Suite Francaise - APH GerFra style

Part Two

    France usually hummed when he made food. Today he did not. He chopped vegetables in the kitchen preparing the nights meal...and making extra. Belgium was scowling at him from across the kitchen.
    "I can't believe I have to let him live in my house." She scoffed. France almost argued that it was his, but he sold it to her before the war. He would still visit it though, as she said he could. The reason he was even here in the first place was to help Belgium and to temporarily escape the grasp of the Germans, though he knew it was inescapable unless he went to England or America. But he wouldn't leave his people like that. No country would. Belgium and Netherlands being forced to leave had made them sour and cold, and he felt bad, though their fouls moods were intolerable at times. France wished he knew where Netherlands was, so at least they could have each other.
    "We won't be living under German time, not if I can help it. And France?" France looked up at her from his chopping.
    "We are not to talk to him. He is our enemy. We don't owe him anything. We are not to give anything to him unless he asks, alright?" France almost argued once more. Where did she get off ordering him around? But it was her house, and arguing could result in getting kicked out. It was best not to argue anyway, so he nodded. He put the vegetables into the steamer and turned the stove on. Silence throughout the house followed. Then footsteps above. They came down the stairs, and suddenly the figure of the tall, muscular German in more business casual clothes, appeared in the kitchen entryway. He was stopped, and then he came into the kitchen and set the clock for German time.
    "I hope you don't mind. But I will not be late under any circumstance." He said softly, glaring at Belgium to stop her from arguing. His gaze softened a little bit when his eyes landed on France however. The Frenchman had been puzzled ever since Germany had arrived. He had been soft spoken and considerate of his words, unlike any Germany he had really known. But they had never been this up close and personal before on terms other than business. This was war, and it made people rather nasty. Really, he had only ever seen Germany on the battlefield apart from some meetings here and there. France just turned around and left the room, Belgium following.
"Good boy." She smiled, a hint of joke in her voice. A hint of the old Belgium everyone knew and loved. But the reasons for her joke were not so funny, and a part of the way she spoke reflected some odd malice. France didn't like it, not one bit. But he held his tongue.

