Ellos luvs~! Sorry for the wait! Needed a break from the super writing. Thank you for all the reviews and great reception for our new story. Hope you continue to enjoy x3

Chapter Two: Brandy Snaps

It seemed victory was contagious. France smiled like a fool while reading King of Camelot's latest email. This was wonderful! The elated blond logged onto his instant messaging system and let out a girlish squeal to see the man was online.

FrenchCock: Why bonjour ami! I am so happy for you~

KingofCamelot: Um.

KingofCamelot: Thank you...

FrenchCock: Did you make any plans?

KingofCamelot: No.

KingofCamelot: I haven't a clue how to follow that up.

FrenchCock: Spending yet more time together of course!

KingofCamelot: I know that.

KingofCamelot: But it was so brilliant the first time I'm completely lost.

FrenchCock: Try suggesting you want to do something to Roses. I'm sure he'll come up with something.

KingofCamelot: That will certainly be X-Rated.

FrenchCock: Specifically tell him you don't want to have sex.

KingofCamelot: Bloody hell that conversation will be...

KingofCamelot: Difficult.

FrenchCock: It's as simple as saying, "No sex cheri!"

KingofCamelot: To you...

KingofCamelot: But after listening to you it did turn out, so I suppose I should the second time as well.

France smiled and chuckled. So trusting! It was adorable.
FrenchCock: Wonderful! You won't regret it!

KingofCamelot: I hope so.

FrenchCock: Of course~
FrenchCock: Now keep me updated, oui?

KingofCamelot: I will.

FrenchCock: Good boy.
FrenchCock: I'll be going for the night now.
FrenchCock: Bon nuit cheri

KingofCamelot: Good night, Sir.

Smiling at his computer, France shut it and set it aside. The world was such a wonderful place! Oh now he was tempted to call England and ask him on a date for tomorrow...

But the silly Brit would come up with an excuse. Or he would be shocked into agreeing and then chicken out... With a heavy sigh, France rolled off his bed and went to his shower. How unfortunate.

Damn he could lose his spine sometimes. It was truly pathetic of an upright British man such as himself to get so utterly weak-kneed at some prospects. Why couldn't he just say what he wanted? With most things he had absolutely no issue. In speaking to his boss England held nothing back, same as with most people. Then stupid France came along and fucked up everything for him…

Three days came and went before England picked up that phone and dialed that number. His spine had been formed in all of the tension he'd felt over the course of those three days. It would probably shatter mid-conversation though.

"Bonjou-"

England didn't let him even begin to answer before he launched into his whirlwind of words. "I would like to conduct an experiment to see just how much of you I can stand before I lose my sanity so we should do something together like before but if you say sex I will personally castrate you."

The long silence that followed his outburst made England begin to doubt himself. He was about to ask if France was still there when light chuckles came from the other end.

France leaned against a wall to keep himself steady as he shook with laughter. How could such a stubborn man be so adorable? Wiping tears from his eyes, the blond smiled. "I would love to do something with you, Angleterre. How would you like a picnic and walk through Paris? You haven't seen my gorgeous city in a while."

Of course it would be something related to him. Under his breath England grumbled angrily at the man's self-centered ways. Yet England could not deny that he'd always been drawn to France's culture because of his own lack thereof…

"That could work…"

"Oh? Splendid!" France looked at his calendar and sang, "Saturday work~?"

"Ah, one-" Calling from his office, England leaned forward in his chair with the phone held by combined ear and elbow during his glance over of the desk calendar. "Yeah, Saturday is fine."

"Wonderful! Be at my house by noon?"

"Sure…"

"Oh wonderful!" France skipped to his kitchen and pulled out his recipe book. "Do you have any requests for lunch?"

Did he have to put him on the spot like that? It was rude to keep denying the responsibility for the meal. "Um. If it's a picnic something easy to eat. Like a finger food. Sandwiches or something..."

"Splendid idea cheri~" The smile that appeared on France's face from the beginning of the conversation had yet to fall. He flipped through his book dreamily as he cooed, "I'm glad you called, Arthur."

Oh of course he was. "You better be. I've got some work I need to be doing," the blond grumbled. Then he coughed and continued, "so I'll be seeing you on Saturday then."

"You will be," France purred.

"Oh shut up," the last grumble before the Brit ended the phone call.

