2p Hetalia Oneshots | Headcanons

Tolerate It (Francois Bonnefoy)

I sat in the corner of the sun room sketching his face in my old notebook. Francois, my husband of a few weeks, was busy reading over some work documents. Of course, I knew the dangers of being associated with someone like him with his job. However, I didn't mind.

He promised me safety afterall.

He took a moment to sigh, rubbing at his temple before continuing on with his work. From here, he looked about ten years older than he actually was. Maybe a downside of all the wine and cigarettes he's been smoking.

Speaking of which, "Mon amour," I walked up to him, draping my arms around his shoulders. "You shouldn't smoke inside– or at all– it's bad for you."

He groaned, not bothering to reciprocate any affection, "Merde." He tapped the cigarette against the ashtray before rolling the lit up end on the tray, effectively putting it out.

"You know better, Francois." I walked back to my chair to continue the sketch. I continued to watch him until I noticed the familiar thinning of his lips.

Get out, was all it told me.

Acknowledging it, I left the comfort of the sunny room to enter the dining room which was probably my favorite room in the mansion. You see, no one used it. So, I didn't have to convince Francois for my own art room. Though, I'm sure if I asked, I would be able to get one for me.

I kneeled down to grab my painting supplies. I set up the easel with such ease and put a blank canvas on top of it. Next, I took out my best oil paints and placed them on the table. I held my gaze on them for a long time before I grabbed my journal and turned to the new sketch.

Sticking my tongue out, I began my new masterpiece. I couldn't tell how long it's been, but I heard the familiar footsteps of Francois. He walked past the dining room, not bothering to look by before he walked back and looked in.

He stared at the beginning of the painting in silence. I couldn't tell his emotions as I felt my cheeks heat up at the fact that he was paying any attention to it at all.

That was before he pressed a gentle kiss on the crown of my head. "I have to go now, but I'll see you later, mon ange."

I muttered goodbye before resuming the painting.

Several hours passed and Francois still wasn't home. I decided to take a break from painting by cleaning the dishes from earlier that morning.

"Miss, you really don't have to..." One of the maids whispered.

"If he sees, then he'll surely get angry at us!" A butler exclaimed.

I rubbed my temples. "And if he does, then I'll tell him I needed a break!" The staff seemed to calm down at that. Or rather no one didn't dare argue with me probably out of fear that I would tell Francois.

I finished drying the dishes, stopping as soon as they seemed to gleam in the kitchen light. Spotless.

"I'm going for a walk," I said to no one as I put on my coat.

As I was about to walk out the door, it opened to reveal Francois.

"Mon amour!" I jumped to wrap my arms around his neck. He stiffened, but didn't push me off of him as I pressed a small kiss to his prickly chin.

"Where are you going?" He asked while gently pulling my arms from around his neck and held them within his own.

"I was going to go on a walk, but now I'm not so sure." I looked away.

"Mon ange, were you going to wait outside for me?"

I nodded, my cheeks heating up.

He narrowed his eyes. "You are aware how dangerous that would be, oui?" Francois increased his grip on my wrists.