A/N: A fic to celebrate Bastille Day, an important date for France. It's not only the date he celebrates essentially becoming a Republic, but he also celebrates the anniversary of the Auld Alliance on this date.
...
France hummed his national anthem as he walked along the banks of the River Seine, flashing one or two of his people a brilliant smile as they passed by. A group of young girls tittered to themselves as they began a hushed conversation about the handsome man that had waved to them. France chuckled as he adjusted his cloak, checked his watch and hurried back to his Paris apartment to watch the festivities of his favourite holiday unfold. The French man was a little disappointed that all but one nation that he'd asked along to the day had turned him down, but it really didn't matter since the only one that actually mattered had agreed to come along. France sighed as he unlocked the door, it was a pity that Scotland wasn't going to be in the city until later that afternoon due to a meeting that had come up unexpectedly; he had been looking forward to spending the entire day with the Celtic nation,
"Angleterre stupide." He muttered, closing the door behind him and making his way to the kitchen, fully intent on making a decent breakfast before the parade started. The blonde nation paused as he heard someone moving about in the kitchen already. France frowned, wishing that he hadn't put his old rapier into storage a few months back; it would have taught the intruder some manners at the very least. Still, France was no pushover when it came to a physical fight either, so the Frenchman steeled his nerves and marched into the kitchen, taking a deep breath to hopefully just scare whoever was in there off when he felt something brush against his arm. Letting loose a shriek, France whirled around, only to come face to face with the one man he'd been dying to see for days. Scotland bit back a laugh at the Frenchman's reaction,
"Should be glad England it wisnae England." He quipped, "He'd never let ye live that doon." France's shock quickly turned into a scowl as he slapped the other nation on the arm,
"You could 'ave told me that you were in Paris already!" he snapped. Scotland smirked at him,
"Aw, but whaur's the fun in that?" he asked, "At least this way ye don't have to make ony breakfast." He said, motioning to the kitchen. France frowned and turned around. He blinked as he saw the table neatly laid out with two mugs of tea, two bowls of freshly made porridge, various pastries from the bakery around the corner and a large vase of white and red roses in the centre. Scotland rubbed the back of his head nervously,
"I ken it's no' much, but I didnae want tae risk cookin' onything else in case it didnae turn oot richt." He muttered apologetically. France turned back to the Scotsman with a happy smile and hugged him,
"That does not matter, all that matters is the sentiment, merci beaucoup mon amour." Scotland hesitantly returned the smile and let himself be lead to the table by the other nation. France beamed at the roses as he sat down, Scotland always did truly spoil him, especially on this date. The blonde nation nibbled on a pastry while Scotland dug into his porridge. The two of them ate in comfortable silence for a few moments before Scotland looked up at France,
"So whit's the plan fer today then?" he asked, "Isn't the parade due to start in aboot fifteen minutes?" France nodded,
"Oui, but to be honest I don't feel like going all the way down to the Champs-Elysees today." He admitted, "I can see most of the parade perfectly well from the window." Scotland frowned a little in worry,
"I thought you loved going to the parade." He said, "Isn't yer boss gonnae miss ye?" he asked. France smiled at the Celtic nation's worry and shook his head,
"I do love going, mon couer, but I can see the parade perfectly well from the window." He replied easily, "As for mon President, he already knows I will not be there this year." He shrugged. Scotland's frown lifted slightly,
"Well... so long's yer a'right." He murmured. France laughed as he laid a hand on Scotland's arm,
"You worry too much, Angus." He chided gently, "I am perfectly fine, I'd just rather spend the morning in relative comfort." He said. Scotland still didn't look completely convinced, but he let the matter drop anyway. Instead the red haired nation leaned back in his chair with a shrug,
"A'right, but ye any idea whit ye want tae do this aifternoon?" he asked, "We cannae stay in a' day and waste this gorgeous weather." He said. France raised an eyebrow at that,
"I'm sure that if it came to that we could... manage to entertain ourselves with little problem." The Frenchman smirked suggestively; causing Scotland's to snort in amusement,
"Oh I'm sure we could, mo cridhe, but I was thinkin' that we could spend at least some time oot in the fresh air." He suggested. France pouted a little but nodded in agreement anyway,
"I was thinking that we could 'ave a walk down by the Seine when it got dark. The best views of the fireworks are on the river after all." He said, looking thoughtful. Scotland nodded,
"Aye, that sounds grand. I honestly wouldnae mind haein' a wander aroond the city afore they started though." He said. France grinned at him,
"I know the perfect part of the city to take you then." He announced, "It is rather off the beaten track, but then you always did 'ave a sense of adventure didn't you, mon grande?" Scotland grinned back at him,
"Ye know me Francis, a'ways up fer an adventure." He quipped. France beamed at him as he took his empty plates to the dishwasher, Scotland following behind him before they both made their way to the window on the far side of the apartment to watch the parade.
...
