Heya old fans and new readers alike! Here's a new one for ya! We've been hinting at it and here it is! Lovely lovely FrUK fun ;3 Hope you enjoy!
Disclaimer: Neither Go-chan nor Haya own Hetalia, despite wishes of such a thing. This is completely for the heck of it and for no profits. There are no relations between real-life countries and APH charries x3
Rating: Come on. This is FrUK for fucks sake. There will be cursing. There will be sex. DUH.
R&R!
Chapter One: Chocolate Mousse
'Dear Dr. Love,
I know this will be my… Ninth message, and for that I am sorry. But as I have explained my relationship with Roses requires a fair amount of questioning in and of itself. I need all the help I can get.
I have tried to follow your advice and spend more time with him, but it doesn't appear to have any effect on our relationship. Rather we fight more during our time together because it has grown. It makes me even more wary of his true feelings now more than ever.'
France sighed and rested his head in his hand. This poor man was so socially awkward. No one had written him so much so often before.
Several months ago he had been complaining of boredom to his boss. After all, both of his friends were hooked up now, so he couldn't play matchmaker as much anymore! And playing matchmaker was one of his favorite past times. His boss has a stroke of genius and the next thing France knew, he had a fully operational relationship advice webstie!
And yes, he expected starting a relationship advice website would keep him busy with blind people like King of Camelot, but this man was the worst or the worst. Although, he was so faithful and trusting, constantly writing to him for help, that France couldn't help but look forward to emails from the cutie. At first he was distressed over his feelings concerning two different men. Once he figured out where his heart truly lay, he began to stress over the relationship he had with the man, 'Roses.' But his worries over Roses were never ending. For some reason he was incapable of speaking to the man.
With another heavy sigh, France took a sip from his wine and looked back to his computer. But, before he could finish reading, there was a knock at the door. Who could that be? He shut his laptop and set his wine down as he got to his feet. More knocks sounded and then there was a thud, as if a body ran into the door.
"Mon Dieu!" France exclaimed, rushing to the door and opening it abruptly to let the form of a smaller blond fall onto him.
With his weight no longer supported by the sturdy door England stumbled into France and had to steady himself on the man's chest before he could straighten again with a glare up at him. "Bloody hell-? When'd you get there, Frog?"
"When did I?" France sighed and dragged England inside before any neighbors got curious. "I believe the proper question is, when did you get here? Or perhaps why."
"I've been here!" Angry at being touched by the Frenchman, England pulled away and glared ever more hatefully. "You wouldn't open your bloody door," he pointed in accusation.
"Je suis désolé," the accused man replied sarcastically. "I didn't realize I am entitled to knowing when you're drunk on my doorstep."
All the attitude got France was more heated glares from the intoxicated Brit on his way to the kitchen, delighted to therein find a bottle of opened wine that he could toss back and down in one gulp without a care. It was when he brought it back down that he held emotion again, a continued narrowed eyed look at his enemy with a directed dripping neck of the bottle. "What the hell's wrong with you anyway, wanker?" England hiccuped.
Normally, England's drunken antics amused France, especially when it meant some easy sex, but at the moment he was rather annoyed. He had been helping that poor soul King of Camelot and England just had to interrupt that. France sighed and eyed the empty wine bottle. That had been some good wine too...
"What's wrong with me? You're the one who barged in and just drank my wine."
"And what's wrong with that?" Volume to a feverish pitch, England shouted back. By now he was beginning to tear up in his usual emotional inebriated way. "I'm the fucking British Empire, I can do whatever I bloody well please!" And as if to prove that before he started sobbing like a child he came forward to press France into a wall in a rough kiss. And who was to complain? Assertive England really turned France on. Not to mention he tasted of the wine he just downed, not that god awful British piss he called ale. King of Camelot could wait.
France chuckled and wrapped his arms around the small of England's back to pull him closer as he pressed his tongue between those soft lips. Hungry for more and fueled now completely by his lustful need birthed from drunken anger, England grasped France's shirt ever tighter and allowed entrance into his mouth only with a nip to the man's lips, making him smirk.
What a feisty mood he was in.
France lifted England to pull his legs around his waist. He could feel the great nation's erection pressing into him all too easily. Without breaking their connection of lips and tongues, he brought them to his room.
