oI do not own Hetalia … :) and I do not earn any kind of money from this snippet. This chapter hasn't been beta-ed yet (you will notice soon enough)
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Friends with benefits
Chapter 1: Coincidental meeting
Somewhere around 1800 "Commentçava?" asked a young France.
"Ça va bien. Merci beaucoup pour…" stated the child, forcing the words to sound as French as it was humanly possible.
However his voice shook with a strange reverberation which lacked the native's accent on the "r". He also meant to continue the phrase with a thank you for asking, but his mind had apparently stopped translating at the verb to ask. His tutor guessed the problem, but forgave him, since three hours in a row of French lessons could make anyone dizzy.
"Mon petit Roumanie …" whispered France as blond strands of hair blocked the sunlight from reflecting the reddish color of Romania's eyes.
"Da?"
France patted him on the head, ruffling his dirty blond hair.
"You did a good job today"
"Mulţumesc!" grinned the child.
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Nowadays
Heavy lids fluttered over Romania's closed eyes. He wasn't really sleeping, just prolonging the atrocity named moving sore muscles after they had been repeatedly abused; more or less literal. His bed-mate didn't notice the subtle -albeit visible- gesture, being too engrossed in snoring the hell out of himself.
One of Romania's hands shifted over the table searching for his personal effects. He didn't seem to obtain any tangible success in completing the task by using this blind manner, so his left eye popped open, unceremoniously breaking the somehow banal monotony printed on his pale face. A bloody orb scanned the table, easily finding the objects he was searching for. They were all gathered in the farthest corner of the hotel room, looking like a bunch of nothings a girl would carry with her: a mobile phone, a pack of napkins and some other useless stuff.
Sometimes Romania wondered why he felt the need to carry with him so many things he had never used. Just because there was a one percent chance he would need them in the future, didn't mean they will ever be of real use. And usually, when having this unsolvable dilemma, Romania resolved it by thinking that being an immortal nation meant having enough time to reach any probability.
Hungary had asked him once, a long time ago in his younger days, if being so paranoid wasn't bad for the health, but he had never dared to answer. Mainly because he didn't know it, or just didn't feel like sharing precious information with his enemy. However he could acknowledge one simple, yet indisputable, fact: this exaggerated fear of everything had kept his instincts sharp and his mind clear over so many centuries of oppression.
His other eye opened slowly, gazing at the body curled beside him.
Bulgaria was snoring happily on his side of the bed as bubbles were emerging from his nose. It was rare for the stiff nation to show signs of weakness or to leave his flank opened like that, but over the years he had learned to adapt, little by little, to his newly acquired freedom. First from the Turks and then from the reds. Sometimes Romania envied him, because, unlike himself, he didn't feel the need to fake any of his emotions, apart from love maybe. If he felt something was amiss, he would just go there and demand explanations. No poker face, no double meaning shit and especially no lies.
Romania trembled slightly when the word "lie" sunk in his conscience. For so many reasons he didn't want to recognize the soft tug of guilt tearing his heart apart and for almost as many, he had tried to discard it away in a corner of his being. He just knew, though instinctually, that guilt can eat from the inside like a worm eating the content of the apple he inhabited, but even that couldn't change what his heart desired.
Trying to redirect his attention at something slightly different, the boy's eyes travelled up and down the room, resting a moment on the dark strands of hair belonging to his partner and then continuing to move lower till they reached their feet.
'Nations can be killed' thought Romania while playing with the white sheets 'We can become even more fragile than a human being'
On his face, a soft smile began to flower when Bulgaria let go of a loud, yet very sexy, snore. Then, he leaned forward, careful not to wake up the small bundle of skin, and kissed his cheek. Bulgaria puffed and turned on the other side.
"Goodnight" whispered Romania as he gathered the clothes from the floor, first the boots and then the black pants.
After throwing the red coat on his shoulders and checking in a mirror hanged above the table if the sleeves and the collar were properly arranged, the boy left the house. It wasn't like him to spend the night with someone and Bulgaria didn't make an exception.
However, the advantage of having Bulgaria as a lover was that whenever he felt like visiting him, he could do it without alerting the other nations of his nocturne escapades. They were neighbors after all, so it was fairly easy to remain unobserved. Hungary had smelt something fishy going on around the two of them (let it to the queen of yaoi to sense yaoi at every corner), but didn't tell anyone about it; probably thinking of blackmailing Romanian at a latter date.
Even if Hungary seemed to be aware of their relationship, the news didn't scare the Romanian. Sex between men was not rare or restricted and neither was sharing the bed with another nation, especially if the said nation was the other's neighbor. Still if Hungary ever got the gut to attack him with this private information, he had some of his own gossips hidden up his sleeve. Metaphorically speaking of course.
The sound of a car rolling down the street dragged Romania back in the tangible world. He continued to walk, but unlike many times before he didn't go directly to his house, but made a detour at his Serbian friend. From here he got straight into Croatia and walked towards the Western Europe. The Croatian didn't really care if he was passing through his territory and Slovenia was even more reticent at caring about unimportant issues, as he called them. Finally he arrived in Switzerland, but not before being abducted by an angry Austrian who thought that listening to Mozart was a proper punishment for immigrants.
Maybe it was true, after all Romania loved the Austrian composer, but Beethoven was his cup of tea. Not that he'll ever tell that to Germany.
But on Switzerland's territories he was very surprised to find two of his distant relatives.
"Franţa? Spania?" asked Romania, recognizing the two by their antithetic hair color.
The Spaniard halted his rushed steps and turned around, trying to seek out the owner of the voice he had just heard. After his scrutinizing gaze made contact with the slim figure wrapped tightly in the red coat, Spain's already wide smile, gained exponential proportions, covering half his face in an instant. There were times when Romania couldn't decide if Antonio was being childish or just overly optimistic. Maybe a little bit of both.
