~The Absolutely Marvelous and Romance-Filled Tales of the World's One True Gentleman, the Daring, Handsome, and Brave, France the Magnifique

"Your title is too bloody long."

Glaring up at Angleterre, France merely gave the other nation a smug smirk. To which he received an eye roll, but he knew it was just the cover for a greater admiration. Angleterre was just jealous that he was writing a book that would be better than his precious Shakespeare. "Aucun, mon ami. It eloquently and perfectly explains the entire premise of my book!"

"Wino freak..."

Even though Angleterre was walking away from such a perfect read, France did not mind. He would be back once he realized how wrong he was (though he would always be wrong), and how perfect the title (and the story) would be. He would practically come back on his knees, begging to read it and be forgiven for thinking such blasphemy. And France would forgive him (maybe, maybe not chancing a quick grope while he was at it) for his doubts in the beginning. How would he have known that it would turn out to be such a perfect book? France had enough care and forgiveness in him to spare even Angleterre of such a cruel fate as to never reading his book.

For a moment, he stared at his title, reexamining it. Angleterre may have been on to something (though he would never admit that he ever took advice from the other nation). It seemed like it was...missing something. A smile curving up the corners of his lips, he took the pen back up and added a small, extra flourish to the end of the title.

...France the Magnifique: Amour dans le Monde~

If he could write about anything, it would be amour! He was very skilled in the art of seduction, romance, and even those small, fluffy moments one could have with his significant other. Yes, he was a man among men when it came to amour! So what else should his tale of grandeur be about other than love?

This was the tricky part; he leaned back in his chair and placed the tip of the feather to his chin absently as he pondered. Now that the title had been taken care of, where to start, where to start...? Of course, with all of his conquests! All of which were successful; yes, every single one of his tidings with amour had left the recipient of his feelings breathless and amazed.

As he glanced up quickly, though, his train of thought was derailed upon seeing the dear, hot-tempered (and entirely easy) Italie duSud speaking with his dear friend, Espagne. How perfect would it be to explain everything around him as he entertained one with his conquests? Most of those other nations who surrounded him were oblivious, dense, even blind to the love wafting through the air all around them. Someone needed to fix that; and who else besides the great France, the nation of love, himself? He was a romantique; he could amuse the notion of helping others with their love lives as he told tales (certainly not tall ones; all of his amour was true!) of his conquests through his life.

Since they happened to be in front of him for the time, he decided to start on his absolutely oblivious ami and that sweet Italie du Sud.

'It is a funny thing, amour. Sometimes it can throw itself right into your arms and you still may not notice it there. I, for one, try to keep my emotions as bared as possible, to leave no room for misunderstanding, in order to ensure that my partner knows of my intentions. They will always come running back to me; alas! I cannot entertain them all at once.

There is one example that I see frequently of this, however. Love has smacked him right across the face, many times, might I add, and he still walks on as if not having felt a thing. True, this friend of mine has never, ever been able to see what has been in front of him, but this, surely, he must have some common sense of! It is, after all, the one he holds feelings for himself who loves him dearly.

And if you ever said that to the one who loves him, I would give you my condolences. This feisty one would not be a 'soft' lover, but a 'tough' lover.'

"Are you, perhaps, speaking of Romano-san...?"

From behind him, there was the always-reserved Japon, who had been looking over his shoulder a bit to read what it was that France had been writing. Normally, France would smirk and make some lewd comment, but at the moment he was busy. His subjects were not going to stand there arguing (if such a one-sided argument could be called such) all day! Still, he did manage one of his winning smiles at the other nation, who frowned slightly in response. "Mon ami, it is merely a recording of the things I see. If it so happens to resemble the hot-tempered Italie duSud, then I can assure you there is no relation."

His smooth and comforting words did not seem to soothe the other, as he still looked at the paper worriedly. "Well...If that is what you say...Then be careful of who might see this..."

With his last bit of advice, Japon walked off across the room to consult Alemagne about something. Somewhere else, he could see Angleterre griping about one thing or another to an uncaring Amérique, and decided on his next topic for discussion in his book. Espagne and Italie du Sud could wait for a moment. This moment had to be recorded in history forever.

