( A HUGE THANK YOU TO LimeLightt AND Flamingo943 FOR THEIR HELP ON THIS STORY!! )
" Are you sure you're alright...? I just... I don't know, you've been acting weird these past few days..." Canada sat across the large oak table, his hands folded worriedly in his lap as his mother say across the table staring down at her crystal glass. He tapped his fingers uncomfortably on the table, watching with a quiet stare. The French woman sat as if she were dead, swirling the scarlet wine within her cup, oblivious to her son trying to catch her attention. Another few seconds passed and Canada cursed under his breath, standing up from his chair and waving a hand in front of his mother's face.
"Hellooooo-? Maman?" Canada raised his eyebrow, his frown deepening. He could obviously tell something was wrong, judging by how perplexed and tired France looked. A small clock on the other side of the room ticked on rhythm, adding to the Canadian's anxiety as he sat quietly, rubbing his sweaty palms. Something was off with his mom. She had been acting strangely for the past few days and even America, who was too mad to see straight, started to notice after she had lost a very special real gold necklace from her Revolution.
He knew everyone was prone to a slip-up once in a while but this was more than just a slip-up for his mother of all people. He swore that she would kill someone if they tried to do something as much as touch that necklace.
"Maman...what's going on? Please tell me, we're all worried!" Canada sighed, placing his hand on his mother's shoulders. France flinched slightly at his touch, her wine jumping from the glass, splattering against the table. " Oh my.. I'm sorry Canada, I just..." the female shook her head, placing the glass down on the table and staring blankly at the mess she had made.
"It's alright! I'll clean up the mess!" Canada rushed over to grab the satin napkin on his plate and wipe down the alcohol that started to drip onto the floor. France let out an exhausted sigh, running a hand through her tangled and knotted chocolate brown hair. She looked around the empty room for a few seconds, not remembering how she had even got there in the first place but knowing that it was late and she was tired.
"Now..," Canada took a seat on the wooden chair beside her, "Tell me everything... I'm listening! You have to explain what's happening to me or Aussie swears he's going to interrogate you with his spider. I know how you are with that thing..." the country chuckled lightly, gazing into France's weary plum eyes with suspicion.
" Yeah...Australia...There's nothing wrong my dear, I suppose I'm just tired. I had quite a long day and... I just need to sleep." she yawned, fighting the dull feeling in the back of her neck. Canada tilted his head slightly, a compassionate smile blooming on his face.
"Are you really that tired? I feel like there's something more to this...You're not usually this tired, are you feeling ill?" France crossed her arms, seemingly offended that he would say such a thing. Canada knew this was going to be a challenge, he knew where America got his stubbornness from now.
" I'm...I'm fine...Just...It's just—" she sniffed quietly, rubbing her eyes with fatigue. The Canadian across the table shifted uncomfortably and eyed her worriedly. "Do you want to go to the doctor? I could call dad if you need it, you know he would come home if he knew you were ill. Heck, he wouldn't even leave your side if you were sick. Remember that time you caught the measles and he refused to go anywhere? Let's just call him, maybe it will help you with...this." Canada waved his hand in a vague shape around France and pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, unlocking the home screen with a click.
France's eyes widened slightly as she snapped to attention and waved her hands in the air, almost frantic. Canada looked up slightly, his face twisted in confusion "No, no, let's just leave your father alone. I wouldn't want to bother him at this ungodly time and I'm sure he's working on something important. I don't want to be a burden to him. Really, dear, I'm fine, I swear. Just...I—" she stopped to sneeze, rubbing her nose gingerly. Her son was clearly not convinced.
Canada began to struggle to hide his concern as he leaned forward and placed his hand on her forehead, his eyes widening as he pulled his hand back. France blinked a few times, an awkward smile growing on her face as the Canadian processed what he felt.
"Mom! You're burning up! I think you might have a fever.." her son jumped to his feet, helping his mother up from her chair. " You need to get to bed! I'll-I'll call dad and get him to come home as soon as he can so we can get you checked out."
