A/N: Hi! I hope you enjoy this because I certainly had a fun time writing it! This is my first time writing CanFran and I'm sorry if the characters seem a little OOC. Also, I do not know what Paris is like, so excuse the inevitable inaccuracies.

I wrote this for matthewwillcanada's fanfiction contest on Tumblr. This blog has amazing fanart and you all should check it out!

This fic will have five chapters and will be updated daily until it is complete. You all will be receiving the version I sent in for the contest, so I'm sorry that it is not fully edited. Thanks for reading and enjoy!

The shades of the sky always reminded him of Matthew...

Francis was folding the same t-shirt for the fourteenth time as he gazed out the window. He wasn't exactly aware of his insistent folding and unfolding, as his eyes were on the streets of the city he loved. The sky was blue and a few puffy clouds passed by like giant parade floats. Those clouds were pretty big; did that imply that rain would be in its wake?

Splendide. Just another thing to dampen Francis' mood, along with the empty streets of Paris outside of the little souvenir shop he worked at. The streets had been previously packed with tourists only a few weeks prior- overflowing even- but now the summer months were over and so the tourist season was coming to a temporary close. The city of love had become a city of abandon and Francis was stuck in the middle of it.

Francis sighed as he looked down at the t-shirt he was folding. Like most of the rest, this one depicted an image of the Eiffel Tower. The store that he worked at was almost in the very heart of the city. It was the perfect place to sell these cheap t-shirts and those souvenir magnets and maps and postcards where the tourists wandering around just couldn't miss it. That was, if there were actually tourists to buy them.

Now that tourist season was over though, the store was desolate, littered in dusty bobbles on shelves and neatly folded shirts that said "I [heart] Paris!" or "C'est la Vie" or variations of designs dedicated to the city. Francis should have felt accomplished having finally organized the shelves after their usual chaotic mess during the summer months when customers would carelessly put things back in the completely wrong place, but instead Francis was already missing the hectic work that came with the souvenir searching tourists.

Francis loved Paris. It was his home. It was his heart. But, without the love of the many people who visited it, the city got awfully lonely. It was as if the city itself was depressed- a sense of melancholy that made Francis wonder if a city could have seasonal affect disorder.

Perhaps it was just Francis. Despite its reputation, Paris actually got more rainfall per year than London, so it wasn't everyday Francis saw the sun. The sky had been grey for days, only letting the current shade of blue out today, though Francis doubted it would last very long. Francis peered over at the scenic French themed calendar that hung on display on the far wall. Thursday. That's right, Francis had seen that on his own calendar this morning as he had been sipping his coffee at his round breakfast table. He lived in a small apartment, though, so the compact table made up his placement for lunch and dinner too, as long as he was eating at home. Not that he needed a fancy dining room table or anything. He rarely ever invited people over for dinner.

Suddenly, the small 'ding' of the shop's bell chimed and Francis set down the blue shirt he had been folding over and over again. When he looked up he let a pleasant smile grace his features, ready to charm whomever had stumbled into the shop, hoping perhaps it would be a stray tourist, oblivious to the social standard of taking holiday during the summer months.

A man was standing at the entrance, peering around the shop from his fixed position on the quaint 'Welcome' mat- or should he say 'Bienvenue' mat- by the door. Francis looked over him, realizing, disappointingly, that the man could not be a tourist going by his casual dress.

"Bonjour." The man spoke quietly. He was dressed in a simple pair of jeans and a red flannel shirt. His hair was blonde, like Francis', but shorter than his own which sat at shoulder length. Francis could not see the man's eyes from across the store, but was already curious to find out. There was always something about people's eyes that Francis enjoyed seeing. They were like thumbprints, no two alike. Some were light brown and some bright green. Some were so dark that they hid every emotion and some so enlivening that every secret danced across for all to see. Some could hide their secrets to all but that one person in the world who could read them like a book.

Most of the sets of eyes Francis saw in this shop were excited or joyful as they toured the famous city and explored the secrets that it had to offer. Some he saw were rather stressed about picking out souvenirs for loved ones back home or dealing with the crowded areas. Francis always assured these customers to relax; they were on vacation after all. He helped people pick what to purchase, promising them that whatever they got would be perfect because it not only came from them, but from the wonderful city of Paris!

But the man Francis examined from across the store couldn't have been looking for a souvenir... perhaps he was in need of directions? It was not uncommon for one of the city's inhabitants to ask for directions from one of the souvenir shops during the off-season. The employees of such shops prided themselves on knowing the city like anyone may know their own identity.

"Bienvenue." Francis replied in his native tongue, "How may I be of assistance?" Francis rarely bothered with English, though he was fluent. It wasn't only that he preferred French, but for the fact that, on many occasions, the Frenchman forgot how to speak the second language altogether. Besides, it was obvious that this man understood his words anyway.

