"France...?" he called into the dark apartment. He stepped inside and shut the door quietly behind him. It was says like this that he was a bit apprehensive to see his lover. However, these were the days that he felt the​ strongest. Having someone to be the hero for was America's greatest dream, and it was one that he could live out while he was with France.

Now, that's not to say that he thought France was weak. More the opposite, actually. Alfred, of all people, probably knew best what having to plaster a fake smile on every day did to you, nation or not. France was just one of the most convincing.

Alfred silently made his way to the balcony, where he knew his lover would be. It was where Francis would go when he wanted to think or reminisce without getting interrupted by people or family or other nations. He would just go and think, staring out over his beautiful capital city of Paris.

Francis would often question the other's absolute fascination with his city, to which he always replied with a breathy "It's Paris!", and France always smiled.

And there he stood, his thin silhouette outlined gracefully against the urban lights. America walked up behind him, snaking his arms around France's waist. Francis leaned back slightly, resting his head on the other's chest.

"Amerique," he began in his soft, heavily accented voice, "why?"

Alfred looked at him, puzzled. "Why what?"

"Why do you stay with me?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

The Frenchman sighed, then turned to face him. "Because the rest of Europe hates me. What makes you any different?"

Alfred paused, but only for a moment, before pulling him closer and burying his face in the other's hair. " I live you because you bring out the best in me and everyone around you. You don't laugh at others because of who they are or how they look, you take others seriously, no matter how absolutely absurd their ideas are, and you are just plain awesome. Don't let anyone tell you any different."

Francis let out a shaky breath before grabbing America's collar, pulling him down and kissing him, slowly and passionately. Alfred brushed the other's hair out of his face and rested his hand on his cheek.

"Has anyone ever told you that you have the prettiest eyes?" he asked when the kiss ended. France's lips quirked up ever so slightly.

"Alfred, when did you become the romantic one?"

"Romantic? No, I'm not romantic. I'm just the hero!" he replied, showing off his dazzling Hollywood smile.

Yes, my hero. My reason why.

~*~*~*~*~
this one was out quick because I actually wrote it a while ago, but didnt post it because i still hadnt continued the last one. its up now, though!
honestly, i really like this ship, and i cant figure out why, since i usually see france as the protective father figure, but whatever!

requests open