Scotland looked around with a happy smile as he placed the basket France had insisted he carry all the way out here down. He could see why France thought he would like it up here; they city of Paris sprawled out beneath him like a living map. He turned and smiled at France as he finally made his way to the top of the hill,
"Dinnae tell me that wee climb tired ye oot that much." He chuckled as France finally collapsed onto the ground beside him. France sent him a short, half-hearted glare,
"In case you 'ad forgotten, Ecosse, my 'ome is not built on a mountain range like yours is." He snipped. Scotland held up his hands in front of him,
"Fair dos, but ye have tae admit, the view from up here is stunnin'." He turned to look back at the cityscape. France hummed in agreement,
"I knew you would like it up 'ere. I don't get to be in the countryside as often as I would like these days." He sighed, leaning forward and resting his chin in his hands. Scotland glanced at him and smiled fondly at the other nation's peaceful expression. He looked back out over the city again,
"It just makes time like this a' the more precious." He said quietly, sitting down beside France and leaning back on his hands. France nodded,
"Indeed it does." He sighed. The two countries stayed in comfortable silence for a few moments, just looking out at the scenery and enjoying each other's company before France spoke again,
"Mais, I am glad you could make it over. I know things are not at their best in your house." Scotland blinked and looked at France with a puzzled expression,
"It's nowt that we cannae handle France, besides there is pretty much nothin' on this planet that could stop me from comin' tae see ye on oor anniversary." He said, a slight blush forming across his cheeks. France blinked in mild surprise, a flush spreading across his own face at the confession. Clearly the scenery was bringing out the Scot's romantic side. He kissed Scotland on the nose,
"That is a relief, I was worried that you would be stuck 'aving to listen to Angleterre complain for the next century." Scotland shrugged again, grasping France's wrist and pulling him back towards him
"Let him complain, this is oor day and I'm no' lettin' the wee brat spoil it." He said, kissing the blonde nation full on. France hummed in appreciation as he scooted closer and wrapped his free arm around Scotland's neck,
"I can quite agree with that sentiment, mon cher." He purred when Scotland pulled away, toying with the ends of Scotland's hair absently. Scotland snuffed in amusement,
"Bloody pervert." He muttered, giving France another swift kiss on the cheek before searching around in his pocket for something, "That minds me actually, I've got somethin' tae gie ye." France blinked as he let Scotland go and waited to see what the Celtic nation had brought with him. Finally Scotland handed France the gift, it was securely wrapped up in a section of tartan cloth. France looked up at Scotland guiltily,
"Merci Ecosse, but you did not 'ave to... I didn't get you anything." He said quietly. Scotland shook his head,
"It's your birthday, therefore you're the one that gets the present." He replied simply, "Go oan an' open it." France looked down at the package,
"If you are going to insist, but I still feel bad about not getting you anything." Scotland snorted,
"Ye can make it up tae me later." He insisted, motioning to the package again. France sent him a small smile as he unwrapped the cloth gingerly. Scotland watched, grinning the entire time as France finally opened his gift. The blonde nation's mouth dropped open as he picked up the fine, silver chain and looked at the ring hanging on the end of it,
"Oh Ecosse," he breathed, tears of joy already starting to form at the corners of his eyes, "I... merci." Scotland's grin got even wider,
"Glad you like it. I thought that seein' as I'd kept it fer so long I might as well gie it back." He pulled out a matching chain from under his shirt, a matching ring hanging from it. France's eyes went wide,
"You kept them both?" Scotland nodded as he let his own chain drop,
"Aye, I did think aboot jus' sellin' them off at one point, but I jus' couldnae." He admitted, gazing at the ring on the end of the chain he had given France, "Every time I tried I could only think o' a' the great times we had an' I didnae want to throw those awa' and a'." He looked up at France, a soft smile gracing his lips at the memory, "I think that, somehow, I kent that we would end up bein' thegither again some day, even if we could never make it official." France fingered the old wedding band gingerly, smiling sadly at Scotland's confession,
"Even though we parted on such a bad note, I never stopped loving you." He admitted quietly, looking up at Scotland, "Even though times 'ave changed so much, so many things 'ave always managed to stay the same, and for that I am grateful." Scotland nodded,
"Aye, we might have grown a few centuries aulder and maybe a wee bit wiser, but we're still the same wee bairns that fell in love o'er the wa' way back when." He chuckled, "Rome would be haein' conniptions at the very idea."
"Much like Angleterre is now you mean?" France laughed, putting the chain on and tucking it securely underneath his shirt. Scotland snorted,
"It's like he's never left sometimes, eh?" he noted, leaning over to the basket and expertly pulling out a bottle of wine and two wine glasses. He handed France the glasses as he opened the bottle and poured them both a drink. When he was done, Scotland took one of the glasses from France,
"Anyway, here's tae another seven hundred years." He quipped, raising his glass. France grinned as he clinked his glass against Scotland's
"And 'opefull many more than that. Anniversaire heureux ma plus chère Ecosse."
"Happy Anniversary, a ghra."