Okay, so I'm sort of back from a break. So, have some Hetalia. Enjoy!

DADDY COMPLEX CHAPTER ONE

Francis watched the younger blonde dig into his meal with a chuckle. The nation of Canada looked up questioningly from his food. Francis covered his mouth, but continued to grin, causing the younger nation to become more confused. He was just so cute.

"What's so funny, France?" Blue eyes peered over glasses at the older man. France regarded the boy with amused eyes.

"You just look so enthusiastic, Mathieu, that is all." He uncovered his mouth and smiled warmly. "It's been a while since I've seen you, after all; I'm glad you are doing well." Canada smiled in return.

"Yeah, I'm happy too." Ah, his voice was so soft. France grinned at the boy as something stirred inside him. Framing his filial nation were the lights of Paris and even though he had seen the sight a million times before, the picture of it including his dear Mathieu was breathtakingly perfect. He could just just what? Canada was like his son, he couldn't do that, could he? Non, non, non, Francis may love intimacy, but he would never take advantage of his son, especially his underage son. Sure England had taken the boy away, but he still saw Canada as his child, even if it had been so long since they saw each other.

"Ah, très bon! Je t'aime, Mathieu." France took a sip of his wine after he said this and watched the boy before him shyly turn back to the food.

"Je t'aime, Papa." Canada spoke to his pasta, avoiding Francis' eyes. The elder nation was curious about Canada's avoidance of him so he leaned in, smirking. Mattie looked up and pushed his chair back in surprise when he saw how close Francis had gotten. "Papa, don't do that! You scared me..." Francis reached out and slid his fingers underneath the younger nation's chin and lifted, still smirking. "What're you doing, Papa?"

Truthfully, Francis wasn't entirely sure what he was doing himself. The familiar feelings from when Mattie was a small boy, before he had been taken away by Arthur, welled up inside him. Even back then he wondered about them, worried about them. Why am I feeling this? He's only a child, it's wrong. The only difference was that back then the feelings weren't as strong. He was dead set against these feelings back then, only because it was true; Canada was just a child. Now the conversation inside took a different turn. He's your son. Even if he's not really your biological kid, he looks up to you as a father figure. It became harder and harder not to lean over and kiss Mathieu. The boy was now of consenting age, he could always say no, and as much as Francis loved sex, he wasn't one to push someone too much. He prided himself on being so suave that he didn't need to force people into intimacy. Well, not normally, at least.

He finally moved, pressing his lips to the boy's smooth cheek. He couldn't do it, his paternal instincts had won. He felt the increasing warmth of Canada's cheek and moved to nuzzle the boy's neck. A giggle erupted from the younger country's lips.

"You're tickling me, Papa!" Mathieu squealed and squirmed. Francis looked up and saw the smile on the blonde's face and once again felt a stirring of emotions. He wondered if it was just his lusty imagination making Canada look so attractive and inviting. It even looked as if the boy was pursing his lips as if ready for a kiss. France couldn't decide whether it would relieve him if it was only his imagination, or if that would be more worrisome. He pushed his chair back with frustration and stood. "Papa? What's wrong?" Mathieu asked, confusion and worry etched onto his face. Francis didn't even hear the boy as he headed towards the bathroom. Maybe a sharp splash of cold water would set his emotions and libido straight. He headed to the posh restaurant's white-tiled bathroom as fast as possible, once again not noticing as Mathieu followed. He finally stopped once he was in the bathroom, bent over the sink with the water running and splashing the cold liquid in his own face. The chilly water made him shiver. He reached out for a paper towel and stood, finally seeing Canada's reflection in the mirror in front of him. Merde.