First Impression

I can't decide what it was. Maybe it was the way he laughed. Or the way he smiled. Or maybe it was the way his hair shone in the moonlight. Whatever it was, it made sure that my eyes never left him for that night.

It's a dark night, the sky clouded and a mist settling over the ground, causing the trimmed grass to become slick with moisture. I can hear the night creatures calling to each other in the forest behind me, and beyond that the shouting of my older brother, steadily growing quieter as he is heading in the wrong direction.

I sit down on the park bench, pulling my thick winter jacket closer around me and watching as my breath leaves my mouth in a thick white fog. The dew on the grass is starting to freeze, and soon it'll snow.

Maybe I could go skating later… I think before realizing that I had no one to go skating with. Well, there was always my big brother, but he was often out at the clubs or at some kind of party and barely had any time for me. I sigh, pulling my knees up onto the bench and hugging them to my chest. I can feel the snow start to fall and rest gentle in my hair as if some godly force was trying to comfort me.

I close my eyes tight as footsteps approach, hoping it's just a jogger or someone out for a late-night stroll. My heart sinks as the noise slows down and comes to a stop right beside me. It's still possible that it's not Francis.

"Mind if I sit here?" a voice tinted with an American accent asks and I nod in shock, peering over the top of my knees to look at the young man.

He plops down beside me with no care for grace and stretches out, leaning his head back. I stare at him for a moment, tracing the line of his throat with my eyes and trying to make out what color his eyes are, but it's too dark to make out more than his outline.

"So," he turns his head to look at me. "What are you doing out at this fine hour sitting in the middle of nowhere?"

I just stare at him, trying to swallow the lump in my throat. "I…" I trailed off, looking at the growing layer of snow beneath me.

"Hm," he leans forward, resting his arms on his jean-covered legs and smirking, the delicate twist of his lips just visible in the dim light. "Alright, let's start with something simpler. I'm Alfred, what's your name?"

"Matthew," I say quietly, turning slightly to look at him. I still can't see his eyes, but I can see the snow settling in his hair, which must be a similar shade to mine as it is lighter then the thick bomber jacket he's wearing, forming a fragile crown.

"Matthew," he repeats, my name rolling off his tongue in such a way that I shiver, but not from the cold. "That's a great name. Where're you from, because I doubt you're from around here."

I laugh quietly. "You don't sound like you're from these parts either, Mr. Alfred."

"Alright, you got me," he raises his hands in defeat. "I'm born and raised an American. I'm only here to visit some family."

"I'm from Canada," I respond. "Born but not raised. My older brother was born here in France and decided that it was a good time to move back here."

He nods, looking to the dense forest. "Is he the one yelling?"

"Yes," I shudder. "He was out at a party and when he came back he was… his alcohol level was higher than normal. He's not at all like my older brother when he's drunk, he's completely different."

"Ugh, tell me about it!" I look at Alfred in question and he laughs, the innocent noise ringing out into the chilled air. "That family who I came to visit gets drunk a lot, and he is completely different, 'not gentleman-like at all,' as he would say. I think he was going out tonight and that's why I left. Either that or I decided to get away from the heart-to-heart reunion."

I chuckle, looking back down at my feet. "This man you came to visit, is he your brother?"

"Yeah. Well, sort of," he sighs, running a gloved hand through his hair, causing his snow-crown to cascade down around him. "He's my half-brother. We're related through my mom. She had him with some uptight British dude who took Artie after mom had him and left. After that she had me and we live in New York. I didn't even know I had a brother until a couple years ago, right before she got diagnosed with lung cancer."

"I'm so sorry," I whisper and he laughs, slapping me on the back. I have to grab onto his arm to keep from falling off the bench.

"It's alright, I always told her to stop smoking," he smiles, pulling me to lean against the bench once again. "She survived anyways. She's the one who dragged me along to this reunion thing anyway. But Artie flipped when he found out he had a little bro, told his pops that he was going to take care of me and all that jazz. What about your brother, did you have a happy relationship?"

I roll my head back so that I'm looking at the sky, the snow covering my glasses until I can't see much of anything. "Our mother died when I was three, so I never really knew her. I grew up with my dad until I was about ten, then he died in a car crash. Francis was born in France and lived here until mom got pregnant with me. He decided we could live a better life here. It's been alright, but I'm pretty sure he's worse now. But in a few years I'll be able to move out."

"You going to go back to Canada?" he asks, turning so that I can see him even though I'm not facing anywhere near his direction. I respond with a nod and he moves back out of my vision, leaning back beside me. "Artie always told me it didn't snow here."

"Normally it doesn't," I close my eyes, taking off my glasses and letting the frozen water melt across my rosy cheeks. "We're too close to the sea here, but I guess today is special. It reminds me of home."

We sit in silence for a moment. I feel a light begin to shine on my eyelids and the snowflakes slow to a stop. "You're cute," he says after a moment and I open my eyes, blinking at the sudden moonlight.

I stare at him, taking in the face I've been trying to glimpse since I first heard him speak. His hair cropped close to his head, a strand sticking up from the otherwise neat tresses. It shines like liquid caramel under the moonlight, his skin pale like a porcelain doll. His eyes are sky blue and full of curiosity, silver frames surrounding them and the glass within them seeming to hold back so many pure emotions that I want to reach out and toss them into the snow.

