Author's Note: A quick FrUK oneshot based on "Paint it White!". Enjoy~! :3

This entire situation was spiraling completely out of control, and France did not like it one bit. First these creepy blank faced alien monsters descended upon Earth and decided that the Eiffel Tower needed a makeover, and now the World War II nations were all on their mothership, trying to stop them. The nation wasn't really one to bring everybody else down, as Germany was usually a lot better and faster at doing that, but the Frenchman could tell that after several attempts of trying to please these unshakable Pictonians, this whole endeavor was appearing to be, more or less, a lost cause. He had been the second attempter in this game of pleasing, and it had bruised his pride to see the ungrateful bastards simply call his food "odd". That food could have been given to more appreciative mouths!

"Would you stop looking like you're about to murder someone? You're being foolish, frog," a voice destroyed his train of thought, and he looked over to see England glancing at him curiously. He had one of his thick eyebrows quirked, as if he was intrigued.

France hissed, "This clearly isn't working. Those white blob freaks would rather destroy their own planet than cooperate with us. This is a waste of time, and it's frustrating to watch."

England was clearly surprised by the neighboring country's attitude towards it all, it was a face he didn't normally wear, he spoke, "But America and Japan have managed to warm up to them, there's still some hope, I suppose."

"If this doesn't get messed up then maybe...but it would be a long shot to try and make some sort of treaty or agreement with them."

Giving a understanding smirk, the Brit chuckled, "You sound as if you're ready to get off this damned ship and go back to Paris."

"You couldn't have been more right, old friend. I'm sure you miss London dearly as well."

"You took the words right out of my mouth."

Finally, England realized that he hadn't done anything to contribute to this activity, or whatever the others considered this nonsense, and ran off somewhere without any kind of explanation. France went back to his own thoughts, not bothering to worry about what his friend/enemy was up to. There was something, though, he could gain from all of this. He found it interesting to see what the other countries considered hospitable, and he managed to mentally include some land he'd be sure to not take a trip to anytime soon. Russia's idea of hospitality was a bit frightening, and he had found nothing good in what America's idea of hospitality. How could one be hospitable by setting them up for a chance to loose their money? It just didn't make any sense to him.

He lost track of his thought process whenever Japan had stopped the Bon Dancing Festival and France was remarkably surprised by how much the Pictonians looked pleased. Italy was having the time of his life, running around and joining in at the "fun" that the aliens were having, which brought a small smile to his face in response. He still wasn't sure that this would all work, but it wasn't until he noticed that England had been preparing gifts or something that he knew that they were doomed. When he saw a Pict lift out what appeared to be a scone, it took all of France's strength to not walk over to the other country and smack him. Had he not come to terms with the fact that he could only be a cook in Hell? And, just as he had predicted, the Pictonians looked clearly annoyed. Great, just great.

Thinking quickly as ever, Germany suggested that the lot of them escape while the Pictonians were occupied, and the eight of them quickly sped off for an exit, while the vast army of Picts were on their tails the entire time. France was kind of surprised that they managed to find one, as the plain white hallways were hard to be memorable. He wasn't even sure the place they were going was the way that they came in. Not that the aliens were stupid enough to open the large door to let them out. Apparently thinking the same thing, Germany managed to kick open an exit in the side of the ship, seeing as there'd be no way of getting off otherwise, and jumped off without a minute of hesitation.

France wasn't keen on jumping out of ships into an ocean, but that was their only option; and, once England jumped out, he didn't have a choice but to go. Jumping off and feeling the air pick up around him, he snapped his eyes shut in order to prepare him for the plunge into the cold ocean water.

He couldn't recall remembering hitting the surface of the water, but he opened his eyes to see that he was under the surface and he looked around quickly, just to check and look for predators. He couldn't see any landmarks of significance, so he would just have to surface and figure out where to swim to next. The ocean was rather calming and cool at this time of day, not extremely cold as he had predicted earlier. France couldn't help but wonder what part of the globe the group of nations had been dropped off at. He took one last quick look around to make sure he was alone in the water, whenever a bright flash of red crossed his path. It was a torn piece of red fabric, clearly recognizable, though he threatened to swallow water whenever he realized whom it had belonged to. Swimming in the direction the piece slithered from, he eventually saw the dreaded sight of England sinking slowly towards the ocean floor. The fabric was probably ripped off from one of the coral plants that were growing as part of a reef nearby.

Swimming at a brisk pace, he latched onto the nation and nearly panicked whenever he noticed how many breath bubbles he was releasing from his agape mouth. France couldn't judge whether or not England was unconscious, but that didn't matter to him at the moment. He wrapped the Brit's arms around his neck and pushed off the coral rocks to swim to the surface. Seemed like the waters were a little rough up above, so he'd have to be careful. Once he was about to break the surface, he wrapped an arm around the country to keep him close and from being unable to drift away.

Feeling the grip around his waist, England managed to open his eyes, though only halfway, and looked over to see France helping him out of the water. He tightened his arms slightly, and stopped releasing so much air from his lungs.

Embracing the chilled air above the water, both of them collapsed into fits of coughing. After managing to drain some of the water out of their lungs, specifically England, the two looked at each other, France giving him an unamused frown. He continued panting and said, "You really are...a pain in the...ass, you know that?"

The other country growled, "Sorry...that I...nearly drowned...frog."

France rolled his eyes in annoyance, "I may have imagined...beating you one day...but not like...this," Adding with a tone of ridicule, the Frenchman asked, "Why didn't you...swim to safety...idiot?"