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Once Germany left the house, France turned on his radio. He heard mostly static, but finally he managed to get a signal. He held the microphone up in front of his face.
"Hailing. France here, over." He muttered, listening to the fog of the static. Then came a voice.
"England here. What do you want? Over."
"What do you mean what do I want?! Come and help me with our little pest invader situation here! Over!" France exclaimed into the radio, to which there was a long moment of just foggy sounds. Finally, England's voice could be heard again.
"France, you know I can't do that. They're getting too powerful, even I can't just swoop in and help you. You're on your own. Over."
"What about America? Over!" France huffed bitterly, a single stream dripping from his ocean colored eyes.
"France...we've been trying so hard to convince him to join the war. You know that. But he insists on staying neutral, despite his constant desire to play the hero. And if it's worth anything...I'm sorry. But—" He was cut off, and suddenly the signal went silent. Then a voice, clear, as if this person were in the room, cut in.
"Hey there lovebirds. Sorry to interrupt your little tweeting, but I'm afraid this little French dove belongs to us now. Kesese~. Over." Prussia's almost cruel voice spoke. He had hijacked their signal.
"Bastard! Alright, hang in there France, we'll try—"
"And goodbye, pesky Englishman. You're in trouble Frenchie. The awesome me will see to it that you are punished. Over." And with that, the line was dead. France thrust the microphone in front of him and slammed the door open.
"Belgium, hide!" He called down the hallway. Soon her figure appeared, walking swiftly down to meet him.
"What do you mean?" She asked, he shook his head.
"No time to explain. Just go to the safe place, I think Prussia is coming." France replied, to which she briskly nodded and stalked away to hide. France made sure she was secure and quickly walked away and into the living room, looking out the window. He saw Prussia hurrying forward, Germany not far behind him. From the look of desperation on Germany's face, the younger sibling was trying to beat the older to the door, but with no avail. France stumbled backwards and leapt into the kitchen, just as the front door flew open, heavy footfalls echoing through the house.
"Oh Francey-pants~!" Prussia called. France crept into the pantry and slowly closed the door.
"Bruder, it's ok. I'll deal with it." Germany sighed, though he was promptly shushed by his older brother.
"Quiet. I have to listen for his little wing-flaps, so I can pinpoint his location." Prussia cackled humorously, slowly taking a few steps forward. France was completely silent, horror forming a silent rock in his stomach. His heart pumped so loud, he was sure Prussia would hear that in the very least. He covered his own mouth to prevent his breathing from being audible.
"He is not a bird Bruder. Come on, just let me handle it." Germany reasoned. More footfalls echoed through the house.
"I will not. You search over there. I'll search there." Prussia concluded, and then more footsteps as they begun to search the house. France heard cabinets and doors opening. At least they wouldn't find Belgium. France, sure, he was in an obvious place. But Belgium, no.
   Thank God for that. France thought to himself, cold sweat pricking him throughout his body.
   Thump, thump, thump.
Someone stood in front of the pantry door. France gulped, and prayed. His heart sped up and a tear he accidentally allowed out of his eye began making it's way down his face. The doorknob turned and the door swiftly opened. France braced for Prussia's wrath and slid backwards into the pantry, cowering in the corner. He was truly pathetic.
Nothing happened.
Hesitantly, France peered above his arm, and saw the muscular form of—not Prussia—but Germany standing there, clearly surveying France's state with his icy blue eyes. The German didn't do anything, didn't say anything. He didn't call for his brother, or come to punish France himself.
Germany stepped back and closed the pantry door. France sunk downwards in relief and surprise, more tears allowing them to fall from his eyes now. He allowed himself to fall to the floor in the most soundless way he could manage, and curled in a fetal position. How pathetic he was, truly. Absolutely pathetic. And weak, and miserable.
"Well, anything?" He heard Prussia say, impatience in his tone.
"Nein. Prussia this is ridiculous, he probably left the house after you threatened him, and somehow we didn't notice it. Look, I'll just take care of him myself when I find him. You however have more important business to attend to however. Leave it alone, I'll take care of it." Germany insisted. France heard him right outside the pantry door again.
"I suppose you're right. Well, I guess I'll get to it. Deal with the frenchie good for me, ok?" Prussia said, footsteps retreating away.
"Auf Wiedersehen, Bruder." Germany sighed warily, holding his ground. When France heard the front door closing, the pantry door opened. France did not move from his spot as Germany approached him. Instead, he held himself tighter. He heard Germany getting on his knees.
"Are you ok?" The low toned words seeped from the German's mouth and melodically found his his ears. France found himself grateful for his hair covering his face.
     No I am NOT ok! France's mind screamed, Why would you think I was ok, when you've invaded, hurt, tortured—
When suddenly you decide to be nice to me.
"I'm fine." France replied dully, not daring to move. Germany sighed above him, and his shifting made a creek in the floor.
"No you're not." Germany supplied. France uncovered his eyes and swept his hair out of his face. Quickly he sat up, not making eye contact with the German beside him. He felt something begin to boil inside of him, and he clenched his fists. Germany noticed this and observed France for what would come next.
"What do you expect me to say? Why did you even ask me if I was ok, when you very well knew I wasn't? Why do you care? You invade me and torture my people, but dare mock me now, asking if I'm ok-"
"Frankreich. France." He interrupted, with a flat but not angry tone, "you have had your fair share of bosses who weren't the best I presume. Do you honestly think that I like war? That I like doing this? I'm not trying to make excuses—this is horrible. I don't even have the words to describe how much regret and sorrow I feel for my actions, how sorry I am. But I do ask that you try to understand in the very least, that I do not have a choice in the matter."
France was stunned. He hadn't expect this from Germany, but he recognized and considered what Germany was saying in the very least and started feeling regret of his own.
War changed people, and countries. France knew what Germany meant. What would France do if he had a boss like Hitler? The Frenchman was overwhelmed with sudden thoughts about Germany, and the war.
"France?" Germany called from beside him. The Frenchman dared met his eyes, aware of the tears falling from his own. He found grief in Germany's eyes, no tears, but emotion was reflected back at France. And suddenly, the German he had seen out on the battle, merciless and cold, became warm and gentle. France was aware there were times he had to be merciless too. He understood Germany now, and began to sob. He wasn't really thinking when he reached for the German, and grabbed ahold of him, leaving Germany surprised. But he returned the action, and the Frenchman was surprised to discover, Germany cried too.
"What kind of bullshit is this?" A familiar female voice exclaimed, breaking the two countries from each other's grasp.