I was somewhat surprised on the weekend when I got a message from the site telling me 'Mine' had been removed because it had a poll on it. It had a lot of uplifting reviews on it, and it's sad that I won't get to read them again. 'More fool me', I thought, I'll take this opportunity the correct the errors and repost it (without the poll, of course).

Tragedy struck, however - the pen drive the chapters were on had corrupted! I had lost the entire thing! I could have cried, especially when people started to write to me to ask what had happened to it and when it was going to be reposted T_T. Just when all seemed lost, an angel came from on high and declared - "I have a copy saved on my computer!" Thanks go to Sora Resi for her help, and massive MASSIVE praise and love go to N and S and F for their help in getting the story back! I'd send you cake and flowers if we were in the same country.

So, going back to my original plan, I'm removing the errors from the original postings and polishing it up a little. The hope lovers of the original will appreciate the effort, and new readers will enjoy it as much as the first time around. So please enjoy Mine: Revisited.

Mine.

The dull-as-dishwater meeting dragged on worse than normal – all France wanted to do was sleep and the close, stuffy air wasn't helping. He had been under the weather recently: nothing serious, mind you, just a flu, but it wasn't entirely gone. His whole body was still slightly achy; his eyelids heavy. He had stopped paying attention to the speakers a long time ago, just doodling and shuffling his papers disinterestedly around the table. He rested his head in his palms and stared into space, vision hazy, feeling himself drop further and further asleep. Just as his consciousness lapsed away from him, he was bought back by a small, ice-cold palm gently being placed lightly on his forehead: England didn't look at him as he checked his temperature, but kept staring at the speaker before removing his hand and scribbling some notes.

France smiled. He knew England so well. Upon hearing the older nation was ill, he had hopped the channel to take care of him until his flu was gone. 'You shouldn't be on your own when you have the flu, idiot!' he chastised France as he poured him a hot, milky tea. Since he was sick, Arthur (thankfully) kept the food simple enough that even he couldn't screw it up, sat with him when the fever and shaking was at its worst and took care of the house until France was well enough to be back on his feet. It wasn't the first time England had done this for him, and France had done the same for him on the odd occasion England had been taken ill. It was a routine, a never-spoken-of act of affection between the two that only they knew about.

England passed France a scribbled note: 'Are you feeling alright?' the paper asked in perfect calligraphy. France smiled at England, although he knew he was still pale. Finally, after what felt like a fuzzy eternity, the meeting came to an end and everyone started chatting and packing away their stuff.

"You're not looking your best." England pointed out quietly as he put his notebook in his briefcase "You should have an early night."

"Is that an offer, petit lapin?" France winked at him.

"Don't joke around when you're sick." he warned "It's not gentlemanly to punch a sick person."

France tried to laugh, but ended up coughing. Spain and Prussia bundled over with their usual fervour to see if France wanted to go drinking with them, but were sent away by a stern England. The Brit drove him straight back to the hotel, picking up a menu for the room service in the lobby on the way through. Feeling dizzy, France leant against the wall of the lift to steady himself, the motion adding to his disorientation. England placed his hand on Frances arm to steady him. As they reached their floor, France leant on England almost entirely, letting the smaller man almost carry him down the hall to his room.

France managed to change into his pyjamas on his own, getting into bed without complaint as England prepared him some medicine. Properly medicated, England put the television on quietly and sat on the chair beside the bed. Taking the opportunity where it presented itself, France took Englands hand to get his attention.

"Will you lie in bed with me, mon lapin?"

"Huh? Why?"

"I won't do anything." he promised "I'm just feeling a little sorry for myself."

England regarded him closely for a moment, then sighed, kicking off his shoes and taking off his tie before plopping himself down beside France. He stayed sitting, back against the headboard, as France wrapped his arms around his narrow waist and buried his head in his lap, the two of them quietly watching the news.

Canada. Seychelles. Guernsey and Jersey. Haiti. Dominican Republic. America?

