upset at you about it. And to make things clear, I'm not upset about losing, either. I'm upset about who I lost to."
Francis looked offended by my words. "That's a little harsh, don't you think? And in Tonio's defense, he left that war two years early because he couldn't stand fighting against you anymore. He really hated being in that war. I think if you would forgive him, you two might be able to end off with at least a close friendship, if nothing else. And as for Gil, he's just ambitious. You shouldn't be upset with him either, that sort of thing is just in his nature."
I wasn't surprised to hear Francis defending them. "Yes, Gilbert is ambitious alright. He's also arrogant and rude. Frankly, I don't want to talk about him right now. Change the subject."
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. Maybe this wasn't the best idea. We should go back to the house."
I nodded and took his hand again. I had no idea which way the house was.
Upon arriving at the house, I went upstairs and locked myself in my room despite Francis's earlier request. I sat down in the arm chair and thought about the events of the morning. The nerve of that man. Why did he even feel the need to bring it up? Maybe I was still a little bitter at him for it, but I certainly didn't blame him for any of it. Gilbert had started the war, Francis had almost nothing to do with it. I wasn't one to hold a grudge against someone who was blameless.
And then there was the talk about Antonio. I thought about what Francis had said about forgiving him. I wanted to. With all my heart, really, I wanted nothing more than to be able to forgive him. But I needed to move on, and forgiving him would mean bringing back memories and- ah- Emotions. Emotions I didn't want to feel anymore. I couldn't…
A knock at the door stopped me before I thought too far into it. What was with this guy and interrupting my thoughts. "Go away, Francis," I shouted at the door.
"Roderich, I know you're mad at me but I have something to show you. You don't have to come out right now if you don't want to, but when you're ready I'll be in the drawing room." I heard his footsteps carrying him away from the door.
I got up from the chair and opened the door. Peering down the hall at his back, I called "Francis?"
He turned around and spotted me, still in the doorway. "Still mad at me?" When I shook my head he smiled. "I am sorry, though. But come here, I have something I think you'd like to see." He extended an arm to me.
I walked down the hall and took his hand. "What is it?"
"You'll see. I just had it delivered from the city. I have a feeling it's something you'll enjoy." He led me downstairs onto the main level of the house. When we reached the drawing room, Francis bowed and waved his hand in the direction of a small upright piano in the corner of the room. "Now, it's nothing as spectacular as what you have at home, but I thought it would certainly be better than nothing."
I let go of his hand and made my way to the instrument. Sitting at the little bench, I tested out the sound. I expected such a small thing to not hold a tune very well, but I turned out to be pleasantly surprised at how accurate it was. I figured the hammers had been aligned recently. The weighted keys had just the right amount of give. I tapped out a soft melody, sending a cascade of notes spinning through the room, the reverb off the high ceilings only amplifying the sound. Bringing the improvised piece to a close, I turned around to look at Francis, who had been standing behind me. "Do you like it, Roderich? I know it's lower quality than what you're used to but…"
"Don't ask stupid questions. I love it."
Francis leaned down to be at eye-level with me. "I'm glad." He placed a hand behind my neck and pulled me into a kiss. It was short, but powerful all the same.
As soon as I felt his lips leave mine, I muttered "Danke."
"De rien." Francis took a step back, "You play beautifully. Much better than I ever could."
"You play?" I wasn't all that surprised. Most nations learn an instrument or two in their childhood, anyway.
"I used to. I've forget most of it by now." I couldn't tell if he was just being subtle or if he meant it.
"Maybe you'll remember if you try." I stood up from the bench and let him sit down. He looked a little reluctant but he started playing. The piece he played was one I didn't recognize. I figured it was by an obscure French composer. When he was finished I asked, "Are you trying to serenade me, Francis?"
"Well, that depends. Is it working?" He looked entertained at my reaction.
I nodded. "Very much so. I told you, you would remember."