How many times over the centuries of their knowing each other did it take England to learn? He honestly wasn't even all that surprised when he woke up hungover, naked with the exception of his open shirt, beside France in the man's bed. That didn't make him any less ashamed of himself for doing it again. Whenever he got that drunk he'd end up in France's bed after a night of sex or America's couch following a shouting match.
He mentally slapped himself over and over as he slipped quietly out and dressed himself. The few times he was out of it enough to believe he was home he'd gone through the trouble of showering. But when he was fully aware the Brit didn't like staying any longer than he had to, thus his ability to leave quietly after each of their heated meets.
With the absence of the fiery little Brit to warm his bed, it didn't take long for France to awake. He groaned quietly and rolled onto his stomach, spreading his arms across his large bed to find it empty.
Figured.
Why couldn't England ever stay? It would be so nice to snuggle with him upon waking and then make him breakfast. But that would never do for England. Of course not. To that loveless little nation, France was nothing more than a quick shag to release drunken and sexual frustrations. Wasn't anything new though. Wasn't anything worth worrying over either. He had long accepted his fate after all.
France rolled out of bed and stretched with a loud yawn. Well he might as well finish that email. He pulled some boxers on and went to his desk.
'How can I know once and for all where I stand? I don't know how much more I can take before I do something ridiculous that ruins this either way. Is that as pathetic as it sounds?
Sincerely, King of Camelot'
France sighed and shook his head. This man was so sad. He seemed to be completely incapable of taking his number one piece of advice: talk about it. King of Camelot always returned with more problems than solutions and more upset than ever because he hadn't been able to talk it out with the man that was causing his heart so much stress.
So what else could France do but tell King of Camelot to try talking to his love, again. But this time he included a question of his own.
'Do you have an instant messaging system? I feel you have more questions than
you're expressing. It will be much easier to talk with each other than over email.'
There. Done and sent. France leaned back in his chair and nodded. He would fix King of Camelot's problems eventually. For now he needed to fix his stomach's hunger problem.
Some time later with his stomach content and feeling refreshed, France found himself at his computer once more. He smiled at the sight of a new email and carried his laptop to his bed. Once comfortable he started reading.
'Dear Dr. Love,
There's supposed to be a messaging system that is packaged with my email, but I've never used it...
Sincerely, King of Camelot.'
Even with such a small email he refused to break out of formal letter format. It was cute. France laughed and typed up a quick reply, telling him to log onto it and add him.
With some time the other apparently finally managed it when a request from KingofCamelot that in accepting was followed by the bing proclaiming a received instant message.
KingofCamelot: Did I finally get the bloody thing to work?
FrenchCock: Ahaha~ Yes, but it took you long enough mon cher.
FrenchCock: Have you spoken with Roses yet?
A pregnant pause before, KingofCamelot: There wasn't much talking last time, no.
France snorted and couldn't help but laugh aloud. How was he not surprised?
FrenchCock: Well what did happen? Don't telll me you had drunken sex.
FrenchCock: Again.
KingofCamelot: Every time I drink.
KingofCamelot: It's either to him or Burgers, no matter what I do.
KingofCamelot: And it had been one of those weeks. I needed a drink
Lord this man...
FrenchCock: I don't get what your brain process is. You have a bad week, get drunk, and then go cry or have sex?
And at that the defensive response was immediate, KingofCamelot: I do not run and bloody cry to him!
Following this was another pause. KingofCamelot: It just makes me think and feel too much.
FrenchCock: What does?
KingofCamelot: Alcohol.
KingofCamelot: After trying to spend time with him and not wring his neck.
FrenchCock: What is it that infuriates you so much?
He had opened the floodgates.
KingofCamelot: Everything.
KingofCamelot: He's always been there taunting me.
KingofCamelot: Throwing around his affections on everything with legs.
KingofCamelot: Arguing with me point by point.
KingofCamelot: Finding fault in everything I am for as long as I've known him since we were bloody children.
Oh this poor man. France sighed and lay his head back on his pillow. It seemed like there was nothing for King to like about him and yet he couldn't keep himself from running to him.
FrenchCock: You answer that so easily it makes me wonder what it is you like about Roses.
The difficulty of that question was embodied well in the long pause.
KingofCamelot: Because he's always been there.
