Joan of Virginia FrancexReader Part 6

You pulled the blanket up to your chin, trying to keep in that lovely warmth. The sun had set long ago, but you're still wide awake. America's snoring softly in the other bed, but it wasn't him that is keeping you up. It's Francis. You've run through the scene over fifty times in your head, but still you can't make any sense of it. Groaning, you flip the pillow over your head and lie face down on the mattress. "Why must life be so confusing?" you mumble. Flipping yourself back on top, you sink your head into the pillow, too mentally exhausted to continue thinking. Sleep doesn't come quickly, but at least it comes soon enough.

You're back in the square with Francis. He seems slightly younger than he was the last time you saw him. Then it dawns on you, you're back in a vision. France grabs your hand and leads you away from the market, all the while whispering sweet nothings into your ear, making you blush. Or Joan blush. You still weren't sure. His lips brush your cheek and you giggle. The entire setup seems very strange to you. A man on horseback jumps down and bows to both of you. "Jeanne d'Arc,  vous êtes nécessaires lors de la réunion guerre." he says in rapid-fire French. You didn't understand a word of that, but apparently Joan did, as she nods and you follow the man onto his horse. France smiles at you and blows you a kiss.

"Je vais vous voir bientôt, mon amour!" he calls as you ride away. Your heart sinks, but you don't know why. It must be what Joan was feeling at the time. Gah! You start to wonder which feelings are your's and which are Joan's!

"I don't speak French! I'm American!" you yell. But, Joan didn't say that in reality, so of course no one in your vision besides you heard it. "I don't freakin' speak French! And my name is not Joan!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

France watches as Joan rides off with the musketeer. He smiles for a moment. Then, his dream flashes to the next time he saw her.

Gasping, France bolts up in bed, sweat running down his face. He's grateful he woke up before he remembered that day.  It was not a day he likes to remember at all. Looking over at the clock, he sees that it is almost morning. Shrugging, he decides he might as well get out of bed now. He gets dressed quickly and makes a cup of coffee for himself before sitting down to check his phone.

His boss usually left him plenty of e-mails and paperwork to do, so he figured an early start on that would be a blessing. The sooner he got that done, the more time he could spend with you. He files through the e-mails before coming across one that struck him. He's not sure why, it was just the census polls of his people's religions, but it made him pause. Sifting through the percentages, his expression hardens. "Nearly thirty percent atheists?" he muses. He shakes his head. It shouldn't have mattered to him, it's just a population issue. Freedom of religion was a constitutional right for his people. Still, it nagged him.

It wasn't until he saw you that morning to pick you up that it dawned on him why it bothered him so much. It was the cross necklace that bounced joyfully every time you took a step. He knew you were a Christian, and that you knew his former allegiance. And he remembered Joan, who had given up her life in the name of him and God.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You walk with Francis along one of the main streets, pausing every now and then to look at the displays in the shop windows. One boutique caught your eye. "Francis, may we go in there?" you asks. France snaps out of his thoughts and glances at the shop you were pointing at.

"Oui, mon cher." he replies.

Your heart beats faster. You loved when he spoke French. You step into the boutique and maneuver through the dresses.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

France watches you bemusedly, gaining a quiet satisfaction from seeing you so happy. You grab a few dresses and disappear behind a curtain to try them on. He waits for a few moments for you to emerge again, wearing a flowing, teal dress that brushed the floor.

"What do you think?" you ask. France tilts his head to one side.

"It's not bad on you, but it's not perfect, either." he says simply. Your happiness drops a bit, making France wish he hadn't said that.

"Oh. I'll just try on another, then." You disappear again. France mentally facepalms.

"How could I say that?!" he groans quietly. You come out once again, this time in a (f/c) sundress that hugs your waist just right and flares out ever so slightly at the skirt. It's strapless, so you couldn't get it on all the way, but Francis can still see how stunning you look. "Bel." he breathes. He notices that it isn't fully on, so he motions for you to turn. You do so, pulling your (h/c) locks out of the way so he can reach the clip. Once he snaps it into place, you turn back around and smile at him. "You look beautiful." Your face goes red at his compliment. You twirl around in the dress, happy with how it feels to move around in. France can't help but laugh, not unkindly, but happily. "Do you want me to buy the dress for you?" You stop twirling and look at him in awe.

"You'd buy me a dress?" you ask, shocked at his generosity. France nods, and your face light up.

"Good, that's settled then. I'll unclip it and you can get the dress off so I can buy it." You spin about on your heel and allow him to undo the clip. His hand brushes your back gently, making you nearly squeal in fangirling-mode. You rush back into the dressing room quickly so that he doesn't see your blush and you slip off the dress. Pulling back on your normal clothes, you hand him the dress and he walks over to the clerk to pay for it. You smile and peck him on the cheek despite yourself. France smiles back at you, pleased beyond words to have made you so happy.