"Yes, it seems you were right. Well, I had it delivered for you, so I won't keep you from playing any more. But it is getting to be evening now. Did you have anything particular in mind for dinner?"
"I'm sure anything you decide on will be wonderful." Francis nodded. I returned to the piano and played another tune as Francis left the room to go prepare dinner.
Night had fallen and I had gone back to my room, Francis to his. I was no laying awake in bed thinking about the events of the afternoon.
He kissed me. I let him kiss me. Why did I let him do that? Maybe I do want a relationship with him. Do I? I certainly want to feel his lips on mine again. That much I know. But I don't know if I should wait for him to come to me or if I should go demand what I want from him. He was right, I am standoffish. Maybe he won't come because he thinks I don't want it. But if I go to him will he think I want more than just a kiss? Do I want more than just a kiss?
My thoughts were racing. I came to the conclusion I wasn't going to get any sleep. I decided I would. I would go see him and demand he kiss me again.
I knocked on his bedroom door, and when he answered he was in a red plush bathrobe. "Roderich, I was just about to come see you." He motioned for me to come into the room. "Did you come because you realized you couldn't resist my marvelous French charm?"
"Hardly. It's simpler than that. I came for a good-night kiss. That is all." My pulse increased as I became nervous he would refuse.
Francis smiled and grabbed my wrist, pulling me close to him so he could kiss me. He broke the kiss and said, "Stay with me tonight, Roderich?"
"N-nein. I just wanted a kiss. I got that, so I would like to go back to my own room now, please."
"We can just kiss, then. My bed feels so lonely when I know I'm supposed to be sharing it with someone. We don't have to have sex, Roderich. I just want to be with you." His lips met mine again, and without breaking the kiss, he guided me to the bed, pulling me into his lap.
I pulled away from him. "What are you doing?"
"Just what you asked." He leaned back on the bed and pulled me down so I was laying on top of him.
"Damn you. Using my words against me." He dove in again, this time prying my mouth open with his tongue and exploring the newfound expanse. Our tongues danced for a while before I broke for air. It was then I noticed the sensation in my groin becoming unignorable. If I didn't voice my needs soon, the Frenchman would notice anyway. "Francis, it appears you've gotten me to a state of excitement." I ground my hips downward while I was speaking to produce pressure on my growing erection.
Francis nodded and started tugging my nightshirt over my head. Now shirtless, I sat up and kicked out of my undergarments. Francis did the same, removing his bathrobe, which he hadn't been wearing anything underneath. He then leaned in to kiss first my lips, then my neck, moving progressively lower to my chest. I leaned back so I was laying on the bed, granting the blond more access. He worked his way lower still, tracing patterns on my stomach with his tongue. He stopped short and glanced up at me as if he was asking permission. I nodded for him to continue. Francis gently enclosed my tip with his lips and toyed at the slit with his tongue. I couldn't help the sound that escaped my mouth; Francis was obviously very experienced with what he was doing. The more of me he took in, the tighter I gripped the blanket underneath me. I felt blood rush to my already-hard penis as soon as his head started bobbing. I stuttered, "Franc-is!"
He removed himself from the area. "Of course, we haven't even had any penetration yet. How rude of me." Francis then placed two fingers at my mouth. "Open."
I did as he told me, taking the fingers into my mouth and coating then sufficiently. Francis then used the fingers to stretch me out, taking his time in doing so. "That's good enough!" I didn't know how much longer I would last.
He chuckled. "So impatient." When he entered me, the pain was quickly replaced by pleasure as he wasted no time in locating my prostate. Developing a rhythm and a steady speed, he easily hit that spot with each thrust.
I didn't last all that long before I reached orgasm, with Francis not far behind. When he laid next to me afterwards, curling his body against mine, he kissed me on the forehead and whispered "you will stay with me tonight, won't you?"
I nodded. "Ja. I'll stay." I felt the Frenchman's breathing slow as he drifted off to sleep next to me. I had let him do exactly what I said I wouldn't. I couldn't sleep that night. My thoughts were much too conflicted.