FrancexReader: Mirgraine

        “Chérie!” I sighed contentedly into my crossed arms and rolled my shoulders slightly. Just five more minutes, I thought lazily. The cool water of the pool lapped over my bare legs and back as I laid on the mesh of my float. “Mon amour!” I rolled my eyes and looked up.
        “What?” I called, looking back towards the deck. I raised my sunglasses and saw Francis leaning over the deck railing. He was smiling and looked absolutely amazing in his French flag swim trunks and half buttoned up shirt.
        “Come in chérie. Ze food is ready!” he said. I grinned and rested my head sideways on my arms.
        “I’ll be in in a minute,” I replied, nuzzling back into the crook of my arm. I listened as he padded down the patio steps and across the concrete to the pool. I heard a quiet splash and felt the water rock against my float gently. I felt a light bump against my stomach and I looked down. “Francis Bonnefoy, I swear if yo- Ahh!!”
        The water felt nice against my sun warmed skin, but I struggled to figure out which way was up. I calmed as I felt two strong arms wrap around me and pulled up to the surface. I gasped for air as I clung to Francis. My hair had come out of its loose bun and stuck to my face and my sunglasses were askew and dangling of my nose.
        “F-Francis,” I choked as he pushed my hair away from my face. He kissed my nose and the breeze made me shiver as I was lifted out of the water. “You’re gonna get it,” I muttered. He chuckled and set me down on the patio.
        “As long as your ze one giving it to me,” he replied seductively, tugging carefully at my bikini. I bumped my hip against his and grabbed the towel I’d set out. I pulled my cover up on after I dried off and tossed the towel to Francis as I walked inside.
        “Hot dogs?” I said, surprised as I looked at the meal on the stove. I looked over my shoulder to see my French boyfriend walking into the house, rubbing the towel over his blonde hair. “I didn’t know you could do something as simple as hot dogs.”
        “Of course amour. I don’t always ‘ave to cook fancy stuff,” he replied, leaning down and kissing my cheek. I snorted and leaned into his firm chest.
        “Mhm sure, bet you had to look up how on the internet,” I muttered playfully as I fixed myself a couple of hot dogs.
        “Chérie! I would never!” the blonde protested, holding a hand to his heart as if I’d hurt him. I giggled and kissed his nose lightly.
        “Yeah alright, come on.” He quickly fixed his own plate and followed me into the living room. We turned on the television and watched the first movie that we found. We set our plates to the side when we finished eating and simply cuddled throughout the film. As the movie ended, I turned and pressed my face into Francis’ chest as a dull ached throbbed throughout my skull. My stomach flopped nauseatingly and I moaned softly.
        “L’amour?” Francis asked. I swallowed the feeling of having to vomit and I stood up. I stumbled to the bathroom and dropped to the floor. “_______, chérie, what’s ze matter.” I saw Francis poke his head into the bathroom.
        “My stomach,” I grunted, resting my back against the tub.  The blonde knelt down and laid the back of his hand against my forehead.
        “You don’t ‘ave a fever. You don’t zink it was ze ‘ot dogs, do you?” he asked softly. I was grateful for the soft tone as the pounding intensified and shifted.
        “My head hurts,” I whimpered, unintentionally ignoring his question. I held one hand to my hand and used the other arm to wrap around my stomach.
        “Shh ma chérie,” he murmured, pushing my hair behind my ears. “I’ll go get some Advil, alright?” I nodded and swallowed thickly as he stood up and hurried to the kitchen. He was back in minutes and handing me the liquid filled pills.
        “Thanks,” I mumbled and dry swallowed them, shuddering at the disgusting feeling. Francis moved behind me and carefully adjusted my position so he could sit on the edge of the tub behind me. “What are you doing?” I asked as I leaned back against his legs.
        “Zis,” he replied, gently running his thin fingers through my hair. I hummed appreciatively and leaned into the touch.
        We sat there for almost an hour, my stomach twisting and my head throbbing, before I started feeling the least bit better. Francis hadn’t once stopped running his fingers through my hair and I felt bad for making him stay with me the whole time.