The Canadian was able to drag his mother a few steps before France planted her feet into the wooden floor, her pink slippers squeaking against the surface. Canada was jerked back slightly but stopped to stare at his mother with longing eyes. France let out a mildly annoyed sigh, her thick skin showing once more. " Alright, I'll make you a deal mon fils. I'll go to bed but in return, I ask you to not call your father. It would be a terrible annoyance for me to make him return home for something as small as a little fever. He has such an important job that needs much more attention than I do. I would never forgive myself. "
"But Maman...I—" Canada decided to drop the subject. He knew that France would feel guilty for making Britain come home early for any reason even if it was for her own health. She was just like that. His parents loved each other to death but often had a terrible feeling that they were weighing each other down. His mind screamed for him to do something more but he respected France and wouldn't go against her wishes. Of course, he had already decided that if the situation got worse, he would call his father if she liked it or not. His thoughts swirled around in his head for a few seconds, but he eventually let go of his mother's hand, pulling her into a huge bear hug.
"Alright...I'll be reading in my room. Call me if you need anything..." Canada bit his lip uncertainty, before giving France a slight nod and picking up the old worn-down book on the counter. France let out a relieved sigh, kissing her son on the cheek then heading down the hall, her slippers dragging on the cold wooden floor. The cold breeze brushed against her face as she walked closer to the half-open window, pulling it down all the way and locking it. The scent of rain lingered in the air as she stared out the window for a few seconds, thinking of her husband who was hundreds of miles away. Kicking off her slippers, the country slipped into bed, throwing the sheets to the edge. The longer she sat there staring at the ceiling with glossy eyes, the warmer the room felt.
She wiped the sweat from her face with a small sneeze as she changed her mind and pulled the silk covers closer to her face. Her dark brown hair was a tangled mess and her plum-colored eyes were bloodshot and droopy from the overall lack of sleep. Today had been quite a day, even for the mother who thought she had become accustomed to every challenge that was thrown at her. The country groaned quietly and shut her eyes, her face slowly sliding into the feather pillows.
She knew she didn't give herself enough credit, but she had been through two world wars, a revolution, raising four large world countries, helping her husband break away from the EU, and yet she could still barely make it through a normal day. Everything seemed to weigh heavy on her shoulders and France had to focus on giving each of her children her undivided attention at one point or another.
Australia was always back and forth jumping off the walls looking for a lost spider or two and New Zealand, his twin brother who was also his partner in crime. Those two were inseparable; the only thing different about them is their choice of a favorite animal. That never seemed to stop them from causing trouble anyway.
Canada had always been rather quiet, taking a liking to books and various arithmetic that his father had been teaching him for the past months. Despite his shyness, he always carried a smile and was known for his gentle yet firm personality. France also couldn't deny that he was a very big mama's boy and could be easily attached to her side. It had its advantages and disadvantages at times, but she enjoyed his company and could count on him to help around the house when his siblings were making a mess.
And finally, there was America. He was rather upset at her after being forced to rest for a few days after he had broken his right arm in a game of football a few weeks earlier. He had already gotten caught trying to leave the house when he heard a large group of friends was playing baseball for a tournament back home in New York. France was quick to catch onto him and drag him back from a train in Paris. She knew America was a bit of a wild child when he wanted, but he never truly seemed to be able to sit down and take a break, it was almost uncanny how similar he was to his father. Britain...Oh, Britain.
Last but certainly not least. Her love, her life, her everything. God, she missed the man. Not a day would go by when she wouldn't think of him. She loved Britain with all her heart and more. The two had known each other for a long, long, time, under many different names and flags throughout the years.
Thinking back on it she hated to admit that they once had despised each other beyond comprehension, yet now she couldn't imagine their lives without each other. All the bickering, all the fighting, all the tears, and blood just seemed to wash away in a moment of clarity between them. Not everything was forgiven and France could admit there were a few things the two needed to smooth out but she knew they could and would do it.
