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François and Oliver were known to have a confusing relationship. You wouldn't really expect them to be together, especially with their personality differences. And even so, they were in a family with two twin sons, acting all lovey dovey it made their sons sick sometimes.
"Hah, and I'm one of those son's!" A loud, boisterous voice cackled.
"Allen. You really had to ruin that recap scene didn't you?" The Canadian gritted his teeth. Allen raised an eyebrow, "What? I was expressing how ...pleased I was to be mentioned!" Allen barely even tried to give a proper reasoning. "Scumbag." Matt took a deep breath after a scoff, trying to calm himself down, with Allen rolling his eyes.
—
The sunlight streamed through thin, closed curtains, casting strips of light across two sleeping man's faces, both having beauty sleep.
One practically lit up the room, his strawberry blonde hair perfectly catching the light, a peaceful expression on him. He was snuggled up to the other man, who had an almost stern frown on his face in his rest, with his shoulder length blonde hair that was hued looking dirty. His arm lifted in his sleep, and he slowly brought it over the shorter man's shoulder and brought him a smidge closer, fingers deftly gripping onto the man's shoulder.
A soft meow broke the stillness of the quiet room.
Cupcake. She gently climbed onto the bed and padded over onto the covers, and made her cozy spot François's stomach so she could lay down and still be able to sniff Oliver with her wet nose. Must've gotten through the cat-flap.
Oliver's eyes fluttered open, and he squinted at first, before seeing a lump of fur tickling his cheek. "Oh, Cupcake.. Are you ready for your breakfast already?" He chuckled, still waking up slightly. Cupcake licked his finger which he lifted up as to say yes as she let out another meow.
"Ah.. I'll get him up after I've fed you if he isn't awake by then." He sighed, dreamily gazing at François's eyelashes adumbrating shadows on his oh-so-handsome eyebags. Cupcake sat back down again and gave Oliver the stink eye. When he didn't look she had the urge to bite him and get his attention, but instead she just meowed.
"Oh, yes! Your food. Sorry, Cupcake." He took François's hand and lightly shook it off his shoulder, shuffling up. Cupcake instantly hopped off the bed and pattered through the cat-flap. Oliver hurried after her, suddenly very eager to fulfill his quest. Both cat and man bounded into the kitchen, and Oliver out of breath, got the bag of cat food out. He'd only just remembered when Cupcake came into the kitchen, pushing her bowl onto the tiles and towards him. It sent the Englishman giggling quietly.
After all of that, Cupcake was now in front of her tower, and contentedly chomping on her kibble. Oliver rewarded himself with a little marshmallow he snuck into his mouth. A snack before he actually ate with everyone else. He was about to turn around back to the stairs to go wake up François when-
"Mon doux amour? What are you doing up at this hour?" That voice. Those words. And that accent Oliver daydreamed of half the time. The Englishman looked up and saw the Frenchman looking right back at him. He found himself in a sea of blue and dark purple ombre-coloured eyes, cheeks flushing. He was only snapped out of his trance when a pair of slender fingers cupped his chin. The question François had asked finally came back to Oliver.
Oliver blinked a few times, and then spoke. "O-Oh! Well I was only giving Cupcake her breakfast." He stuttered, lifting a hand to lay over one of François's. "I see."
They both stood in silence for a moment. "Ouu.. François.." The Frenchman arched an eyebrow. "Can I get my morning kiss!~ Pleaseee!"
François hesitated at first, but he easily gave in. He couldn't just not.. Not when Oliver, his precious British boy, was being so ungodly cute. And so, he leaned down and pecked two small kisses on each of Oliver's kiss, then as Oliver was about to celebrate, he leaned in close. "François? Wait.. I only meant the cheek!–" He was cut off by both his and the Frenchman's lips meeting eachother. François's hands moved to the Englishman's waist, and Oliver met his movement by putting his arms around François's neck. Oliver squeezed his eyes shut as the kiss continued on. He felt a soft, humid tongue slide against his lips, sending shivers down his spine, as he slowly opened his mouth for François to explore. The sounds of their kissing filled both kitchen and living room, and Oliver felt as if he were drunk off love, intoxicated by both the scent of François's tobacco and natural smell.
Little did they know, they had visitors. Allen was crouched on the handrail, shades past his nose and about to slide off, as well as him probably going to slide of the handrail at some point too, mouth dropped open as he looked from the stairway curtain to Matt, who honestly did not give a single shit. The Canadian was simply waiting for the American to move. Eventually, he did.
Walking past the two grown men that were head over heels for eachother kissing passionately and slow, Allen.. had his shades back over his eyes, and a cane, acting like a blind person as he went by, glancing at the two behind the shades. François noticed Allen very easily, and just opened one eye to stare back, which the American scurried off to the bathroom. Matt simply got on with his morning like a normal person. Of course, the Frenchman and Englishman couldn't kiss for forever unfortunately, so they stopped and also started their morning too.
My Bonnefoy. ♡
"Yeah, honestly man! It's like they're attached to the hip." Allen says to Matt, a mouth full of lettuce, for I don't know what reason-. "It makes me want to retch." Matt agrees, nodding.
"Hey! At least we got something in common, off, right?" Allen held his fist out expectantly.
".. no.
"Shucks. I was actually going to listen to Mum and Dad for once and be a good brother.." Allen huffed. "Your never a good brother, be real!" Matt clenches his fist. "YO, YO! I got my bat on me.. somewhere.. chill! I've always been the good one.. doing all the chores... yknow.."
...
[FLASHBACK...]
"And you just turn it off after! Got it, Allen?" A cheerful Oliver smiled as he handed 10 year-old Allen the vacuum to clean his and his twin's room. What Allen did? He instead blew the vacuum up, which spewed debris and dust all over both a about-to-cry-because-that-was-expensive Oliver and a I-hate-my-life Matt.
...
[END]
"Uh huh.. Sure." Matt side-eyed Allen and walked off, leaving the American to his thoughts.
...
"MUMMY! DADDY! MATT IS BEING RUDE TO ME AGAIN AND BLAMING ME FOR STUFF I HAVEN'T DONEE!" "NO I AM NOT!"