The Louisiana Purchase
France sighs deeply in the bathtub, where he was stretching his hairy legs out of the bubbles. "Douce France. Cher pays de mon enfance…" he softly sings along with the music which was playing from the small radio by the potpourri on the sink. Suddenly, the phone rings and he sighs again, he was too relaxed to want to get up. He groans and forces his naked body out of the bathtub, then turns the radio volume to soft as he walks into his bedroom without even putting a towel on. "Bonjour!" he greets the person on the other line romantically even though he was quite irritated. There was a moment of silence in the stylish bedroom as the sleekly wet, bare-naked man listens intently to the important news on the other line. "Plenty of Cypress trees and swamps? It sounds absolutely beautiful, monami!" France replies happily. He tells Bienville he'll be right there and hangs up the phone before hurriedly getting dressed and leaving his house to go check out this place.
France smiles as he meets the explorer in this new land. "Beautiful! Gorgeously romantic landscape!" he explains, twirling around while lifting up his arms to draw emphasis to the land surrounding them. "I will immediately get started decorating this beautiful piece of land to fit the French culture. You're going down in the history books, Bienville!" France congratulates the man and shakes his hand.
The next day at the World Meeting, grumpy England takes his seat at the long table. China and Russia also take their seats, skipping a chair in between them and England, usually reserved for France. "Where's France?" Russia asks in that creepy tone of voice he takes on every once in a while. England rolls his eyes "Probably out somewhere getting drunk. Who even cares about him anyway?" "I care about him, England!" Italy cheers next to Spain who was sitting in between him and his brother in order to prevent any brotherly fighting. "France not being here? That's not like him…" Spain had intended to mutter to himself but he ended up being so loud a few countries from across the table heard him. "The last time I saw that dude was last night, he was talking with this other guy and twirling around excitedly not far away from my house" America explains, then takes another bite of his hamburger next to England who was still pouting, unhappy with the fact that so many people cared about his arch-rival. Spain stares at America intently, even after the country was done talking and makes a note to himself to go exploring near America's house that night. Then, all are quiet as Germany starts the meeting without France.
Spain has barely any trouble at all finding France hanging out, just south of America's house. The city lights were out of this world and there was loud music playing as Spain slowly walks into the party. "Ah. Bonjour, Spain!" France calls and dances through some people to reach his friend. "Um, why weren't you at the World Conference today?" Spain asks as he pushes away France's hand which was offering him a glass of wine. "Oh, I had much more important business to accomplish, amigo" France answers, trying to make his friend more comfortable by using a Spanish word in his sentence. "Yesterday, one of my explorers found this amazing piece of land and I spent all day today dressing the place up! You like? Right now we're standing in the French Quarter, I made the name up myself!" he explains and Spain grins, looking around at the architectural beauty. "I love it! In fact… I would like to own it myself!" he answers and France nearly spills the second glass of champagne he was pouring himself. "But, what could you possibly mean, monami? I just fixed up the place myself! You can't take it from me!" France whines in that particular accent of his. Spain frowns and bows his head. "But, France… your own place back home is already spectacular. I want a nice place like this where my people can celebrate and party all night long! ... if only…" Spain's voice drifts off. He ends up standing there in front of surprised/guilty France, giving the blonde man an innocent, pouty face. France bites his cheek awkwardly and looks at the ground. "Well, I guess you can have it. If… you promise to take care of it!" France struggles to say. He desperately didn't want to leave this beautiful city he created for himself but he also couldn't stand to see his friend so upset. "Really? Gracias, Francia!" Spain cheers and hugs his slightly depressed friend.
The next day, France sighs as he sits on a cliff overlooking the Mediterranean Sea. The breeze blows through his long blonde hair as he hugs his legs and starts to bury his face in his knee caps. "Ciao, France!" France immediately looks up and sees N. Italy excitedly waving to him from a small boat his brother was helping him sail in the Mediterranean Sea. France gives him a weak smile as the two steer their boat to shore and run up to France. "Have you seen Spain? We've been looking for him all day! We want to collect tomatoes together!" N. Italy asks and S. Italy frowns, waiting for an answer. France lets out a long agonizing sigh. "I have no idea where he is!" he lies and trudges back toward his house, leaving the two brothers standing there, confused.
That night, France couldn't sleep. His heartache was too strong. He quickly throws on some clothes and heads straight back to the land Spain had acquired from him.
"Bonjour, monami!" Spain laughs as he greets France who was running quickly towards him. "Spain, I realized I can't give this land away so easily! You have to give it back!" France begs. Spain frowns, he didn't expect this kind of a greeting. "Fine. But you know you can't win me over this easily. You're going to have to work for it, amigo!" Spain narrows his eyes and a playful grin crosses his face as he takes a sword off of one of the buildings that was used for decoration. France smiles menacingly and takes the sword on the opposite side of the previous one. "You're on, monami" he replies and the two start their little combat.
Eventually, the two had brought soldiers from each of their own countries and things were getting way of out control down there. America groans and turns over in bed as he's forced to listen to the sound of men screaming and swords clashing with one another all through the night. That night he obviously didn't sleep well.
