Bright blue eyes watched you and his little Canadian son, sitting contently in your lap, laughing and giggling.
Oh, how it irritated Francis Bonnefoy.
Don't misunderstand, Francis loved Matthew to death; after all, those wide, violet eyes, wavy blond locks, and that toothy childish grin were priceless. Top it all off with a shy and forgiving personality, and you had an A+ child on your hands. The one problem was that dear, sweet Matthew was currently getting all of your attention when Franis planned to spend the day together, just you and him. And, to be ignored by his mon amour pissed the Frenchman off more than anything else.
In fact, why was he just sitting here? He needed to make it clear that ____ was HIS mon amour, even though his amour "offender" was nothing more than his seven year old son. Standing up, the Frenchman ran toward you, glomping you with the ferocity of a bear. "F-France!" You yelled, eyes wide in surprise.
You both heard a small, barely audible cry and looked down simultaniously. It seems that Francis had accidentaly knocked poor Matthew off your lap and the child hit the floor hard. The Canadian's violet eyes were watery, tears starting to leak. "Oh no!" You fussed over the crying hild, your motherly instincts kicking in. "Aw, there there, stop crying!" You cuddled Matthew, and the Frenchman flinched when you lightly kissed the bump on the Canadian's forehead.
Quietly as he could, Francis groaned.
This was going to be a longer day then he'd expected.
Well, the Frenchman was right about one thing: the day certainly was a long one. By the time it was almost over, Francis was ready to wring the neck of the small child who was getting more love from ____ than Francis would've liked.
But the day was slowely but surely coming to a close, and Francis was counting the minutes until he could finally catch you alone in the bedroom- for there was no way Matthew could be a cock block in there. Francis jolted out of his thoughts when he noticed you had just finished story time with dear little Matthew, and you stood up, dusting yourself off. "Whew, I'm exhausted!" You yawned, stretching. "I think I'll take a bath and head on to bed."
Francis grinned. Excellent, soon you would be all hi- "E-Excuse me, miss ____?" Matthew tugged on your sleeve, looking at you with those big, kawaii desu eyes you couldn't resist. "D-Do you mind if I take a bath with you?" Francis had been drinking wine, and the moment those words escaped his son's mouth he choked on it.
Mother of God, this night could get longer.
You squealed, picked up the child and swinging him around a few times before walking towards the bathroom. "Of course you can, sweetheart." Aaaaaaand it just got worse.
The Frenchman knew perfectly well that the only reason you let his son bathe with you at all was because he was too young to, well, take advantage of the situation. Didn't stop him from getting pretty damn jealous, though. " 'Ey, mon cher!" Francis stopped you before you could shut the door, placing a hand on your shoulder, a smile plastered to his face. "Can I take a bath with you, too?"
You giggled, playfully slapping the Frenchman on the arm. "If you want to bathe that badly, just wait until I'm done."
And with that, you shut the bathroom door, much to his extreme disappointment.
While you helped a giggling Matthew get clean, Francis waited outside, more than a little irked that he'd been denied yet again. Besides, he was the only one who had the right to see you naked, anyway.
Each second seemed to pass slower than the last for poor Francis, but eventually you both left the bathroom, dressed in pajamas. More than starving for your attention at this point, the Frenchman scooped the little Canadian up in his arms and rushed Matthew to his room, setting him down on the bed and leaving just as quickly to push you into his room.
"Jesus Francis, you're impatient, aren't you?" You chuckled as Francis climbed on top of you.
He only said "You are mine now" before proceeding to kiss your neck. Now hold on just a freaking second. Was he........ jealous? Francis? Ultimate hottie, flirtious, playboy Francis was jealous? Well, wasn't that amusing.
You laughed again. The door opened, scaring the living shit out of you both. "U-Um, c-can I sleep with y-you tonight, ____?" The Canadian asked, his face bright red, keeping his eyes glued to the floor.
Francis was ready to strangle him.
You smiled at the Canadian. "Of course you can." The Canadian snuggled into your chest, and Francis was quite sure that he purposly chose your breasts to be his pillow. Well, he was Francis's son, after all.
Francis sighed, burying himself in the blankets.
Looks like he'd just have to wait until tomorrow.