L. Just a collection of short one-shots varying in length that I wrote whilst holidaying in France. ^^ Enjoy.

Random one-shot #12 ~ ScoFru (Scotland [OC] x Francey pantz)

France surveyed the Paris World Conference room, noticing that one person was missing. England. In Sourcil's normal seat was a familiar ginger Scot. Why was Scotland here...? Didn't he vow to never ever see Francis again?

He would definitely have to investigate after the Meet.

*:.｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:* | *:.｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:* | *:.｡. o(≧▽≦)

"Bonjour Écosse! 'Ow pleasing of you to grace us with your presence zhis evening." Francis dramatically exclaimed as Scotland attempted to leave the building.

"Cut the crap Francey pants. I'm only 'ere 'cause Artie 'as diarrhoea an' cannae leave the toilet fer more than five secs." Alistair glared at the Frenchman, who was blocking his exit.

"Oh really? Zhere is no ozher reason? Do you not 'ate me so much zhat you promised to never enter France no matter what?" The blond raised an eyebrow suggestively at the ginger.

"Tha' was the seventeenth century, I think I've gotten over i'. I mean, i's no' like ye stole me firs' kiss or anythin' an' then acted like i' wasenae big deal!" Scotland glared even harder at Francis.

"You never said it was your first kiss!" Francis surprisedly replied.

"Why would anyone wanna kiss an eighteen year ol' Scottish lad with one blind eye, coun'less freckles, and eyebrows bushier than a hedgehog?!"

"Why wouldn't anyone want to kiss you!" France retorted, pushing Scotland against the wall of the establishment. "I do not care about 'ow you look! I know zhat you are beautiful on zhe inside!"

"Wha' do ye wan' from me?! I cannae give ye anythin'! Ye already took everythin'!" Alistair snapped back, changing their positions.

"I do not want anything from you! I accept zhat you 'ate my guts, but zhat does not mean I shall stand by as you 'ate yourself!" Francis gripped Alistair's arm as the Scotsman prepared to leave. "Je t'aime, Alistair. Je t'aime beaucoup. You know I do."

Scotland wriggled his arm out of France's vice-like grip, glancing into the sapphire orbs of the other. "I know. I... I dinnae ha'e as much as the others."

Then he left, saddening Francis, but pleasing him as the same time. He was finally breaking through to the Scot. France was determined to make Alistair love himself as much as Francis did.