"Transparent" - Axis Powers Hetalia fic
Title: Transparent
Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
Rating: PG?
Summary: Matthew's always felt transparent around Francis.
Matthew slowly opened his eyes, finding the room much too bright. Where the hell am I, anyway? He turned away from the window and covered his head with the soft blankets.
The previous night wasn’t quite there in his memory. Francis had invited him to another one of his fancy parties- why do I even bother going to them anymore? He thought. To be polite? No, because I’m head-over-heels and I seem to enjoy suffering through it. Fuck.
It’d started off like all the other parties he’d gone to. He’d arrived, nobody had noticed. The fact that Francis himself hadn’t even bothered to say hello made him feel worse than usual, too. Every time he saw the Frenchman, Matt’s stomach flipped over and coherent thoughts and sentences became impossible to create- let alone if he made contact with him. Matt felt as if he’d had holes burned into his skin when Francis touched him- even shook his hand. He was sorta like a father figure to him, but… he wasn’t always with him, like Arthur had been. So it wasn’t that weird, was it?
It doesn’t matter if it’s weird or not if your competition is the whole goddamn world, he told himself, hugging his pillow to his chest. His head throbbed, and he felt oddly sore all over. Then there was the issue of not knowing where he was. He shut his eyes tightly and groaned.
There was a knock at the door. He grumbled into the pillow again and kept his head covered as the door opened, sending more light into the room.
“Mathieu, you cannot sleep all day!” rang Francis’ much-too-loud voice. Matt’s heart felt as if it just leapt into his throat. Of all the places he could have stayed!
“Nghhhhh.”
“Nghhhhh is not a word, mon petit…” Francis pulled the comforter from Matt’s bed, and he groaned in protest.
“Head hurts. Body hurts.”
“Well, what do you expect?” Francis laughed, sitting the younger nation up and inspecting him, unbuttoning his pajama shirt. “Mathieu, you are a horrible, horrible drunk… oh, what a horrid bruise! Ah, you do not pick your battles well…”
“F-Francis, s-stop!” croaked Matt, blushing as he tried to push Francis away. “Where’d I get all these bruises?”
“Little drunk Mathieu does not understand that Ivan is not one to argue with, hm? You’re quite lucky.”
“Oww… Lucky, my ass.” Francis only grinned at him and ruffled his hair. Great, thought Matthew. Not only am I competing against the world for his affections, he still treats me like I’m a kid.
“Would you like me to look at that, too?”
“F-Francis!” squawked Matt, pulling his shirt closed. Wait, didn’t that party have a formal dress code?
“There are crepes in the dining room,” whispered Francis, and Matt’s worries about his clothes disappeared.
“You know that would’ve woke me up,” smiled Matthew, buttoning his shirt quickly and crawling out of the soft bed. He walked down the hallway, covering his eyes from the light coming in the large windows as he followed behind his host. He loved Francis’ house- it was familiar and strange all at once, since he didn’t go there as often as he visited Arthur, but it was such a different feeling entirely. At Arthur’s he sat quietly sipping tea while he listened to complaints about his brother, nodding along sleepily, the way it’d always been. When he visited Francis, he longed to be swept off his feet- or at least asked to stay a little longer. As they entered the dining room, he wished even more to be asked to stay a little longer… it didn’t take long for him to dig into his late breakfast, now smothered in maple syrup.
Francis chuckled, reaching over and placing a small tablet beside his younger companion's plate. “Here... this will help with your headache.” Matthew swallowed the food in his mouth.
“Thanks. Um... was your party at least fun for you? I can't remember much from my end, really...”
“Oh, magnifique. So many guests... and Antonio and I happened to have a little fun of our own.”
Matthew set his fork down, his face red.
“D-Do we have to talk about stuff like that?” He asked, looking down at his plate, feeling a little nauseous. Maybe I shouldn't have eaten so quickly...
“You've never been bothered by it before,” Francis pointed out, raising an eyebrow. “Are you getting more shy, mon petit?”
“I'm not shy! I just don't want to hear about your stupid sexual conquests anymore!” Matt could feel his eyes burning as tears began to form. No, no, no, I can't cry in front of him! He looked down again, letting his hair fall in front of his face as his breathing got a little more heavy.
“You should've told me sooner, then, Mathieu.” Francis frowned. “My apologies. But... you didn't seem bothered before.”
“I wasn't,” muttered Matthew, a little louder than he'd intended to. He winced.
“And what is so different now, mon petit?” Francis questioned, gently resting his finger under Matt's chin and tilting it upward a little. Matthew shut his eyes tightly, a few tears leaking out. “Oh, don't be upset...” He could feel Francis patting at his eyes with a cloth napkin.
