Jealous?

England was annoyed.

Okay this was not a new thing.

He was annoyed with France.

This was still not anything new.

He was looking for France.

That was a little unusual though.

It was uncommon that England willingly for the Frenchman but his boss demanded that he asked France a question or two to do with recent tourism between the two countries. For a change though, he wasn't in his main house in central Paris. The green eyed man was a little happy not to be forced to stand awkwardly in the over-sized grandiose house in the heart and capital of his rival.

However he was mainly annoyed that he had to stay in France longer because now it meant that now he had to go to another part of France. Luckily he had been told where to go and it was north, nearer his own nation, in a very remote area.

It surprised England a little as France loved being in his capital (constantly reminding everyone that it was the 'city of lights' or 'love' or something beginning with L – England tries not to remember) and wasn't someone who liked nature or the country side. He complained that it was muddy, smelly and too far away from civilisation. Unlike Scotland who didn't mind solitude, France needed people around him.

He approached the cottage cautiously and raised his knuckle to knock on the door. He suddenly stopped himself. He should not be acting so shy. It was France's fault he was here and France never gave any warning to when he was going to appear or knocked on the door. Why should England extend the same courtesy?

Even though he knew it went against being a gentleman (Which he was no matter what other people say. Especially France or his brothers!) he barged into the French man's home.

He stomped into the living room which had turned off almost immediately from the front door.

He opened his mouth to yell at France (it's his default mood when talking with France) when he was rudely shushed. Yes he knows that he was the one who started it by rudely barging in but he still didn't like being rudely shushed. He opened his mouth again to rudely tell France off but was rudely shushed again. All this rudeness was not fit for a gentleman.

He stopped though when he saw France.

He had his finger to his mouth in the universal hand gesture for silence. He had a mixture between a small smile and a frown on his face. His long wavy blonde hair was pulled back in a low pony tail with a loose red ribbon. He was wearing casual clothes – a light pink shirt (and somehow retaining his masculinity) with an open collar that only came down to just past his elbows, black trousers and shoes and a single red rose tucked into the shirt's pocket.

England secretly admired France's fashion sense, though he would never admit it out loud, and he recognised all the clothes as top designer name brands.

He sat elegantly and confidently on the sofa with his knees together neatly.

A typical France.

What wasn't typical and had made England stopped was his oldest brother lying across the settee with his head resting on the French man's lap.

"Scotl~?"

"Shhhh!" France shushed him again.

That was really getting annoying.

England shot a glare at France and almost told him off until France whispered something urgently. "Be quiet s'il te plait. L'Ecosse iz zleeping."

England glanced at Scotland, who indeed had his eyes closed and was breathing slowly and deeply. The blonde scowled at his brother who probably wasn't even aware that he was there. France was absently running his free hand through the red hair and for some reason England felt angry. England lowered voice to match France's.

"Why is he here?" It sounded like he had hissed the question. France tilted his head to the side with a frown.

"L'Ecosse iz tired so 'e fell azleep." England looked disbelieving.

"He can sleep at his own house." He spat out in a hushed voice. France was staring down at Scotland, twirling a particularly long spike of crimson by his ear around his long delicate finger. He either didn't hear England or was choosing to ignore him. England's anger spiked unreasonably. He usually felt angered by France when they argued but this was different. He ended up lashing out. England crossed his arms and glared at France.

"Did you drug him or something? Planning to rape my brother in his sleep? You stupid perverted Frog-face! All you ever do is think about sex! Is raping Scotland just another thing on your 'who-to-do list'?" It was said quietly and quickly but it felt like he was shouting. France's head snapped up and this time it was his turn for his anger to spike.

"Angleterre! I may not be ze mozt chaste but I know when to~!" France snapped raising his voice loudly, almost waking the sleeping man.

"Nrgh…" Scotland made a soft noise in his sleep, making the two blondes freeze. They stared at him while his body shifted slightly.

Once he had repositioned himself and his chest was moving evenly in his sleep again, France sucked in a big breath. He had unknowingly stopped breathing when it looked like Scotland might wake up. He looked up at England again who was still cautiously watching the red head.

England had no idea why he was so worried about his brother waking up. France spoke in a quiet, calm voice but he was still clearly angry with the Englishman.

"Arthur."

England jolted a little. He hated it when France called him that… It was way too personal…

"L'Ecosse and I may 'ave been ze lovers in our past." England cringed slightly at the thought. "But we are l'amis, non, we are meilleur amis first." France was stroking Scotland's hair again, trying to gently untangle the crimson bird's nest.

