#awkies

Families are #awkies

2p!Hetalia - FACE family

"So when does Papa get back?" James posed his question, rocking back on his chair at the breakfast table. It had been a few days since François had been back to their central house. Not that he was worried or anything. Oliver just hadn't been his normal, bubbly self.

"Allen was going to get him at half two. He's fine. He's in perfect health. He's a country... he can't possibly not come back." Oliver was nervously tapping his teacup.

It only took another minute before he jumped up anxiously, "They should be back by now!"

He flounced over to the door and reefed it open to see Allen and François standing on the landing. François had his arms crossed and Allen had his key poised to unlock the door. He’d gotten yelled at enough last time he had just kicked it down.

Oliver blinked in surprise before launching himself at François. Allen quickly stepped in the way to protect him. 

“Hold up, pops. The delicate one won’t be able to handle your country strength at the moment. He’s a bit old now!” The younger country laughed as François clipped him on the back of the head.

“I may be old, but I’m not delicate.” He huffed and walked inside the house.

“Welcome back, Papa.” James nodded at François.

François eased down into the closest chair. “Merci.”

They talked quietly while Oliver put on the kettle and made them all a hot drink. He came out and fussed over  François to the point that the Frenchman had to act huffy to make him stop. “Get away, I’m not gonna drop if you leave me alone for half a second.”

Despite having said that, there was a ghost of a smile on his face.

“So did the doctors give you any information?” Oliver asked, fiddling with his new cup of tea.

“Mmm.”  François hummed in response and gestured to Allen tiredly. Allen looked up from the pamphlet he was reading.

“Uh, he has to make a follow up appointment with the other doc and follow the instructions in here.” Allen said with a chuckle. “It says that he can’t lift anything heavier than milk for a week and-”

He cut himself off with a snort of laughter. “And, haha, you can't have sex for four weeks. Pfft.”

James scrunched his nose and shook his head, “I don't need to hear this shit.”

The tips of Oliver’s ears became pink. “Oh, stop it. You’ll make me blush.”

Allen put the pamphlet in François’ outstretched hand. The older country scanned it before rolling his eyes. “It says ‘four weeks until regular sexual activity’. That's generally only two times a year anyway.” He shrugged unfazed. 

“When's that?” Allen asked as James groaned.

Oliver waved his hands. “François, n-”