The Frenchwoman's throat burned with agony as she flipped around on the large bed, feeling the empty sheets beside her. She inhaled slowly, still smelling the lingering scent of honey and spiced apples on his pillow as the memory of his kiss floated across her mind.
Her clothes stuck to her sweaty skin as she turned once more, stomping over to the window and opening it up once more. A cold gust of air smashed against her skin as she sat back down, positioning herself to glance out the dark window that faced the night's city below. She always felt lonely when Britain left, although she knew this time it was for a good cause. He had left for Switzerland to discuss some business with other European allies and have a small "discussion" with the European Union to which he had just left but a decade ago.
France assumed he was just going to complain with the other man and most likely had a few choice words for the organization in the end. EU probably had the same plans in mind when it came to negotiating. Those two were like teens going through a bad breakup, all passionate anger, and declarations of hate, but not a clue what to do with it. They would get over it eventually. She had been telling herself that for ten years now.
Rolling over uncomfortably she glared at the picture of Paris on her nightstand, knowing how much the city was going to chew her out for being gone. Inside her mind, France knew that she had meetings and important summits to attend during the day and early evening, but the voice inside of her mind made sure she stayed home and helped America with his healing process. She knew that she was a country and had an extremely important job with people depending on her, but she knew who she was deep down and that was she was a mom. Her children came first before any meeting or summit.
It had been almost three weeks since her husband had left and she was starting to feel the emptiness of him not being there.
Stacks of papers had been flowing through the mail and the mother usually found herself up late at night, trying to get things partially done or straightened out.
It seemed like things were going decently smoothly over the past few days but she knew those days never seemed to last, something always went wrong. She wished Britain was there. The two would usually share a cup of warm tea on the balcony as the sunset over the vineyards that lined the countryside. She would usually have chosen a cup of tea before bed but had resorted to a glass of wine; a futile attempt at trying to drown out her exhaustion. A bright clock lit up at her side that read twelve-fifteen and she knew that her children (except maybe America) had already gone to sleep by this point. The sound of crickets drifted throughout her window as a breeze attempted to cool down her sweaty skin.
Her mind ached at the thought of having to wake up early, making breakfast for the kids, and then driving all the way to Paris to get some work done for the first time in two weeks. Paris nor her almost boss UN would be very pleased with her. She was procrastinating and it was bound to catch up with her at some point.
She sighed. Might as well get some work done; I've been neglecting it for a while. She sat up in the bed and swung her feet over the side, throwing the sheets off with a groan. She placed on her slippers and stared longingly at the stack of papers she had to sign that sat in large stacks on a small wooden desk across the darkroom. She internally screamed at the appalling sight. I don't remember having this much work!
Dragging her heavy limbs up she shuffled over towards the desk.
France picked her trusty black pen and worked on reading the papers, checking that everything was lawful, and signing it. On her second contract, she dropped her pen. Ah shoot, she thought, bending over to grab it. As she was sitting back up, a picture in a frame caught her eye.
It was taken when she and Britain got married. She was wearing a long white dress and clutching a bouquet of red, blue, and white flowers, whereas Brit was wearing a smart black suit with more than a few war medals attached to it. She smiled fondly as she remembered confessing to Brit that she was nervous and him telling her a joke, making her loosen up. Ah, those lovely, lovely, days as newlyweds, without the stress of being a parent and work.
Letting out a small sigh the tired mother placed the picture back in its original spot, pushing away a few pages of work to make room for it. A small smile still stuck on her face as her eyes ripped from her love back to the ugly paperwork beneath her hands. She grabbed a file and opened it, glancing at the contents half-heartedly.
As expected it was just another pile of contracts, building plans, budgets, and lawsuits that reached the higher courts of her country.