France thought that Scotland had good hair (Very fine hair but there is a lot of it, making it appear thick) but since he didn't really look after it properly, it was usually messy and spiky. France was always pleading him to at least condition it so it stopped looking so coarse.

France loved his own hair and looked after it carefully and lovingly, completely the opposite to Scotland.

"If 'e needs un ami, then I will be one. Of course if 'e ever needs a lovers~ honhonhonhon." He gave a small chuckle before talking sternly again. "Do not think so lowly of moi that I would completely ignore 'is feelings and place mine first." He finished his whispered rant with a posh little sniff like the very idea offended him.

England was genuinely a little surprised. France was seemingly a good friend towards Scotland at times. Though when England thought back he can remember times when France would try and molest Scotland no matter what. Maybe it depended on how troubled Scotland is.

"Why is he here?" He asked again but in a softer voice.

"I told tu. L'Ecosse iz tired."

"Make him sleep at his own home." England muttered again grumpily.

"He can't. There iz construction near 'is 'ouse." He could remember the red head just suddenly appearing early in the morning.

He was woken up by his door bell. "Je suis venue! Je suis venue!" The blonde called as he sleepily walked to the door.

"Il ya mieux être une bonne raison pour perturber mon sommeil de beauté ... Non pas que j'en ai besoin, bien sûr. Ohonhonhonhonhon~"

He opened the door, expecting to see one of his government officials but was surprised to see a familiar Scotsman instead.

"Hey France." He sounded exhausted.

"L'Ecosse?" He was surprised that he was here so early, it was only 7 o'clock. He knew that Scotland was a very light sleeper though and usually woke up quite early (Between 6 and 9 in the morning.) but this still seemed very early even for him.

"Why are tu 'ere so early?" France paused before grinning deviously. "Iz this a surprised 'booty call'?"

Rather than the retort that the French man suspected there was only a very heavy sigh and a very quiet, rough voice. "Nee..." Scotland paused and glanced up before looking at France again. "Dee ye still haff tha' wee bothy up North?"

France paused and looked his friend over properly. His baggy clothes were slightly wrinkled and he had a slight bed head. His pale skin seemed taut and he had dark rings under his eyes. He looked like he had had a very bad night sleep or a series of bad nights of sleep.

"Oui. L'Ecosse, when was the last time tu slept?"

"Umm… 'boot a week agah. Some heavy construction near meh hoose."

"Zo tu wish to zleep at my cottage?"

"Aye."

"Oui. Ici tu alles. 'ow did tu get 'ere?"

"Taxi, train, bus, euro star, taxi." He listed his modes of transport.

"I'll drive tu there then."

"Cheers Francis." He sounded like he really meant it.

The blonde re-entered his house and returned 15 minutes later with proper clothes on (He was wearing silk PJs before) and a set of silver keys. The red head was leaning against the door with his back to France, looking out over the city of Paris. The day was just beginning and it was beautiful with the new morning sun highlighting certain buildings and the Eiffel Tower.

"Hey dee ye stand it?" The Scotsman didn't even turn his head – he just knew France was back again with his keen senses, whether it by smell or sound or both.

"Hmmm?"

"Sleepin' in a city. It's so loud." He complained quietly. France walked up beside Scotland, who was squinting slightly. It looked like the light was hurting his eyes a bit. France just shrugged.

"Most normal humans 'ave no problem. Zis iz juzt a drawback of 'aving strong, zensitive senses." The red head sighed again.

"How long?"

"A couple of heures."

"Let's gah then." France quickly locked the door and the two were soon on the way to France's cottage.

He sighed gently. Scotland had only just sat on the sofa beside France before he fell to sleep immediately, flopping to the side and lying across France.

England and his brothers all seemed to have to ability to almost instantly fall to sleep, though their sleeping habits were different. (Aka – Ireland is a very deep sleeper (He has to be with the fact he sounds like a rusty chain saw when he snores), North Ireland hugs things in his sleep and Wales curls into a ball and likes to sleep in but can't because he has to wake up early to look after his farm.)

However Scotland rarely trusted anyone enough to fall asleep in front of them so France felt honoured that the red head would so willingly go to sleep. England knew this as well.

When France mentioned construction, it all made sense. His brother had a hard time sleeping with back ground noise like cars, unfamiliar voices and alarms. It was great in the past when people tried to sneak up and kill him in his sleep but nowadays it was more of a hindrance.

"Why did he come here? He could have stayed at my house. It's closer…" England mumbled, watching as France traced patterns on his brother's cheek. He felt irritated as France's pale fingers danced across the paler skin of Scotland's face, outlining his jaw line, eyes and cheek bones.