KingofCamelot: I suppose.
KingofCamelot: We fight a lot, but if it's anyone else he's right there to help.
KingofCamelot: And.
KingofCamelot: I don't know.
KingofCamelot: When it is just me.
KingofCamelot: I'm happy.
Well wasn't the answer obvious? France resisted the urge to facepalm, as America called it. This level of stupidity...
FrenchCock: Then why not spend more one on one time with him?
FrenchCock: When you aren't drunk.
KingofCamelot: He makes it into such a giant bloody endeavor.
KingofCamelot: And just pisses me off humiliating me.
FrenchCock: Well that just shows how important spending time with you is to him, doesn't it?
KingofCamelot: About as important as all of his other escapades it seems.
FrenchCock: Other escapades~?
KingofCamelot: The man has shagged more people than he has hairs on his head.
FrenchCock: Who said that spending time with you has to be sexual?
FrenchCock: I have a fuck friend that I would love to just cook for, but he never bothers to visit except to release his sexual frustrations.
FrenchCock: C'est tragique.
KingofCamelot: Arse of a man I'd say.
FrenchCock: His arse is rather delightful~
KingofCamelot: And you of all people are okay with that kind of relationship?
Oh damn he'd been called out. France smiled at his computer screen and jovially replied.
FrenchCock: I see no need forcing him into something he doesn't want~
FrenchCock: Someone perfect for me will come around some day. Maybe it will be him, maybe it will be someone else.
FrenchCock: But I'm content with my situation. Unlike you.
FrenchCock: Back to your problem. Just invite him over for dinner and do not have sex. No matter how good it is.
KingofCamelot: Invite him over for a dinner of my cooking that he detests?
FrenchCock: If he detests it so much, I'm sure he will suggest he cooks instead.
A few moments pause, KingofCamelot: I could arrange something of that nature I suppose.
FrenchCock: Splendid!
FrenchCock: Though I would advise you wait a day or two. He might think you just want another round of sex.
KingofCamelot: Knowing him he'd just prefer that.
FrenchCock: You never know~
KingofCamelot: If you say so.
FrenchCock: I do!
FrenchCock: Anything else you want to talk about?
KingofCamelot: As I'm still recovering from a hangover, nothing comes to mind.
FrenchCock: Ahha okay. Just email me when you want to talk again~
KingofCamelot: I will.
KingofCamelot: Thank you for your assistance, Sir, as always.
France smiled and bid farewells, then signed off. If everything didn't work out with Roses, maybe he should give this cutie a go...
When he had gotten home the overpowering need for a cup of good British tea had been almost as great his sudden compulsion towards suicide. It had happened. Again. Drunk, he'd ended up at the bloody Frenchman's house and shagged him. Knowing him it may have been multiple times, but he honestly couldn't remember through the haze distilled beverages caused him. Nor did it become any clearer when he'd downed his third cup of ginger tea. But what other conjecture could he make when he'd found himself in a bed almost as familiar as his own?
"What?"
Stepping out of the shower with a towel around his waist England pouted in a half-hearted glare with his mumble at the look he'd received from his goblin friend sitting on his bed.
"If you feel so bad after a night of sex with the guy why do you drink in the first place knowing it's there you'll end up?" Arms crossed, the miniature man held England's gaze with his own, unamused to say the least.
"I'm allowed some beer and the like now and then. A man may drink in such doses every now and then without the offensive title of alcoholic." Rubbing his hair in the second towel England sighed.
Suddenly, with the sound of bells and tiny laughter the fabric left his hands. Nothing could be done before again the creature with a pointed hat comfortable on his mattress spoke up. "Don't change the subject.
"What do you want me to say?" Head aching, ass sore, and nerves fried, England was ready to start a shouting match and his fairy friends knew it.
With a sigh our goblin hopped down from his perch. "Humans can be so stupid."
"Stupid? What are you talking about? No, ugh, Lily give me back my towel!"
With what courage he could drum up in his veins England dialed France's number before he copped out after three days spent refraining from any sort of contact with the man. Already as he waited he began to rethink his decision.
Well that was strange. Who would be calling him? France looked up from his novel and stared at his phone curiously. Prussia and Spain weren't over, so it couldn't be Germany or Romano. He couldn't think of any reason for his boss to call either. Odd...
