I just had this idea, as usual, so I had to write it. And I did promise to eventually write more Little!England, so yeah... Enjoy!
I don't own Hetalia! end /AN/
England's great brows were furrowed as he chopped his roots and tubers, which were to go into his soup. A loaf of bread sat none too far away, and though it wasn't exactly an extravagant meal, England was proud to be putting it on the table himself. He liked being basically able to provide for himself, despite his diminutive size.
There would be no meat tonight, as there tended not to be, but that was alright. It was not as though he were some lord or king who needed meat. His pink little tongue stuck out as he applied more force to the knife, trying to cut through a particularly resistant root. Just a little more to go, and then he would put his soup on to cook over his fire.
"Hello, mon cher!" England screamed, whipping around and nearly slicing France in the stomach. Said nation jumped back, but still grinned in that annoyingly silly way of his. "Aw, are you not happy to see me? I'm happy to see you."
"Go away! I'm cooking dinner, and you can't have any!" At England's declaration, France's nose wrinkled. He shook his head, reaching out to put his hand on England's shoulder before thinking better of it. "No one wants your food, England."
England growled at this, keeping himself protectively in front of his roots and tubers. Like he believed that France wasn't here to steal his stuff! He pointed his knife threateningly at France, saying, "Frog! Get out of here, and I won't stab you in your gut!"
"Charming as always, mon cher. But really, is that any way to greet me?" France plucked the knife out of England's hand, causing the small nation to startle rather violently, surprised that such a thing that happened. Gaping, England had to struggle for a moment before he found words. "Yes, it is! Give me back my knife!"
But a smirk had begun to form on France's face, as he safely tucked the knife away. "Well, I will... on one condition."
"What's that?" England demanded, face in a petulant scowl. France leaned closer, smirk still on his face. "You've got to let me... kiss you!"
And with that, he'd practically pounced on England, causing the smaller child to shriek and try and push away his puckered lips. "No! No! France, you frog, stoppit! I don't wanna be kissed! No!"
France was having a hard time keeping his lips ready to kiss, as he tried to push down England's little arms. 'Mwah'-ing at England caused the child to shriek even more, and all this was really rather funny in France's book. A few giggles escaped, though they were nearly drowned out by the ruckus England was making.
"It won't hurt, mon petit!" France's declaration did little to sooth England's rather ruffled temper. "Wah! No! Get off! Get off!"
Finally, however, from his position straddling England, France's face made it past England's clawing hands, and there was a loud, wet smack. France leapt up, laughing at his mischief.
England screamed with fury, scrubbing at his lips with vigor. France only laughed some more, tossing the knife on the ground none too far away. "There's your knife, Angleterre! I will see you later! Au revoir!"
And he was quick to disappear, before England picked up the knife and came after him. England stayed where he was, however, spitting and scrubbing angrily. Then, after calming down a little, he picked up his knife, grumbling darkly and setting back to work on his tubers and roots. That frog would pay dearly for this- this- Humiliation! How dare he!
France watched from the safety of the trees as England fumed, feeling the scratches on his face and smiling. England was just too cute... How could he resist kissing him and teasing him this way?
/AN/ I hope you liked it... It's not necessarily FrUK- I always want to kiss little kids, and I don't have romantic notions towards them...