He'd done this before- Matt was only young then, and Alfred had pushed him down when they were playing outside. Matthew's knees were skinned and his breeches were scuffed and torn. Arthur and Francis had been talking inside, and while Arthur went to scold Alfred about playing nicely with other nations, Francis helped Matthew mend his wounds.
They'd been a lot simpler to mend then, too.
“N-Nothin's wrong,” Matthew mumbled, his voice quivering. Francis moved his hand away but slid his chair closer.
“You know I will get it out of you somehow, mon fils... Would it not be easier to simply tell me?” Francis held onto the younger nation's arm, watching him through his half-lidded eyes.
“I-I don't know, Francis, it's... it's weird.” Matt's head began to pound again, though not as hard as his heart was. He picked up the small pill from the table and swallowed it.
“What is weird is different for one than it is for another, non?”
“I guess so.” Matthew swallowed the lump in his throat. It was now or never, really. When would he have another opportunity like this? Francis was paying attention to him now, wanted to know now... But what if he said no? He wouldn't even be able to look at Francis without feeling embarrassed- not like he was any better now. But... what if he said yes?
“F-Francis...” stammered the Canadian, clearing his throat. “I think... er... I think... I think I'm in love with you.” Immediately his face flushed scarlet and he turned away swiftly, his hands shaking as he touched them to his face. Oh, god, I'm a sap too!
Francis' light grip on Matt's arm tightened a little, and he tugged on it.
“Mathieu.”
He hesitated, but slowly Matthew turned his head to look at the elder country. He was still smiling.
“I-I should get going home, eh? I-I think I have paperwork to do today, and my boss is probably--” He was cut off when Francis closed his mouth over his, a million thoughts bursting and swarming in Matt's head. He closed his eyes; Francis tasted vaguely like wine.
Matthew felt slightly dizzy when Francis pulled away. How long had that been?
“Uh, F-Francis?” choked Matthew. “What--”
“Of course I knew that, mon petit,” smiled Francis, stroking Matthew's hair. “I was only waiting for you to tell me so.”
“Wait-- you mean...” Matthew frowned. “You're kidding, right? I'm being serious!”
“Non, Mathieu.” He kissed him again, but on the cheek this time. “Je t'aime.” Matthew blushed, a broad smile stretching across his face.
“I don't know what to say, Francis-- um, can I ask how you kne--”
“Your breakfast is getting cold. You can ask me later, hm?” Francis' smile still made Matt's heart jump a little.
He supposed his boss could wait a while longer for him to come back.
Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
Rating: PG?
Summary: Matthew's always felt transparent around Francis.
Matthew slowly opened his eyes, finding the room much too bright. Where the hell am I, anyway? He turned away from the window and covered his head with the soft blankets.
The previous night wasn’t quite there in his memory. Francis had invited him to another one of his fancy parties- why do I even bother going to them anymore? He thought. To be polite? No, because I’m head-over-heels and I seem to enjoy suffering through it. Fuck.
It’d started off like all the other parties he’d gone to. He’d arrived, nobody had noticed. The fact that Francis himself hadn’t even bothered to say hello made him feel worse than usual, too. Every time he saw the Frenchman, Matt’s stomach flipped over and coherent thoughts and sentences became impossible to create- let alone if he made contact with him. Matt felt as if he’d had holes burned into his skin when Francis touched him- even shook his hand. He was sorta like a father figure to him, but… he wasn’t always with him, like Arthur had been. So it wasn’t that weird, was it?
It doesn’t matter if it’s weird or not if your competition is the whole goddamn world, he told himself, hugging his pillow to his chest. His head throbbed, and he felt oddly sore all over. Then there was the issue of not knowing where he was. He shut his eyes tightly and groaned.
There was a knock at the door. He grumbled into the pillow again and kept his head covered as the door opened, sending more light into the room.
“Mathieu, you cannot sleep all day!” rang Francis’ much-too-loud voice. Matt’s heart felt as if it just leapt into his throat. Of all the places he could have stayed!
“Nghhhhh.”
“Nghhhhh is not a word, mon petit…” Francis pulled the comforter from Matt’s bed, and he groaned in protest.
“Head hurts. Body hurts.”
“Well, what do you expect?” Francis laughed, sitting the younger nation up and inspecting him, unbuttoning his pajama shirt. “Mathieu, you are a horrible, horrible drunk… oh, what a horrid bruise! Ah, you do not pick your battles well…”
“F-Francis, s-stop!” croaked Matt, blushing as he tried to push Francis away. “Where’d I get all these bruises?”
“Little drunk Mathieu does not understand that Ivan is not one to argue with, hm? You’re quite lucky.”
“Oww… Lucky, my ass.” Francis only grinned at him and ruffled his hair. Great, thought Matthew. Not only am I competing against the world for his affections, he still treats me like I’m a kid.
