A/N: I could not sleep with this thought in mind and I will be exhausted tomorrow but I was not satisfied until this one-shot was complete. Sorry if there's spelling errors but I am tired and it's 4:30 in the morning where I am with 3 hrs until I normally get up for school so... I hope you enjoy and thanks for reading.

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetlia or Ouran High School Host Club

The door opened soundlessly, slowly opening to a small hall way. A tender melody trickled through the house, pulling at the Frenchman's heart strings at the melancholy tune. He knew how the other man in the house was feeling as he made his way to the music room where he knew he'd find the person he was looking for.

Light streamed through the ceiling high windows, allowing the sunlight to filter through the open room. The pianist's skin glowed in the iridescent light as his long deft fingers gracefully danced across the ivory keys with skill that even angels envied. His chestnut hair was neatly brushed back except for the forever resilient mariazell that stood resolute amongst the rest.

The solemn melody never stopped, even when the smaller man could feel those familiar arms wrap around his waist. The Frenchman rested his head against the other's shoulder, waiting patiently for the song to end, before he would say a word, but none were produced. The music had long ceased, and yet Francis could not find the right words to say. He could only express himself with actions like the other could only express it with music. A delicate hand came to rest over the other's stomach, tracing small circles with his thumb. Another calloused hand came to rest over his.

Both stayed in the same position until Francis could no longer stand. He sat next the musician on the bench, still no words were exchanged. He saw a hand come up to tuck a stray strand of blonde hair back behind his ear. He smiled at the gesture, grabbing the retreating wrist. He brought it back to him, resting his tear streaked cheek against the warm palm. He sighed at ease, wishing the pain this day brought them would cease.

"I-I miss him, Francis." the broken voice confessed. Francis closed his electrifying blue eyes, not able to meet those pain filled violet ones seeking desperately for comfort.

"I know," Francis turned his head slightly to place a chaste kiss into the outstretched palm, "I know Roderich, mi amour. I miss him too."

The day was April 8, 1989. Francis remembered the day clearly as if it were yesterday. It was early in the morning as the sun hadn't even risen yet. Roderich laid on the sterile white hospital bed, agony marred his facial features. The procedure was done quickly and covertly. The whole section of the hospital was closed off, allowing the two nations to have their privacy. Rarely did a nation give birth and seldom did a male give birth as well. Few people knew about the pregnancy. Even Francis' closest friends didn't know of their child. The only ones that knew were they're bosses and the doctors hired under sworn secrecy to look after Roderich.

An earth shattering cry resounded through the room. Francis remembered Roderich's mauve eyes closing in relief as all the French man could do was stay standing, holding the other's hand tightly for support. His heart beat ruthlessly against his ribs, both in anticipation and worry. The doctors sowed the Austrian up swiftly before the nation lost too much blood. Francis was given the newborn, wrapped up in a sky-blue blanket.

"It's a boy." The nurse informed the beaming nation. Francis held the small bundle of life in his arms. He was so small, so delicate, and when those violet orbs opened to look up at his father, Francis knew he would protect his new son at whatever cost he could.

"Bonjour mon petit chou. I'm your papa." The child only blinked in response. A small chuckle escaped Francis. Roderich had let go of the other's hand so Francis could fully hold their new son. Francis pressed the baby closer into his body, rocking it slowly. Francis pressed his lips against the tuft of matted blonde hair.

"Was does he look like?" Roderich questioned, trying to distract himself from the pain he was in.

"He's perfect, mi amour. He has your eyes." Roderich smiled at this, "He has my blonde hair and lips, but he has your nose."

Francis bent down so Roderich could see him. The Austrian's heart pumped faster at the sight of the baby. To think he had been inside him for a long eight months made the pain worth it.

"He is perfect, Francis." Roderich outreached his hand, a finger brushing against the tender cheek.

"What are you naming him?" The nurse asked, interrupting the two new parents.

"Devin Mozart Bonnefoy," answered Francis. The woman wrote it down on the birth certificate, handing it to the proud Frenchman. He took it from her, giving Devin to her in return to get washed off. Francis stayed by Roderich's side until the other drifted off to sleep due to exhaustion. Francis followed him, content of his new family.

When his eyes opened, he woke up to the sight of Roderich holding Devin for the first time. The Austrian's face glowed, looking into the matching set of eyes. His finger held on tightly to the smaller hand, never wanting to let go. Roderich spoke softly to Devin, seeming to promise the world to the small one. Francis couldn't help but grin at the scene.

He wished he could wake up like this every morning. He wished they could live as a family, watch Devin grow up being chased by the young girls, but he knew he could not. He sighed longingly, knowing it could never come true. News of a child being born by two nations could stir unwanted attention to Devin still untainted by the cruel world both personified nations knew all too well. It was a world they helped create and yet they feared they would not be able to protect Devin from their past mistakes. Devin would go to a new family who would love him dearly. Francis would make sure of that as he would be raised in Paris, France, where he could keep an eye on their son.

"I don't want to let him go." Francis looked up at Roderich, hearing the dreaded words slip from the other's tongue. He knew they would feel this way once Devin was born.

"I know, mi amour, I do not wish to see him go either but we must. It is for his own good."

Roderich nodded, though he couldn't help the stray tear that fell from his violet eyes, "I know, Francis. I will miss him dearly."

"As will I."

"Take good care of him." Francis handed Devin to the mortal man's open arms. The younger man smiled at the small enfant.

"I will make sure nothing happens to him, Francis." the man replied. Francis nodded and turned away, departing from the scene. He could not bear to look upon the innocent face any longer knowing he could never be the father he wanted to be for his son.

His heart grew heavy with each step he took till he was eventually sprinting down the streets of Paris, paying no heed to the looks he got. He kept running despite the burning sensation running up his legs and his sides aching from cramps. Francis couldn't run far enough. He continued until he was knocking against a familiar door. When it opened, he fell to his knees, wrapping his arms around the other's waist. A soothing hand ran through his blond tresses as soft words of comfort were spoken to him.

"He will always be ours, liebe. Nothing can change that." The Austrian's voice carried into his ear like the music the other played. He could only nod in agreement as his mind raced, his heart pounding with guilt, and his tongue tied unable to form words.

The mortal man carried the baby to a quaint house just outside of Paris. He attentively knocked on the door until it opened to reveal a tall lean young woman with long blond locks falling down to her waist. Shock filled her blue eyes at the small bundle in the other's arms.

"Yuzuru, where did you ever find him?" She stepped aside to let him in. He entered the small furnished living room, setting down his hat on the rack before sitting down on one of the couches.

"I adopted him from a couple who could not take care of him. I know it might be too soon after the miscarriage, but I know we were meant to be parents and I know we can give him a good home." His dark brown eyes bore into hers beseechingly, "What do you say Ann?"

"What about your mother?"

"Forget about what my mother thinks. I wanted a family with you; I want to start a family with you."

The woman was defenseless against the other's smile and so she relented, sitting beside him on the couch to see their new son, "What's his name?"

"His name is Tamaki Suoh."

The End

A/N: Thanks for reading. I've been reading crossovers and this came to mind so I had to write it. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed. Now I'm going to pass out...Take care!

P.S. Devin means loved in French.