A/N: Okay, last chapter!~ Hope everyone likes this. Please review. :]
EDIT: I fixed the French is all. xD
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"So, Canada, I'm sorry I had to cancel on you with that street fair thing, I know you wanted to go," America said through the phone. Canada smiled. It was rare to hear America apologize, and it was nice to know that his brother wasn't always as self-absorbed as he came off to be.
"It's okay. Actually, I still got to go. France called after you did, and he took me," Canada explained, and he regretted the words as he said them. France and America weren't always on good terms, and although they held no real hostility towards each other, mentioning them to one another usually sparked jabs and jokes at the other's expense.
"That's good," America responded genuinely, and Canada was glad that he refrained from saying anything negative about the other man. Ever since the night of the street fair, Canada had thought of nothing but France, and hearing America ridicule him would probably piss the usually quiet nation off. This reminded him of the reason he had called his brother in the first place and he quietly stuttered into the phone.
"What was that?" America asked. Canada blushed furiously and forced himself to talk louder.
"Um, well, I have kind of a personal question for you," he started.
"Okay, shoot," America said, sounding vaguely curious.
"Um, how did you and England get together?" There was a long silence on the other end of the phone. Canada regretted asking, but he needed to know how these things worked, and America was the only one he knew who was ever in a situation like his, as England was to him much as France was to Canada. But still, he and America never talked about England that way. Sure, America would mention that he was coming over, or that they had a date, but no details were given, and until this point, Canada had been grateful for this, as he really didn't want to know about his brother's love life.
"Er, why do you ask?" America finally responded. Canada sighed. America could be stupid, but he wasn't going to go with a "just because" answer, so Canada related the incident at the street fair to him.
"Ew! You let that frog kiss you?" There it was. That resentment that he knew was always there with America.
"Don't call him a frog! And can we focus?" Canada said, his anger making him less timid. He waited not-so-patiently and could almost hear America shudder.
"Okay, okay, so you like France. And he kissed you, what's the problem?" he asked.
"Well, France dates a lot of people. I don't know if the kiss means something, or if he's just playing around. I need to talk about it with him and I wanted to know how you managed that with England." Canada sighed to himself. This was so awkward.
"Uh, well, you're kind of asking the wrong guy. England's the one who confessed to me," America explained. "But I can tell you this, you need to be direct. Just ask him how he feels. With France, if he likes you, there'll be no question." Canada nodded. It was surprisingly good advice, coming from his brother.
"Okay, thank you America. Um, I'll talk to you tomorrow, I'm gonna call France right now."
"Alright, good luck." Canada could just imagine America flashing him a thumbs up as he said that. Hanging up, he decided that he didn't want to ask France something so important over the phone. He would ask him over, and then tell him face to face. Canada stared at the phone for a moment, then hesitantly picked it up and dialed France's number.
"Bonjour?"
"Bonjour, France…"
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Canada handed France a cup of hot chocolate and sat across from him on the couch.
"I'm glad you could come over on such short notice," he said, and France smiled.
"Of course, mon ami, anything for you," he replied. Canada blushed. He knew he needed to talk to France about the day at the fair, but after he had gotten off the phone with the other man, the fear had crept in. What if France had been toying with him? Or maybe, the kiss meant nothing, and he was reading too much into it? For a moment, Canada resigned himself to saying nothing, but then the other thoughts slipped in. What if France had meant to kiss him? What if he really did feel something for the younger nation? And what if he said nothing, and let France slip away because he was too chicken to ask him how he felt? Canada swallowed a mouthful of hot chocolate and put the mug on the table. He placed his hands in his lap, balling them into fists nervously. He would ask.
"S-so France, about the other day at the fair…" he started. France stiffened.
"Er, yes, what about it?" Canada took a deep breath.
"Well, before you left you kinda…kissed…me…" The silence that hung in the air was just for a second, but it felt like a lifetime. France let out a soft, but nervous laugh.
"Uh, that? That was just a French thing, mon ami, j-just a casual French thing," he said. Canada's heart broke.
"O-oh, okay." Stupid. He was stupid for hoping. He ducked his head and felt a tear hit his hands, then another, and then another.
"Canada?"
No, he didn't want to cry in front of France. He didn't want him to know…
"C-Canada? Are you crying?"
"No."
Dammit.
He didn't want him to know.
He didn't want…
He couldn't stop it now, tears fell from his eyes like streams, and his body ached from suppressing sobs. Why? Why couldn't France love him? He just wanted…he just wanted…
Suddenly, he found himself in France's arms.
"Don't cry, mon cher, don't cry," he said, his voice straining. "Je t'aime. Je t'aime plus que tout. Please don't cry." His arms tightened around Canada. The younger man pulled away, only far enough so that he could see into France's eyes.
"D-do you mean that?" he asked.
"Oui, I do. I really do," France responded, softening his voice to almost a whisper and bringing his lips lightly to Canada's. The kiss was soft and simple, and ended far too quickly in Canada's mind. He almost couldn't believe it. His mind tried to reject it, telling him that France had basically just turned him down. Was the kiss just out of pity because he had started crying? No, he couldn't believe that. He just couldn't.
"I love you too, France," he said, burying his face in the other man's shoulder and France held him close, stroking his hair.
Canada couldn't help the soft smile that graced his lips. It was an amazing feeling: to love and be loved in return. And although there were no promises, he believed those words that France spoke to him. They were all that mattered.
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Okay, there you have it. Hope everyone enjoyed, and once again, I hope my French wasn't horrible. It was a combination of my previous knowledge, (which sucks,) Google Translate, (which sucks,) and my sister, who took French for three years, (which doesn't suck!) Please leave a review, and have a nice day!
-K.H. Wright