I was randomly googling one day and found a picture of France with short hair, fair to say I approved

But I wondered how England would respond, so I had some fun with it XD

England peered at Francis with a suspicious yet surprised expression, this was something new indeed. He would have thought Francis was having a mid life crisis but they weren't exactly spring chickens, being immortals with lives as long as theirs, they all had burdens. Their styles and personalities were always going through something different, changing with the eras and styles of their nations and citizens. But one thing for France had never changed, it was something he took deep pride in and was complimented for on a regular basis. Not many nations were able to style this look well and get praised for it. For all the years he had known him, during their adolescence, France had been known for his wild untamable waves, so soft, silky and well cared for, something that in the past had caused him to be mistaken for a girl on many occasion. Remembering as children how England tried to grow out his hair like France and failed, his hair was too thick, too straight and problematic, meaning it suited him short. It was something he envied Francis for during most of their life, but then short hair was easier to cope with. But France seemed to have taken a page out of his book "Did you do something with your hair pet?" he asked curiously. Wondering if perhaps he was dreaming or half asleep, attempting to make sense of the situation.

France blinked, smiling bashfully, he could feel England's eyes on him and he was glad that he was finally getting the attention he craved. He had hoped England would notice sooner or later, but he'd been so distracted this morning that it had taken him a while to finally pay attention. He'd decided that it was time to change for some time, the amount of shampoo, conditioner and hair products he was accumulating had become problematic. As much as he loved his beautiful blonde angelic waves and how fun it was to have a ponytail, for practical sense, it was time to discard some of the lengths. It had been emotional to have his hair cut, crying in the chair as the nice stylist created his new look, like he was becoming a different person. But he felt lighter, freer, like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, it would grow back after all.

"Oui, I cut it…" he explained, wondering how other nations he was friends with would react to his change. Wondering if anyone would recognise him like this, it was amusing to consider. He still had a front side-swept bang of his original long hair over the right side of his face, but the back was all cut off and the sides were short too. He could now at least look like an older brother figure, hoping people would take him more seriously. He deeply resembled Canada, proving their genetical relations, side by side they would look like brothers or father and son, only he looked older.

England hummed, further observing the new look, fully aware he would have to critique and give his opinion on the matter. They were married, by now they had all forms of discussions of the unusual, confrontational and hilarious, sensing France's nervousness that he suited the look. He was debating on whether or not he had made the right decision. Though France was known for his confidence and flirtatiousness, in which everyone was all too familiar with, he wasn't by any means perfect entirely. Even he was prone to bouts of anxiety and self-consciousness, moments in which his mental health took a low and he felt drained or depressed. He never thought he would consider such a thing, given France had been growing out his hair for centuries, it was something he too immense pride in and loved to show off. As the nation of love it was his responsibility to always look his best and reflect his best impression towards others. As obnoxiously annoying as he could be at times, he did tend to have a habit of looking painfully attractive. But the short hair look did suit him, he looked like a lead role in a cheesy rom-com, the kind that someone ran into at a coffee shop or a bookshop, that charming innocence that drew people in, intriguing them.

For once, after ridding himself of all his hair, he looked his age, France had a habit of styling himself to look older unintentionally, showing his age as a nation and a person. Making sure he was the big brother figure he always asked people to refer him by, instead of simply acting naturally. Trying to idealise himself into how he wanted others to perceive him, not himself. Showing off his neck, his cheekbones and more of his face, giving him a younger look, all of his best attributes and qualities. He would be lying if France didn't appear quite the charmer, as adorable as the day he first met him. He had to admit his heart was fluttering rather rapidly in his chest at the sight of him.

France shifted, he was starting to get anxious as he allowed England to contemplated his opinion. England had been silent for way too long and it was agitating him, hoping he would finally speak up instead of giving him the silent treatment. Though England could just be teasing him for a reaction, he had a habit of being an ass like that just to get a rise out of him. England could be unbelievably childish at times and it was easy to see where America inherited it from. He feared being laughed at or told he looked awful, that he had made the worst mistake of his life and he'd changed for nothing. Had all the romantic films he had ever watched about sudden makeovers failed him? That couldn't be, everyone loved surprises, at least the pleasant kind. He couldn't take this silence a moment longer, it was eating away at him. "Quel? You don't like it?" he pouted, his lip wobbling as he feared he would start to cry.

England blushed, realising he had been staring for way too long, probably looking as though he was daydreaming. He knew France didn't like being ignored, sometimes they had the mutual default of going to worst case scenario when people were silent towards them. He would have to apologise for that later, it was rather ungentlemanly. He coughed awkwardly, averting his gaze, he would be lying if big ben wasn't at half mast at that moment. "No love… you… you just look your age, even cuter maybe…" he babbled, word vomit escaping his lips before he could stop himself. France blushed, he hadn't seen England act this bashful or awkward in a while, not the aggressive Tsundere trope but the polite, pretty boy, charmer type. The softer side of England that he rarely showed around other people. England was acting like a blushing schoolboy experiencing a crush for the first time. He didn't think he would get this form of a reaction.