France stared at his phone for some time before putting it back in the holster. England reached out to him. Twice. Surely the world was ending. Or perhaps it was finally on his side. Never would France have thought England would want to extend their relationship beyond fuckbuddies and rivals. Maybe he would even get some sober sex next! Giddily chuckling, the country of love went back to looking through his cookbook for the perfect picnic meal.

That Saturday morning England's head popped off his pillow with the same kind of feeling one gets before they take in their science fair project. On one hand you spent hours upon hours on the thing and you were incredibly proud of it, excited to finally get the thing turned in. On the other hand you were scared to death of how bad your grade could possibly be despite your A on the last project because everything before that had been utter failures. The sort of mixture of feeling made the man twitchy as he prepared for the day that had finally come upon him. So it was sunny and nice and it may work out, in his mind the impending date was something like possible storm clouds in the distance. Had they just hit the eye of the storm or something? Some sort of calm midway through? But then what if he was wrong and ran into the storm cellar to later find out it was the prettiest day ever? Oh fuck it all. Just fuck everything. He couldn't even drink to get rid of his confusion for some short spans of time. All he could do was down a fair bit of tea before he headed out and appeared on the Frenchman's doorstep, fingering his jacket awkwardly.

The door opened within seconds of the bell ringing and France trotted out with a basket on his arm. "Right on time!" He laughed, linking arms with England and leading him down the driveway.

"Fucking-!" Really? Already doing this? Hissing, England pulled his arm away and dusted it off as if truly seeing miniscule French mites now occupying his sleeve. Only then could he follow France, not walk hand in hand like a bloody film. "Of course I'm on time. I hate being late."

Completely ignoring the rejection, France put an arm around England's waist and pulled him close to kiss his cheek. "Oui, je sais~ That's why I made sure to have everything ready before noon so you wouldn't have to wait."

"Come off it already!" Pushing on the man's chest England leaned away from him as if he were some sort of an annoyingly affectionate puppy licking at his face with excessive amounts of slobber. "Damn I already want to punch you."

Was it impossible to share simple affections? France smiled at the feisty Brit and let him be for the time. So cruel yet so adorable. "If you punch me, you won't get lunch."

Damn France and his food. Ass was using it as a bargaining tool against him. Both from the change in subject and the halt in overt friendliness England did not further stray from France now, just huffed and gave him a sidelong glare. "It better be a brilliant meal then."

While France didn't reply, the smug smile on his face said the meal would be beyond England's expectations- which weren't high since anything (meaning everything) better than his own food was delicious.

They walked in a content silence to the metro and then into a gorgeous park grounds. Still keeping his mouth shut, France smiled and led his date down a path to a dock on a lake, where a small little row boat awaited them. Once seated and out on the water, France's smile grew as he finally spoke. "Welcome to Bois de Vincennes."

Curious green eyes turned about themselves to take in the scene. For one thing this was England we were talking about, the longtime seafarer, so anything on water got his seal of approval, and for another he noted that from what he could see the park he'd been taken to was done in his own 18th century style. These together made him smile as he looked around those first few moments upon arriving in the boat to soak everything in.

Then, however, the situation itself hit him. In a rowboat on a park's lake with France? If that wasn't the most cliché couples scene he'd ever heard of he didn't know what was! And there he sat playing the part of the woman that sat while the man rowed. Such treatment downright pissed him off and made him begin to reach for the oars. He was no bloody bird! Fine he was gay but he most certainly was not the homosexual that threw aside his manhood to be reduced to this!

But wait. What was wrong with him? Taking work from France of all people? What did he care if he did all of the rowing and got tired? That would be beautiful! Immediately he leaned back in his seat from the begun action for the oars. Let the arse do whatever he wanted.

"You're so amusing to watch," France said as England settled down. The man was a constant source of entertainment with inability to make up his mind and displaying the whole thought process on his face. Normally he only got to appreciate England's personality during meetings. France couldn't get over how nice this was.

They approached a little island and France jumped onto the shore to pull the boat out of the water. He picked up the picnic basket and held a hand out to England to help him out.

After France's statement about his facial expressions England, initially, growled and refused the offered hand. But in his holding his nose up confidently he failed to take his place into consideration. As the boat slipped a hint he yelped and clung to France's wrist to pull himself out. So much for being the sailor. He'd been too caught up in ignoring the invitation to act his normal cool self.

