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2P!FrUK, 2P!CanAme
"Let go, Mon Ami, and I will not burn you with my cigarette."
The hands only clenched tighter on the expensive silk shirt (one that he would have to throw away because it was now tainted) and a warm body pushed insistingly up against his side.
"Now why blow on a cigarette when you can blow on a fag?" England grinned fiercely, "However you want it, my dear France. Either way sounds quite well in its own way."
France almost rolled his eyes and he huffed as he looked at England's terrible choice of clothing. A light pink sweater vest and tan pants simply did not look good and even less so on someone as unappealing as England, "Do cigarette and fag not mean the same thing in your wretched country?"
"You are, perhaps, smarter than you look," England said with that infuriating grin, "But let us find out for sure, shall we?"
"You are not my type," France answered with clear disinterest, "And you will never be with your gaudy clothes and hairy caterpillars."
"Crushing on someone, my dear?" England raised said 'hairy caterpillar' and he glanced up when the door to the meeting room was literally torn off its hinges and two nations stumbled their way inside, "Ah, I see!"
Most of the countries simply ignored America and Canada, who were only slugging each other with all their might because it was a daily thing that wasn't out of the ordinary. Small spatters of blood were flying everywhere, soaking the walls and forming puddles on the ground.
No one even blinked an eye.
"Sorry, Luv, but I doubt America would ever allow you to touch Canada," England smiled and his hand wandered down from France's side, "You see, America has clear masochistic tendencies and they only can be sated by lovely Canada. You remember them as colonies?"
France sneered, attempting to push the pink and tan eye-sore off his person, "They are young," He snapped, "Tendencies tend to change."
"One fine day I allowed them to wander and the two come back at sunset," England said as if he didn't even hear France and was lost in a memory of his former colonies instead, "Dear America had both arms broken and half his hair ripped from his head. The precious boy smiled up at me and said 'Me and Mattie played today! It was really quite fun!'"
"Surely you jest?" France raised a brow and England's Cheshire smile only widened and shook his head.
"You will never be able to pull masochism from dear America," England stated, "Just as you believe you are desirable, you are not. Only I long for you, Luv."
France rolled his eyes this time and pushed the Brit off himself fully, "I want to burn you with my cigarette, Mon Cher." England grinned at the words and latched into France again.
"I shall ever so excitedly accept, Luv."