This is late because Oliver (vocaloid) happened. Maybe that’s why this turned out a lot more sadder in the beginning than I originally planned. Anyway happy birthday to Francis, you get depression.
Almost forgot to mention Fran uses he/they pronouns thus I’ll be switching between the two.
Relationship: Gerfrukport
It had been a long day. Longer than usual it seemed. His bosses had seemed keen on giving him extra work today despite it being his birthday while they were off celebrating. At least he got let go early and could return home and just bury himself under the covers of his bed until the day was over.
Perhaps Arthur was right. They really were a masochistic to pick today of all days to be their birthday: a day of mixed feelings, filled with joy, but also despair. So many good people lost over the years to make Francis who they were; to make their nation like it was. And yet so many still suffered, and all Francis could do was sit idly by. Cooped up in his office with meaningless paperwork only meant to make them feel as though they had a say in matters, watching from afar as history unfolded around them. With each year immortality just seemed to be gaining more and more cons.
His legs felt heavy as he climbed up the stairs leading to his front door. Fumbling with his keys he managed to get the door open. What he expected to see was an empty house, but instead, he found light emerging from his kitchen.
Soft voices echoed through the empty hall. One laughed while a deeper one hushed them. There was a grumble from another voice and the sound of thumping as someone came closer. Two green eyes and a mop of messy blond hair peeked out from the kitchen. Arthur turned back to whoever else was in the kitchen, hushing them before finally exiting.
“You’re early,” Arthur noted. Was that bitterness in his voice? Francis bit back any venomous retorts that wanted to spill over. They were tired, and in a bad mood, so they didn't need to go at it with Arthur and end up being insulted (seriously or not). Their mind was doing a perfectly good job at that on its own.
Francis ignored him, brushing past Arthur and into his study. He could figure out whatever was going on in the kitchen once he put his work bag away.
“What’s the matter with you?” Arthur asked, voice still somewhat harsh, but Francis could hear the hint of concern. How very Arthur.
“Tired. You know how work is.”
Arthur hummed in understanding.
As Francis shoved their bag onto a nearby shelf, two hands came to rest on their shoulders. The Frenchman let out a sigh when Arthur began to rub at the tense muscles below their suit jacket. Arthur placed a loving kiss on the back of Francis’s neck. “You should take tomorrow off. Give yourself the whole weekend to recuperate. Less you throttle someone.”
Francis let out a choked laugh. “I’m not you Angleterre. I plan my revenge carefully and quietly with patience.”
Arthur scoffed, pressing a little harder into Francis’s tense shoulders. What was probably meant to be a punishment turned out to feel quite pleasurable, loosening a very tense area. “God your tense.”
Francis just gave a half-hearted hum.
Arthur rested his head on Francis’s shoulder in defeat. “Remind me to tell Afonso to give you a proper massage after dinner.”
“Yeah. We wanted to surprise you with dinner when you arrived home. But with you getting home early, we’re only halfway done.”
A ghost of a smile made its way onto the Frenchman’s face. “That’s sweet of you all.”
“It was Ludwig's idea since we weren't quite sure what to get you."
"You better not have been let anywhere near my stove."
Arthur rolled his eyes. "I was in charge of cutting the vegetables. But I would have been just fine on the stove, I'll have you know."
"Sure sure. Whatever you say mon lapin."
Arthur gave him a light slap. “If you are done insulting me after all the trouble I went through for you, Lud and Afonso are waiting for us in the kitchen.”
Francis turned around and pecked his lover on the lips. “Of course lead the way.”
Francis wasn’t allowed to lift a finger when they entered the kitchen. Ludwig was very adamant about that. Which is how Francis found himself perched on a bar stool as their three lovers ran around mixing various ingredients for various dishes. After cutting the vegetables, Arthur started preparing a simple cake for dessert while Ludwig focused on some sort of soup. Afonso was preparing what looked like ratatouille before moving on to the main dish of blanquette de veau.
“So…” Ludwig began, “How was your day?”
Arthur almost dropped the tray he was grabbing. He turned to Ludwig immediately, shaking his head harshly, gesturing for him to get off the topic.
Francis gave him a tight-lipped smile. “It was…not that great if I’m being honest.” He rested his head in his hand, the weight of the day returning. “But at least I can spend the rest of it with you three.”
Ludwig’s lips drew into a line. He looked as though he wanted to say something else, but with a slight shake of his head, he focused on the soup once more. “Sorry,” he mumbled.
“Don’t worry mon loulou,” Francis assured him. “You didn’t know.”
The four lapsed into an awkward silence. Even Afonso’s humming stopped as he looked towards Arthur for an inkling as to what to do next. The Portuguese man never did like the quiet, especially this kind.
“So,” Francis began, changing the topic, “Whatever got into you, Ludwig? Taking off work for little old me.”
The Frenchman smirked–ever so slightly– as a lovely blush crept up Ludwig’s neck. “Ah…W-Well…” Ludwig stuttered out, “You see…You’re very special to me and…I would do anything for you so really this is just a small little thing.”
Francis smiled his first genuine smile of the day. Ludwig, though he struggled to find the words sometimes, was always honest and straightforward. It never failed to send Francis’s heart a flutter. “How sweet. You’re very special to me too. You all are.”
Afonso and Arthur shared a bashful smile while Ludwig ducked his head, pretending to be very focused on his cooking (and not trying to hide his embarrassment).
“Glad to hear it,” Afonso said with a grin. As he crossed to check on the veal, he wrapped his arms around Francis’s neck and placed a kiss on the back of their head. His hands lingered on his French lover’s shoulders for a moment when he pulled away. “God, you’re tense.”
“Funny. Arthur said the same thing.”
“Massages are in order I think,” Afonso announced as he made his way over to the oven, “For all of you. Ludwig’s been stuck at his desk for far too long as well.”
It wasn’t long before Afonso was humming again, and conversation began to flow. With each word, each light chuckle from Afonso, each half-hearted grumble from Arthur, and each warning from Ludwig, Francis could feel his worries of the day leave him.
As they watched their three lovers chattering away, Francis’s hollow chest began to swell with a warm, comforting feeling. For all the pain, loss, and suffering that came with being a nation, at least they weren’t alone. Perhaps, as long as they had Afonso, Arthur and Ludwig, immortality may not be so bad, maybe even worth all the cons.