Francis walked between a shelf full of snow-globes and a table of even more Parisian decorated shirts to reach the space of open floor at the front of the shop. When he was standing in front of the man he realized he had to incline his head just the tiniest bit to look him in the eyes.

His eyes... they were purple. How to describe them? Lilac? Mauve? Violet? Francis blinked and had to look again, but now that he saw it he knew he couldn't have been mistaken. It was a very soft color- one that could have been easily mistaken for blue- and Francis was sure many before him must have made that very assumption. The man's eyes seemed wary, as if unused to being noticed, and he looked uneasy for the slightest second before the appearance flicked to a mild embarrassment. Francis felt like he could hear the thoughts going on in the man's head. 'Of course the man noticed me. I'm a customer and it doesn't seem like anyone else is around.'

"Well," The man spoke aloud, his voice soft at breaking the silence of the room, "I was hoping to find a souvenir for my brother. I thought there would be more places in Paris to go souvenir shopping, but it seems there aren't many. I'm just relieved to have found this one, I guess." The man was twisting the handle of his umbrella in his hands, the tip resting half on the mat below him and half on the tiled floor of the shop. It wasn't unusual for one to carry an umbrella around the city, being under the threat of rain so often.

Francis paused for a moment before he spoke again. He had noticed that the man's accent was different somehow than the traditional ones he heard from day-to-day. Perhaps he was a tourist. "No, many of the stands have closed for the season I'm afraid. I'm sorry... but your accent. It is not French."

The man across looked surprised before saying, "No. I'm from Quebec. I am attending school here at the moment."

Francis' eyebrows perked up. "Oh, then you are not a tourist after all!" Francis had been quite perplexed by the man's request for finding a souvenir yet non-touristy appearance. It made sense now, though there was still one last thing that Francis was wondering. "It is a little early for souvenirs when you have an entire semester ahead of you, isn't it?"

The man shrugged. "My brother wanted me to send something over right when I got here. I've only been here a week and he's been blowing up my Skype five times a day in at least 200 message intervals."

"You are shipping all the way back to Quebec?" Francis asked.

"Actually, Alfred is going to school in America this semester. I don't think he understands how much international shipping costs. That, or the more likely answer that he doesn't care.

Francis laughed which seemed to take the other off guard. "Let me help you find the perfect souvenir then. Did you have anything in mind? If not, do not worry, I get that often."

"Actually, yeah. Alfred had one request, though I understand if you guys don't have it."

"I'm sure we'll be able to figure it out. What does this brother of yours want? Francis Bonnefoy is at your service."

"Matthew Williams." The man responded. Most people passed right over his introduction to go right into what they were in search for. It was nice for a change that the man- Matthew, it seemed- hadn't done the same. For once, Francis wasn't missing the business of many tourists packed into the shop, in favor now of Matthew's company. "Alfred wants... well, to put it simply, something inappropriate with the Eiffel Tower on it.

"Oh." Francis almost laughed. Americans were always the ones who wanted those silly type things. Hiding his smirk behind his hand, Francis started to lead the way to a table on the right wall. "Right this way."

Upon arriving at the table, Francis pretended to scan the items for what Matthew was looking for. Of course, Francis already knew they carried no such thing having nothing else to do in the past weeks than sort and fold the shirts in the store continuously. If anything, it was a reason to keep the man around for a bit longer. Francis craved interaction with another human being and this one happened to be quite cute.

Francis shook his head. "It seems we do not have anything of the sort. We do have a few other things that might be of interest, though."

"I figured as much. Alfred tried to get the same thing when we went to Florida last year, but still to no avail."

"How tragic. Now the world will be deprived of such humor from an overpriced t-shirt." Francis joked, sensing Matthew's jesting exasperation.

The man and him continued to chat as Francis helped him to find a souvenir for his brother. They joked a little and soon Francis felt almost as if their jesting had turned into a light game of flirting. Francis' gaze kept flickering to the man out of the corner of his eye and their laughter filled the air between them. When finally Matthew had picked a shirt for his brother Francis led him to the register where he could ring him up.

"Hey, um," The man scratched his neck and Francis looked up from where he scanned the shirt's price tag, "Well, I'm pretty new here and haven't gotten around to really making friends yet, but there's a new movie out that I've been thinking of seeing..."

Francis eyebrows shot up when he saw where this was going. Butterflies flew around in his stomach, tickling the walls of his belly and fluttering in a mass.

"I was wondering if you wanted to go with me? I saw a movie theater down the block, so I could pick you up here..."

Francis couldn't help the sweet smile that grew on his face as his thoughts turned giddy with anticipation and excitement. "I would love to."

Matthew relieved his neck of his insistent scratching then and a genuine smile crept to his face. "Okay." And, after they made plans to meet there at the shop they were standing in on Saturday evening, Francis watched Matthew exit the shop with umbrella in one hand, souvenir in the other. He continued to watch him walk down the streets, only realizing now that the clouds had gone away leaving a clear blue sky to shine on the day.