Author's note: Tumblr request (toobusysinking): « AmericaxFrance, and New Orleans, colonial era ». This one knows all my weaknesses.
The Old and the New
The fabric of Alfred's clothing feels rough against Francis's spoiled skin, still pale and creamy despite the harsh life of New World colonists. But this British colony, with his love of being outdoors and strong attachment to fabrics produced by his American women, was quite content with it all. Perhaps earlier Francis would have said Alfred didn't know any better but that's not the case at all; Alfred simply preferred what was here in this New World that bore him to what was left over from the Old World that Francis came from.
He runs his hands once more through the younger man's hair, Alfred settled between his part legs. They watch ships go in and out of New Orleans, the sound of French all around them. The colony ran all up and down this American continent, and while Francis's heart belonged to the north with Matthew, part of it belonged here too.
"Please don't fight against me," Francis finally sighs. "Let England and Arthur do as they must, and your colonies will follow I know, but I could not stand it if you fought me."
Big blue eyes look up at him, Alfred sighing before nodding. "I will not fight you or Matthew; I couldn't anyway." The colony looks out over the water. "Blood is thicker than wine, after all."
"I thought the expression involved water," Francis observes. Alfred shrugs.
"Wine decorates the victor's table."
The French kingdom kisses the American colony's head as a particularly large ship comes in.