A/N: Truth be told, I'm not a real fan of France, but a friend of mine got me totally obsessed with the idea of pairing him up with cute little Canada (even if it is just this once ^^).

WARNING: This story contains male/male erotic material (thus rated M) in the pairing Franada (France and Canada) with mild RusCan (Russia and Canada.)

New Attitude

a Hetalia fanfic

by: SabyCat

Matthew smelled the reek of perfume and cologne before he even entered Francis' country estate, but he thought nothing of it, Francis did love the aromas with a passion. He made his way down the extravagant halls, lined with priceless paintings and statues to a room that he was all too familiar with, Francis' bedroom. The Canadian cracked open the door shyly, after all he had come unannounced and didn't really have a special occasion to be there in the first place, he just really wanted to see Francis again and thank him for taking him to dinner the other day. From the slight opening in the door, laughter and more perfume spilled out into the hall and Matthew had to suppress a cough. Inside the room, Francis lay in the center of his bed, clothed only in a silk robe, with a total of six women touching and pawing at him. The women had finely crafted faces and expensive garments that hung loosely off their very developed bodies. Matthew had begun to subconsciously grip at the hem of his shirt. His skin had gone cold as boisterous laughter echoed about the room and into the halls.

The Canadian felt as if a needle had plunged itself into his chest as one of the women crawled up into the Frenchman's lap, before Matthew could stop himself he quickly stepped into the room. Francis greeted him with a bit of a surprised smile. The women looked at Matthew warily before following Francis' mood and smiling as well.

"He's so cute!" one of the women exclaimed. Another rose from her place under Francis' arm to get a closer look at him. She approached him and leaned forward, showing off her cleavage, possibly intentionally.

"He looks so young, is he some cousin of yours?"

"Oh, no. This is my good friend from Canada." Francis said with amusement in his voice. His words seemed to cut into Matthew's skin in cold lashes. A friend? After all the time they had been together, after all the times Francis had said that he loved him, he was still only considered another one of his friends? Matthew could only stare at the French-man as something in his chest seemed to crack.

"He is adorable!" the woman before him squealed as she reached out a hand to touch his face. Matthew flinched back as his body began to tense and a chill rushed over his frozen skin. With one last pained look toward the bed, he bolted out of the room.

"And shy too." the woman giggled and returned to the bed to snuggle back under Francis' arm. Francis continued to smile and compliment the ladies as they failed to notice how painfully tight he was gritting his teeth.

Matthew laid in his bed, curled up in a big warm blanket and surrounded by pillows, as he held on tightly to his soft teddy bear. Daylight peeked through the windows, despite the thick curtains, making him turn over so he could inch back into the shadows and possibly get some sleep.

It had been a few days since Matthew had walked in on Francis' little party. Matthew knew damn well that the French-man was a flirt and a pervert, but he still didn't expect to really see him like that just the day after they had gone out for a date. The pain of the needle that had pierced into his chest returned and it seemed as though the deadly metal had directed its point to be just a hair away from his sorrowful heart. All of the sudden the door slammed open.

"Hey Bro!" Yelled a familiar voice as it shook the room. The Canadian grimaced as Alfred, his older brother, bounded into the room and flopped on the bed next to him. Grabbing his shoulder he shook the Canadian. "Bro! Are you up? Come on let's go to McDonald's together!" It was then that the American decided to read the room's atmosphere. "Man, it's really dark in here. Are you like turning into a vampire or something?" Tears came faster to Matthew's eyes then he could counter, Francis always loved to believe he was some type of vampire. Stupid, stupid Francis. Matthew threw the teddy bear he had held straight at the American's face.

"Stupid brother! Go away! And no I don't want to go to that fattening place!" he yelled, but it came out way softer then he thought it would. He curled back under the covers while silently cursing his soft-spoken voice. Alfred looked at the mound of blankets and stuffed animals and smiled knowingly.

"Did you get dumped?" Matthew didn't answer, but curled up even more. "Well there really is only way to get over someone. And that's..." he violently ripped the covers off the bed and grabbed Matthew, throwing him over his shoulder. "to go back out there, and come with me to McDonald's."

"No way! You just want me to go with you!" Matthew thrashed hopelessly as he was dragged out of his dark room.

Matthew sipped at his soda straw half-heartedly as he slumped over the McDonald's table. His eyes burned slightly from crying so hard all night, and he felt as if he had been hit by a car. In front of him, Alfred was too busy scarfing on fries and burgers to notice his depression, Matthew sighed. Why the heck was he out here? He didn't really want to be in the sunlight, but surprisingly he was starting to feel better. Matthew rose his eyes from his drink to skim over the table, even more surprising than that, was that Kiku Honda, who was such a kind and polite man, had decided to go with them. Between Alfred's scarfing the Canadian leaned forward and whispered to the Japanese man.

"Um, not to be rude, but why did you actually want to come here?" the Japanese man looked at him with withdrawn brown eyes, but then to Matthew's grand surprise, he smiled.

"He makes a dull day interesting."

