Fjortende juli:
France:
There were few days a year when Francis Bonnefoy, the Personification of the Nation of France, didn't make his own meals.
His birthday was one of those few days.
In the past, it would've been one of his servants (all heavily screened and aware of his "condition") who would wake him up with a breakfast tray for him to enjoy.
Now, however, his boyfriend, Matthew Williams, the Personification of the Nation of Canada, having been given the key on their 10th anniversary, would be the one to softly deliver him breakfast.
Knowing this, anticipating this, Francis was squirming in his sleep, just waiting (almost desperately) for that moment. Despite this (and a little due to years and years of experience that Matthew possessed), he never really woke up before he was gently kissed on his forehead.
Like a princess from an old fairytale, Francis opened his eyes the moment Matthew's lips had left his forehead. His blue eyes stared into his lover's violet ones and a big, genuine smile, so unlike those he gave to others, spread over his handsome face.
-Good morning, beautiful, Matthew told him.
-Good morning, my love, Francis replied. When can I get my presents?
-Like I told you last year, and the years prior to that, not before your guests arrive. Don't forget that the party will be held in the basement of Versailles this year. I don't know how you managed to persuade your Boss and government to allow you that.
-I'm very persuasive when I want to be. Francis shot him a wink that went straight to Matthew's groin. Who's my guests this year? Francis continued to ask pleasantly, aware over the effects he'd on his boyfriend (though it still secretly amazed him that after all this time he could manage it), while he started on his breakfast, superb as always.
-It would be easier to tell you whom cancelled.
-England, again?
-Yes, I'm sorry, but he says that he's just gotten over his July 4th-headache and he wish to recover.
-Same excuse as always. Who else?
-Germany. He claims that unless it's business, he won't be able to talk or act civil around you. Vatican City (for the usual reasons), Cameroon (there's a football match), Ireland (he still doesn't trust you) and New Zealand.
-New Zealand?
-Yes, he's got to look after Hutt River and Wy. He didn't specify, but I got the impression that they had done something to get them grounded or something like that.
-But the other micronations are coming?
-Yes, everyone who exist.
When Francis was done with his breakfast and had gotten dressed, they walked downstairs while Matthew chattered about the preparations for the party tonight. Francis smiled while he listened; he was the only one Matthew was talkative around and he loved it.
The party didn't start until 18, and by that time the house was spotless, the food was prepared, and the francophone lovers had managed to make love at least three times.
By 19.15, the party was in full swing and it didn't end until 2.30 the next morning.
Author's notes:
I don't own Hetalia