"Rumania" he jumped happily towards the boy "What brings you here amigo?"
"I was just passing by" shrugged Romania, trying to ignore the other presence approaching their location.
A soft melody reached the boy's ears, while his insides began to twitch at an alarming speed in what he liked to call impatience, but was actually a disturbing type of nervousness. The rhythm left by France's soft pacing against the pavement forced his heart to pump blood in his cold veins till every extremity belonging to his body felt like being on fire. When the blond man appeared from behind Spain, Romania had the sudden urge to dash back to Bulgaria's residence and hide under the covers beside him, but at the same time a strong feeling of attraction flowered inside him. Studying his companion's, for the first time, serious face, Romania realized he wasn't the only one experiencing contradictory emotions. As a matter of fact, France looked equally disturbed by their accidental meeting.
Blue eyes fluttered in surprise when colliding with a pair of deep, red orbs. Emotions flew before them like the discolored ribbons of an old movie flashing under the eyes that witnessed them.
"Bonjour" saluted France formally, breaking the uncomfortable silence.
"It's dark, maybe Bonsoir is better" grinned the always jovial nation.
However his attention switched back on Spain.
"Oh Spain. Now that I'm here, I can finally give you the tomatoes I owe you … from that game of poker I lost …" explained Romania
The Spaniard's expression brightened when his eyes made contact with the bag chock full of tomatoes. The brunette clearly had a ruthless fight with his conscience about accepting or declining the unexpected gift, but the latter won in the end. He was always so predictable whenever tomatoes were involved in the equation.
"¡gracias" thanked Spain, ogling the bag like it was Romano's reincarnation.
"No hay problema Antonio" tried the Romanian to remember the little Spanish he had learned while visiting Spain.
Sometimes magic could come in handy, especially if Romania was trying to manipulate another nation in leaving him alone with someone. How many times had he fooled Poland in running back home because a tiger could attack his precious pony while being away? Or Hungary, because her frying pan was in danger of being kidnapped by Prussia. Still, Bulgaria remained the easiest to mock, because of his mythical love for yogurt.
Therefore, as predicted, Spain thanked a second time and waltzed back at his house, probably reflecting on strategies of how to eat his precious red possessions.
"Why were you carrying tomatoes with you?" asked France, eying him strangely.
"I didn't" shrugged the boy "But, what can I say? Magic has its mysterious ways."
A subtle smile tugged at France's lips, as his companion continued to talk.
"So … how have you been France?"
France sighed and urged the nation to follow him.
"Unsatisfied" declared the lusty nation, unconsciously playing with a strand of hair.
His body language was practically oozing testosterones, so Romania didn't need another second to understand his friend's hidden agenda.
"Then, let me rephrase that. How are you?" he asked a second time, changing the tense in one he expected to be favorable. It didn't change the fact that he suspected the other's answer.
"About to be satisfied" he whispered, not forgetting to add a sensual note to his statement.
But Romania was taken by surprise when the strange phrasing reached his ears.
They've always known how to communicate without raising the unnecessary suspicions of other nations, but in this round France seemed to have abandoned his usual reticence in showing public affection. Something was wrong with his straightforward way of behaving, because neither Romania, nor France had ever been the type to express their carnal desires so directly.
"You're being cocky. Overconfidence can be dangerous …" threatened the blond boy.
France halted any movement, remaining like a statue, frozen in the middle of the street, and then abruptly turned around like someone would have slapped him across the face. He took a step towards the Romanian, but he mirrored his action, by taking a step back.
"Non … I'm just being myself. Now, what do you say … wanna see my humble house"
Romania grinned.
"Of course"
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Meanwhile, a slim figure covered by a brown cloak studied the scene, seeming to be interested especially in the dialogue going on between the two nations. Her eyes scanned Romania form head to toe, a scowl appearing on her beautiful features. That dick had had the upper hand in blackmailing his whole life, but it was her time to turn the tables in her favor.
"I've always thought you were more careful with your relationships Romania. You must be losing your touch." her rosy lips widened in a devilish smirk "If I had known you were hiding such a secret, I would have followed you a long time ago"
She grabbed the pair of back glasses, which rested on her nose, with the intention of throwing them in a dumpster, but soon decided against it. The gorgeous pair of green eyes framed by brownish strands of hair that had appeared from behind black lenses, studied France's overly pleased face and then shifted on Romania, observing his worried expression. The woman didn't think twice before hiding her face under the hood and dashing back towards her house. It would have been a misfortune if France saw her there, spying on him. The same rule applied to Romania.
"This will be so much fun" she whispered under her breath, while checking a red clock wrapped around her wrist "Eleven, hm? What could two nations do one hour before midnight?"
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"Commentçava?" - How are you doing?
"Ça va bien. Merci beaucoup pour …" – I'm doing well. Thank you very much for …
"Mon petit Roumanie …" - My little Romania
"Da?" – Yes?
"Mulţumesc!" – thank you
"¡gracias" – thank you
"No hay problema Antonio" – No problem Antonio
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A/N: First of all thank you for the ones who survived this so inspiring lecture. Criticism is more than appreciated, but about trolls … yeah. I met a few in my lifetime, not keen of meeting others.
This is my first yaoi FF and my first Hetalia fic as well (two hits in one shot). I hope the characters didn't get too OOC. The French I used is what I remembered from my French lesson in high school. Also I'm a walking disaster at accents. I love French but do not ask me to speak it because I'll butcher the poor language and I don't want to do this.
Historically speaking, Romania and France shared a love story somewhere between 1800 and 2000; I could say even 2007. I cannot really remember when the romance broke, but it definitely happened after 2007. Now that I think …Romania is one of the only countries France didn't face in battle.