Curiously, he go to his feet and answered the phone with a jovial, "Bonjour?"
He actually jumped when a voice came up instead of the continued ring. Now that he actually had him England didn't know how to respond and naturally went towards the aggravated, "do you have to sound like a twit even over the phone?"
Well this was peculiar. "Oh je suis désolé, I did not realize who I was talking to. I'll be sure to answer in an un-twitty way next time you call."
"Do you not have a brain with which to comprehend looking at the caller ID?" The Englishman snapped.
"Gilbert broke it." France shrugged and seated himself with a smirk. How long would it take for England to get to the reason he called? "I haven't gotten around to buying another."
"Do you not give a damn-" No, stop it Arthur. Catching himself, the island nation took a deep calming breath. There had been a purpose behind this call and here he was already arguing and getting off topic. "I later realised how expensive that wine must have been. Being such a bloody gourmet I reasoned the only way to be a gentleman and make it up to you would be to pay for a meal. Or maybe now a proper phone."
This was quite shocking. Since when did England take the time to care about any money he made France waste? He could have cared less when he broke France's bed. He cared even less when he wasted a good amounts worth of ingredients 'cooking.' So this turn of events was interesting...
"Oh? What type of meal are you thinking of?"
"If I'm treating it's usually proper to let you choose..."
"Hmmm I usually cook all my food," France said, hiding a snicker. It was so much fun being difficult with this drama queen. "So I don't have any favorite restaurants or the sorts."
"Bloody hell, git, I'm trying to be-" Breath, release. His blood pressure was steadily rising as the conversation continued. Damn England wanted to strangle the man on the other end. Sighing, he forced himself on. "If you're that adamant you can cook whatever you want and I will purchase everything."
Amazing! He actually came up with such a decision all on his own? France was sure he would have to suggest it himself. England did have some intelligence after all! "Oh that sounds splendid! Tonight? What would you like to eat?"
The response was a low mumble, "as long as it's not frogs or snails I can stomach it..."
"Well come up with what you want for dinner and we can go shopping when I get to your house, hm?"
They were talking with minimal shouting and name calling. This was a miracle, a true miracle. At his success England was suddenly bashful. He'd been so frightened of this and now it was near it's close with such promising results. "Just don't contaminate everything with your frog bacteria," he grumbled, unable to go so long without an insult. At least it meant he was feeling somewhat more comfortable again.
"I'll be sure to bring a mask to keep my germs to myself."
"Good... Be careful on your way." As much cordiality and compassion as he could muster in that parting, England then hurriedly hung up.
Cooking in England's kitchen was quite the task. So many items had dust on them. His stove had only one heater used, as shown by the burnt food surrounding it. It was a disaster, but France had fun making fun of England's kitchen while cleaning and eventually cooking.
On the other hand, England was thoroughly annoyed. It took everything in him to keep from stabbing the man misplacing his things everywhere. The small blond took out his frustrations by nagging at his guest as he put everything away in it's proper place. Unable to stand still with France there in his kitchen, England made himself a kettle of tea alongside the stranger to his home and watched the others work as he drank.
Not that France had something against England watching him, but it started to get annoying after a bit. As their salmon was simmering, he turned to the Brit with his hands on his hips. "If you're going to just sit there, you're getting a cooking lesson."
Blinking at such an announcement, England furrowed his thick brows. Could he not be happy with what he had? He'd bloody invited the man he hated into his home to cook him a meal! "I like my cooking just fine."
"But no one else does~" France cooed as he turned his attention back to the fish.
"They just don't have the palette for good English food!" He barked in defence.
France chuckled. "Isn't that a paradox?"
"My food is delicious, no matter what you blokes say."
With the salmon finished, France turned his attention to their salad, laughing all the more. "And you have fairy friends as well."
They were on that again? Narrowing his eyes, England crossed his arms and growled. "Don't you dare start insulting my friends too."
"Oh forgive me, I forgot you're convinced they're real!" Really, this man was much too easy to bait.
"They are real, damn you!" Huffing in aggravation, England finished off his cup of tea in one angered swig. This is what he got for suggesting this whole endeavour. Spend more time with him his arse, the bastard just kept setting him off.
"Oh mon cher," France picked up their expertly made plates of food and made his way to the dining room. "I'd go slow on that tea. I could have sworn I saw some pixies spiking it."
