I know Valentine's Day was yesterday, but the site was having a weird moment, and wouldn't let me post…
France hated England's insults.
They were endearing at first, one might even go as far to say adorable, but having them yelled at you every second of the day repeatedly...
That was not so cute.
And there was no variety!
"Nitwit!" "Moron!" "Idiot!"
They all meant the same thing!
And then when the younger nation wasn't ridiculing his intelligence, there were the ones that mocked his gorgeous looks (of which the Frenchman was sure he was just jealous), such as, "Fop!" "Pansy!" and of course, "Namby-pamby!"
France didn't quite understand the last one...
He wasn't entirely sure that England's people did either, but no one would dare correct the man while he was in one of those moods...
It didn't help that he was delighted about not burning his scones for the first time (ever), and so was still wielding a tray of the things, lobbing the still hot rock hard lumps at the retreating Frenchman's back and cackling in Ye Olde Devonian English all the while...
Obviously, France had not been screeching, he had been howling in manly terror, as he had escaped from the green eyed psycho, with only a few burns and bruises, luckily.
Of course, this recall of the past only made him more than a little apprehensive as he (quaked) waited outside England's door.
Before France had the chance to debate running away, the door was open. France practically hurled the box he was carrying at England.
"Happyvalentinesdaymoncher!" He blurted out, chucking the rose and iris selection that he had painstakingly collected into England's face.
England would never be permitted to know how long it took to make sure they were the right damn roses, and now all those months of careful stalking would go to waste, if he didn't rescue the situation now! He was the country of l'amour, not a blushing schoolgirl!
"Oh, er, France..." And then England blushed. Blushed.
"Um. Do you... Want to come in?" France stood in complete shock, mouth agape, before he realised that the goldfish look really wasn't attractive.
"N-no hitting?" He stammered, incredulous. England raised a bushy eyebrow. "Do you want to be hit?" France leaned forward, eyes fixed firmly on the other man's lips. "Oh, mon cher... You can hit me later..."
Rolling his eyes, England reached past France to shut the door, before dragging the other man into the room. "Happy Valentine's day, Frog! I even bought that horrible frog juice you like." France forgot to be indignant at the wine remark as his breath caught. "You bought French wine for meeeeee? Oh, Angleterre! I see I am training you well!" The other blond suddenly found his shoes particularly fascinating. "Ah, well..." He said, rubbing his neck awkwardly, "It is Valentine's day, so..." England's sentence was cut off as the older nation threw himself into his arms, pouting dramatically. England sighed and rolled his eyes before dutifully placing a gentle kiss on the Frenchman's mouth. "Only for you, you complete and utter nutter..."
Hmm. France could get used to that one. It had a ring to it... Utter nutter... Utter nutter... Yeah... He was definitely keeping that one...
Okay, first Hetalia fic so please don't kill me... Feedback is really, really, really welcome...