Laughter
France was not certain when he became aware of the fact. It used to be so condescending (as was everything England did), it used to grate on his nerves (as was every noise which escaped England), it used to be everything he loathed. As was England.
It was only when England laughed and France wanted to kiss him was he aware there was a problem.
"Do you need something?"
Only England could say it like that as France had him pushed up against the wall, arms pinning him there, that cocky smile still present on the Brit's lips as if he thought he knew exactly what it was France wanted.
"Oui."
England wore a feral grin, but did not move. "You are really asking for it, you frog. You are lucky that I–"
France did not wait for their usual foreplay. He reached beneath England's arms and tickled him. England let out a startled squeak, grin and confidence gone. They both ended up on the ground as England tried to defend himself. Interjected with 'stop it!'s and 'damn you, France!'s, France failed to get the sound he wanted. And he was unable to keep his hands from becoming more occupied with the squirming form beneath him.
"You git!" England tried to holler, but France started kissing him anyway and in a second England shut up.
It had not taken long for France to accept that he could not force the sound out. That noise. Watching England with his own people, professional and relaxed. Watching England with other Nations, overbearing and aloof. Watching England with him.
And England would laugh.
"What does he have that I don't?" France asked. England looked surprised.
"Well, I don't hate him."
"And?"
England looked at him quizzically before turning his attention back toward the door. Behind it lay not only England's child, but his own. During that occasional moment in time when both of them would be calm, while they were sleeping.
"What are you really asking, France?"
France struggled to find the English words, certain England would not understand him in his own (superior) language.
"I want you to laugh. Not laugh, but... laugh."
England looked at him sadly.
"And I want you to smile."
Ah. So his thoughts were not as one sided as he had once thought.
France leaned over the table to catch England's hand in his own. "Sounds like something which should be a joint effort." England opened his mouth, but did not say anything. And France knew what he was thinking. He was thinking about his king.
And now so was France.
"You get to try once."
"And so do you."
They tried multiple times that night, to spite themselves, and succeeded on a number of accounts. For France heard England laugh.
And he smiled.