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Author's Note: De-anon from Minvasion.
So. FrUK. Sorta. England and France - I can't really see their relationship come out in mush and sentimentalism, but in anger and bitterness and cynicism and being tied together.
But this prompt called for them to be forced to perform a scene from one of Japan's hypothetical doujinshi, or visualnovels or something. Neither is very happy about it.
Euphemisms, eupehemism everywhere!
With Soap.
"France," England cleared his throat, voice a strangled, awkward, rigid noise, and face twisted into complete confusion. "I think it's time I w-was," The stutter came out unnaturally, like a staccato, and his mouth actually curled with disdain. "Honest with you, for once, I can't always express myself that well." France looked like he'd have loved more than ever to flee the scene, his eyes darty like a rabbits, and face gobsmacked, even has he stepped forward and cupped England's face in one of his hands. England on the other hand, well if looks could beat you mercilessly to death using sections of your own intestinal tract...
"I love you." England's words purred, but the tone was anything but sweetened - closer to a venomous loathing. "I love you so much, I- I just don't know what I'd do without you."
"Angleterre..." France breathed, voice all panicky, even as his volume was soft, and his other hand cupped England's face.
"I don't think I can live without you anymore, you've..." England's non-tear-brimming eyes stared up at France, looking for all the world like a furious cat with a brushy tail. "You've always been there, always." England looked modestly to the side, even with his expression with a fury that could have wilted flowers.
France tipped England's face back towards his, and leant forward, breathing on England's face. His eyes said you have horrible eyebrows and England's breath hitched in sheer terror, pupils dilated with don't you even fucking dare.
"I had no idea, I always thought you... you would despise someone like me."
"After all we've been through together?" England's dialogue was corny, that much he knew, and maybe it really rankled him the most. Though France was definitely an awful addition. "No, never, my lovely."
"Mon cher." France and England were way too close as their terrified expressions could attest.
"I-I want to climb the eiffel tower." England muttered, tone dark.
"Let's make sweet sweet foreign policy together underneath the channel."
They met in a tight - and horrified - clinch, France's hands holding England towards him in a sweet posture, and England curling back around France. The kiss deepened, even with the moans coming from them comparable to wild animals snarling in plain nauseous anger, France's tongue slipping into England's mouth and they battled for dominance, England licking the roof of France's palette, and France nipping at England's lip ever so slightly. They breathed each other's names-
And then as though some spell had broken, they wrenched apart, spitting and all but heaving with respective disgust.
"Aiyah, your uncultured tongue has sullied my mouth!"
"My tongue?" England spat until his mouth was dry. "Urgh, you fucking raped my bloody mouth you absolutely wanky, cunt, aaah, bleeding damnable rapist frog!"
"You should wash your mouth out, you unfashionable island!"
"Urgh, I want to!"
May your quills be ever sharp.