        “Francis,” I whispered though a yawn. His fingers paused and he looked at me. “Can you help me up?” The Frenchman nodded and moved around so he was in front of me. He held my hands and pulled my up slowly to my feet. I was shaky and clung to him tiredly.
        “Are you alright mon amour?” he asked as he held me up. I managed a nod and tried to ignore the churning in my stomach.
        “Mhm. Just… just help me to the living room,” I panted. I stumbled beside Francis as he helped me into the den. He helped me up until we made it to the living room and laid me gently on the couch. “Could you get me a light blanket?” He smiled and kissed my forehead.
        “Of course amoureux, just wait un moment.” He went to get a blanket and my phone rang. “I’ll get it chérie,” Francis called. I turned onto my side and listened as Francis shuffled around. “Bonjour? Oh, ‘ello Matzew.” I perked up at the Canadian’s name.
        “Francis!” I yelled, wincing as my head reprimanded my loudness. The blonde ran in, a blanket in one hand and my cell phone in the other. “I’ll talk to him,” I said, reaching out for the device.
        “Oui, oui. ‘Ang on,” he murmured into the receiver. “_______,” he said, raising an eyebrow.
        “Please,” I asked, “I don’t get to talk to Matthew that often.” Francis rolled his eyes and handed me the phone.
        “Not too long, alright?” he told me, spreading the blanket over me. I grinned and nodded, making my head swim. I held the phone to my ear as Francis went to clean up the kitchen.
        “Hello?” I said softly.
        “_______? Is everything alright?” Matthew asked just as quietly. I grinned and stretched out of the sofa, resting my legs out along the cushions.
        “Yeah, I just can’t decide how to feel is all,” I replied, resting my head back and closing my eyes.
        “Are you sick?” the nation inquired worriedly.
        “Eh, kinda. My stomach’s going cartwheels and somebody’s playing drums inside my skull, but besides that I’m peachy.” Matthew chuckled and it sounded almost soothing. “You’re lucky you’re you and not your brother. I wouldn’t have talk to him.”
        “Seriously?” Matthew asked between small fits of giggles. I smiled and turned onto my side.
        “Dead serious.” We talked and laughed softly for the next forty-five minutes before Francis came back and told me I needed to sleep. I bid Matthew good night and yawned widely.
        “Time for bed,” Francis said with a grin, kneeling beside me. I chuckled tiredly and held my arms out to him. “Come ‘ere chérie.” He wrapped his arms around me and lifted me carefully. He carried me to our bedroom and laid me down. I undid my bikini top, not having changed after coming in, and pulled it off and slipped out of my bottoms. The sheet felt good as Francis wrapped them around me. I watched Francis as he stripped down to his boxers and crawled in next to me.
        “Tout cesoir naturel? (All natural tonight?)” he asked teasingly as he held me close. I poked his stomach and nuzzled into his throat.
        “Hush,” I mumbled, falling asleep to the nation’s sweet, yet somewhat woodsy scent. I yawned and was out, not even able to mumbled ‘I love you’.

        I woke up the next morning and felt much better. Francis made breakfast and we spent most of the morning cleaning and playing around. We ate lunch and then Francis went to make a few long calls to his boss. I sat down at the computer and pulled out my drawing tablet. I was working on a picture of me, Francis, Matthew, Gilbert, Alfred and Arthur. I wasn’t anywhere near done, but it was turning out really good.
        I’d been working on the computer for nearly an hour and a half when my eyesight started going fuzzy. I set my tablet and pen down and rubbed my eyes. I heard footsteps walk behind me and felt hands rest on my shoulders.
        “Cherie,” Francis crooned in my ear, “want to ‘elp me cook supper?” I tried to look back at him with my peripheral vision but it was too painful for my eyes. I nodded and he helped me to my feet. I wobbled slightly behind him but followed none the less.
        I was given the job to skin potatoes, so I grabbed the potato peeler and stood over the trash can. I sliced myself twice, nothing too bad I thought, thanks to my spotty vision and finally had enough of the vegetables peeled. I washed them and managed to dice them without slicing off a finger, but it felt weird because something was trickling down my finger.
