France had noticed England walking around town more. By his side an unsure America. She found it a bit amusing how overprotective the Englishman could be. He probably by then knew that France had her eyes on little America. Of course England's overprotectiveness could easily be his fall.
France wasn't only keeping an eye on America. But she was also watching the people. These colonists, they enjoyed their freedoms. They wouldn't want limitations, others telling them what to do without their approval. America shared their spirit. France had seen it in his eyes, the need to open his wings and fly off. It was something that England would never give him.
The moment America would arrive to that conclusion, not even England would be able to hold him back. She felt sorry for England. Without knowing it he would bring that distance between his colony and him. But then this was a game of love and they both wanted the same thing.
All was fair in love and war. England's weaknesses could turn into her strengths. England pushing America away, could bring him closer to her. She smiled to herself before taking a sip from her wine. Inside the carriage England couldn't see her. But she had a feeling he knew.
He kept looking around. France could almost see his emerald eyes glimpsing over every passerby and carriage.
France was more than tempted to leave hers and pay him a quick visit. But after their last meeting she wasn't sure if it would be a good idea. As fun as it was to mess with England and see him fume. She also didn't want to start another war over it. It was safer to work from the shadows at least for now.
Once the other two nations walked out of view France returned to her room. Sadly it was about time for her to return to Europe. England's time in the colonies was also almost up. But she would make sure to be back in the colonies as soon as she was able to do it.
It was weird. He was trying to now avoid England. True he'd been upset when England seemed to not want to talk to him. When he acted like he was upset.
But lately it was weirder. England kept looking at him strangely. When he went out he also made America accompany him. Even to the boring meeting. It was almost like he was afraid to leave him alone. America enjoyed the attention. But there was something wrong. It was all too sudden. Plus it didn't help that it had all started after he had talked about France.
America could sometimes miss a few things. But he wasn't completely blind. The way England was acting was out of character for him. Even America could pick up on those changes.
Was he just doing it because of France? America wished it weren't truth. He had chosen England over France as a child. Did England really think he would change his mind and chose France now?
This hurt America a lot. That England didn't trust him. That he would even think about such a thing. America prayed that he was just reading things wrong. That he was mistaken.
America turned around after hearing England cheer. Stepping closer to the room he picked inside. England was sitting, cup of tea in hand and smiling. It almost sounded like he was talking to someone. But there was no one else in the room. When England turned around, America gasped stepping away.
He almost ran back to his room. He was pretty sure England hadn't seen him. When England didn't knock after a while, America finally allowed himself to relax. He hadn't seen England look so happy and relaxed in a while. Even when he smiled before there was always something else there. America shrugged it off. Seen England smile like that could mean he was finally going to be back to normal.
America's happiness didn't last for long. That night he learned England was leaving back for Europe. Even when England reassured him that he would visit soon, America's mood remained the same. That's what England had said the last time he'd visited. It had taken years before England actually decided to visit again.
For the first time America didn't bothered to wake up early to say goodbye to his mentor.
October, 1763. Six months later.
America finally returned to his home late that night. Feeling tired and ready to drop and sleep for the next couple of years. He had promised himself no tears. It wasn't the first time something like this had happened. But the lost a good friend still hurt. No matter how many times he told himself that it would come one day.
He had known John since he'd been but a small toddler. America had witnessed his grow. They had shared lots of moments. America had confided in him things that he probably wouldn't have shared with just any human.
America wiped away the tears. He'd promised his friend he was going to be strong. At least it had been a quick death. He'd fallen ill only two weeks ago.
America wished England was there. He was so much better at dealing with this sort of thing. But England was back in Europe. Or maybe he was visiting another colony. What was important was that England wasn't there.
"Lord Jones, there is someone here to see you." America turned around. He hadn't been expecting anyone. But it could be one of John's relatives.
When he walked inside the room he was surprised to see who it was. "France?"
"Francine, call me Francine love." America still couldn't understand what she was doing there. "I'm not here as a nation, but as a friend. One that I'm sure you need right now."
Part of America told him that this was bad, wrong even. England wouldn't be happy. But then England wasn't there, France had a point he needed a friend. He needed someone to talk to. Right then, anyone would do. Even better a fellow nation that could understand what he was facing.
America found himself nodding. Before he knew it he was sitting across from France. The Frenchwoman poured some wine into a cup and handled it to him. Looking down at the liquid America smiled. "England would have a heart attack if he found out." He still drank the liquid never less. It tasted a lot better that he had expected.
"I once lost a close friend." France began. "We were very close. I was forced to watch her execution. It was without doubt one of the worse days of my life."
"I'm sorry." It was the only thing America could think of saying.
France smiled. "Don't be, it made me stronger. You see America we grow to accept that death it is just part of like. We accept it. But feeling that pain, keeps you alive. You should never detach yourself out of fear of getting hurt."
America said nothing. He didn't even ask how France knew. "England told me the same thing once."
'England understands that pain. He has lost his own share of friends. He was extremely close to Elizabeth." France sipped from her drink. "But now he tends to keep people at arm's length. He's afraid to love again."