Something - no not something, France knew it was his heart that was swelling at the adorable little show of clumsiness from England. He missed so much of England's good side from the endless bickering and ignoring or each other.

Grinning like a fool, France pulled England to his feet and into him, giving him a joyous kiss. "You're too much," he cooed, letting go and escaping before he got hit.

Up the bank and down a small slope, France stopped below a large tree. He produced a large, sky blue blanket and spread it across the shady spot. The basket was placed in the middle of the sheet and France sat next to it, smiling up at England.

Smile returned with a scowl that remained slight blush worthy, England flopped down on the other side of the basket. He specifically kept his gaze off of France when he asked, "so what are we having?"

"We have some turkey sandwiches for our main course," France replied as he started taking out the food he prepared. "Fruit salad and bread and cheese for sides. We have some delectable wine to go with our cheese and desert-" He paused and closed the basket with a shining smile. "Well that is a surprise."

"What? What's a surprise?" Taken completely in the suspense of it England turned his head round from looking off without care to peer at the basket in questioning.

Chuckling, France poured their wine and placed the glasses atop the basket England was so curiously staring at. "It wouldn't be a surprise desert if I told you, now would it?"

Yeah and now he was adding wine to the equation. With great suspicion England eyed the glass. Depending on its nature the beverage could affect him greatly in just a few helpings...

"It's of mild alcoholic levels," France commented as he began placing their food on plates. "It wouldn't get Feliciano drunk, even if he drank the whole bottle. You're safe, cheri."

Well in that case. England allowed a small smile. Alcohol without the adverse effects? Sign him up. He took the cup in hand and sipped, in doing so watching Francis' movements. So that's what he'd been grinning about before. It did look brilliant..

"Well help yourself, cheri."

"I'm getting to it," the man mumbled. He was enjoying his wine. Setting his beverage aside England brought one of the plates into his lap before bringing the sandwich up to his mouth. Sandwiches were sandwiches, right? You couldn't do much to make one very different from the other so surely-damn it all to hell even the bloody sandwich had it's own level of art to it in the flavour.

And France knew it. He took a small bite and smiled smugly. "Do you like it?"

"It's edible." England wasn't about to outright compliment him, even if he began to eat in the same way as he had on the dinner date prior. Like someone first fed something beyond bland bread.

"Try the fruit salad," France purred, pushing the bowl towards the man.

Fortunately fruit was fruit no matter what you did. It was of fine quality, but he liked buying nice things as well. Popping a grape in his mouth England savoured the taste. "Fortunate it's such a nice day," he commented, not even meaning to open up on weather as he had before. Simply as he stared at the sky England noted the pretty blue colour in comparison to the grey he was so used to.

"Isn't it?" Chuckling, France looked to the sky as well. "Good days are rare for you~"

"Calm is rare for you," smirking, England looked to him from the corner of his eye, "shouldn't you be rebelling about something right about now?"

"Shouldn't you be copying a new aspect of my culture by now?" France shot back.

"None of your rulers ever had issue with my culture when they were running from angry mobs and could have very well gone anywhere else."

Rather than letting his smile fall, it grew as France tapped his chin curiously. "Perhaps it was because we knew a certain little nation secretly loves us."

Could a face get any redder? Brows dip any lower? "Where in the hell would you get that idea?"

"Oh I don't know, maybe because that certain nation practically said it himself?"

"I do not recall saying anything of the sort!"

"If that's the story you're sticking to~"

"Belt up before you lose your second brain."

France's jaw dropped and eyes widened in disbelief. "Mon Dieu! I have two brains?"

In his anger England downed his wine. "A tiny thing in your head and the one in your dick."

"Dieu, my cock can think for itself?" This was quite the news! "This is a scientific discovery of no other."

Risen brow on England's face. "This should be common knowledge."

"Is it?" France reached over their food to tug on England's eyebrow. "Then these should be caterpillars, oui?"

"Woah!" Green eyes twitched and face contorted. Fuck if that didn't hurt like hell! "Bugger off bastard!" And damned if he couldn't pull away to cause even more pain.

"Would you look at that!" France let go and sat back in his spot. "They're glued on! That's animal abuse!"

"You abuse the ozone with your hair products I'm sure."

"Hair products?" France ran a hand through his hair and shot a dashing smile. "I am all natural mon ami~"

"Oh really? I was sure it was a toupee," the man scoffed, still tenderly massaging his offended English brows.

