Just a little drabble? One-shot? I'm not sure anymore. Just enjoy!

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Understood? Good, then don't bug me about it~!

The little Canadian laid in his bed, face buried securely in a pillow with his Canadian flag blanket pulled over his head. Maybe that would help him ignore the knocking at his door…or Kimajira…Kumahito…his tiny pet polar bear pawing at his head while saying who are you? to him.

"Ah! I give up!"

He quickly sat up in his bed, wavy blonde hair a total mess, and grabbed his glasses so that the dark wire frames outlined his violet-blue eyes like eyeliner would on a female. He grumbled quietly as he slide out of bed, wearing only black boxers and a giant red hockey jersey. He never was much of a morning person, so he neither cared nor bothered to figure out who was at his door as he made his way to the lower part of his log cabin and to the front door.

Grumbling quietly to himself, he opened his front door and glared at the man standing there. His blue eyes sparkled with amusement as he glanced down Matthew's outfit.

"Francis, how nice to see you, eh," the sarcasm barely audible in the soft voice.

"Oui, mon cher? I am very sorry to visit so early, but zhere 'as been somezing on my mind lately zat I just can not make leave," the French nation sounded both amused and troubled.

"Well, if you think I can help, then come in," Matthew stepped back to allow Francis to enter his home, which he eagerly did and follows the little Canadian as they made their way to a cozy kitchen with a bar and stools. To which Canada gestured for France to sit down on as he moved around the kitchen, making coffee and mixing pancake batter.

"So, what's wrong, Francis?," Mattie asked as he handed the older nation a tall mug containing a perfect pumpkin spice latte, having to talk around the toothpick he now had in his mouth.

Francis just stared at Matthew's mouth, watching as his tongue swirled around the toothpick then darted out to wet his lips.


The elder nation shook his head clear at the worried voice his former charge had, "I am sorry, mon cher. My mind iz….not 'ere…"

"It rarely is," Canada turned back to the stove with a smirk and flipped his orange and red pancakes before grabbing a pot and pouring fresh maple syrup into it, "So, where is your mind, then, eh?"

A long sigh left Francis' lips, "Well, I am finding myself attracted to someone I should not."

"A human or nation?"

"Une nation," there was a hint of sadness in the voice behind Matthew's back and he knew why, so he didn't press the issue.

"Male or female?"

A laugh, "Un garçon très mignon."

"Garçon ou un homme?"

"Pardonnez-moi, un homme," for the nation Francis had feelings for was indeed a grown man.

Matthew nodded as he added some pumpkin pie filling to the pot with maple syrup, which had started boiling, and added the pancakes to the growing stack of yummy pancakes he was keeping warm in the oven, "Why shouldn't you be attracted this man of a nation?"

"Because I know he does not feel ze same way 'as I do."

"Oh? You're sure of this, eh?"

"Oui, very sure."

"Then what does he feel for you?"

"Companionship, maybe, if anyzing at all."

As the pancakes finished cooking and the syrup mixed with the pumpkin, Matthew turned around to face his former parent. The man had his head lowered, his eyes staring into his coffee yet unfocused and unseeing. It was rare to see the Frenchman like this, so lost and sad.

"Francis," blue met violet as said man looked up and Matthew walked around the bar to where Francis sat then rested his hands on his cheeks, "Mon père aimant, pourquoi tu l'air si triste?"

Francis' breath caught in his throat and he swore his heart stopped for a bit before whispering his response, "Parce que, mon petit Canadienne, je t'aime, mais tu ne m'aimes pas."

A small smirk formed on Matthew's lips as he heard those whispered words then leaned in to whisper a few of his own into Francis' ear, "Don't be so sure of that, Francis."

The Frenchman stared in shock as the supposedly shy Canadian went back to the stove and made up two plates full of pancakes with pumpkin-maple syrup, but it soon turned into a small smile as he rested his chin on his hand.

So, yeah, this is my first Hetalia! fic and it sucks. I was gonna make it into a lemon and the plot was different, but then this was born and I didn't want to change it. So, review please, but don't flame. Also, totally not apologizing for how OOC Canada may seem. I like him when he has a bit of spunk.


Oui: yes

Mon cher: my dear

Une nation: a nation

Un garçon très mignon.: A very cute boy.

Garçon ou un homme?: A boy or a man?

Pardonnez-moi, un homme.: Forgive me, a man.

Francis, mon père aimant, pourquoi tu l'air si triste?: Francis, my loving father, why are you so sad?

Parce que, mon petit Canadienne, je t'aime, mais tu ne m'aimes pas.: Because, my little Canadian, I love you, but you don't love me.