Was France talking about Queen Elizabeth? Or was she talking about someone else. "Were you and England together?"
France stared at America for a full minute before she finally ended up laughing. "I don't think there is anyone in Europe that hasn't been with another fellow country yet." Noticing America's blush she laughed once more. "It is very different from the New World. You guys are still pure and young, nothing like us in the Old World."
"Forgive me. I'm not here for my own needs, but yours. Drink up!" France poured more wine into the American's cup.
She later helped the maid with America. Taking him to his room and lying him down. He couldn't handle his alcohol. He was so young after all. America looked even better like that.
Face a lovely shade of red, messy hair and sweating. But even France knew her limits. There was no fun in jumping America when he wouldn't even notice or remember it. If she was going to have hi, it would be a lot more special than that.
For the upcoming week, America found himself around France more. She was charming and funny. She was very different from England. She was also, surprisingly, very differently from how England had described her. She was very flirtatious. But America was almost used to the various comments. He just still blushed in embarrassment from time to time.
But overall, it was more enjoyable than not. She seemed to have a deep interest in his people too, in the colonies and the growing citizens. America couldn't deny he enjoyed talking about them. He was proud of their accomplishments. Part of him enjoyed the attention.
The only thing that bothered him was the fact that he was going against England's wishes. England had forbidden any contact with the Frenchwoman. But, America was starting to like hanging around France. He liked it a lot more than he would have imagined. It wasn't just the attention. But the fact he was talking with another country. One that could understand what he went through.
It could get lonely in the colonies. When he couldn't talk with his brother, Canada was busy in his own country. Those times were they could travel to see each other were far in between and short. Seen England was much harder. Letters were fine at all. But it wasn't the same as having actual physical contact.
There were questions he wanted to ask. Things he wanted to know. England rarely talked about the things he did when he was away. Sometimes he would visit after a war. Injured and still wouldn't tell America what had happened. He rarely spoke about his siblings. When he did talk, it was mostly about how much he disliked them.
America hadn't even visited England's home country. He'd only seen it in paintings and books. While England knew his home, knew him, America knew very little about the Englishman. One his favorite things about hanging around France, was finding more about England.
Even though their relationship was extremely sour, the two of them knew a lot about each other. America had hundreds of questions to ask, questions that France –unlike England- did not avoid answering. America had found out more about England I the past week, than in all the previous years.
He was happy to find out, that the sometimes grumpy nation, was not that much different. Sometimes they would talk for hours. Without America even noticed how much time went by. He hadn't talked with anyone in such a way, since John had fallen ill. Even then, there were things he couldn't talk with his old friend.
America had to stop walking. They came across a group of men, which seemed to be discussing loudly something. It wasn't easy making out what they were saying. "I wonder what happened."
"I think we should find another route, they don't look happy about whatever it is." America nodded. They really didn't. But he also wanted to find out what they were discussing. Still he wasn't going to leave France. No matter how curious he felt.
They continued to talk. The men disappeared from America's mind then. His focus drifted back to France's stories about England and the other countries. By the time the night had fallen, America was ready for a long night rest.
It wasn't until he was only a few feet away from his home, that he noticed something wrong. There were unfamiliar horses waiting there. America hurried there, worried that something had happened.
The moment he made it inside, he was welcomed by a warm embrace. America almost lost his balance. The other person moved back and America was surprised to learn it was his Northern brother. "Canada?"
"We've been worried." Canada's accent was as deep as ever. The French still notable. But then, it hadn't been that long since Canada had become an English colony.
"We?" America looked at his 'twin'.
Canada nodded in response. "England and I arrived hours ago. Only to find out, no one knew of you whereabouts." America never said where he was. Worried that England would find out about his little encounters with France. If he had known that they were visiting—they were visiting.
England! England was there. When England had said that he was going to try and visit as soon as possible. America admitted to himself, he really hadn't believed him. He'd said the same thing many times before.
"Alfred!" America looked up. England was standing on top of the stairs. The concern evident in his features, made America feel even guiltier about what he'd been doing.
England was fats on his feet. In an instant -just like Canada- he had him pulled into a hug. "Where were you? You had all of us worried sick."
"I'm sorry I went into town." England moved back. There was a slight frown.
"We had people look for you, all over town. Why didn't you tell anyone where you were going?" America tried to think of an excuse. Truthfully he tried to walk alongside France in the lesser busy parts of town. Not wanting any of England's men to see them.
"I forgot." Canada was the one to sight.
"That's just like you Alfred. Making all of us worry."
"Why didn't you write?" They were to blame to, showing up without notifying him first. He would have prepared for their visit, if only he had known.
"That's my own fault," Canada began, "when I received your letter about John, I to England right away. We decided to visit you as soon as possible."
America took that in. But then by Canada's words, that meant England had been visiting Canada at the time. It made America wonder why Canada hadn't written to him about it. Why hadn't England written to tell him he was visiting Canada? America wasn't sure why that ended up hurting him. But part of him was very disappointed.