"Hey, Francy-pants! You feeling better?" Prussia called as he bounced into the room.

"Oui, thank you, Prussia." France greeted, turning away from his list for a moment.

"Good! Then you'll come drinking with us tonight, ja?"

"Sorry, not tonight. I don't think I should go drinking again until I'm completely better."

"Pfft, you're no fun."

Prussia plonked himself down in the chair next to France and looked at his list.

"What's that? America's not yours."

"What?"

"The others are your kids, right?" Prussia knew "America was practically an adult by the time you had any influence over him."

"Ah, you have me figured out." France admitted, feeling his cheeks grow a little warm "I lost my diary, so I have to write down all the kids birthdays before I forget."

Prussia snickered.

"Papa France sure is devoted." he teased.

"Family's important." was his response.

The door opened and the other countries started to file in for the meeting. Prussia was quite happy where he was, thank you, so stayed put, England sitting on Frances other side and placing a glass of water and blister pack of pills on the table before him. France simply smiled to himself and continued his list.

The moment the meeting ended America launched himself at England, monopolising his time like a greedy child. France shuffled papers as long as he could, but eventually had to interrupt, slinking his arms over Britains shoulders and leaning almost all his weight against the smaller man.

"Britain, I feel dizzy." he lied, voice full of shaking "Will you drive me back to the hotel?"

"Didn't you take your medicine?" Britain chastised.

"Oui, I did, but I think I might be getting worse." he pouted, wrapping his arms tighter around his prey.

Britain sighed in aggravation.

"Very well, but I swear, if this drags in I'm going home without you – maybe that will motivate you to get better."

"Oui, perhaps."

"Hey, that's great!" America declared "You can drop him off at the hotel on the way, kill two birds with one stone!"

"On the way where?" France asked.

"America's insisting on going to some restaurant across town for dinner." England explained "Apparently hotel food isn't good enough for him."

"It's probably a McDonalds." France knew.

"It's totally not!" America went bright red as he flustered "I don't think they even do burgers! It's a proper restaurant!"

"Oh?"

Both the older nations were surprised, and truth be told, a little disbelieving.

"That's very adult of you, America." England complimented.

"Sure is! I even made a reservation!" he beamed.

"Very impressive. How many people are going?"

"J-just two." America flushed again, fidgeting in place "I thought I'd treat you, or something."

France saw through him immediately: America was such a dork, it was clear he was inviting Britain on a date. Frances arms tightened around England as he felt a monster rise within him, pissed that Britain was so clearly oblivious to Americas true intentions.

"Does the little boy even know how to behave in a proper restaurant?" he spat.

"Of course I do!" America insisted, ears going red "I'm not a child!"

"So you've mastered the art of not talking with your mouth full?"

"Of-"

"And you've reduced your portion sizes to the extent that they will no longer embarrass your dining partner?"

"Wha... what does that-?"

"And you have, of course, learned how to conduct yourself with dignity and poise when dining in an establishment of class so as not to be thrown out?"

"France, be nice." England chastised "Just because he's a pig, that doesn't mean he isn't trying."

"Hm."

France buried his face in England neck. He wasn't going to let him go on a date with America. Thinking quick, he let his knees buckle as if collapsing, nearly dragging Britain down with him. The smaller man caught him as he 'fell.'

"Hey! France! What happened?"

"Dude, you okay?"

"Mon dieu, I feel feint." he whimpered.

"Shit... alright, lean on me." England instructed "I'll take you back to the hotel."

France threw his arms around England possessively as he leaned on him, throwing a glare at America. The look wasn't lost on the young nation, who was clearly surprised. He kept up the act all the way to the hotel, even when the two of them got strange looks from the other nations in the hotel lobby. When finally back in the room, England put France down on the bed, rubbing his sore shoulder as he stood upright.

"You stay here." the Brit ordered "I'm going to get a doctor."

He went to leave, but France grabbed him, wrapping his arms around his waist and nuzzling his stomach.

"I don't need a doctor, Britain." he insisted "I only need you."