"Non~ Nothing fake could achieve this beauty." Chuckling, France finished the bit of wine in his glass and glanced to England's empty plate. "Would you like desert now?"

" ... If you'll shut up."

Lips sealed, France moved their wine glasses to pull out a tray a pastries. "I thought I would make a desert of yours. Brandy snaps seemed to be of your taste~"

Brandy snaps? He'd made brandy snaps? That was his! England's surprise was apparent on his face. "You made-?"

"With a twist!" Oh this was too cute. "I made them not only edible, but delicious as well."

There went his sparkle of wonder. Eyes narrowing, England glared. "They're delicious to begin with, git!"

"Ahha, oui oui." France set the tray in front of England and smiled at him.

Angrily the man took up the plate and bit off an end of the pastry, expecting it to be filled with some stupid French cream that ruined it all. Instead... As usual, it was amazing. Bloody arse of a man took his food and perfected it.

"C'est bon?"

"Of course it is." With a bratty grin England continued to nibble. "It's my recipe." Because honestly it was still a brandy snap. There was variance but that was natural. And even with that variance it was France that had made something of England's. Beneath his fringe the Brit smiled giddily.

"I know," he purred. Although making British cuisine was painful, it was quite worth it watching the delight on England's face.

Having gone without any good brandy snaps for a while our Englishman nibbled on it much like the rabbit he was known as. He didn't even bother asking if France was going to have any. Because they were all his. All England's to enjoy. Even if he would probably get sick and fat off of the large number.

His peaceful delight was short lived, naturally. France leaned forward to their faces were within inches and whispered, "You have the same face when I bring you to climax. To think just my cooking can do that."

His head should have felt a rush from the speed at which the blood pooled in his face. There he'd been feeling just short of a lovesick woman and France had to ruin it with sexual talk. To make matters worse it just made him think about their times together. So really it wasn't any fault of England's. France was all to blame. "Shut up!" The smaller blond yelled as he lunged the man to both shut him up and sedate some of his need when in getting him to the ground beneath him he kissed the Frenchman fiercely.

Well then.

France was all too happy to return the kiss with equaled vigor. He wrapped his arms around to Brit and pulled their bodies closer together as their tongues met. Hands fisted in those luscious French locks as England gave a moan of both continued anger and pleasure. In contrast to their usual fight for dominance with time England calmed himself and his tongue, letting it turn more languid in passion than harsh, which brought a low moan from France.

His hands traveled down that lithe body to cup England's irresistible ass and give the cheeks a light squeeze. At this treatment England jumped before he shuddered and took a two step retaliation plan. First, nip at his lip. Second, grind down into him slowly, lustily.

But there was not a reaction England expected. France sighed and sat up, pushing the horny Brit away. "Angleterre, as much as I would love to make love under the trees in the open air, I promised you no sex and I intend to keep my promise."

Blink. Blink. So called caterpillars were high in his brow in the shock. He hadn't even been thinking to that extent. Well, knowing him he hadn't been thinking at all and it could have gone that way, but it was supposed to just be a little snogging on the grass. But even if it did go over France was rejecting him? France?

A swirl of emotion reared its head in England's chest as he turned his head to eye the cause with a brow risen in suspicion. He cared enough about his wishes to pass up sex? France didn't care about anything that much. Especially not England...

"Why would I want to do that?" With this scoff he rolled his eyes. "I just wanted you to shut it."

"Ah, splendid job at achieving that~"

France smiled in hopes of easing the tension in the air and pulled himself to his feet. "If we're done eating, would you like to see the rest of the park?"

"That could be arranged." Standing himself, England moved off of the blanket.

Basket in tow the two continued their 'date' through the park with relative ease. It proved to be an interesting sort of excursion as least. The park held quite a bit to see. In its northern a castle of French kings – thus naturally holding memories for both France and England alike – over the centuries. In other areas there was the hippodrome, something of entertainment to the British that always so enjoy races. And the velodrome that had hosted a few Olympics they could reminisce over together, the usual small bickering coming up about their athletes. From there it was to the fair sized zoo in the westernmost areas. Asian elephants and mouflons proved to be entertainment that had no way of causing an argument between the two nations, leaving them calm as they left it.

Walking through the streets of Paris, France watched his date with a bright smile. The silence was nice, but he felt it was time to initiate conversation again. "Enjoying Paris?"

