Hot-air balloons were, in the long run, very clever devices for flying short distances at a leisurely pace and not much else. France simply adored them. He had, over the years, gotten himself a license for flying balloons and gone so far as to purchase one for himself.

It was a simple balloon, made of strips of red, white, and blue, just like his flag, a star at the top. And France loved to fly it.

Rising into the air was such a glorious feeling, and being able to see the French countryside below made the embodiment of the land no less than ecstatic. The trees and fields and rivers were more familiar than the shape of his own hands, and to see them from above was the very best kind of observation. England had his trains, America had his airplanes, and Canada had his canoes, but France loved his hot-air balloons.

A pair of airplanes, flown by the twin embodiments of America and Canada, flew past, almost knocking France off balance. He could swear he heard obnoxious laughter and a fleeting, "Je suis désolé, Papa!" as the boys continued their race. France sighed, rubbed his temples, and tried to get back into an appropriate mood.

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Hi thar I Brake for Bishonen Boys! I apparently have a lot of time on my hands and a sense of humour. The check's in the mail~

Disclaimer: (At the end because I'm so cool that way) Hetalia, the characters, and the idea for this... thing do not belong to me. I just wrote it.