"Wha?"

France grabbed Britains tie and pulled the smaller man down into his lap, surprising him as he wrapped his arms around him tightly and rested his head on his shoulder.

"What are you doing, you git?" Britain scolded "I don't want your germs!"

Sensing something was off with the Frenchman, Britain fought every urge in his body not to punch the frog in the face.

"What's wrong with you, idiot?" he asked "You're not usually like this when you're sick."

"I was just thinking, mon petit lapin." France admitted "Why do we always do this to each other?"

"Do what?"

"We care about each other. We care for each other. We are always at each others side when things go bad, but in the same breath we fight each other and push each other away."

"Well... things have always been that way." Britain reasoned "That's just how our relationship is."

"Because we are both proud." France knew "Neither of us wants to be the first to break."

"What are YIPE!"

France spun around suddenly, and Britain found himself lying on his back on the bed with France leaning over him.

"Confound you, you damned fool, what are you up to?!" he demanded "Out with it, I say!"

France smiled. He took Britains smaller hands in his own and brought them up to his mouth, kissing them gently, causing Britains entire face to go a bright crimson red. France drank in the colour, gently placing Englands hands above his head and kissing him full on the mouth, tongue sensually exploring the smaller mans mouth. Britains entire body went stiff, but he didn't fight back. France was satisfied when a certain other part of Britain grew stiff, releasing his mouth and licking the saliva from his lips. He loved how flustered Britain was, eyes wide, face red, shaking slightly in shock.

"I have decided." France went on "That if my pride is keeping me from what I truly want, then I have no need for it. I will throw away my pride and bathe in my desires."

"You... bu... I... um..."

France laughed at Englands emotional struggle. Sensually, France pulled off his tie.

"Je t'adore." he purred "Je t'aime. Mon petit lapin."

"You-!"

France kissed him again, starting to unbutton Britains shirt and caress his bare flesh, making him gasp. With a grin, he nibbled the Brits bright red ears.

"Tell me," he whispered "How is it that we have so many children together, but we have never made love?"

Englands entire body went red and France ripped off his shirt, seductive grin spread across his face.

"Let's correct that."

Frances arm was starting to get sore, but it would hurt his heart more if he moved it. Britains sleeping head lay against it, bare flesh wrapped up in his, peacefully breathing. France couldn't help but stare at him. He knew how to get to him – after hundreds of years, he knew every single one of Englands buttons. He had never pressed this particular button before because he had loved him – not erotically, mind you, but enough to want not to lose him, which he definitely would if he just used him for sex.

That feeling had been changing recently. He saw others flocking around his petit lapin, fluttering their eye lashes and touching his arm suggestively, giving him gifts and monopolising his time. He knew Britain was cute, and he wanted to be happy for him should he find someone who loved him. But therein lay the problem: no-one could love him as much as he did. No-one. France never imagine himself to be the jealous type, but when he saw other nations flirt with his England, suggestively touch his Britain... had he been a stronger country, he might have started a war. Had he been a forceful man, he might have dragged Britain into the closest closet and... well, he wasn't a forceful man.

His fingers played on the pale skin of Britain, tracing over faded scars. England was prudish, so he doubted anyone had ever seen him this intimately, bar the lovers of his past. France pulled Britain into his arms and held him close, breathing in the scent of his hair. Others may have seen him like this before, but they never would again. Only France would ever see him like this. Britain shuffled in his arms.

"'S hot, you idiot." he mumbled, half sleeping.

France released him a little, but not too much. His heart was filled with joy when the smaller mans pride didn't kick in and push them apart. He kissed Britains forehead gently.

"After the wedding, let's go on a world tour." he suggested quietly "Visit all out children."

Britain muttered something, but was asleep before he could finish the thought.

Down in the hotel bar, Canada rubbed his brothers back as the Yank drowned his sorrows.

"There there, it's alright." he assured.

"Who are you?"

"I'm Canada..."

One down, many more to go! I hope I get as lovely reviews this time around as last time.