He took another bite of his second pastry of the day. Coincidentally, he was getting a bit pudgy around his midriff, and the well-developed S curve he had made it even more dramatic. France sighed. Now was not the time to be putting on weight. After all, the meeting was in a few days, and he needed to look good.
A few weeks prior to his weight mishap, France had been taking a good natured walk when he found a small black box.
"Hm…?" He picked up the box, and then promptly dropped it. For the small size, he certainly wasn't expecting the box to be this heavy. He bent over and retrieved the box one more time, and proceeded to open it. After a bit of difficulty, he managed to open the infuriating little thing. The effort, however, was well worth his time. France grinned. What luck.
Finding the lovely little box had changed things for the better. Upon opening it, France had been pleased to discover the abundance of little gold nuggets resting on black velvet. Whoever had lost this box was at a great disadvantage, so France being France, he took it, putting the gold to use for himself. Now that was all good and well, but as soon as it was discovered how many pastries he could buy from his favorite Patisserie downtown, or how many small things were purchasable from his favourite Chocolaterie, France's health took no time going downhill. Now, it appeared, he was gaining weight. Being in the fog of delicacies, France didn't pay much mind to his widening waistline, but now that the initial thrill had worn off, his disappointment was evident. Amongst mutters of his 'becoming one of those overweight Americans', the knock on his door went unnoticed. However, a moment later, the knock came again. This time, France noticed, and just as well he noticed that the knock sounded rather indignant.
He knew who it was right off. How did the Brit manage to make even knocking on the door sound indignant? Never mind that. France wiped the crumbs of his shirt, stood up, and went to the door.
England stood in the doorway, frustrated. How on earth could France take that ridiculously long to get to the door? Because, after all, waiting at the door—in the rain, mind you—was absolutely lovely. He raised his hand to knock once more, his temper increasing with the altitude of his hand.
The door opened, and it took a great amount of strength due to his surprise, and hatred of the other man, to keep from knocking on France's face.
"You took your time. It's freezing out here." England stood, soaked lamely, at the door. He refrained from snappily asking to be let in. Besides, there was no reason to abandon his civility at the slightest annoyance. The French man smiled. "Ah, Angleterre. I was not expecting you today. Come in." He stepped aside.
Muttering a thank you, England came in. "I have a matter of importance to discuss with you, I'd appreciate if we could sit."
France smiled. "Ah, yes. Sit, please. I… I have a matter of my own." He offered a pastry. "Care for one?"
England politely declined, and France looked at the doughy sweet in his hand with distrust. Attempting to eschew the large amount of pastries in the room, he said; "Let us move to a different room, ouais*?
England got up with a sigh, accompanied by a tight lipped smile. "Alright. Show the way."
Trying to keep his eyes from wandering around the room, France grabbed something off the counter and walked down the hall. "Ah… pardonnez-moi for the mess…" He gave a smile. Not expecting to get one in return, he looked back to see England with a sardonic grin plastered to his face. For once, France was the one that found himself unequipped to deal with the present situation.
"…What is that smile for, Angleterre?"
Before he could step back, England poked his stomach, his grin getting wider.
"France… you're getting fat." He shook his head. "What miracle, may I ask, made this happen?"
Choosing to ignore his enemies' smirk, France gestured towards the living room. "All these sweets and pastries… I have bought many, as of late."
England gave a rather disbelieving snort, then spoke. "From what I can see, the amount of food in that room is more than you can afford to buy. Who did you nick that money from, eh?" He said, half- jokingly.
France paused. "Actually… I do not know." He gave a shrug. The Frenchman's face managed an expression somewhere between bewilderment and apathy.
The grin now replaced with suspicion, England crossed his arms. "So you did take it from someone. You know, I was taking a piss when I asked if you had stolen it."
France became defensive. "I did not take it directly! I would never do something such as that. Well, maybe if…" He stopped. "No, I did not steal it. I found a box of gold when I was taking a walk, and took it home. No one was around, and whoever had lost it would have been long gone!"
England sighed and shook his head. France was mildly surprised. He had expected a severe berating, but certainly didn't complain when all the British man did was continue down the hall.
"So, regarding the matter I came here to discuss…" France let his mind wander until they came to the end of the hall. England opened a door on the left, and they both went inside. He supposed he should find it disturbing that his enemy knew the layout of his home, but the blue eyed man couldn't bring himself to care. They were sitting now, England with his legs crossed and head held high, and France leaning forward slightly, arms resting on his knees. This wasn't how he usually sat, but in sitting like this, his shirt fell forward to hide some of the fat rolls he had developed upon sitting down. He had gained a bit more than he thought. How delightful.
After a moment of fierce internal debate, France decided he needed help. "Angleterre, can you do something for me?"
Looking a bit indignant at being cut off in such a manner, England replied back snappily. "What?"
Hesitation, then; "I want you to help me… lose this weight. It is very unattractive."
For the third time that day, England released what was partly a snort, and partly a laugh. France's expression, when presented with the derision, made him laugh all the harder.
"Why on earth would you need my help with that?" He questioned. "It's not that bloody hard to take a walk every day, I trust you don't need me to hold your hand."
Now it was France's turn to be indignant. "I want your… help," France found it difficult to ask the small British man for help, "Simply because I need motivation. I will not remember to exercise, and I want the weight lost quickly!" He finished in a huff. England stared for a moment, then sighed in resignation. "Fine. I'll help. Just don't expect me to comfort you after you decide to eat more pastries."
France gave a triumphant smile, and stood.
England stood with him. "I should be going. I have business to take care of."
"Yes, yes. Of course!" France beamed, and before England could stop him, planted a kiss on the shorter man's cheek, provoking a slap.
"Get your bloody hands off me! I don't know why I even bother visiting…" England continued to mutter.
"It was simply a goodbye, mon cher~ Nothing to get so upset over." France said, nursing his cheek.
England glared at him grumpily, then walked out the door. It was still raining.
"Do you want to borrow an umbrella?" France called.
"I don't need a damn umbrella!"
France chuckled and shook his head as he softly closed the door.
The next day, France called England on the phone. "It is day one, Angleterre!"
England insisted he not call again, wished him luck, and hung up.
Alright. France thought. Time to go, now. But somehow, it was very hard to get himself to move. Dressed in his running clothes, he walked outside. Time to lose that weight.
*Ouais – Similar to oui, but is more of an informal word for 'yes' or 'yeah', and not just an affirmative.
One that may confuse the general public: Taking a piss. No, I most certainly do not mean this in the literal sense. English/British slang for 'joking', or messing with someone. Kidding around, etc.
Other French:
Pardonnez-moi – I suppose this one is rather obvious, but it means 'pardon me'.
You know this one as well, if I am correct… Angleterre – England (l'Angleterre – The England)
Mon cher – my dear
I like talking to you people. Even if, of course, it's not in person. The author's notes are quite useful for rambling.