'...And while on the topic of inconsiderate lovers, the two I see now across from me make a wonderful topic to speak of. While one is clearly lusting after the other fruitlessly, chasing after something he can no longer have, the other is wishing to be anywhere else, finished with his once-father. That is right. It's almost a sin for the father to be lusting after his son, but he is, and he knows he has no chance in Enfer. However, he presses on anyways; although he is a very lousy lover. His skills in bed, I must say, truly leave something to be desired.

Ah, but I am the master of love; I must be kind to those who are less than I am in the matters of amour.

For the darling, hamburger-consuming, uninterested one...He has all flamboyance but no real technique. One must remember that he has only just begun to have true amour, he is still a young lover yet, but as it stands now, even Angleterre could do better than him. He is all flash with no true passion. No technique. Just simply an amateur. It is easy to remedy this, of course.'

"I do not think that comrade Америка would appreciate having such things said about him, Франция."

A chill ran up his spine at that voice. And not a good chill, either. That childish voice which promised so much malice and pain, while it giggled and sounded like it was just having innocent fun...And the blatant dropping of the pet term 'comrade' for himself were too many blaring signs on who the speaker was. Slowly, carefully (but certainly not intimidated), France turned to greet the speaker. "Russie...What a-- pleasant surprise."

In all of his years, France would have rather been anywhere besides with the chilling man leaning in from behind him, to read what it was that he had written. It was all just a ploy. He didn't know if he had the courage to write about this in his book, however. "...Ah! You mention the little южное Италия in there as well! Then I must applaud you, comrade!" At least he had gone back to calling him that. It was one step farther away from certain death. "...But why do you say that comrade Америка has no skills? Surely you've heard of my lessons...?"

A baited question. France was not sure which answer would lead him out alive. "...No?" Clearing his throat to rid himself of that embarrassing squeak, France gave it another try. "My dear friend, Russie, I do not believe I know what it is you are talking about..."

The smile was chilling. It made his blood run cold; he didn't care how strong anyone was, including him, who was the strongest of them all; that smile would make anyone cow in fear. Anyone. "...Is all right, da? I must show you later...So long, comrade!"

'...Never date Russie. He has no amour left in him. All that is there is the desire to cause pain.'

And that was all he had to say on that matter.

Since by now Italie du Sud and Espagne had begun to leave the room, France scrambled back to his previously started paragraph on the matter. It would be cruel of him as an author to simply leave it off as a cliff hanger for all eternity, non?

'...He is unsympathetic, quick to anger, and absolutely a terror when it comes to certain subjects. Most would try to keep away from this danger, but I say that you should be running towards it! His entire demeanor is just an act! What he is really meaning to convey is that he's absolutely available, and that he wants you to take him. Correct; when Italie du Sud says, "Eat bullets, you bastard! I'll put a hit on you, dammit!" what he really means is:

'I'll kill you only not really just take me already!'

One can hardly tell if he is demanding, shy, or just impatient. Mon Dieu, to be with someone with as much passion as him would be a fantasy among fantasies. In fact, being with both Espagne and Italie du Sud at once would be a veritable dream come true. Of course, the swearing would be something to worry about, as would the name calling, but I am sure that is just his default reaction in his heightened passion.'

"Aiyaa! Can you not be doing anything simple and clean, aru?"

He knew that voice very well. He had gotten closer to this friend during the time they formed the allied forces. "Mon chéri, Chine! Come to have a look at my masterpiece, have you?"

The look he received was a disbelieving one (mon Dieu! What did he ever do to deserve such mistrust?), but there was some kind of humour in the eyes. As was normal, Chine would allow him to explain his point before rejecting it completely. "I just curious, aru. What need you for such a long title? It not really help much, aru."

Again, there was controversy over his chosen title. Just barely keeping from huffing moodily, France shook his head lightly as he smirked at the other nation. It was his turn to feel uneasy. "Mon Chine, can't you see that the title is absolutely perfect? It describes the entire length of the story just so well. It excites the heart and makes one eager to get to the actual meat of the story, to read it as it is!"

"...Right, aru. I...be over there, aru."

Another one, running away from pure genius. He would be more forgiving for Chine than Angleterre because of a conflict of preference. He did quirk an eyebrow at the strange sight of seeing Chine going over to talk with Japon. Another case of family going after family; only, he supported this more than Angleterre's attempts because Angleterre was just pathetic. Chine and Japon had some chemistry at least.

Speaking of which...

'Then, there's the flip-side; caring for someone too much. Proclaiming to own your older brother's breasts could be problematic to a relationship.