"Lily wouldn't spike my tea." As if it was common sense and he was speaking to an ignorant child England sighed. Shaking his head, he went on to explain to his stupid uninformed friend. "Fairies only play such tricks on people that deserve it. If they mistreat nature or keep a dirty home. I pride myself in my neatness, she and her friends would never do something like that to me."
It had gotten to the ridiculous point that France saw no point in arguing. He pulled England's chair out for him, then set the plates down. Once seated himself, he watched the island nation with an amused smile. He always loved watching the uncultured man eat good food. Not that the watched enjoyed his audience.
Once he had taken his place, fidgeting all the while in reaction to being treated like some bloody bird, England prodded the food anxiously. As the host English style etiquette told him he was the one to begin first but that didn't make him feel any better. This was France. Perhaps he had thought of this beforehand and poisoned the food knowing England would be the one to take the first bite. Yet he had watched him prepare it and purchase everything…
Finally making up his mind, England sighed, took a deep breath, and placed a bit of the fish in his mouth. The green eyes that had been closed in preparation for death opened in a wide manner at the heavenly taste. Oh fuck it was delicious.
Those wide eyes of wonder were matched with a giant, amused smile from France. Every time. It was like England was living for the first time each time he ate real food. Satisfied with today's accomplishment, France took a bite from his own plate, an inkling of a frown tugging at his smile as he realized the salmon was a bit dry. At least his definition of dry was succulent and juicy to Arthur.
"What are you smiling about, git?" Damn he'd let himself show how good the food was. No, wait, not good! He'd shown his surprise at the awful taste. Yeah. He was only eating out of propriety. Glaring a little, England grumbled under his breath as he ate.
France rested his head in his hand to smile at the man across from him. "Just enjoying the sight of a barbarian tasting the civilized life."
Laughing at such a claim, the Brit pointed his fork in indictment. "Barbarian? You're the one with an elbow on the table, Frog. Etiquette is from your language and yet you still have no manners?"
"Hm?" France looked down, then laughed before removing his elbow. "Oh cheri, forgive me~ I lose myself in your presence!" He winked and blew England a kiss, getting him a proper flush.
Looking to his meal England refrained from a shout of indignation and made himself mumble, "Shut your cakehole and eat."
With a chuckle and a smile, France obeyed silently and continued eating. His eyes, however, continued to watch the man across from him cheerfully.
Damn if this wasn't awkward as hell. Now England began to realize that when the two of them weren't bickering or plotting together, he didn't quite know how to act. What could they talk about? Because he certainly did not want to let this anxious silence continue long with those blue eyes on him. But seriously, what was there? Did the two have anything in common at all besides being European nations?
The first thing that came to mind was an utter failure, as the default topic by any gentleman's standards. "At least it isn't raining for once." Yes, the weather. It was the best he could do!
"Indeed! You're especially horny when it's raining~" France chuckled and slowly cut a piece of his fish, suddenly very intent in it. "I wouldn't be able to enjoy my dinner."
"Ha! What a dilemma. Which is more important to the Frog, a shag or his food?"
"Well at this moment in time," he looked up and smiled. "Dinner. It's an interesting and new thing from you. I'm still getting over my shock."
"I'm entitled to some change same as you," ah wait now he'd started it. Mumbling in some pink cheeks England finished, "making halfway decent food..."
"Me? Halfway decent?" He scoffed and pointed to England's almost empty plate. "You sure ate it like it's spectacular."
His own scoff was given as England grinned. "I didn't eat much for fear of wasting perfectly good nutrition when I vomited your French horrors."
"Oh? The look of pure pleasure was just because you were hungry?"
"Naturally," he responded in a matter-of-fact tone.
"Then I guess you're nutritioned enough to not want desert?"
A pause. "... Dessert?"
"Oui I made some before I came so it could cool in your fridge~" He smiled and stood, gathering their plates. "But I know Gilbert and Antonio enjoy my cooking."
"No!" Oh fuck. He couldn't look so desperate for a taste of this Frenchie's food! Biting the inside of his lip England recovered by looking away with arms crosses in a faint brow furrowed pout. "It would be impolite of me to not try something you made for me."
