"Come now, Angleterre, zere is nothing for you to be 'aving a fit about!" France could barely conceal his own broad grin as he called across to the frustrated Brit. "You looked like you were 'aving a good time!"
"Having a good time?" England spat, "I'd be having a better time trying to change America's feeding habits!" He turned away from the Frenchman, refusing to accept the fact that it was a tiny bit amusing.
"Oh, you would know how to ''ave a good time', wouldn't you?" France aimed a wink at England. "I 'ave 'eard from certain...sources, zat you are more zan a little...close to your frére, non?" He chuckled. "I would never 'ave considered you ze type, Angleterre."
England was at a loss at France's comment. Sure, he and his brother were growing closer, but God, that bloody twat always jumped to conclusions about everything. "I'm not like you! I don't start treating people kindly just to get in their pants. There is nothing going on", he snapped.
"Ze last time I checked, at zat party zat our dear Alfred was holding, your frére wasn't WEARING any pants." He tapped his chin thoughtfully. "...Well. At least not after I was done with 'im."
"You slept with him? What were you thinking? He had too much to drink, as always, and you took advantage of him. How would you feel if I took advantage of Canada?" England spluttered, his face going red. That'll make him think, England thought happily.
France didn't miss a beat. "What, mon cher, makes you think zat YOU would be the one taking advantage of Canada?" He laughed. "And, I never said I DID sleep with 'im. Goodness, Angleterre, you seem a tad...defensive."
Aaaand, there's another failed comeback for the books. "You...didn't? Then what exactly did you mean? And, I'm not defensive, it's just I've known him since he was little, and I want to make sure he doesn't make...mistakes", he muttered, raising an eyebrow.
"Nothing at all, mon ami!" France said cheerfully, idly pouring himself a glass of wine. "It is simply fun to watch your reactions." He took a sip of his wine and grinned. "Mistakes zat you wish you 'adn't made?" He mirrored England's movement and raised an eyebrow of his own. "Pray tell what?"
"Mistakes? You think something went on between us? I've told you already that nothing happened. If something did, Ireland wouldn't approach me for at least another thirty years, but he's still pestering me as always. So, go take your blasted theories elsewhere", England snarled, slumping in his chair.
"...I am thinking zat you are needing a little...'ow you say, consolation." France perched himself upon the arm of England's chair, suggestively draping a leg over England's splayed knee.
England froze in his seat. For all the centuries he's known this man, he had the suspicion he'd never understand France. One minute he was preparing England to start a war against him, and now he was making moves on him? "Off, off. Get off, you blasted dolt!" England said irritably, trying his best to get the Frenchman off him.
"Zere is no need to be zat way!" France rather reluctantly shifted his leg slightly. He turned away from the fuming blond, crossing his arms and pretending to pout. "You know, you will 'ave ze most unbelievably 'ard time finding an amante with zat attitude..." A smile broke out onto his face, and he turned to look at England again. "Or should I say 'amant'?"
England attempted to stand up to make a run for the door, but France's weight was a little too much to shove off. "Wait- What exactly do you want? Do you want to annoy me enough to punch you in the nose or do you want to sleep with me? Make up your mind!" England hissed, trying not to meet France's eyes.
"Are you offering, Angleterre?"
"Absolutely not. I've hated you for years. Why would I suddenly want to do anything provocative now?"
France heaved a dramatic sigh. "Ah well. Zat is quite a shame...I could have shown you a... magnifique time." He shrugged. "I 'ave 'eard zat ze...ah, what's the word zat dear Kiku would use...tsundere are always the most...enjoyable."
England looked at France again. Was he...trying to guilt trip him? "I'm not going to let you get your way. Why should I let you come anywhere near me?" he grumbled, sitting upright again. He felt quite flustered after France's little...show.
France chuckled once more. "Mon cher, you ask ze most ridiculous questions." He flicked back a lock of his hair and gave England (what he thought was) a devilish grin. "Because I am gorgeous, Angleterre, and you aren't so bad yourself."
England tried to stop his face from becoming red again. He was used to being insulted, but rarely ever got compliments. He shook his head quickly. "You look like a frog", he said, and continued o hold up his cold guard.
"And I suppose zat ze sudden rush of blood to those lovely cheeks of yours is just due to a 'ot flush, non?"
"Y-you just know how warm it is today. Don't get any ideas!"
France made to get off the red-faced Brit, his grin stretching practically the entire length of his face. It was something of a guilty pleasure to annoy England. At least, it would be, if he wasn't France, and thus felt guilty about any kind of pleasure. "I 'ave business to attend to elsewhere, Angleterre. But zis 'as been very...entertaining." Teasingly, he blew a kiss at England. "Au revoir!" With a little more flamboyancy than was necessary, he flounced out of the room.
England stood rooted to the spot, confused by France's sudden display. What the hell...just happened?(A/N)
Why, hello there! I hope you enjoyed the first part of this fic! :D I must point out that this fic was, and will be, written in an RP kind of fashion. My wonderful friend Laura here is the one who (perfectly, in my opinion) played England, and I (Megan) am the one who (failed at) playing France. XD
Laura would like to say, 'I am not as mentally screwed up as I've been made out to be throughout this RP! 8D'So...Shall we continue? :D
Oh, also:
Angleterre = England
Frére = Brother
Mon cher = My dear
Mon ami = My friend
Amante/amant = lover (Amante = female, amant = male)
Magnifique = Magnificent
Au revoir = Goodbye