I had this idea and was prompted to actually write it out by a friend of mine w it'll be a combo of FrUk and PruCan, cause there just isn't enough PruCan out there!
"Bonjour, bienvenue à 'un avant-goût du ciel,'" a blonde greeted with a cheerful smile. He had short sandy blonde hair with a stray curl on the right side and violet eyes hidden behind a pair of wire framed glasses. He wore a short sleeved button up shirt and black slacks, with a short black apron tied around his waist.
"English," another blonde man sighed. "Please, someone."
The first blonde giggled, "Hello Arthur, Alfred."
The third blonde, another one with glasses and big grin on his face, nudged the man he'd walked in with. "Lighten up, pops, honestly." He wore a brown pilot's jacket over his own button up and blue jeans. His blue eyes sparked as he looked back at the younger blonde. "How's it going, Mattie?"
"It's fine," Mattie answered. He picked up two menus from the greeter stand and walked back a bit. The other two followed him, one reluctantly.
Matthew Williams had just turned eighteen, and worked at his father's restaurant, A Taste of Heaven. Alfred Jones had been his friend all through high school; the self-proclaimed hero had defended the meeker boy from the school's bullies.
Alfred's father, Arthur Kirkland, was still dressed in his cop uniform, his hands stuffed in his pockets. He was a temperamental English man with green eyes and larger eyebrows. He had known Matthew's father in school, and reluctantly kept in touch.
Matthew seated them in a booth near the back, "Usual drinks?"
"Yep," Alfred answered, sitting across from his father. "Thanks Mattie."
Matthew smiled and walked back into the kitchen. "Papa," he called.
"Over here, mon petit," his father replied, standing over a stove that was in the kitchen.
"Alfred and Arthur are here," Matthew said, coming to stand by the man.
Francis Bonnefoy was taller than his son with longer blonde hair that was tied back with a satin ribbon. He had soft blue eyes and a deep voice that was thick with his French accent. He brightened at the mention of the green eyed cop.
"Vraiment? Mon Angleterre?" he smiled.
Matthew giggled, "Oui, papa. He looks to have just gotten off work."
"Ah, than mon amour will not be in a good mood," Francis chuckled. It was no secret that he was in love with the cop, but said cop didn't usually appreciate the French man's flirting. "I'm almost done with this, then I'll take their drinks to them."
Matthew nodded, "Just don't make him throw the cup at you again."
Francis chuckled again, plating the food he'd been making. Matthew put the food on a carrying tray and brought it out to the table while his father attended the blondes.
Matthew carried the tray across to another table that also had some familiar faces. Brothers Gilbert and Ludwig Beilschmidt sat across from each other, speaking in quick German that Matthew had stopped trying to understand.
Gilbert cut his brother off as he greeted, "Hey again Birdie."
Matthew rolled his eyes to himself as he set the plates down in front of them. He saw the look Ludwig shot his older brother. Ludwig was another classmate of Matthew's. He was only a year older than him, but his boyfriend was Matthew's age. He was another blonde with slicked back hair and blue eyes.
Gilbert was an odd one with white hair and red eyes. He was a friend of Francis, having met while they were out at a bar with their own respective groups. Matthew didn't understand the albino, but he couldn't help but blush almost every time he was around. The man was weird, but his smile was something Matthew looked forward to seeing often.
"He has a name, brother," Ludwig said, his own accent thick.
Gilbert looked at him, "What, you think the awesome me doesn't know that? I know his name. I just like to call him Birdie."
Matthew didn't really mind it. He was used to it. He blushed when Gilbert turned to him with a wide grin, "You don't mind it, do ya Birdie?"
Matthew shook his head, a little quick. "E-Excuse me," he said, turning back to the kitchen. He didn't notice Gilbert watch him walk off.
Ludwig shook his head, "You're so obvious."
"Why don't you just ask him out?" Ludwig asked. He knew that Mattie, for some reason, liked his brother as much as his brother liked him.
Gilbert shook his head, "I can't. You know how un-awesome it would be to ask my friend's son out?"
It was Ludwig's turn to roll his eyes. His brother was hopeless.
Matthew saw his father at Alfred and Arthur's table. Alfred was trying really hard not to bust up laughing as Francis flirted and tried to get Arthur to agree to go on a date with him. Matthew smiled a bit as he walked up to his friend.
"Frog, if you ask one more time, I'll shove my baton where the sun doesn't shine," Arthur threatened, his glare in place as he had a hand on the teacup Francis had brought him.
"Come now, Angleterre," Francis said. He leaned a little closer to Arthur's ear, "Wouldn't it have to be the other way around?"
Alfred did laugh at how beet red Arthur's face got. Arthur smacked Francis upside the head. Francis only laughed.
"Papa," Matthew sighed.
Francis's laughter calmed, "Je suis désolé, mon cher. I will go and cook your dinner."
"Tch, stupid frog," Arthur muttered as Francis ruffled Matthew's hair as he passed. Matthew smiled to the two of them before walking around the other tables.
A Taste of Heaven was a small, almost hole-in-the-wall restaurant. Francis was the only cook, and Matthew and sometimes Alfred worked the seating area. It was painted with warm red colors, with burgundy tablecloths and seats. There were a fake candles and a vase of roses in the center of each table, and the chandeliers above were meant to be like candles as well.
It was always comforting to Matthew to be there every day. It smelled of his father's cooking, and the roses were also a welcomed scent. It was warm, inviting. It was home to them. A home away from home, this place meant everything to both of them.
Arthur looked around from his seat as he and Alfred waited for Francis to bring out their food. He knew it would be him instead of Mattie since the French man never passed up on an opportunity to talk to him.
"What's up?" Alfred asked, noticing how quiet his dad had gotten.
"I'm just wondering. . ."
"Wondering what, Angleterre?" Francis asked, scaring Arthur who hadn't seen him coming.
Arthur growled at him, "Don't do that!" He muttered to himself as Francis set the food down in front of them. Alfred happily thanked him and dug into his specially made hamburger, Francis style. "Hey Frog."
"Hm?" Francis looked at Arthur.
"Should the place be this empty?" Arthur asked, looking around again. Beside himself and Alfred, and the German brothers, there were two other tables filled with people. Even for the small place, that wasn't a lot.
Arthur looked up at Francis and caught to sad look the man had as he looked around himself, before it was covered in his usual cheerful smile. "It is fine, mon cher. It is a bit of a slow night for us."
Arthur didn't believe him, but Francis had excused himself before he could say anything more. He watched the man go.
"What was that about?" Alfred asked, surprised that Francis had left them alone so soon. Matthew usually had to drag him off so they could eat in peace.
Arthur didn't answer, partially glaring at Francis's back as he walked through the kitchen door. Alfred looked at him when he didn't get an answer, then shrugged and returned his attentions to his burger.
Yay! First chapter done! XP I'll work on updating this as much as I can, I know I've been slacking off on my other stories ^ ^; I'll get to them. . . Eventually. . .
Bonjour, bienvenue à 'un avant-goût du ciel- Hello, welcome to A Taste of Heaven
mon petit- my little one
Vraiment? Mon Angleterre?- Really? My England?
mon amour- my love
Je suis désolé, mon cher- I'm sorry, my dear.
Mon cher- my dear