"Would it be?" Doing his best not to smile gleefully, France took their dishes to the kitchen. He returned with two bowls of strawberry chocolate mousse. "Sure you won't vomit my French horror?"
Was he drooling? England couldn't tell as he eyed those plates with eyes wide in anticipation. Damn this man and his delicious looking cuisine. "I should at least take a bite, so as to not be uncouth."
"Of course. I'll just make sure to put it back in the container to take to Gilbert and Antonio not to waste~" France set the bowl in front of England and stuck a spoon in it.
With his hand moving to plop the spoonful of heaven in his mouth hesitantly, England had pink cheeks. It was when his taste buds sent messages of frenzied joy to his brain that he flushed deeply and turned his face down to try and hide it. He failed. "Maybe I could eat a bit more..."
"Oh non!" France slowly made a move to take the bowl back. "I wouldn't want you to vomit."
"Fucking-! Fine it's bloody amazing," England shouted, bright red as he instinctively pulled the bowl away in an almost territorial manner.
Chuckling freely, France seated himself and smiled smugly. He didn't say anything, as it had been the whole dinner, but his eyes screamed victory.
Glaring, England pointed his spoon at the proud blond. "You shut it." Then he was back to happily eating the treat, hoping to God that his fringe made some headway at hiding his face as he looked down with a blush and fought back a smile, instead pouting deeply to overcompensate. When he finally dared to look away from his treat, France's face was directly in front of his and a kiss was planted on his pouting lips.
"They needed some attention," he explained, his breath on England for he remained close.
Following the second of surprise England glowered and reached up to take the romantic idiots nose between two of his fingers, utilising this hold to pull the corresponding face up and back. "It needed some attention," he mocked in releasing him.
"Mon Angleterre! So mean!" France sighed dramatically and sat back in his chair. "All I want is a simple kiss and I get rejected! Am I no more than a sex toy?"
He just grinned at paying him back. "You are French," England said with a nonchalant shrug.
"And you are English~ Not surprising you need a toy to have sex."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Exactly how it sounds~"
England glowered. Bastard! Now he was insinuating the Brit couldn't find his own shag? "Piss off."
"Want me to take the remaining mousse with me~?"
"Oh hell no. After your insult? It's all staying with me."
"Naturally."
France gathered their empty bowls and brought them to the sink where the rest of the dishes were. "This was nice," he said as he started washing them.
Only in his speaking had England followed his guest into the kitchen and therein seen his work. He was cleaning the dishes? England frowned. "Why are you cleaning up? I should be doing that."
"Well you're going to kick me out if I'm not doing something," the blond replied jovially.
And now he rose a brow in suspicion. "Kick you out if-? What?"
"Are you having hearing problems, cher?" France rolled his eyes as he started drying the plates. "If I'm not doing anything."
"I'm having comprehension problems." The man was thoroughly confused by his reasoning. Fine, France had taken him up on his offer and come over for dinner. The usual bickering had ensued and given him some sort of comfort zone in that level of familiarity. But this? A France staying and not nothing him? It was unheard of. The man appeared to distract from his needlework, poke fun at him. Never was he content to be doing nothing, to be doing his dishes without some sort of sabotage. Yet from where he stood he could not see any breaking or cracking of porcelain, any permanent dying.
With the dishes, France turned around and grabbed England's shoulders, pulling him in for a kiss. "I'm enjoying your company."
Those sirens in that head of unruly sandy blond hair were going off just as they always did when England was with France, when they shared some level of intimacy. Yet the warning signals had a strange undertone to them today. They sounded a little less like fog horns, holding less painful volume. Why was that?
While he did not wrap his arms around his guest the Brit did not push him away either. The man just mumbled a, "bloody nutter," under his breath in glancing away. Fuck him and his kisses.
"You're absolutely right, I am rather crazy." Yet he leaned in and kissed him again.
Our little ball of fire could only take so much. After leaning in on that second kiss and returning it he caught himself just as he had begun to deepen it. Without pulling away much, just that hint to part their lips, he pinched one of the perverted hands surprisingly still on his shoulders and yet to roam.
"Don't you have work to do?"
"Work?" France thought of his laptop and nuzzled the Brit as he thought. Could King of Camelot count as work? "I suppose."