The next day, America follows his usual routine, going to McDonald's for breakfast, lunch and dinner. And in between meals he either relaxes on the couch playing video games or goes to exercise to burn off all the calories from the hamburgers he's eaten. Today he even wrote a script and went outside to start filming an idea for a movie he came up with. But all day, no matter what he did, he constantly heard the music, the laughing and partying, and he even stopped what he was doing every now and then to try to listen closer.
That night, he laid in bed, staring at the ceiling, unable to get to sleep because of the noise.
France grins as he stands atop a table at Café Du Monde and holds out a glass of wine. "Bon appetite!" he cheers and all the French people rejoice as the band starts playing again. France smiles at all his happy guests and then his face turns takes on a surprised expression when he sees a light-brunette haired man standing in his pajamas and rubbing his eyes behind his glasses. He quickly gets off the table and rushes over to him. "Bonjour, Misur America!" he greets exhausted America. "W-what's going on here?" America barely manages to let out. France frowns at the drowsy man in the middle of a wonderful party. "Why, who needs to sleep when you can celebrate? Let me show you around" France says excitedly and grabs America's arm to lead him away from the restaurant. He was so proud of his work that he was glad there was another country he could show it to.
Soon, the two countries are alone in the night, walking down the deserted streets which were lit by artfully crafted streetlights. "You like it so far?" France smiles as America slowly chews on a Praline. "Sweet" he comments, peering at the treat with a curious expression. France chuckles at the look on America's face and grabs his arm to drag him over to another area. "And this is the French market. A souvenir for your visit?" he asks America and gestures to all the different tables of hand-crafted collectibles. France waits patiently as his friend browses through the merchandise. America then smiles and goes to sit on a bench just outside the market. France sits down with him and stares at the wondrous expression on America's face, looking around at all the different restaurants and balconies around the city. "This place is really comforting… like it's home" America finally tells France after breathing in deeply as if taking in the pure culture around him. France stares into his eyes for a moment and then does a weak smile back right before America looks away again. "I really do like this place. What should we do next?" America asks with strong interest. France's eyes immediately drop down to America's Superman jammies and Elmo slippers. "Well… there are plenty of clothing shops around here. I can get you a new wardrobe" France suggests and America immediately pouts and blushes like crazy when he realizes why France said that. The blonde country laughs at his goofy friend. "I'm sorry. I couldn't help myself" he apologizes and then stares at America who was looking away from him again, trying to get the redness on his cheeks to die down. It was utter darkness outside except for the slight illuminations of the streetlights as France leans closer to America and places his hand lightly over the other country's. America pretends not to notice, but a slight smile crosses his face.
Apparently neither of them minded because they both held hands all through their journey down the Riverwalk. America stares in awe at the Natchez boat sailing through the water. France smiles. "Isn't she a beauty? We should go on it one time, just you and me" France whispers and starts to cuddle his face into America's neck. America blushes again and starts to feel very uncomfortable but then he remembers it's just France's nature to be so romantic all the time. "Um, yeah" he answers in agreement.
Soon, America and France are sitting in one of the balconies, eating delicious food that was prepared by one of the restaurants. The street they were overlooking was eerily silent except for the Zydeco jazz music being played by a local band. "This place is beautiful, France. It really does feel like home" America breaks the silence between them and France sighs. "You keep saying that…" the blonde man starts but trails off. "Saying what?" America asks. "That this city feels like home to you" France finishes and America stares at him, still not getting what was bothering France so much. For a long moment, France sits staring at the floor underneath his chair as America takes a few more bites of his food. Finally, France turns seriously and locks his blue eyes in a stare with America's blue eyes. "Would you like to have it?" he finally asks. America's eyes widen behind his glasses. "Well, sure. I'd love to! But… you worked so hard on it" he says. France shrugs. "I know I did. But… I can't help but think that… well, the land is so close to yours and… I get this strong feeling…" he struggles to find the words. "That we both co-exist happily here. I know. I get the same feeling" America interrupts and France gives him a weak smile. "Please take it, America. I know you'll take good care of it" France says softly. America gives him that elated "I am the hero" smile back. "Of course I'll buy it from you! And I promise I'll keep everything practically the same as it is now, only I'll add a few American touches"
The next day, the two countries walk happily together down Canal Street, each of them carrying their own countries flags. "Okay, this makes it official" America says as the two stop in front of one of the balconies. The Spanish flag was still hanging proudly. France had never taken it down since he acquired the territory back from Spain. "I'll place mine to the left of it and you'll place yours to the right of it. That way, even though the land now belongs to me, it will still be a proud city of three cultures!" America explains and France smiles in agreement. The two attach their flags on either side of the Spanish flag and then wave good-bye to each other.
France smiles to himself as he heads back to his own country. He felt that a weight had been lifted off his shoulders, he knew that his hard work would be preserved in the hands of America. Then, all of a sudden, a loud "WHOA!" interrupted his thoughts. France snickers. America must've just discovered Bourbon Street.