The little island nation had been hunting around the woodland for the whole day trying to find the perfect spot. The sky was now painted with the sunset's colours and soon the stars would be out. He was tired from the walking but at long last he found a small tucked away spot behind gooseberry bushes. Snuggling down by the prickly leaves, England pulled his cloak further around his body. A smirk made its appearance on his face. "Nobody will bother ME," he thought as he held his floppy eared bunny close to his chest, "I'm perfectly alone in this little place."
He placed his thumb into his mouth and took a look at his surroundings. It was a nice spot he had found. The bushes shielded him from the wind and passing creatures while his cloak shielded him from the thorns. Peace and quiet, just how he liked it. Comfortable. Too comfortable. The tiny nation yawned and snuggled his cheek against the bunny's head. Maybe he could sleep here for the night. The Bishops wouldn't mind. He was often left to wander around on his own. He would become restless and annoyed if not.
England had barely closed his eyes when he heard a rustle in nearby bushes. He opened his eyes and became tensed. Was it a hungry wolf? Or witches hunters? Or Normans? Or his brothers? The rustling was getting closer. He stood back up, the top of his head barely noticeable over the bush. He would fight it away! He'll protect his bunny and his land! He had his bow and arrow. He knew how to use them.
But the tinkling sound alerted him to who it was and he soon relaxed. His magical friends made their appearance; Tinkerbell the fairy, Hook, Gnome, Unicorn and Flying Mint Bunny. All of them were smiling, happy to see him. England beamed in delight and released his rabbit so the creature could sit by his side. He waved a small hand at each of them. "It's nice to see you all!"
Unicorn snorted with laughter. They had barely noticed that he was there! He was so tiny that they didn't see him over the height of the bushes. He strode over towards the nation and nuzzled his hand. "You're so cute, England. And so small."
The child frowned instantly. "I'm NOT cute," he said as he quickly crossed his arms: it was rather hard to know which arm went where so he settled for placing his right on top of his left arm. "And I am not small." He may be only an island but he'll grow up really big one day! Bigger than even Scotland! He'll be muscular and strong! To show them how tough he was, he crouched down into his sheath mode and smirked. "I am a huge, scary and powerful nation with great hunting skills."
He raised his hands and bared his teeth in the way he had seen the wolves done it, trying to look at fierce as he could. "Grrrrr!"
His magical friends began to giggle and Tinkerbell flew over to sit upon the 'wolf's' head. She loved his messy head of hair, it reminded her of the fairy nests for the young fairy babies. It was so soft that she would often end up falling asleep there. She ran her hand through his locks. "You're so cute and so fluffy."
"I'm NOT cute! And I'm not fluffy" England yelled, waving his hands over his head so Tinkerbell would flew back over to the unicorn. Once she was gone, he placed his hands upon his hips and puffed out his chest to look intimidating. "I am a huge, sleek, powerful nation with sharp hawk eyes!"
"But England, you are cute," the Flying Mint Bunny giggled as he flew around the nation, "With those big baby eyes of yours."
"I AM NOT CUTE!" shouted England, now glaring at the creatures before him as they all nodded in agreement to what Flying Mint Bunny said, "AND I DON'T HAVE BIG BABY EYES." Why couldn't they see that he was going to be a strong and powerful nation one day? He wasn't a child! He was a warrior! He was a fighter! He was -
"ANGLETERRE~ "
The child turned his scowl towards the arriving nation. His shouting must have alerted the oaf to his new hiding place. England cringed when he saw that France was wearing a dress again. The French child was smiling and waving as he ran over. Even in the night, the pompous idiot found a way to shine and sparkle. After getting past the thorny bushes, the wavy blond country knelt down in front of England, still smiling, and patted his head. "What's with that face, mon lapin? It makes you look uglier than usual!"
England glared up at France with tears in the corner of his eyes. "It's not fair!" he yelled before pulling his bunny closer and burying his face back into the rabbit's fur. "Tinkerbell, Uni and Flying Mint Bunny all say I'm cute. But I'm not!"
France tilted his head as he gazed at the child before him. He knew from previous experiences how sensitive the boy was about his looks. But that scowl, and the way he clutched onto his bunny... "Of course you're not cute, Angleterre." France scoffed, then laughed and a wink in his eye. "You're a fuzzy-browed, short, sulky, little country!" And before the younger nation could protest, he pulled England into a tight hug.
England thought for a moment, forgetting about his bunny that was now crushed between the two nations. France hadn't called him cute. And everyone else had! They all did! So why didn't France think he was too?! France was always wrong! The bunny slipped through his hands as he balled them into fists and began to hit France upon the chest repeatedly. "But I am cute! I AM! I AM! I AM! I AM!" he cried.
France resisted another laugh as he pulled away and watched the child throw a temper tantrum. Why did he get the feeling that his Angleterre wasn't going to grow out of that habit for a very long time? As long as he didn't get physically stronger, France could put up with it. England's hits began to cease and the child yawned. France placed his hand upon England's head and ruffled his hair. "Poor Angleterre," he cooed. "You're tired. It's bedtime for you."
"Go away, git." England attempted to glare at the older one but his eyes kept closing each time he yawned. He didn't even have the strength to pull away when France pulled him onto his lap. He couldn't keep his eyes opened any longer so allowed himself to snuggle against France. He was warm and soft... even if he did smell of garlic. A little hand curled around France's shirt and clung on as the smaller child fell into a deep sleep.
France smiled down softly at the sleeping nation in his arms and used his sleeve to wipe away the tears from the child's face. "Vous êtes si mignon, Angleterre." He gently kissed England's forehead. "For a fuzzy-browed, short, sulky, little country."
Author's Note: This story has been published before and removed. I am the original author. Story is based on "I'm NOT Cute!" by Jonathan Allen. I highly recommend it to anyone with children under five.