You were standing in the kitchen, making your lunch, when you felt two hands grab your waist and a chest against your back. You sigh. "I wonder who that could be," you mumble sarcastically.
"Bonjour, mon amour~" the Frenchman whispers in your ear.
"I'm not your love, Francis." You sigh again and grab your sandwhich, walking towards the door.
He pulls you back into his chest, hands still on your waist. "Leaving so soon~?" he teases.
"I want to go watch TV," you say bluntly.
You felt his hand snake down lower. "Don't even try," you growl. "Try what~?"
You pull away and face him. "Don't touch me inappropriatly. It's not exactly how you charm a lady."
He looks at you and grins. "I beg to differ," he says. You shot him a look. "What is it going for you to like moi~?" he pouts.
You scoff. "A miracle." You walk out, sandwhich in hand.
-Later-
You sat in front of the TV having been there for about four hours watching (favorite show besides Hetalia). "I need to make dinner," you groan. "But I don't want to get up."
"_______~!" you hear a familiar voice call your name.
"What?!" you yelled back at Francis.
"Come here~!"
"Why?!"
"Sil vous plait, mon ange~!"
You groan and get up. "I'm not your angel!" you yell, walking to the door. You see a pathway of petals leading to somewhere. "What the heck is this?" you mumble. You follow the rose petals and see Francis standing in what looks like a suit. Besides him is a table ornately set with food, candles, and yet more rose petals.
"Francis...what is this?" you ask, genuinely shocked.
"Dinner," he says, smiling. "You like?"
You nod, smiling a little. "No one has ever done this for me..."
He holds out his arm for you to take. You hesitantly take it and he leads you over to your seat. He pulls out the chair and you sit down as he pushes you in.
As he walks over to his seat, you say, "Wow Francis! You actually know how to act like a gentleman!"
"But of course," he replies, sitting down.
You look down at the food. "Wow. The food looks delicious!" you complimant.
"Go ahead. Eat~," Francis urges.
You take a bite; deciding it was good, you continued to eat. Halfway through, you started to feel ditsy and couldn't sit upright. "Fr-Francis," you mumble.
He smirks at you. "You've never had wine before, have you?" he asks.
You wake up the next morning, naked and in Francis' bed with him curled up beside you. Slowly you figure out the events of the night before and send a swift quick kick into Francis' vital regions. "Pervert," you mutter, walking out, leaving him groaning in pain.