“Would you like me to look at that, too?”
“F-Francis!” squawked Matt, pulling his shirt closed. Wait, didn’t that party have a formal dress code?
“There are crepes in the dining room,” whispered Francis, and Matt’s worries about his clothes disappeared.
“You know that would’ve woke me up,” smiled Matthew, buttoning his shirt quickly and crawling out of the soft bed. He walked down the hallway, covering his eyes from the light coming in the large windows as he followed behind his host. He loved Francis’ house- it was familiar and strange all at once, since he didn’t go there as often as he visited Arthur, but it was such a different feeling entirely. At Arthur’s he sat quietly sipping tea while he listened to complaints about his brother, nodding along sleepily, the way it’d always been. When he visited Francis, he longed to be swept off his feet- or at least asked to stay a little longer. As they entered the dining room, he wished even more to be asked to stay a little longer… it didn’t take long for him to dig into his late breakfast, now smothered in maple syrup.
Francis chuckled, reaching over and placing a small tablet beside his younger companion's plate. “Here... this will help with your headache.” Matthew swallowed the food in his mouth.
“Thanks. Um... was your party at least fun for you? I can't remember much from my end, really...”
“Oh, magnifique. So many guests... and Antonio and I happened to have a little fun of our own.”
Matthew set his fork down, his face red.
“D-Do we have to talk about stuff like that?” He asked, looking down at his plate, feeling a little nauseous. Maybe I shouldn't have eaten so quickly...
“You've never been bothered by it before,” Francis pointed out, raising an eyebrow. “Are you getting more shy, mon petit?”
“I'm not shy! I just don't want to hear about your stupid sexual conquests anymore!” Matt could feel his eyes burning as tears began to form. No, no, no, I can't cry in front of him! He looked down again, letting his hair fall in front of his face as his breathing got a little more heavy.
“You should've told me sooner, then, Mathieu.” Francis frowned. “My apologies. But... you didn't seem bothered before.”
“I wasn't,” muttered Matthew, a little louder than he'd intended to. He winced.
“And what is so different now, mon petit?” Francis questioned, gently resting his finger under Matt's chin and tilting it upward a little. Matthew shut his eyes tightly, a few tears leaking out. “Oh, don't be upset...” He could feel Francis patting at his eyes with a cloth napkin.
He'd done this before- Matt was only young then, and Alfred had pushed him down when they were playing outside. Matthew's knees were skinned and his breeches were scuffed and torn. Arthur and Francis had been talking inside, and while Arthur went to scold Alfred about playing nicely with other nations, Francis helped Matthew mend his wounds.
They'd been a lot simpler to mend then, too.
“N-Nothin's wrong,” Matthew mumbled, his voice quivering. Francis moved his hand away but slid his chair closer.
“You know I will get it out of you somehow, mon fils... Would it not be easier to simply tell me?” Francis held onto the younger nation's arm, watching him through his half-lidded eyes.
“I-I don't know, Francis, it's... it's weird.” Matt's head began to pound again, though not as hard as his heart was. He picked up the small pill from the table and swallowed it.
“What is weird is different for one than it is for another, non?”
“I guess so.” Matthew swallowed the lump in his throat. It was now or never, really. When would he have another opportunity like this? Francis was paying attention to him now, wanted to know now... But what if he said no? He wouldn't even be able to look at Francis without feeling embarrassed- not like he was any better now. But... what if he said yes?
“F-Francis...” stammered the Canadian, clearing his throat. “I think... er... I think... I think I'm in love with you.” Immediately his face flushed scarlet and he turned away swiftly, his hands shaking as he touched them to his face. Oh, god, I'm a sap too!
Francis' light grip on Matt's arm tightened a little, and he tugged on it.
“Mathieu.”
He hesitated, but slowly Matthew turned his head to look at the elder country. He was still smiling.
“I-I should get going home, eh? I-I think I have paperwork to do today, and my boss is probably--” He was cut off when Francis closed his mouth over his, a million thoughts bursting and swarming in Matt's head. He closed his eyes; Francis tasted vaguely like wine.
Matthew felt slightly dizzy when Francis pulled away. How long had that been?
“Uh, F-Francis?” choked Matthew. “What--”
“Of course I knew that, mon petit,” smiled Francis, stroking Matthew's hair. “I was only waiting for you to tell me so.”
“Wait-- you mean...” Matthew frowned. “You're kidding, right? I'm being serious!”
“Non, Mathieu.” He kissed him again, but on the cheek this time. “Je t'aime.” Matthew blushed, a broad smile stretching across his face.
“I don't know what to say, Francis-- um, can I ask how you kne--”
“Your breakfast is getting cold. You can ask me later, hm?” Francis' smile still made Matt's heart jump a little.
He supposed his boss could wait a while longer for him to come back.