Pairing: Frain. Hints of Itacest.
Summary: Now, what was he going to do with those flowers? A Frain one-shot for Valentine's Day. This story is crossed with Books And Roses, an Itacest fanfiction you should be able to find on my profil, if ever you were interested!
Disclaimer. Hetalia does not belong to me.
France wandered absent-mindedly through the old streets of Rome. He would have liked to be in his home for Valentine's Day, to see couple attaching padlocks on the Pont des Arts, to see someone proposing in front of the Eiffel Tower, like it was always the case, to see love filling up the air. But, he was not. A world meeting had kept him busy in Rome and, even though they had the day free for the occasion, he didn't have nearly enough time to go back to his home country.
Abandoning himself to the beautiful town that was Rome, he didn't notice the exited redhead running toward him. Not until he heard his name echoing among the crowd. "Big Brother France!" A large smile came covering the blond's face when he saw the youngest of the two Italies tracing toward him. "Buon San Valentino!" the high-pitched voice exclaimed cheerfully. And France's smile only brightened when a few roses were shoved into his arms.
"Oh, my little Italy, aren't you so cute? How many nations are you planning on giving flowers to?"
"All of them! Except Russia maybe, he has this purple aura of him that scares me off a little." Italy's gaze felt onto the floor as he mumbled the last part. Knowing the Italian and especially knowing Russia, France couldn't really blame him for anything.
"That's nice." he said, smiling kindly. Italy looked up imediatly. "But you know, Italy, this is Valentine's Day. It is the perfect time to confess to your love one, rather than offering flowers to your friends." he paused, the younger nation's face visibly growing full of interrogations. "You must have one, haven't you?" This was barely a question. France was proud to be able to call himself the country of love, so of course he would have had to notice the signs. How this special someone would always turn a dark shade of red when getting a little to intimate with Italy or how this same Italy would always try to seek attention from that particular nation. Of course he had to know, love was his favourite subject after all.
"Ve." Italy seemed to take a minute to reflect about all this. In no time, his famous large bright smile was back onto his face. "You're right!" And France didn't even get a chance to argue that the rest of the Italian's flowers were shoved into his arms. "I'll go right now!"
"But –" France began and he only got the time to look down at the roses, then up again that Italy had already disappeared into thin air. "Don't you want your flowers back?" he whispered to himself. Now, what was he going to do with those flowers?
Heading back to his hotel room, France wasn't so surprise to find Spain still asleep in the bed they had shared for the night, exactly where he had left him hours ago. He took his shoes off, let the bouquet of roses by a nearby night table and tried to be as quiet as possible when climbing back into his bed. Spain rolling over and slowly opening his eyes in a soft sigh made it quite obvious he hadn't been near as quiet enough.
"Morning." the brunet mumbled tiredly. A shy smile formed at the corner of his lips, visibly still stuck between dream and reality.
"Morning." France answered in a soft whisper. "Slept well?"
Spain came burring his head in his pillow, stretching lengthily. A soft growl escaped his lips before he turned back to Francis, watching him patiently. Antonio simply nodded in answer. His gaze started to wander lazily across the room as if he was trying to take in his surroundings. And, quickly enough, France could follow this same pair of green eyes falling onto something right behind him. He didn't even need to turn around to know what it was.
"Are those flowers for me?" Spain asked on a tone that seemed more like he was mocking him than seriously asking.
The blond leaned forward, head in his hands and face almost close enough to kiss, staring deeply into those dark green eyes facing him. "Will you be my Valentine?" he cooed and Spain didn't fail to note the obvious touch of humor in the other's question.
Antonio's grin only widen into his cushion. "Dummy."
"I saw Italy." France started explaining, following Spain's every movement with his eyes as he, eventually, moved away from the pillow, sitting back up. "I think Germany is going to have an unexpected visit."
The brunet stretched once more, extending his arms along their length, before letting his head fall on the side in slight wonder. "Germany?" Antonio's eyebrows rose in surprise for a second. "I think the country of love misinterpreted the signs."
Francis could have quite clearly heard the jest in that sentence. Not that it was meant to go unnoticed in the first place. He decided to gloss over it. "How so?"
"If he went to see someone, it is more likely Romano."
Romano it was, then? France took a moment to consider the fact, staring blankely at the wall on the other side of the room. His pride may have suffered a tiny bit from realizing he possibly wasn't as good as he thought he was at reading other people's love life. And he remained silent a little longer before deciding he had more important things to focus on than other nation's relationships with one another. The gorgeous man lying in his bed was one fair example. Spain seemed to agree on that fact, dispelling any further discussion when he leaned a little more forward. The white blankets shifted against Antonio's bare torso as he placed one hand on Francis' cheek, taking him into a light, tender kiss. A bare pick on the lips and his voice was rising again.
"So," he asked once they broke away. "Are you going to ask me out?"
France tender smile morphed into a playful smirk, only mimicking the sly smile on Spain's face. "Oh, mon cher, I think we are far behond 'out' already."
"Right."
The two bodies moved forward once again, mouths clashing against each other. A kiss that lasted a moment longer and was, yet, one step further from what one would call a "light, tender kiss" And they kissed for a while, in the silence of their room, tongues exploring and lips slowly moving against each other. France took in this particular scent he had become so accustomed to. This scent he cherished so much.
When they eventually pulled apart, Spain was quick to let himself fall back into the mattress. "Want to do something special for today?" he asked, never leaving the sight of his lover.
"Well, I can think of a thing." France replied, eyebrows moving in one seductive gesture.
Obviously, Antonio was perfectly aware of what Francis was rather heavily implying. He couldn't contain a soft chuckle. Really, the Frenchman just thought he was so smooth with his fancy talk and gestures. It was almost comical. "I can think of something better."
"And what is that?"
Spain stared at the blond for a moment, eyeing him almost daringly, enjoying a little teasing. Eventually, he shoved one arm under his cushion, closing his eyes shut and answering: "Late sleeping."
France laughed filled up the room as he let himself fall next to his lover. He sized one of the Spaniard's hand from under the sheets and come placing a soft kiss on the back of it. "Whatever you wish."
Spain didn't reopen his eyes at any moment. And he was quick to fall back into Morpheus' arms, letting France content with contemplating him silently, soft hisses escaping the Spaniard's body from time to time. He loved the only sight of him. He could spend days watching him sleeping, reading, being, simply existing. So maybe he wasn't in Paris and maybe it was far from the cliché everyone had of February 14th, but after all, what was Valentine's Day if not another ordinary day, out of a 365, with the one you loved?