Giving another harsh cough to clear up his lungs, England felt his cheeks flush a little and he said somewhat softly, "Because...I can't."

France questioned, "Can't what...?"

England hissed embarrassedly, "...I can't swim..." France could have sworn that he felt the other country cling onto him a little tighter, and he sighed. He couldn't exactly yell at him for being so weak whenever he didn't know how to help himself in this kind of environment.

"But you were a pirate, how could you not know how to swim?"

"Just because I was a pirate doesn't mean I automatically...!" England's voice trailed off whenever he went wide-eyed at a sight that he was fixed on. His mouth fell open and he called out a warning of "France!" to the country in particular to turn around. A huge wave was forming behind them, and the both of them nearly shrieked. It hadn't even begun to break at the peak yet! There was no way of swimming around it either! Seeing that there was no running from the gigantic wave, France did the only thing he could think of in a couple seconds and placed a hand on the back of England's head and pulled him close, like a parent protecting their child, and the wave took both of them back under.

France awoke to the feeling of wet sand under his fingers and opened his eyes to see a couple thick green leaves that probably belonged to palm trees, and nothing else by the starry sky. Did he loose consciousness? From the slight groggy sensation in his head, he could only assume that he did. He bent his head over a choked up a plethora of seawater, leaving his throat a little sore. There was a growling in his stomach, and he felt the familiar ache of hunger. He supposed that he hadn't eaten since before that UN Meeting (well, what was the remainder of the UN, he supposed) to gain some intellect on the enemy they were about to face. Oh, if only he had eaten some of the food he had tried serving to the Pictonians, then he wouldn't be suffering from it. He quickly recollected his thoughts, and remembered that he was hanging on to a certain black sheep before he was knocked under the water again by that monstrous ocean wave. He quickly looked around and discovered that he had washed up on an island, and he sincerely hoped that the same fate had befell the Brit.

He stood up carefully, and once he felt strength return to his limbs, he started searching around the coastline for England. Knowing the newfound knowledge that he couldn't swim, he probably hadn't moved from wherever he was cast ashore to. While being knocked under the water by a wave wasn't pleasant, it was a sign that you would be pushed to shore eventually. Similar to how he found the country the first time, the red of his uniform was what caught his eye; and he was right, it appeared that he hadn't moved from where he was, half lying in the swash that slithered up onto the shore. Kneeling down by him, he couldn't tell if he was breathing, so he gave the country a small shake to see if that would revive him. Thankfully, once applied the bit of pressure to his shoulder, the country woke up immediatley; and France gave a warm smile, even if he was having to silently comfort the nation while he gagged out practically a quart of water from his lungs. Once he had recovered, the Brit gave a sigh and smiled back at him. He certainly owed the Frenchman for saving his life twice. The two European nations after a couple minutes of silence gave each other a hug, both expressing their relief for each other's safety, and happiness that they were both still alive; though they would deny it if some other nation had asked them about their embrace.

France broke the long silence, "You didn't seem to be all that scared whenever you were in the water," Raising an eyebrow he asked, "Don't want to stare Death in the face with an expression of fear?"

England snorted, "Nations can't die from drowning, France." He stood up, and he immediatley began to wobble slightly, his limbs needing to get used to standing again.

France stood up as well and wrapped a single arm around England's torso to steady him, "I wouldn't try to push that belief, if I were you. I don't know it, and I wouldn't want to find out if it was possible."

Slowly walking together up the beach, England sighed, "Well, I would have found out if you hadn't rescued me," Looking up at France clearly, he said with a small blush, "Thank you."

"You're very welcome, Angleterre. I just hope that I won't be having to rescue you from drowning again in the future," France said with a grin.

England pouted, "Well, until I can learn, there's always that possibility."

"I'll teach you."

"Eh?"

"I said, I'll teach you. I'll take you to a pool sometime and I'll show you."

"No thanks, I'd rather not have some bloody frog flaunting himself to me from a pool."

"You wound me so, England. Besides, not many know that you can't swim, right?"

His cheeks turning red, he looked away and sighed, "You're the only one..."

"Not even your brothers know?"

"Well, maybe, but most of them aren't good at swimming either..."

"Ah, so I'm the only one you've admitted it to. So, that means I'm the only offerer." Giving England's side a reassuring squeeze, he said, "It's not that hard, it's pretty easy to grasp once you're in the water."

The English nation plucked France's arm off his side and replied, "Alright, alright...you can teach me. Just keep your hands off me, will you?"

The two began walking through the jungle and continued on in conversation.

"I wonder if the Pictonians are coming back?"

"Probably, we did offend them and jumped off their ship."

"Don't look at me like it was my fault!"

"What kind of gift is a scone? You had to be crazy to think that they'd like something like that. Cuisine food didn't satisfy them, entertainment did."

"They're starting to sound like a particular nation we know..."

The two looked at each other and laughed. They wouldn't tell anyone of their conversations in the ocean and on the beach, but once they had gotten past all this alien mess, France would get to fulfill his promise to England.

Stupid Omake Because I'm Stupid:

Breathing harshly in order to fill their lungs back up with oxygen, the two didn't speak to one another until they were calmed down again. France was about to ask if the other nation was alright whenever he felt a warm breath go over one of his ears. He felt himself blush, and then England whispered into his ear, "Francis Bonnefoy...you're my hero...~" From there France pushed England back underwater and let him continue drowning while he began swimming to shore.

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