"I'm really glad you guys are here. But it was a long day. I really have to take an early leave." England and Canada exchanged looks. But America wasn't looking at them to notice. "We can talk tomorrow." Before they could stop him, America was running up the stairs.
He heard them call after him. But right now he wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone. Once inside his room, America could only feel stupid. He'd been hoping to see England for days now. He hadn't seen Canada for months. He should have been happier.
America stayed in bed. At some point England came to check on him, but he didn't stir. Even after he was gone he stayed there.
When he found out sleep wouldn't come. America finally decided to leave his bed. He pulled the window open. He took in the fresh air. In such a late hour it was cold. America pulled a heavy coat out. Using the window to support himself, he grabbed into the branch of the tree. He quickly made his way down into the ground. He'd done it enough times, to not even break a sweat.
America looked up at his open window. He was taking a huge risk. But something wouldn't leave him alone. He needed someone to talk about it. He didn't want to risk a change of mind. He made he was into town as fast as he could.
This wasn't one of his best ideas. For all he knew, she wasn't there. Or maybe was doing something. But right know she was the only person he could think of coming to.
It was a bit ironic. Months back he wouldn't have dreamed about going to a French person for help, especially not the personification of that country. Now she was the one he would turn to, even when England was there. He was probably going mad.
The door finally opened, revealing a sleepy looking France. America blushed the moment he noticed her attire. Of course, at this hour everyone was sleeping. "America?"
"I'm sorry." America felt his face heat even more. He used his had to cover his eyes. But he still remembered how she looked in his head. The image wouldn't go away. It was only making matters worse. "I didn't know."
"Don't worry about it mon amour. Come inside." America still wouldn't move, still covering his face with his hands. France grabbed his upper arm and pulled him inside. America heard her laugh and felt even more embarrassed. "Don't be shy; I'm not when it comes to my body."
France pulled his arms back. When America looked at her she was still smiling. "Now, tell me why you are here." America sighed. But he told France everything. When she spoke again there was a slight disappointed in her voice. But America was completely oblivious.
France still managed to smile. "It is natural to sometimes feel jealous. To know that someone's attention isn't fully on you. That he's thoughts aren't always on you. He has other charges."
"I feel like I'm such a small part of his life. You know so many things about him. Things I could have never dreamt about." It had been such a silly thing. America had believed he'd been the closest thing England had. He'd thought that they shared everything. But England hadn't shared that much with him.
"Don't. We are very old. I don't think any of us truly knows each other completely." France touched the side of America's face. The touch was warm and soft. "Believe me when I say, he cares for you. He's just not very good at showing it." America smiled. But the quickly began to blush again. France was terribly close now.
He could almost feel the warm radiating from her body. The perfume that she wore was overwhelming. America wasn't sure which of them moved first. But somehow they both ended up kissing. It was a lot better than he remembered, softer and sweeter.
When they pulled back, America tried to regain his breath. By the look France was giving him, America was afraid he'd been the one to start it. "I—"
"Hush." France shook her head. She fixed some of the stands of hair that had come loose. "Don't worry your mind over that." Her hand moved to the back of his neck, using them to bring America closer. They kissed again. But this time France was the one to lead. It was a lot less clumsy than the previous one.
France continued to kiss him. But her hands moved everywhere, touching his face and hair. When she pulled back she smiled down at him. At one point through it all America had ended up lying on the bed, where they had been sitting on previously. France licked her lips. But this time, instead of going for his lips she attacked his neck. America groaned, slowly falling apart under the touch.
He wanted to touch her. But part of him was afraid. Afraid of doing something wrong, this wasn't something he was experienced in. France didn't seem to mind too much. Actually it almost looked like she was enjoying the fact she was leading. When her lips began to move down his collarbone America had to close his eyes. Slender fingers moved down to remove his shirt. Giving France more skin to kiss and suck.
Each time America would moan, she would smile into his skin. France said something in French. America wouldn't understand what it was. But it still made him blush.
With his eyes closed America could still imagine how France looked as she explored more and more of his body. Her pink lips, her even messier hair. But then the figure in his mind began to change. It wasn't France anymore. It was England. But instead of an angry, disappointed England, which America would have expected. He was smiling down at America.
England began to remove his short and crawl up his body. He took America's lips in the same way France had previously done. America's eyes flew open. He jumped backwards so fat he slipped and fell down from the bed, hitting the wooden floor with a loud thud. When he looked up he was met with France's concerned face.
"I think—I think I should go." America fixed his shirt and coat and quickly hurried out of the room. His arousal was completely gone. His mind was even more of a mess now. How could the image of a perfectly willing France, turn into one of a –perfectly willing- England.
How could he even think of England in such a way? England was England. Those weren't images he wanted to connect with the English nation. He decided to blame it on the fact he'd been thinking about England before it had started. That had to be the answer. It had to be. America cursed even more when he noticed morning was approaching already.
He hadn't even noticed how much time he'd been with France. He had to hurry and make it back before anyone decided to check on him. But part of him dreaded to be back in his home, to face England. Not only because of the fact he'd been talking to France. But how could he face England after that image?