England reached out his hand to stroke France's hair fondly, brushing his new side fringe from his face. Though it was strange not being able to run his hands through it, the absence of long hair felt rather strange due to how habitual it was. The bangs covering one side of his face were cute enough, covering his eye so he would have to brush it out of his face. Giving him an air of mystery and yet sensitivity at the same time, cupping his cheek, sensing France relax against his touch and nuzzle against his hand. Maybe some changes could be made, but not drastic, just accessories "Maybe get a loop earring on one side, a small ring, it would really complete the look" he grinned. He had to admit the look would suit him and Francis looked good in anything, he wasn't one for earrings or jewelry but a small amount would look good on him like this. So long as he kept the short hair look that is.

France was touched, England was giving him a sincere compliment, he wasn't joking, he wasn't being malicious and he wasn't being a mean. He genuinely liked the way he looked, but he couldn't help but laugh in relief and slapped England's arm playfully. He'd made him wait and briefly scared him with that joke, thinking that he thought him ugly now. But he smiled sweetly, an ache of love filling his chest as he gazed back at England affectionately. He was glad England approved of the look, meaning he could settle into his new appearance easier.

England then smirked mischievously, if he thought he had gotten out of this scot free he was very much mistaken. He did indeed approve of the cut but he hadn't mentioned of what that meant for France. This opened doors to a whole new experience in their relationship, there would be no more secrets thanks to this. It would just make him much easier to read, his expressions more visible. In the past he always had to brush France's hair out of his face, somehow it always seemed to get in the way of something. Or when they were having sex it fell in front of his face to hide his expression, meaning England had to ask him to stop hiding or ask him to tie it back. But now he couldn't use that tactic anymore, he'd taken away his cloak of protection and he couldn't get it back. "At least now I can see your face more pet, you can't hide behind your hair when we have sex" Arthur teased, he would be wearing his heart on his sleeve and everyone would know what he was thinking.

France blinked, staring at the Englishman in surprise wondering why the drastic change in conversation before it hit him. He was married to the perverted ambassador, he loved dirty talk and he loved admiring France's face and responses, he loved watching him. Suddenly his face coloured as red as the roses he adored so much, cupping his face in embarrassment as he realised what he had done. He couldn't grab pillows, that wasn't the same and England could easily hold his arms in place to stop him from covering his face. England could see his face more clearly when they made love, whenever he got flustered, whenever he was turned on, whenever he was embarrassed, he couldn't lie his way out of it. He couldn't hide behind his hair, England would be able to see his expressions and read him like a book. Blushing profusely, feeling like a moron and realising the severity of the choice he had made. While he had done so of his own volition, England had taken a pure decision and made it dirty. "Vous pervers!" France snapped bitterly, feeling tears of embarrassment well up in his eyes. He couldn't bring himself to look him in the face.

England smirked, when France got all pouty like this it was adorable and it did turn him on a little. Something about France being all whiny and cute, it just made him want to tease him further. A shit-eating grin forming on his lips, realising he had won this and Francis knew it. For all he loved his husband, France really hadn't thought this through very well "You married me pet, so far you haven't complained". No nation had ever complained about his skills in bed for all they made comments on his dirty mind, they knew what they were in for, even France did. France's blush darkened, cursing himself for being so naïve and digging himself into a hole he couldn't escape from. He was an open book and everyone could see the secrets he tried to hide. England could appreciate his appearance and moods in person, in detail, he was going to love this, be it a dirty reason or not. It just opened doors to more teasing, his expressions would be more visible. If he didn't love England so much he would call him out on his bullshit, but then he wasn't any better.

"Just because I'm your husband, it doesn't mean I have to agree" France whined, he didn't tolerate all of England's flaws, some he hated. And some just left him confused and frustrated, this was one of those times. Couples had arguments and protests all the time about matters they didn't agree on, this was one of them. He refused to give England that satisfaction of knowing he had won.

"It's written all over your face pet..." England teased, he knew Francis had a masochist streak and everyone knew it. The mental thought of being watched would be rather appealing to him, though he would attempt to deny it as per usual. The thought that England could look into his eyes and he couldn't escape how well he could read him. How bonded they had become after all these decades. They knew more about each other than he could say for America or even his brothers at times, which didn't come easily.

"Arrêtez de me taquiner!" France whined in complaint, he would have to call Spain and Prussia about this later to complain about England being a bully again. Just when he thought England was making him feel good about himself, he ruined it by turning into a perverted joke. He could never keep his mind out of the gutter, not even about a haircut.

"Like you don't enjoy it..." England muttered quietly, approaching the kitchen to make a cup of tea. Leaving France to sulk until he felt like calming down, but he still thought he looked cute.

Arrêtez de me taquiner- stop teasing me