Scotland's mouth was slightly parted as his face was relaxed in his slumber. France smiled slyly. He whispered so England had to strain to hear it.

"Are tu jealous?" England turned bright red and shouted.

"I am not jealous! I am concern for my brother's health! I just don't want him covered in frog germs!" He clapped his hands over his mouth as he realised what he did. His eyes bulged slightly as he eyed Scotland for any sign of waking up.

After a quick shush and glare, France stared at the sleeping form of his best friend below his hand. He had stopped playing with the scarlet spike and placed a hand over his ear when England started to shout, hoping that would keep him asleep. Scotland didn't move or make a sound so England assumed that he was still asleep.

"Sorry, I forgot." He whispered. France just shrugged.

"Beware ze green eye monster, Angleterre. Zit feedz on ze meat it mockz." France quoted Shakespeare's Othello. It irked England that the French man was using his English literature against England himself!

"I'm not jealous and my eyes are always green, Frog!" England hissed quietly.

France looked sceptical which bothered England more. Not as much as France's fingers which were running through Scotland's hair lazily again.

France smiled suddenly bent down and kissed Scotland on the cheek softly. England's mouth dropped open. Hadn't France said he was going to be considerate of Scotland and not take advantage of him! England felt his cheeks warm ever so slightly so he turned away.

Dammit! Now he felt really bad…

He might as well leave…

"I'll just be going then."

"Un moment Angleterre. Can tu get ton frère a blanket? L'Ecosse fell azleep on top of me az zoon az 'e came in." England nodded stiffly, still not looking at Scotland properly. France gave him directions to the closet with the spare blankets and soon England was back throwing a light blue quilt over his brother.

France smoothed out the fabric on the red head's shoulder, tucking him in a little. He gave him a fond little pat. England looked at the pat with a small frown before turning around towards the door.

"Bye Frog Face." "Au revoir, mon petite lapin." England was just leaving with a scowl and a stomp as he heard France's hushed voice follow after him mockingly. "Maybe if tu gained ton frère's trust, 'e might zleep at ton house too. Then there would be no need to zo jealous." England closed the door with a quiet click, regretting he couldn't just slam the door, and France chuckled.

As soon as England was long gone, he looked down at Scotland, fiddling with his hair again. "'ow long are tu going to feign zleep, mon ami?" He asked in a normal volume. Scotland sighed.

"When did ya figured it oot?"

"When Angleterre was making that racket, ton body tensed and ton breathing became irregular." Scotland gave a low, quiet laugh, still sounding very tired.

"Why did ye ask England tae git a blanket when ye could haff got it yerself afta I woke up?" France smirked.

"I jus' wanted tu to see that ton frère still loves tu." Scotland snorted.

"Gawd. I fergit how manipulative ye are, teasing me wee broth and pushing him aroond like that." France didn't miss that fact that Scotland avoided the subject of England still liking him.

"Ah but tu more than anyone should know how fun teasing him is."

"Hm. Aye. I guess I dee."

"Go to sleep, L'Ecosse."

"Aye."

"Do tu want another kiss good night?"

"Nee… It's mid…day…" Seconds later, Scotland was asleep again and France was just playing with his hair again and stroking his face absently. The blonde concentrated on listening to his breathing and heart beats and thinking about England's reactions.

(A/N – A weird drabble because I have writer's block.

Translations! -

Je suis venue! Je suis venue - I'm coming. I'm coming.

Il ya mieux être une bonne raison pour perturber mon sommeil de beauté ... Non pas que j'en ai besoin, bien sûr. - There better be a good reason for disturbing my beauty sleep... Not that I need it, of course.

Ici tu alles. - Here you go

France and Scotland are actually two very different people. They are almost complete opposites. And the things they do have in common are negative things….

Also I'm having a bad time writing the earlier stories so I'm adding these two one-shots for now. When I have writer's block I tend to try and write something else until it's cleared. It works mostly.

Also, since Wab Wab has been so successful, I decided to write a series of stories based on France and Scotland. I haven't started it yet but I might in winter about Christmas or maybe sooner or maybe later. I've already decided on the name of the story (What a Friend! What a Frog! – Sticking to the same pattern as What a Brother! What a Bother! Smart Huh?) and I have three plot bunnies that I want to start writing soon but I would really love some suggestions! SUGGEST PLEASE!

I mainly decided to do this as France has been popping up more and more in the stories because he's Scotland's best friend and England's rival etc.

Review please!)