AN: Sorry this is so short! Its one of those chapters that gets straight to the point, and it didn't quite work when I expanded on it. No human names in this one, for some reason. Just mindless FrUK fluff~ Let me know what you think if you'd like uwu
It was no secret that France and England - despite everything - were closer than nations usually were. They had known each other for centuries. They had been neighbours, friends, enemies and lovers; sometimes all at once. They had fought with and against each other, always resolving their differences. They bickered endlessly, defending each other when someone else stepped in. They comforted each other when needed. England had lost count of the times he'd held France as he cried, rocking him gently, the way France did for him when he was younger. France recalled endless nights, trying to repair the self doubt and wounded pride of the English nation. After everything, they would always be there for each other. Whether that was nights of making love, pouring their emotions into one act, or allying in wars. It included hours spent with their arms wrapped around each other, lips locked in deep kisses. It included their arguments, trying to better the other in an act of stubborn pride. France referred to their arguments as a 'bonding exercise'. After all, why else would you argue with someone for days - sometimes months - over the same topic if you didn't love them? Why would they bother with each other's problems and feelings if they didn't care? When they thought no one was looking, their deep affection for each other was clear. At parties, they would pair off together towards the end of the night, their cuddles and kisses hidden by the shadows of a corner. France would flit between messing around with his friends and stealing small kisses from England when everyone was distracted. Prussia and Spain would give each other knowing looks, smiling slightly. The pair would sit close on movie nights that the other nations sometimes held. France would slip closer as the night continued, curling up on the Englishman's lap. England's hand would fit around his waist, France's arms locked around his neck as he occasionally peppered his cheek in feather-light kisses. Canada would hear their whispered words, often containing sweet confessions of love. The Canadian would smile, reminding themselves that they didn't actually hate each other. He would nudge his American brother, tilting his head to indicate to the pair. They would both quietly coo over them, before turning their attention back to the movie playing. After all, everyone knew it. Everyone knew that deep down, they were in love with each other. And they would always love each other, until the end of time.
It was no secret that France and England - despite everything - were closer than nations usually were. They had known each other for centuries. They had been neighbours, friends, enemies and lovers; sometimes all at once. They had fought with and against each other, always resolving their differences. They bickered endlessly, defending each other when someone else stepped in. They comforted each other when needed. England had lost count of the times he'd held France as he cried, rocking him gently, the way France did for him when he was younger. France recalled endless nights, trying to repair the self doubt and wounded pride of the English nation. After everything, they would always be there for each other. Whether that was nights of making love, pouring their emotions into one act, or allying in wars. It included hours spent with their arms wrapped around each other, lips locked in deep kisses. It included their arguments, trying to better the other in an act of stubborn pride. France referred to their arguments as a 'bonding exercise'. After all, why else would you argue with someone for days - sometimes months - over the same topic if you didn't love them? Why would they bother with each other's problems and feelings if they didn't care? When they thought no one was looking, their deep affection for each other was clear. At parties, they would pair off together towards the end of the night, their cuddles and kisses hidden by the shadows of a corner. France would flit between messing around with his friends and stealing small kisses from England when everyone was distracted. Prussia and Spain would give each other knowing looks, smiling slightly. The pair would sit close on movie nights that the other nations sometimes held. France would slip closer as the night continued, curling up on the Englishman's lap. England's hand would fit around his waist, France's arms locked around his neck as he occasionally peppered his cheek in feather-light kisses. Canada would hear their whispered words, often containing sweet confessions of love. The Canadian would smile, reminding themselves that they didn't actually hate each other. He would nudge his American brother, tilting his head to indicate to the pair. They would both quietly coo over them, before turning their attention back to the movie playing. After all, everyone knew it. Everyone knew that deep down, they were in love with each other. And they would always love each other, until the end of time.