"T-thanks," I mutter, looking away to hide my blush.

"Hey," he says and I look back to him, watching the frown on his pale lips. "Do you want to hang out sometime?"

"What do you mean?" I ask, sitting up slightly straighter.

He shrugs. "What I mean is do you want to go on a date with me?"

I stare at him in shock, my throat having gone dry and my mouth hanging open. He smiles. I'm about to regain my speech when someone bursts through the bushes beside us and stumbles up.

"Mathieu!" my older brother slurs, an almost empty wine bottle held in one hand, his suit jacket gone and his tie wrapped loosely around his head. "You had me so worried! I thought maybe a wolf eat you or something along that line."

He sways forward, holding onto the back of the bench to stay upright. He looks at Alfred, blue eyes narrowing. He looks back to me and begins to speak softly in a language that could be French, but it's far too slurred to tell.

I stand, looping my arm under his shoulder and letting him lean on me. I look apologetically to the American, smiling softly.

"I'm really sorry, I can't exactly answer you yet," I try not to snap at my brother as he nuzzles in me neck, taking a sip from his bottle.

"Wait," he says as I go to turn around. I stop and watch as he fumbles with his pockets, eventually pulling out a pen and a faded receipt. He scribbles something down and stands, slipping it into my jacket pocket. "When you make up your mind, call that number. I'm only in town for the next two weeks though!"

"I'll make sure to call then," I smile, pushing my brother's face away from my neck and scolding him softly in his native tongue.

He begins to walk away, turning around and looking over his shoulder. "Bye, Matthew!"

"Au revoir Alfred," I wave, half-dragging Francis through the woods to our small house near the back of the woods.

He stands once we're out of view, straightening his shirt and pulling a twig out of his hair. "So, will you call him?" his voice contains no trace of intoxication or the flirtatious tone it once held.

"Of course I will," I growl, glaring at the man. "Did you really have to do that?"

He smirks, ruffling my hair. "But of course mon cher. You weren't getting anywhere and he obviously wasn't going to push you. I think this worked out just fine, non?"

"I suppose," I sigh. "But I don't think all that… cuddling was needed."

"Ohonhonhon~" he leans in close to my ear and drapes an arm over my shoulder. "But that was part of the fun, mon cher."

We reach our house and I walk in quickly, taking off my jacket and gloves, removing the paper from my pocket before walking up to my room. I don't respond to my brother's call, locking the door behind me before falling backwards onto my bed, a smile creeping its way onto my face. That's how I fall asleep, the paper crunched in my hand and my wet clothes clinging to my skin, but a smile on my face none the less.

The next day I pull out my phone, typing in the number and trying to keep my breathing calm as the dial tone rings into my ear.

"Hello?" a British accented voice answers, groggy with sleep and an obvious hangover. "Who is this?"

"Um, hi," I answer softly. "I was calling for Alfred."

He snorts. "What did the boy do? I'll pay for any damage."

"No, that's not it," I stop, realizing that the deep breathing I can just make out is Francis listening in on the other phone. "Francis, can you not listen in on me?"

He laughs. "Oh, but of course little brother~ You can tell me how it goes later."

There's beep and I let out a sigh. "I'm sorry Mr.…"

"Kirkland," he responds. "Arthur Kirkland, and you are?"

"Matthew Bonnefoy," I reply. "I prefer to go by my father's last name though, so Matthew Williams."

"Hey! Artie!" I hear Alfred's cheerful voice in the background. "Who ya talking to?"

"A Mr. Matthew Williams," the Brit responds, holding the phone away from his face. "He says he wants to talk to you…"

"Give me the phone now," I smile at the sound of his voice, now serious. "Give it, give it now."

"Not until you say please," Arthur says the smirk clear in his words.

There's a groan. "Artie, please give me the phone or I will pulverize you."

The phone is exchanged and an American accented voice rings into my ears. "Matthew?"

"Hey," I say softly. "I've thought about your proposal."

"Yeah?" he asks, anxious.

I laugh softly. "I think I'll take you up on it. When and where?"

He laughs, letting out a shaky breath. "I don't really live around here."

"Go to l'Amour de Chateau," my brother shouts through my door. "You'd love it~"

I snort. "Merci. Alfred, have you heard of l'Amour de Chateau? You could pick me up at five and I could show you where it is…."

"Alright, sure," he fumbles with something and I hear a pen scribbling something down on paper. "What's your address?"

"How about I meet you at the place where we met?" I propose, biting down on my fingernail.

He laughs. "That sounds great! So tonight?"

"It's a date," I smirk. "I'll see you then, I guess."

"Alright," I hear him smile. "I'll see you then."

So, I wrote this a while ago. I thought I'd post it because apparently people like my AmeCan stuff... Which is totally amazing and magical-sexy-amazing-unicorns-awesome!

So, I'm writing a chapter AmeCan fic, so if you liked this one you should check that one out too. It's all AU medival stuff. Yah. People say it's pretty good.

I'm sorry about language mistakes too! I may be Canadian but I couldn't form a coherent sentence in french to save the world.

I'll (hopefullly) see you all again soon!

Jade.