"You suppose?" A scoff at that. Did the man ever do anything related to his job as a nation. Shifting away from his affectionate gesture England bashfully got in some more bullying in the form of pinching a French cheek. "Well I do. And it's about time I got started on it."
"So late?" Ignoring the pinching, France leaned in closer. "Isn't there something better to do?"
"You're right." Well if the cheek had no effect how about the ear? Taking the cartilage in hand England tugged the baggage towards the door. "Maybe I can get some reading in. It's better to read later in the day."
Since England wasn't taking a hint, as well as tugging on his ear, France pouted and asked, "I won't get any undrunken sex tonight?"
"No, no you won't. Too bad for you, huh sex toy?" Feeling a foreign sort of giddy confidence England had France outside the door when he released the captive ear. He grinned, crossing his arms. "You'll probably survive."
"Perhaps." He pulled England into him with an overpowering kiss, stealing all breath and thought from the Brit. As he pulled away, France smiled and ruffled England's hair, not waiting for a response before walking away. "Merci for the splendid evening."
"… Well fuck you too. You better bugger off."
With the door closed and his back to it England mumbled this whilst he rubbed at his mouth both to wipe away the damned Frog germs as well as to hide the damned smile that betrayed him. What the hell was wrong with him? Getting as silly as a school girl over the near absolute hit that was this meeting. No blood had been spilt. Blood or… Other bodily fluids. Now here he was fighting down giggles at such a triumph, angry at himself for such emotions.
"… What?"
Green eyes glared in a side glance at the group of creatures in the doorway to his right. Riding the tip of the unicorns nose the petite little fairy just grinned at her friend, holding her tiny chin in her hand. "That turned out well, eh?"
"I don't know what you're talking about. I was just apologising for drinking his expensive alcohol," the man huffed, turning up his nose and crossing his arms over his chest haughtily.
"Hey, I just said it turned out well. You're the one that's reading into it." Giggling knowingly, she flew up and down the hall.
"Reading into it? What? Get back here! Explain yourself!"
There was only one way to describe the fluttering feeling in his heart. Who would have thought a simple dinner would reinforce the feelings France knew existed deep down. The sex was always nice. Not even nice, wonderful. England was always the best to have sex with, hate sex or not.
But a simple dinner. A simple dinner where they bickered only minimally. England had enjoyed his dinner. They hadn't had sex, but it may have been the best night of their relationship. It was almost a revelation for the country of love. And more than anything he wanted to spread his enjoyment of love!
The blond made himself comfortable on his bed with laptop in hand. King of Camelot probably needed some assistance now.
'Dear Dr. Love,
So it appears that your advice may have very well been in my best interest. I apologise for doubting you. As much as we bickered, I think I may have truly enjoyed myself. There was no sex, a bit of intimacy though. All the same it was... Nice.
I'm left hesitant about what to do next at such a victory...
Sincerely, King of Camelot'
End of Chapter One
Woo! We got ourselves an FrUK goin', huh? ^^ Sister fic to our TaToaTL – finished ;o; - and LLL
So, um, yeah. Er… I'm not the best at ukes. Really. I tend to play them as single level stereotypes unlike my multi-level – or at least attempted multi-level – Ogre semes XD And Iggy here… Yeah. I haven't done him nearly as much as I have other characters, so bare with me. He probably is OOC now, but I promise to learn as I go
Anyway, as Go I do translations. Haya is the Frenchie *hiiiiiss* so she has all that fun, and if there's an especially weird English term I throw in I will also be translating it for y'all xD
Mon Dieu! = My God!
Je suis désolé = I'm sorry
wanker = to wank is to masturbate, so a sort of sexual deviant or something xD Basically just a little insulting word
mon cher = my dear
shagged = to have sexed someone up
C'est tragique = It is tragic
Bonjour = Hello
git = bastard/idiot
blokes = guys
arse = ass (cookie for anyone that can name where, 'move yer bloomin' arse!' is from ;D)
Mon Angleterre! = My England!
piss off = Eh, I guess kind of like, 'fuck you' as if to tell someone to go away… *shrug* :/ (Haya says, LOLZ who wouldn't know this?)
I'm sorry if you knew some of the English and feel offended that I thought you didn't -.- I've come to realize the things I think are common knowledge aren't. I say plasma globe and no one knows what I means when I assumed it was a normal term