        I turned to put the cutting board and knife in the sink and bumped into Francis. I clutched his shirt as I dropped the things. Francis pulled me back and then looked at my hands. I was trying my best to just stay upright.
        “Chérie! What did you do?” he asked. I quirked an eyebrow and when pain rang through my head as I squinted up at him.
        “I-I’m sorry I dropped them,” I mumbled. He shook his head.
        “Non amour. Zis.” He stuck my hand in front of my face and I was surprised to see blood smeared across my fingers. “Come on.” He walked me to the bathroom and I tripped and nearly fell as he dragged me along.
        My head started hurting behind my forehead and near my hairline as Francis sat me down on the toilet. He wrapped my hand up and I rubbed my temple with the other. Everything around the edge of my vision was blocked and the pain in my head was become more acute.
        “Your ‘ead?” Francis asked as he finished with my hand. I nodded and immediately regretted it.
“And I can’t see out of my peripheral vision. It’s like having on blinders,” I muttered, rubbing my head. Francis sighed and kissed my forehead.
        “Come chérie, let’s lay you down.” He led me to our room and helped me underneath the covers. “I’ll be right back, just close your eyes and lay still. Ça va? (Alright?)"
        “Okay,” I mumbled, letting my eyes flutter closed. I listened as the air conditioner was turned on and the quiet padding of feet leaving the room. I laid still, trying not to do anything but breathe silently.
        “Amour.” I winced and opened my eyes. The room was darkened and Francis was standing in front of me with a can of coca cola and two ibuprofen. “I called Arzur and ‘e said it sounds like ze beginning of a migraine.” I groaned and turned to bury my face in my pillow. “‘E said caffeine might ‘elp and to take some pain killers,” he said softly. I looked at him tiredly but down the pills and sipped on the soda.
        “It hurts,” I whimpered as tears slipped out of my eyes. Francis sat down on the bed next to me and wiped the tears away. I could feel my stomach slowly tying itself in knots as I laid there.
        “I wish zere was somezing I could do,” he murmured, leaning forward and pressing his cheek against mine. I sniffed and made a small whining sound in the back of my throat.
        “Will you rub my head?” I pleaded, desperate for some to get rid of the sharp, stabbing pain in the front of my skull.
        “Oui amour,” he whispered and gently began rubbing my forehead. I groaned softly and squeezed my eyes shut. I laid there, trying to let Francis’ delicate fingers sooth the pain in my head. I’m not sure how long it took, but I finally drifted off to sleep, free of the pounding in my head.

        My eyes opened to almost total darkness and cool sheets wrapped around me like a cocoon. I swallowed and moved around slowly. I was relieved to feel my stomach had settled and my head no longer ached. I climbed carefully out of bed and walked down the hall to the living room.
        “Francis?” I asked, looking around and trying to keep from falling.
        “_______! Are you okay?” the blonde asked as he jumped up off the sofa and pulled me into a hug.
        “Mhm, just a bit woozy,” I replied with a smile. He chuckled and kissed me softly. The stubble on his chin tickled and I laughed. “How long was I asleep?”
        “Nearly five ‘ours. I was worried ze entire time.” He nuzzled his face into my hair. My stomach rumbled slightly and he pulled back. “Are you ‘ungry?” he asked, cupping my cheek.
        “A little. Do we have any tomato soup?” He nodded and scurried off to fix some. I followed into the kitchen and sat down at the table to watch. The soup was done in no time and I ate slowly. I wasn’t able to finish half of it, but Francis said it was okay. He helped me back to our room, telling me I needed to sleep. I grabbed his hand pulled him into bed with me.
        “Thank you for taking care of me this weekend,” I murmured, curling up close to his chest. Francis kissed my collarbone and worked his way up.
        “I just wish you ‘adn’t been sick. I ‘ate seeing you ‘urting,” he breathed, rubbing my back. I smiled and kissed him softly.
        “You’re just wonderful,” I told him sweetly. “I love you.” The nation grinned brilliantly and kissed me deeply.
        “Je t’aime aussi chérie. Je t’aime,” he replied, holding me close.
        “Love you too Frenchie. Thank you.”