Author's note: Okay, this is the start of one of my first multi-chaptered fics in months. This idea randomly came to me the other night and even though I anticipate a LOT of angst, hopefully it can end pleasantly, because I'm a sucker for happy endings. So anyway, I can't predict when I'll get chapters done. I don't want to put unnecessary pressure on myself or anything, so I'll go at my own pace. There is an OC in here but I'm actually going to give him some personality and an actual role in the fic. He's not just some character that will show up once or twice, he's a very prominient character. But enough on that, I'll let you read the first chapter :'D

Pairings will include: OC/France, France/England, and possibly others in future chapters.

Chapter 1

It wasn't everyday that the country of love fell in love.

Francis was the type of man who didn't like to settle down. He was as free as the wind and loved the freedom of not being tied down to someone. Sure, there were those nations he might have had a desire to sleep with. But to love? He couldn't see himself seriously loving them.

The first time he met Jean was at a wine-tasting event. The finest wine in France was being passed around by thousands of people and Francis couldn't be happier. He himself had already tasted all the wine there and enjoyed seeing the pleasant looks from all his citizens and foreigners alike as they talked amongst themselves.

A dark haired man, obviously of Parisian decent, walked up to him at one of the tables. He had blue eyes, not like his own of course, but startling enough and light stubble along his cheeks. He reached for a piece of cheese and apparently noticed Francis' eyes on him. He smiled and stood back. "Something on my face, sir?" he asked.

Francis blinked and blushed slightly, angry at himself for being caught at staring at this stranger. "No, forgive me. I just…"

"You act like you've never seen a man before," he teased, taking a sip of white wine.

"I haven't." The dark haired man quirked an eyebrow. "I mean, I have not seen a man like you before."

The man looked shocked before his smile returned and he extended his hand. "I am Jean Dubois."

Francis stared at the hand a few moments before gathering up his courage and shaking it with a smile. "Francis Bonnefoy." It was silly. All his centuries of throwing himself at others and suddenly he found himself nervous and tongue-tied around some human?

He and Jean talked and Francis made up a backstory of his life, unsure why he was allowing himself to become close to this man. When the event was over and it was time to leave, Francis had planned on leaving straight away, but Jean stopped him and asked for his information and then for a possible rendezvous in the future. He couldn't very well say no to him now. He actually enjoyed Jean's company though and ended up giving him his cell phone number and home address.

The second time he met Jean was the following week. They met at a small café and ordered food and talked of pleasant things.

"So are you seeing anyone?" Jean asked casually.

Francis paused in his meal. "No," he answered solemnly. "I seek love but…never truly find it."

"I think you have." Jean grinned slightly and looked away, turning his attention back to his food. Francis blinked and smiled, finding that he enjoyed Jean's company more and more. On their third rendezvous, they went out to dinner and when Jean decided to walk him back home (he really didn't have to, but he was old-fashioned like that), Francis was feeling more nervous than he had ever felt in his entire life. This man…this human…he was able to bring out emotions Francis had never thought possible.

And so on his doorstep he pulled Jean closer to himself and kissed him. He'd kissed plenty of people, humans and nations alike, before, but Jean felt different than the others. When he pulled back, his cheeks were flushed. "I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I was too forward—"

Jean put a hand on his cheek and caressed it, smiling beautifully at him. "Don't apologize," he said as he leaned forward and stole a kiss. Francis' arms wrapped about his neck, pulling him closer. Jean broke the kiss and stared into the other's eyes and it was in that moment, that one blissful moment, that Francis felt himself fall in love. "I like you, Francis," he whispered. "I like you a lot."

"I…" What do I say? I have never felt like this…

"We can take it slow."

And so they did. It had already been a month since he had met Jean and Francis felt happier than he had ever felt. There was a meeting happening in Paris and Francis had to lie to Jean and say it was "work-related." Which wasn't completely a lie, but Jean believed Francis was a businessman.

The other nations seemed to notice his change in demeanor and especially noticed he wasn't groping anyone. "Did something happen since the last time we saw Francis?" Matthew asked his brother curiously. "He seems really happy and he's not…groping anybody."

Alfred frowned and looked over at the Frenchman. "He looks fine to me, Mattie." He nudged Arthur with his elbow. "What do you think, Artie?"

Arthur glared at him and looked over at Francis. "What does it matter to me how the frog looks?" he snarled.

"You two are impossible," Matthew hissed. "There's something obviously wrong with him and neither of you care?"

"He's happy," Alfred shrugged. "How is that wrong?"

"Indeed. If his hands aren't reaching around where they shouldn't belong then it's of no concern to me," Arthur added.

Francis' cell phone suddenly rang in the room and all eyes were on him. "Ah, f-forgive me," he said. "I was sure I had turned it off…" He looked down at who was calling and seemed to brighten considerably, making Arthur suddenly very curious. It couldn't be his boss then… "I'll just go take this and be right back, oui?" He stood up and left the room while putting the phone to his ear.

Arthur, ever the snoop, decided to follow him. "Pardon me, I need to use the loo," he stated as he stood up. He passed by Francis who was out in the hall on his cell phone, talking animatedly and smiling. He had to admit Francis did look nice when he smiled. He shook his head and hid around a corner to listen in.

"It shouldn't be much longer," he was saying in French. "Another half hour at the most. Yes, I promise to meet you at the restaurant." He paused in his pacing and laughed. "Jean, you really worry too much about me. I will see you later. Good bye. I love you."

I love you.

Arthur stiffened where he stood, watching Francis walk back into the meeting room. A million things were running through his mind. He's meeting someone after this. Someone named Jean. Who is this Jean? He paused in his thoughts. "Why the bloody hell do I even care?" he growled to himself. Shaking his head, he walked back into the room, taking his seat beside Alfred and looking across at Francis. Obviously in the past month or so, Francis had met someone special.

And Arthur didn't like that.