The moonlight slipped inside trough an opening of the forest green curtains, sheepishly, as if afraid to disturb was transpired in there. Or, maybe, afraid of what might come afterwards. Would there be screams? Would a vase break? Would the door still stand where it was supposed to?
For, the world –as far as they knew- had never witnessed a peaceful moment between the two rivals. To the world, the rivalry had been carrying on for centuries. And for the very same world it would continue such. Who were they to disturb the rout of history, anyway?
And the lightning shone, barged inside, and the thunder echoed throughout the skies –in agreement? in protest?- and nobody was there to care.
But the world was clueless. As much as the Russians, the Germans, or the Americans prided themselves for, they could never have picked up on the signs.
For the signs had always been there, with no one to acknowledge them.
What did they really know, anyway?
Fingers grasped, mouths marked, tongues soothed, limbs intertwined, bodies forever tangled, forever drunk in each other's scent…
Surely, there must be something, something, right there. Something to hang onto.
Years passed, rulers changed, history was written. Life went on.
Francis hummed quietly as he lay propped up on his elbow, the fingers of his free hand occupied with brushing back unruly locks of golden hair out of bottle green eyes and away from bushy eyebrows. Caterpillars. "A penny for your thoughts, mon cher..." he murmured under his breath, as if were he to raise his voice, the spell they were seemingly under would break.
Lids fluttered closed, thin lashes casting shadows upon pale cheeks, the green no longer visible. How appropriate, Francis thought. Just like the position they were in. There, always there, but not quite. His fingers never stopped working, though they had moved lower and were now making a path from the Briton's temple to his cheek.
He heard him sigh, as much as he felt the shuddering breath on his wrist.
"It's…" he flung a skinny arm over his eyes. "Nothing, frog…" he paused. "It's silly…"
"Oh?" Francis leant closer and draped an arm over Arthur's chest to prop his chin upon it, gaze focused on the other playfully. "Do tell me, mon amour."
The Brit might have mumbled something under his breath, but he had not a care to listen to whatever offensive he had to throw at him.
"It's just that…" lids fluttered open once again, gaze trained on the ceiling. "Do you ever wonder… how we ended up like this? I mean…"
"I'm glad we did," the Frenchman rushed to add, taking pleasure in the delicate pink that dusted over Arthur's cheeks.
"Yeah, well…" he cleared his throat, turning his head away from him. "I'm not sure I hate it, either."
"Onhonhon…"
And the rain started to subside. The power of the lighting absent and the thunder's voice lost.
"Francis…" Arthur whispered in the dark of the room, barely able to make out the outline of the body lying next to his, tangled. Intertwined. His gaze could still grasp small details of his lover's face as the moonlight was cast upon them. He slid his hand in the Frenchman's hair, the softness of the waves always a wonder to him.
"Hmm… oui, Angleterre?"
He gulped and for a moment, the words were caught on his tongue, but they were out before he knew it. There was no going back. "Je pense que je t'aime…" he whispered, before he added "…git." For good measure.
Francis blinked at the sound of the horribly accented French, blue gaze trained on the Englishman. For all the times Francis had spoken those words, he had received no response. England had always acted defiant and uncaring, and even though France had always been able to see right through his mask… It was –at least- nice to hear it for a change.
"Oh, mon lapin…" lips were connected in a kiss unlike their previous ones. For this one was tender, slow and sweet, voicing everything that words couldn't voice. "But I love you too." He leant forward further, gently nuzzling Arthur's neck as he murmured into his ear. "Toujours," before giving the ear-lobe a light nip.
Arthur released the breath he hadn't known he had been holding, hands upon the other's chest, and this time he was the one to lean forward, into the comfort of his lover's awaiting arms and the familiar warmth.
…and life went on, and the earth kept spinning, and the lovers would still find shelter in each other.
Forever…
Author's note. So, I basically wanted to try my hand out at fluff. It ended up kinda drama-ish, but that's my best shot for whatever I am to write, anyway.
I don't really have to put translations here for all these, do I? Come on. It's quite basic French. Even from just fanfics one could pick them up.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything, neither the cover photo nor the amazing characters, and all that jazz…
Review and let me know what you think?