They had been wandering around Paris for most of the day. Belle seemed to have a good idea of where she was going, dragging Germany to historical building after historical building. Every time she found one she particularly liked (which was most of them) she would take pictures and write notes in a notebook she kept in her purse. Sometimes she would sit down and pull out a sketchbook, drawing pieces of buildings and writing different mathematical equations around them. He was curious as to what she was doing, but he thought hovering over her to watch would come across as odd so he just stood nearby.
That was how he had spent most of the day, standing or sitting nearby and waiting. It wasn't a bad thing, and Belle seemed to know a considerable amount of history. He liked listening to her talk, especially when they were discussing topics he knew a great deal about. After all, history was nothing more than memories to him. He had lived and experienced them himself.
Eventually they ended up in an open field, now officially outside of the city. She had wanted to visit a winery that was further out, so they had taken a road to the vineyard.
She stopped next to a river, a very old bridge spanning its length. She took some pictures and then looked up, her eyes widening.
"Wow…Those are beautiful…"
Germany followed her line of sight to a massive field of wild flowers along the bank. He thought for a moment before turning to her.
"Would you like to go see them? We've been walking a while, we should take a break."
He wasn't tired, used to long marches and such. Belle, however, looked completely drained from the sheer amount of walking they had done. She nodded and they headed over, finding a good spot among the flowers to sit. Germany reclined back on his arms and watched her sit still only for a moment before plucking one of the colorful flowers. She held it up to her nose and the gears in her head seemed to be working. She picked a few more and began weaving them together.
Germany watched her in silence as she wove a couple dozen flowers together into a circle.
"Have you ever made a flower crown?"
He shook his head. It couldn't be that hard, right?
He sat up and picked a handful of flowers and tried to weave them together like she had, his big fingers snapping the stems accidently.
"Here, let me help."
She placed the crown she had made on his head nonchalantly, moving to sit in front of him and laid her hands on top of his. Her hands were soft for the most part, but he could feel the thick callouses from long hours of sketching and writing on her right hand. She was such a hard worker when it came to her field it seemed, and as she guided his hands in delicately placing the flowers together he felt a foreign emotion that he just couldn't place no matter how seriously he focused.
"Are you ok?"
She was looking up at him, her brow furrowed slightly in concern.
"Huh?"
"You were staring at me with this extremely stern look on your face."
He blushed.
"S-Sorry, I was just focused."
She seemed to accept his answer and went back to directing his hands.
"Where did you learn to make these?"
"My sister and I used to make them. We had to use store bought flowers though because we live in Cincinnati."
Germany assumed that was a city and nodded. He wasn't familiar with most of the locations in the US.
"You have siblings?"
"An older brother and sister, yes. Do you?"
Realizing the stupidity of her question she blushed. He was a Country, did they even consider each other related in any way?
"I have an elder brother, Prussia."
She seemed confused by this, a common occurrence. Most people assumed Prussia died when the country became a part of Germany. She seemed to work it out in her head though, nodding her understanding. He then remembered a question he had meaning to ask her.
"How old are you?"
"Twenty-two."
"And you already have a degree in architecture and in history?"
He was thoroughly impressed. To accomplish that much so young wasn't a common occurrence.
"I started early."
"You must have worked hard."
"It certainly wasn't easy."
They finished the crown and stood. Walking to the river they placed them in the water and watched as the flowers slowly floated down the current.
France strode from the winery, happily carrying a basket in the crook of his arm that held three bottles of wine. The people who worked there always saved him the best batches, knowing he would appreciate them the most.
He reached the old bridge and looked around guiltily to make sure nobody was on the road.
"The anticipation is killing me! Sampling it here should be fine…"
He sat down the basket, pulling a full bottle of luscious red wine from it. He looked around wearily again, not wanting anyone to see him doing something so utterly vulgar as drinking straight from the bottle. He had a reputation to uphold.
Who else would be the smooth, flawless lady's man if he wasn't?
Uncorking the bottle he smelled the contents, the aroma invigorating. He sipped it as he looked out over the river dreamily enjoying the carefully crafted flavor. He turned to eye his favorite flower field, taking a generous drink.
His eyes scanned across the scenery and finally fell on a set of broad shoulders belonging to a person who looked suspiciously like Germany.
Germany wearing a flower crown.
France looked at Germany, then at the bottle, and back again. Slowly he re-corked the bottle and grabbed the basket, walking hastily back to the winery to tell them something had gone horribly wrong in the brewing process.