It was a common occurrence for France to break into England's home and see no one there – the man, after all, had a tendency to go and visit some of his former colonies, in hopes that maybe one of them would love them again [always pathetically forgetting Canada, France would always add in his mind with contempt, flipping his hair back and knowing that he could've been a much better father had he just won the war]. It was nothing out of the ordinary for France to stroll along the corridors of England's classy yet slightly outdated Victorian house, smirking at the paintings adorned on the walls and casually placing a rose here and there, in hopes of provoking England into a rage when arriving home and realizing his house had had an uninvited visitor.
So, it was very surprising to the Frenchman, as he was raiding England's sitting room in hopes of finding some tacky embroidery to brandish out in future meetings and smirk at the horrified look on England's face, that there would actually be something alive there waiting for him.
"Who are you?" France asked in surprise as he regarded the little white thing with curiosity. It was sitting on England's worn out armchair, a little top hat on top of it and the same bushy eyebrows that England had himself.
"Who are you?" the thing shot back, his eyebrows pulling together in a rather remarkable imitation of England's. France bit back a laugh; this thing was quite amusing.
"I am France, country of love!" France proclaimed dramatically, sinking down on his knees to be at eye-level with the curious little thing.
"Rubbish," it pronounced, and suddenly France did not find it as amusing as he did before.
"I assure you, I am not rubbish at all," France sniffed, tossing his hair back.
The little white thing snorted [how, France wondered, as it did not even have a nose] and glared at France. "Will you leave?" it asked him.
"No, I don't think I will," France replied, standing up. "I'm not done finding things to embarrass England with at the next meeting." He had no trouble telling this little, annoying, indubitably British thing what he was looking for; he had a very strong feeling that England was aware of France's blackmailing raids of his house.
"Leave!" it replied heatedly, looking furious. France noted with some amusement [as he opened a nearby basket and looked in it hopefully for some sort of knitting or embroidering project England was currently working on] that it had the same adorably furious look on its face that England always got whenever France taunted him. He was half tempted to pet the thing, but wasn't quite sure if it had teeth or not and didn't want to risk his beautiful hands being bitten by it.
"Aha!" France exclaimed triumphantly a few minutes later, waving something that looked like a pair of worn out shorts, with the beginnings of a patch being stitched on to cover up a fairly large hole. "So this is what England wears at home," he said with amusement, smirking at the cheesy fairy design and wondering if England had bought it from a child's clothing store under the pretence that he was buying it for a nephew or younger sibling. "This will be perfect to show off in the next meeting!" he said, laughing jubilantly, picturing the look on England's face when he realized that France had uncovered his favourite fairy boxers.
"No!" the thing on the arm chair exclaimed, looking furious. "That's not yours!"
"Ah, but since when have I ever cared about that, hmm?" France asked with a laugh, prancing over to it and waving the boxers in its face.
"You bugger!" it said angrily and France laughed again. Provoking this thing was almost as fun as provoking England! France really needed to ask England where he had gotten such a strange creature – he wanted one!
"Thank you for keeping me company, mon petit~!" France said cheerfully. "For you, a rose!" He pulled out the delicate flower from God knows where [the designer jacket he was wearing had a inner pocket where he kept his flowers safe – but no one knew of this except for France himself, and he preferred it to stay that way] and placed it on top of the thing, adjusting it so that the rose seemed to be coming out of the hat.
"Don't touch me please," the thing said coldly, his eyebrows coming together in a thick line as France ignored his request.
"What are you doing here, frog?" an equally cold voice said from the doorway. France whirled around to see England glaring at him, his eyes darting from France to the thing on the arm chair. "And what were you doing to my mochi?"
"Mochi?" France as he walked towards England, smirking as England backed away.
"A gift from Japan. Now, if you'll kindly leave my house," England said through gritted teeth, pointing towards the door.
"I was just about to leave anyways. I got what I came here for~" France sang out and laughed as England looked horrified.
"What did you take from my house?" he roared. France laughed.
"I wouldn't want to ruin the surprise!" he said teasingly, and with a light peck on England's cheek [making the latter's face turn a dark red], France pranced out of the house, laughing as he heard England shoot insults at his retreating back.
It was when he was a few houses away from England's that France heard the horrified howl come from the Briton as it was realized what indeed had been taken from him. France laughed again, taking out the pair of fairy boxers and waving it in the air as he walked home. He decided to call Japan once he got home. France wanted one of those mochis!
The End.
A/N: Just a short little fic for the FrUK December Love Fest on livejournal :P
I'd want a mochi too!
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