This is the tenth of a series of fanfics I plan to do where I get the quote of the day off of a list and then write whatever it makes me think of. I hope this turns out as good as I want it to.
Character(s) or Pairings: France and England
Quote: "C'est en forgeant qu'on devient forgeron." –A French proverb
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France had spent most of the treaty signing staring at the other nation in the room.
So far England had not noticed or if he did, he gave no sign of it. Knowing his northern neighbor as he did, he thought that if the bush-browed man had seen him staring, he'd have reacted by now. So for the moment, he figured he had not been seen staring.
That was definitely for the best, considering the kind of thoughts he had been having. The younger blonde probably would have been able to read that look on his face in a heartbeat. Actually, most people who knew Francis knew that look. The Frenchman could not help it, though. He did was he was best at. He just had to be himself.
Besides that, the only way to perfect any skill was by doing it. C'est en forgeant qu'on devient forgeron, as his people said. "One becomes a blacksmith by forging," is what it meant. Practice makes perfect, in other words.
And he most certainly considered what he did to be a skill worth perfecting.
Only when the leaders and diplomats started to file out did France stand up and approach the other nation.
"Bon soir, mon ami," he greeted.
"You're on my soil. Speak the King's English, you bloody git," England replied, rolling his eyes.
Francis merely smiled, a look that almost came off as predatory in his eyes. "Would you like to step out for a drink, Angleterre? It is on me, in honor of our new treaty, non?"
Arthur hesitated.
Normally, he would have no problem turning the older country down. He did not want to spend any more time thinking about the other blonde than he had to, after all. But this was free alcohol that they were talking about here, something that he always had a hard time resisting. That damn frog knew it, too.
Just from the look on the other man's face, France knew he had caught his prize already.
"Alright but nothing funny, you hear me?" England responded. "I mean it."
The taller nation smirked. "From moi? Never."
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Two hours later found the visiting country pushing his new ally up against the wall of his hotel room.
This entire thing had gone over very smoothly, in his opinion. They had had a few drinks (well, more than a few for the Englishman who insisted that he could hold his liquor but luckily for Francis could not), gotten into a little bit of an argument, and then had been making out before they even made it past the lobby of the hotel that the more southern nation was staying at.
It was a predictable game but it was once that France thoroughly enjoyed.
Some would have grown tired of this routine after so many years but he had always enjoyed it. No matter how often he found himself in this position, it always put a smile on his face. Seduction was an art form to him, one that only got better with time and practice.
And so practice he did...
C'est en forgeant qu'on devient forgeron, after all.
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Well, that is not my best work... I've had writer's block, though, for a while. Maybe this will help. We'll see.
Review if you liked it. Thanks. ^_^