Rated: PG
Language: English
Categories: Romance/General
Title: He Be the One
Summary: France thinks Spain needs to get out of the house since taking in his ward, and drags him to a club for the night. Fun times ensue. Spance (because that's an amusing thing to say aloud. i.e., Spain/France.)
Author's Note: I'm sorry for such a horrible title/pun all in one. xD It was a meme challenge (gasp, another?) and the pairing used here was supposed to be put together in the order shown, top-bottom: Spain-France. I've dabbled in writing 'em before, but not interactively. And I haven't made them speak very much; so they'll probably be at -least- a bit OOC. Plus, as mentioned at the bottom, I don't speak Spanish or French. So if you want to know what they're saying, refer to the note at the end for supposed translations. (P.S. if you guess the song the lyrics and title came from without looking it up, I'll give you a cookie. It shouldn't be too hard to at least guess the singer, following the trend of other fics I've done with Antonio in them...)

He Be the One

Music sounded all around the building, bouncing off the walls and echoing down the halls as the lights swirled and flickered in every direction, bodies dancing in time with the rhythm presented. "Don't fool yourself; you can't stop it if you tried, and it's a bumpy ride!"

How Francis had managed to talk him into going here, Antonio had no idea. One minute he'd been watching little Romano dart past him screaming about France and yelling 'bastard' back at him, and the next he was being dragged out of the house by the blonde himself.

Come to think of it, maybe it was the fact that France hadn't even talked to him at all about where they were going that had brought him to this club. It was entirely possible, after all.

Regardless, they stood in the midst of a large crowd with pulsating music ringing in their ears, lights of all colours flashing around them. It didn't take the brunette very long to figure out where he was, despite his typical absent-mindedness; this must have been one of the clubs the Frenchman had been talking about when last they had met. Whatever else he'd said had went in one ear and out the other since he'd been coddling a trembling and fussy Romano who was trying to run for dear life and his concentration had been largely divided up in favour of trying to calm the tyke, but at least that much he remembered.

The music pounded loudly enough that Spain was almost certain he would have a migrane by the time they left. "She hits the club, and everybody watches. And when she dances, everybody wants it."

"Boissons d'abord?" shouted France above the volume of the music, pointing to the bar with one hand as his other released the Spaniard's arm a decent distance from the door.

"What?" Spain yelled in response.

"Drinks, mon ami! Drinks!"

"What do they have here?"

"Hmm?"

"I said, what do they have here?"

France's eyes rolled and his hand flew back to his friend's, pulling him along with him further away from the speakers. There was no sense in shouting when you didn't have to; besides, he wasn't that good with sign language.

Spain's eyes locked onto their hands as he was pulled along. The contact sent off little jolts of something through him and despite how thick he could be about some things, certainly, this wasn't one of them. It took him less than a few moments to analyze the sensation and come to a conclusion about it. His eyes trailed their way up the light-skinned male's arm to what little of his face he could see from behind him, letting his mind wander slightly.

He hadn't really given much thought to their attire before, considering he'd been dragged out of his house before he had much of a chance to change, but up to this point he hadn't really gotten a good look at what France was wearing, either. Now that the thought occurred to him to look, he had to admit that he wasn't really entirely surprised at the revealing attire.

Spain pulled his arm back, tugging his friend to a stop and bringing him to face him. "Quiera bailar?" he asked, his grin wide as he pulled the blonde back to him until their chests met and his arms looped around his waist.

Francis quirked a brow in amusement, replying, "That is the point of coming here, non?"

Antonio's lips descended upon his, and there was a span of silence between them as their surroundeds seemed to slowly melt away into nothing, two pairs of eyes sliding closed to savour the moment. Then, when the two pulled away, he dropped his attention to the milky throat and began scattering kisses across it, earning soft gasps from the other nation.

At length, he pulled back and grinned at the male across from him. "What I mean is a different kind of dance, mi angel frances."

Biting onto his lower lip, Francis grabbed the man's arm and pulled him toward the back of the club in a relatively dim area nearest the restrooms. It wasn't quite what the blonde had had in mind when he brought his friend here, but since when was he ever one to turn down a bit of fun?

The two disappeared into one of the stalls as the music blared from the main halls of the dance club. "You know you're gonna get some."

You should be warned: I don't speak French at all, and I don't trust the very little Spanish I remember from my eight years of classes to be as accurate as it needs to be. Thus, I used IMTranslator to help with the languages one again. In order:
(French) Boissons d'abord? = Drinks first?
(French) Mon ami = My friend
(Spanish) Quiera bailar? = Want to dance?
(French) Non = No
(Spanish) Mi Angel Frances = My French Angel
If I'm wrong on any of it, I'm very sorry. And I'm sorry they're out of character, and the detail is lacking. But, again, it was a meme challenge and I couldn't think of anything else. Nor felt comfortable wriging it. (sob) But there you have it. Sorry to waste your time. xD