France's Daughter // Hetalia

Chapter Two- Take it slow, Papa Bear

France (Francis)

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"YOU WHAT!?"

His thick British accent is getting increasingly annoying by the second. I get it, Arthur, I did a stupid thing. Asking for help wasn't asking for criticism or screaming. I pinch the bridge of my nose, letting out an irritated sigh. Losing my temper now won't do much good. I need him.

"I know! Just get over here and help! Bring me diapers!", I yell, trying to hide how frantic I really am. 

"For you? France, I knew you were getting old but damn, I didn't know you needed diapers now!", he laughs.

"I'LL KILL YOU!", I scream, but before I can cuss him out, he hangs up. 

I stare at the screen, contemplating throwing it against the wall in frustration or calling England back. In the end, I shove it back in my pocket, and sit next to the baby on the bed. She's asleep- maybe dead. If she's dead then that'll make my life a lot easier. 

Mon dieu, what am I thinking?! I would be devastated if I let one of Joan's relatives die on my watch. She'd never forgive me. 

I'd never forgive me.

"What are we going to name you?", I whisper, stroking her cheek with my thumb.

Her skin is soft... she looks to be only a few weeks old. How anyone could abandon a child so young and beautiful is beyond me, but there's a reason she ended up in my care. I won't let her perish the way she would have if I hadn't found her. 

Maybe she'll have brown hair, long and curly and bouncy. I could do it for her and make her the most popular girl in school! Ah, school... Will she go to a public school? No, private. Definitely private. If word gets out that she's mine, I'd want her to be shielded from nosy journalists. Private schools are much more sophisticated and classy as well. She'd be prim and proper. 

"Charlotte", I smile, leaning in close and pressing my lips to her forehead. "Your name will be Charlotte."

Charlotte. Chic, gorgeous, lady-like. Charlotte is the girl sitting outside the cafe, reading a book in a nice, flowy dress... with maybe a lace garter underneath. Her hair is shiny and wavy, blowing smoothly in the afternoon wind. Her cheeks are plump and rosy, and her eyes are an abyss no man can rise from. She'll be a heartbreaker. 

The doorbell is ringing frantically now, and I can hear the faint screaming of a certain British male. He got here fast. I'm surprised he got here at all. He had every opportunity to just forget about me, or curse me in his weird sex-dungeon-like occult room-- But no. I walk to the front door, open it slowly, and there's my life long rival, my enemy, the man I despise most; with an arm full of diapers, milk bottles, and baby clothes. 

"Are you going to let me in or just sit there with your tongue out!?", he snaps, pushing past me.

I only get a glimpse of his thick, furrowed eyebrows and emerald green eyes before he's in the bedroom, doing Lord knows what. I quickly recover from the shock, and close the door, following his trail. I don't like the idea of him leading, but in a situation like this, I have no control.

"Where'd you find her?", he asks, picking her up slowly and unraveling the bright pink blanket. "Don't tell me you picked up a random child from the streets?"

"You raised a fatty, so I don't wanna hear it", I snap back, leaning against the door frame.

He's changing her diaper, on MY comforter. My $3,000 comforter- My ANTIQUE, and GORGEOUS comforter. I grit my teeth, but hold my tongue. I did choose to house her. Petite Charlotte, you'll be the death of me.

"Her name is Charlotte", I pipe up, breaking the silence.

"I'll call her Lottie."

"Who says you get to call her anything?"

He glares at me, those striking green eyes more intimidating than ever. He takes child care very seriously, I guess. He opens his mouth to retaliate, and I prepare for the blow, but when his head turns back to Charlotte, I relax my shoulders. Tonight isn't a good night to get into it with him. I, of all people, should know that, but mon dieu is it hard not to mess with him when he's right there.

"There! Fresh and clean, Lottie dear", he grins stupidly, hanging her high in the air.

She's tired, but she giggles and laughs nonetheless. England doesn't see it, but I do. The strength she has. She gets it from Joan. Mentally and physically, she'll be a force to be reckoned with when she's older. Oh dear, it seems I'm falling in love with her. In a different way, though. No, I would never have sex with her! Disgusting! But, in a way, my heart is beating so fast right now. Just seeing her laugh, her eyes... I want to hold her. 

"Give me her", I growl, snatching her from his pale arms. "You'll drop her."

"You forget I've raised a child before", He whips his head towards me. "And look! You're holding her all wrong! At this rate, you'll break her neck before we get her milk heated!"

"Then help me!"

My voice has never sounded so desperate in front of him. It's embarrassing- humiliating. This catches England off guard, I can see it in the corner of my eye, but there's not much I can do about it now. I take a deep breath, letting a sigh escape my lips.

"Angleterre, you're ugly"

His face contorts from serious to taken aback, then to infuriated.

"WHAT'D YOU SAY!?", He shrieks, throwing the nearest object at me- a pillow from the bed.

I laugh, covering Charlotte, and throw it back at him. He's screaming, hashing out insults, defending himself, and all I can do is laugh. I like this better. It's no fun when he gets all serious. When he finally calms down, he fixes his tie, and walks past me. I feel his shoulder brush against mine, and realize it's the first contact I've had with him since his arrival. 

"We need to feed her. The girl looks like she's starving."

He knows what he's doing, there's no need for me to watch. Besides, he's putting the bottle of milk on some contraption I've never even seen before. Baby stuff is complicated. I throw myself on the couch, Charlotte on my stomach, and I finger her thin strands of hair. No... I take back what I said earlier. She'll definitely be blonde. It's evident in her hair. Dark at the roots, though. A smile spreads across my lips, and I close my eyes, arms draped over the baby girl in front of me.

"France, you bloody moron, aren't you going to let me teach you how to take care of her?!"

Britain's voice snaps me out of my blissful haze, and I open my eyes to see his irritated face staring above me. It's gross. I close my eyes again, using one hand to motion him to go away.

"Who'll watch Charlotte if I'm watching you?", I reply sleepily, which seems to piss him off even more.

"Are you stupid!? Do you even know how to multitask! Bloody wanker, all you know how to do is eat snails and insult people! Do you even want to take care of her!? I'm not your damn maid, nor am I her mother! You need to learn how t-"

"Quit bitching mon ami!", I bark, sitting up quickly. "Alright, Alright! I'll take some mental notes."

He smiles a victorious and smug smile, but I don't let it get under my skin. This may be the biggest test of will I'll ever have to take. Well, I don't even know how to change a diaper, so I'll need to pay attention. Just for a few hours. Just a few hours of his annoyingly posh voice and his screeching, and I'll be free, alone with Charlie... Charlie. What a cute nickname. I'm a genius. 

Anyways, after I learn how to properly take care of her, then the rest should be easy! Oh I can't wait until she's old enough to walk and talk... Oh it'll be so fun!

...right?