Throwing her head back with an annoyed groan, she listened attentively as quiet and muffled sound banged from downstairs, a vibration shaking the floor under her feet.
Ame must be home, she thought blankly. She absently turned and checked the clock on the wall, placing her pen back on the desk and closing the vanilla-colored folder. She rubbed her eyes for a few seconds until a terrible wave of realization hit her straight in the face. It was 1 am. Wait, Ame's already home. Then...WHO JUST CAME IN?!
A wave of panic washed over her. She quickly snatched her phone up from the desk and slowly made her way to the edge of the stairs. The lights under all of her children's rooms were shut off and she knew it wasn't any of them, at least not this late at night. A loud shuffle caught her attention once more as she bit her lip with anxiety. Her heart pounded in her ears as the country kicked off her slippers and took a small step, her feet coming in contact with the cold wood of the stairs. She held her breath as she prayed with everything she had that the wood under her feet wouldn't squeak from her weight.
Gingerly, she turned the corner and leaned against the wall for a moment, collecting her thoughts and emotions that someone might have broken into her house. Now she really missed her husband. She exhaled heavily as her body went limp for a moment, frozen with absolute terror. What was she going to do? Knowing there wasn't much they could do she slowly peeked around the corner, bracing for the worst but seeing something that made her smile.
Relief crashed onto her shoulders somehow as she recognized familiar markings on the intruder's face as they rolled a suitcase close behind. Her lips perked into a smile as she watched for a few more seconds " Amour..? "
The Englishman in front of her snapped almost spontaneously to attention, turning his head to stare at his wife with soft blue eyes. For once in weeks France relaxed, a happy squeak escaping her mouth. Britain placed a finger over his lips with a smile. "Shh, you'll wake the boys." The Brit grinned as France ran over and enveloped him in a huge hug. The Frenchwoman let out a tender sound, feeling her husband twirl her around through the air and run a hand through her messy hair. She exhaled slowly, taking in the scent of spiced apples once more, burying her head into his sweater vest. It felt like home once more.
" I'm so sorry it took me so long to come back my love. I know I said it would only be a week and a week turned into three it seems. Things began to spiral out of control and EU wasnt very happy with my reasoning and one thing lead to another. I apologize. " he continued to run a gentle hand through her hair, placing his chin on her head. France sunk into his embrace, feeling his breath against her cheek. France opened her mouth to speak but was cut off by another random sneeze. She rubbed her nose quietly and whimpered to herself. Britain raised an eyebrow, looking down at the smaller female in his arms.
" France are you alright? " his voice sounded almost scared with a slight falter. The female country shook her head, wiping her watery eyes. A few thoughts drifted in her mind as she remembered that she had caught a fever and was once again sick. Britain would not like hearing this. She didn't want to worry him.
" Yeah... I—I have a bit of a fever. " she admitted sheepishly, looking away. The Brit tensed up at the word fever, pulling France into a protective hug.
"Are you alright? How long have you been like this? You know I would have come home straight away, my love, why didn't you just call me?"
France laughed to herself, pushing her hair back. "I'll be alright mon amour dont worry about me. I've lived through the plague and God knows what else, I dont think a little fever is going to kill me. " She backed up a quiet step, staring into his eyes once more.
" Now, I should fill you in on what happened while you were away! Do you know that girl Philippines, the daughter of KKK? Yeah, I think Ame fancies her~"
Britain laughed. "Let's go to the couch and you can tell me everything." France complied as she was led to the sofa. Brit scooped her up into his arms and she cuddled against him. The exhaustion started catching up with her as she yawned.
"You should get some sleep, my love," the Brit watched her quietly, concern lacing his words. "You look really tired."
France put on a stubborn face and looked up at him with a playful smirk. "No, I wanna stay here with you," she murmured, her words slowly turning into gibberish as she fell into a light sleep as Britain rubbed her back. The Englishman smiled as he held his sleeping wife in his arms.
It was nice to be back home.