But, ah, the scent of fresh amour is once again among me! I can see two brothers working to get over their differences in order to work something out; will their relationship be taken to the extent of love? I cannot tell; amour between two shy lovers is always a hard kind to pin down. I say they should go for it, however, and allow me to be in on at least some of the action. Chine has the right knowledge, and Japon the youth to make it all very interesting. If only he was not jail bait.

Amour is a whole different world for those who can be upfront and personal with their feelings; take, for example, the other Italie brother. He has been so very prominent in explaining his feelings to the awkward, yet surprisingly kinky Alemagne. If any amour could be awkward, Alemagne could manage to make it even more awkward. Why, last Valentines, he even took him out on a date! But Alemagne remains oblivious; this is almost a reverse of the situation the ignorant Italie found himself in so many years ago. Perhaps he has learned his lesson from then, and intends to make his love known before one of them can disappear. One can clearly see the want in his eyes; that is, all except for the one who has those emotions aimed directly at him. Italie has the talent of seduction on his side at the very least.

Just thinking back to it is enough to make several maidens swoon; Italie, as cute and cheery as he is, is quite dominant under the covers. It has to do with being Italie, I suppose; it's something every man of love should strive for, should desire to have.'

"W-Was are you writing about, Frankreich?!"

Sighing inaudibly, France trained his expression into a smirk before turning to face the tall blond who stood behind him. It was easier to make it look more natural upon seeing how bright a rouge the other nation's face was. What he had stated earlier was true. "Alemagne, is there something in my story that makes you...uncomfortable?"

At least Alemagne was not stupid. He could catch the hints like that from France; he always seemed to miss them when they came out of Italie's mouth, though. Strangely suspicious, if you asked him. "I-I...The way you portray Italien in your story is disturbing and wrong. A-And do you mean that you've...With him...!?"

"Jealous, mon Alemagne?" The blond looked venomous at the statement, clearly not wanting to admit to the statement, but had no other choice. France could see that his assumption was correct. Without having to hear any vocal confirmation or gestures of affirmation, he could tell by the fire and spite in his blue eyes. Alemagne was, indeed, very jealous. "You could not possibly know the extent of what Italie and I have shared, in bed or otherwise."

He had known the statement to be dangerous to make, but he had to admit he had not been expecting to have a pistol pointed at his head. Apparently, there was still that violent rage left inside of the blond. As he closed his eyes, preparing for the pain he (most likely) did not deserve, a familiar voice rang out, causing both men to freeze in place. That voice that could so easily either placate a room full of griping and cranky men or start a war of annoyance.

"Germania~! Francia~! What are you guys talking about? What can't Germania wrap his head around?"

The entire statement was left punctuated by that ever-so-innocent giggle. Alemagne quickly hid the pistol back in his pocket and coughed awkwardly into his fist. He was already starting to blush once again; France would have made a comment had it not been so recent to his near-pain experience. Instead, he greeted the bright and cheery boy by moving up to get a hug. As usual, it was not difficult to get Italie to comply. "Ah, mon ami! We were just having a private conversation over someone Alemagne has a crush over..."

"Ooh, a crush?" He could have sword there was a tone of annoyance in the boy's voice at that, but it was so hidden he must have just imagined it. This was Italie, hardly anything could annoy the man. "Who is it? I wanna know! Germania, who do you have a crush on?"

Rather than answering the absurd (only in his mind) inquiry, the blond excused himself rather rapidly before glaring at France and striding away. France was left to pout. Did no one truly realize how much amour was flying through the air? It was preposterous not to!

Italie seemed to go unbothered and simply snuggled more into the hug France had him trapped in. The boy's default seemed to be stuck on cuddle. "Nee nee, fratello Francia, do you know who Germania has a crush on? I bet it's someone like sorella Ungheria! Or, or maybe it's a human~! Wah, I'll bet she's pretty!"

Chuckling lightly at his friend, though wondering how he could think someone as uptight as Alemagne could have a romantic interest in Hongrie, France patted the boy's back comfortingly. Would it help at all if he told Italie the blond's small secret? No, that wouldn't do. Amour was about finding one's love on their own, and achieving that happiness without assistance. "Non. Je suis désolé, mon Italia, but I do not know who it is that Alemagne has his fancy on."