That's what the Japanese man had said before telling him the he would distract Alfred so that Matthew could make a quick escape. Now Matthew had walked back home, but he really wasn't ready to go directly home yet, and back to his depressing room. Instead, he paced through his homeland where snow had made a thick blanket on the ground, he pulled his thick winter jacket close and walked on to somewhere he knew would make him feel better.

The ice-rink was empty, after all there was no real need for it when the lakes outside were frozen solid, even the small food shops had moved to fit the demands. Matthew laced up his ice-skates, and trading his fluffy jacket for hockey equipment, headed out onto the ice. Waiting for him, was someone he definitely did not expect to see.

"I-Ivan Braginski!? What are you doing here?" Matthew was completely confused, was he looking for Alfred and just happened to get lost?

"I delivered a package to your brother earlier and decided to come by." He smiled at the Canadian as he skated a little closer, his scarf flowing behind him.

"Um, I'm flattered, but why?"

"To play of course." Ivan rose his hockey stick into view, all the while keeping his face calm and gentle. This made the Canadian smirk.

"Still about 1972*? Well alright, I'll take you on."

Skates ripped apart the ice as weapons and bodies clashed together at a near bone-shattering strength. The two men raced along the ice after the puck as if it were life or death and both definitely seemed ready to kill one another. After Matthew had stolen the puck with his greater speed and agility, over Ivan's strength and controlled rage, he raced towards the goal. As he was just about to score a force hit him in the shoulder making him topple over and hit the ice, back first. The Russian then smoothly took the puck and knocked it right into the goal on the opposite side of the rink, thus winning their little scrimmage.

"Well, you've gotten stronger."

"Da." the Russian continued to smile as he stretched out a hand to the Canadian.

"Still doesn't change 1972." Ivan shrugged and pulled Matthew to his feet. The both of them skated to the edge of the rink and went to sit on a bench.

"So, why did you come here today?"

"You were here when I arrived, it's safe to assume that you already know." the Canadian shrugged with a faint smile.

"Da, but it is always nice to hear people tell me information in person." Matthew looked sideways at the Russian who smiled at him. Behind that smile was a world of mysteries, but Matthew could tell that Ivan was, for the most part, generally concerned. Matthew sighed; telling someone would probably make him feel better, even if just for a little while.

"Francis cheated on me, for about the hundredth time." Matthew leaned against the back of the bench and looked at the ice-rink absently. "I went to see him the day after we went out on a date, and there he was, covered in women. Again. I mean, I know he's a flirt with a wandering eye, but in front of all those women, he just seemed to recognize me as another one of his sex-friends. I still can't believe I'm sulking."

"He doesn't deserve it?"

"Absolutely not." Matthew laughed slightly, despite the tears that threatened at the back of his eyes.

"He doesn't deserve you?" Matthew shook his head as he smiled at the ground. "Good. At least you know that. Now tell me what you are really depressed about."

"Even though I shouldn't, I still do love him and I-I'm still afraid that he is just going to forget about me like almost everyone else has. I don't want to become invisible to him, but I do not want to become like one of those desperate women that always chase after him." Matthew put a hand to his face, but the Russian leaned forward and pulled it away.

"Then why not have him chase you?" Matthew was about to ask what he was talking about when Ivan pulled him, by the waist, over him to straddle his lap. Matthew's face went completely red as he struggled to move away, but the Russian's grip held him in place.

"Wh-what are you do-"

"You are much stronger than you look," Ivan's amethyst eyes peered into Matthew "but you hide it with your shy demeanor." Ivan slid a hand under Matthew's shirt and under-armor to take a hold on his bare hip, making Matthew shiver at the cold skin contact. "Francis deals with shy girls and shameless women all day long, but to have a strong and confident partner is rare for him. You have to make him want you as the rarity that you are, then he will chase after you like a madman." With the other hand, Ivan reached up and removed Matthew's glasses, placing them down on the bench. "I will help you practice."


"Da." he leaned forward with a smile and brought his lips to Matthew's.

Matthew touched his lips with gentle fingers as he stared into his bathroom mirror. His hair was a bit tousled and his face was still pink, but his lips glimmered a nearly cherry red as they held the experience that the Russian had given him. They had not had sex... Matthew wasn't like that, but they did have an ice melting make-out session in the ice-rink benches.

"Show confidence and not only will the women notice, but that flashy man will notice you as not a toy, but irresistible territory. Let's play a real game of hockey soon, da?" was the last thing Ivan had told him before going off to find someone named... Feliks?

Now Matthew stood in his bathroom dressed in a smooth black casual suit with no tie, and the top button of his white shirt undone. For finishing touches, Matthew removed his glasses and set them down next to the sink, then he brought his shoulder-length, blonde, wavy hair back and out of his face with a ribbon. With one last look in the mirror, he dusted off his shoulders and turned on his heel to leave. This would be his last attempt for not Francis' body, but his love.

End of Chapter One

A/N: Well this is my second story on here and I just love boosting people's confidence, so it's a win/win, yay :) The next chapter should be posted soon, so stay tuned ;D

*1972: in 1972, the Summit Series, the Canadian male hockey team went against the Soviet Union team in a best out of eight game. In the last game, Canada won in overtime. (haha I totally didn't expect that, but woo Canadians)

*Feliks: that's Poland ;D