After going so long in a comfortable sort of quiet England blinked and turned to meet France's gaze, having been intent on everything going on around them. "Hm? Yeah." Er, no, wait. "I mean, about as much as I can enjoy one of your cities," with a turn of his head and small furrowing of the brows. It was a short lived expression though, soon replaced with a sort of playful grin. "If I were to like any of them it would be Lyon. It was such fun spreading rumors and such in the traboules and walking through them."

A giant smile spread across France's face. To think England held such fond memories about his past and spending time with him. He thought the Brit had blocked out all the good times! Wrapping an arm around England's shoulders, France nuzzled his cheek as he chuckled. "We can go to Lyon next week if you like."

Grins and smiles could be considered a dying breed on England's face when France was involved. The moment they were born they fell. He growled and elbowed him feebly, looking away again. "Who said there'd be a next week?"

"Oh?" France laughed and kept close to his assaulter. "Then the week after next?"

"I'll think-Hey, when did I say this would me an experiment with multiple trials?"

"Well I would say the experiment was this date and it went wonderful~" France nuzzled his Brit again as he continued talking. "Thus continuing wouldn't be experimentation, but rather a logical next step."

Scowling, said Englishman thus continued digging his elbow into the other's ribs. "Where is the logic in that?"

"Because we're obviously not making a mistake!"

"Oh?"

"You are enjoying yourself, non?"

That faint pink hue in his cheeks with a haughty refusal to meet his gaze. "It's been tolerable."

France pouted and pinched a cheek teasingly. "Only?"

"Fuck yo-Twat!" Hands pushed his attacker away roughly so England could viciously rub his offended cheek with his sleeve. "The park was nice, I'll give you that!"

"I'm glad you thought so," France purred, bringing them to a halt in front of the metro entrance. "This is where we part, unless you would like to come home with me."

Here England crossed his arms and rose a brow at him. "Says the one that denied me earlier." But he didn't want to get back onto that when he was still unsure how to feel about it. With a sigh the shorter blond nodded. "Thank you for accompanying me, and for the meal."

"Anything for you, amour~" France pulled England into a parting kiss and squeeze of the ass before walking off with a skip in his step.

"You better fucking-!" Just as a mother and child passed England caught the curse in his throat and let it simmer there with the heat of the kiss. Releasing a sigh the man shook his head... Then watched France's back with a side glance.

When he left for home England was wearing a small smile of victory.

France arrived home smiling brightly. He wished there was someone to share his delight with. Spain wouldn't understand. He always knew Romano loved him, even if he never showed it. Prussia was an idiot that couldn't understand the troubles of wanting love. Both would find it ludicrous that France of all people wanted a monogamous relationship...

But there was someone he could talk to. France sat himself at his desk and opened his laptop.

'Dear Dr. Love,

Surely God is playing some awful trick on me by letting things go so well

twice in a row… Lightening shouldn't strike the same place twice.

And yet here I am smiling like a bloody idiot.

Sincerely, King of Camelot'

End of Chapter Two

Second one down! Oh GOD I'm still nervous about my Iggy… Which reminds me. Before I learned it was from Igirisu I looked it up and found that Iggy is actually an English name that's short for the Latin Ignatius which means 'fiery one.' XD Funny how that works, huh?

Anyway!

Bon nuit cheri = Good night dear

Oui, je sais = Yes, I know

C'est bon? = Is it good?

snog = make out

Okay, now for some of the historical things~ *is a history geek*

First, their banter back and forth. It's a long running joke among any historian and most French people themselves that there really isn't calm for long for them xD You have the French Revolution. And July Revolution. And just… Guh. The French are constantly revolting. They're never happy. When this is going on their royalty likes to run to England for some reason. It's strange to me. But whatever floats your boat, Frenchies!

Traboules are really very interesting. It comes from a Latin word for 'to cross.' Basically in the older parts of this city Lyon there are a bunch of covered passageways and courtyards and things between buildings. They were pretty much shortcuts to the river and also acted as transport routes for silk traders. One of my favorite images is of France hiding in them in the occupation of France during WWII and annoying Germany popping out everywhere because historically French rebels would hide in them and stuff. These things are like a freaking maze, if you're not a local you get lost easily, so they were a good way to get around the Germans. I also like to think these are the alleys you see France and England in when they're spreading rumors about Germany in the one episode.