"Ve...?" The verbal tick popping up as Italie stared up at France with a puzzled expression, France merely laughed it off. For being so truly innocent at times, he did know how to have a good time when coaxed. Or when there was something he wanted. "I don't understand."

"It is all right, you do not have to."

The world was crazy anyways. As far as he had heard, his Mathieu had decided to entertain that brute Prusse. Of all people! And the two were actually getting along as well. If the mother was going to go after his son and the two brothers were to date, why could he not have a small bit of fun? If the world was going to go insane, then he could join in on it. It promised more for him than just standing back to observe.

After a moment of good thought, France turned to the boy and grinned lewdly. He knew that it would fly right over the cheery boy's head anyways. "Say, mon Italie, would you mind sharing a bed with me tonight? It gets awfully lonely when there's no one for me to cuddle up next to, wouldn't you agree?"

"Ooh! What is that, fratello Francia?"

He had been cut off as the hyper-active boy popped out of his grasp to look down at the story France had been weaving together. He stared at it for a moment, confused, then began to laugh as he read the rest of the way through it. Luckily, he was dense enough not to understand most of what was in there anyways.

"Fratello Francia has a strange way of saying things~ But that's okay! I'll bet the story is really interesting as it goes on! It has to describe the battles fought to keep those relationships in place, and how sometimes some of us get heartbroken because we aren't all human, we're nations, too..."

France blinked, forced to reexamine the boy standing before him, looking down at the beginning tale of his epic amour. That had been surprisingly deep for bubbly Italie. Perhaps they were always underestimating him when it came to the matters of the heart; it was true that he was Italie. And France had to agree with his statement. Observing the relationships from the sidelines would help him write this story, so he could show them all how incredulously ridiculous they were all being about it. "Oui. It will, eventually. However, I am still only at the beginning, and will need time to arrive at that part."

"Sì!" Italie giggled again, and unexpectedly latched on to France once more. He really should have seen it coming, but the boy could be unpredictable when he wanted to be. "I'll bet fratello Francia will have a nice part in the story as well~! He has to fight for his love, and that is what will make it worth it! I believe that fratello Francia can do it!"

Those words of confidence, although he frequently gave them to everyone, meant more to France than he would let anyone know. He hugged back with genuine feeling, and for once didn't even think of trying anything. "Italie, never lose that light inside of you. Stay this way for forever."

"Ve, Germania said that to me once, too..."

By his happy grin, France knew that it was his own way of agreeing. Italie would never change. The world could come crashing down around them at any moment, and he would stay the same silly pasta and pizza-loving boy. More of their sanity depended on it than one would initially think.

And since that moment had been taken care of...

"So, mon Italie, are you still willing to share my bed with me tonight? I'll make it a special offer just for you!"

"Wah, I'd like that a lot, fratello Francia! But mio Fratello e Germania both told me to watch out for your hands if you ever asked me! I don't know why, but they told me to also tell you not to do anything~ They can be so strange sometimes."

Mon Dieu! Could he never get a break for just expressing his undying whole-hearted love to the world?

~Fin

A/N: Yeah. My prompt for this was "a comedy fic with some France and Italy bro-ness". How did I get this? Well, either way, I wrote this as a gift for a friend I've RPed with. She's our France, and is amazing. Here are the translation notes (and please remember that I am human, and prone to not getting things right as I do not speak any of these languages; if I've made a mistake, please, tell me and I'll fix it right away):

(French)

Magnifique - Splendid
Angleterre - England
Aucun, mon ami - No, my friend.
Amour dans le Monde - Love in the World
amour - love
Italie du Sud - South Italy (Literally, it is "Italy of South")
Espagne - Spain
Romantique - Romantic
Japon - Japan
Alemagne - Germany
Amérique - America
Enfer - Hell
Russie - Russia
Mon Dieu - My God
Mon chéri - My darling
Chine - China
Hongrie - Hungary
Je suis désolé - I am sorry (very formal)
Prusse - Prussia
Oui - Yes

(Japanese)

-san - Honorfic (to be used with someone you don't know who is usually an elder; more polite than -chan or -kun, but less subservient than -sama)

(Russian)

Америка - America
Франция - France
южное Италия - South Italy

(German)

Was - What
Frankreich - France
Italien - Italy

(Italian)

Germania - Germany
Francia - France
Fratello - brother
sorella Ungheria - sister Hungary
Sì - Yes
mio Fratello e Germania - my Brother and Germany