Canonverse, New Year 2000. Based on that strip/episode "Crossing into the Year 1000", which every FrUK lover should know. Features background GerIta.
Also, Happy Birthday Russia!
TW: Mention of Death, Religion, War and the Apocalypse.
Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia, Himaruya Hidekaz does.
30th December, 1999
"The world is ending!", Japan was freaking out. The last world conference of the year took place in Russia-the nation wanted to commemorate his birthday, should the world truly end the next day. America had gotten wind of it and arranged jets to fly them over on the thirty-first. He wanted to go out with a gigantic bang, apparently. Now everyone slightly awkwardly stood there at Russia's birthday party, and Japan had been exposed to America's plans for what had the potential to be the last day ever.
For the countries, death was a foreign concept, nearly. Prussia had survived dissolution in 1947 and had even been invited to the gathering. (He was in the process of draining any beer supply Russia had been considerate enough of his guests to provide. Not that France could talk, he was on his fifth refill of a wine he'd gifted Russia decades ago. Still untouched to this day. The vodka lover had no taste in alcohol.) Rome, Germania and the ancients excluding China had faded away, but France would never forget their fight against the aliens, when Rome's singing made Italy laugh and saved the world, although the old man should have been dead millennia ago.
Now their near-immortality threatened to end somehow. Or that's what the younger ones thought at least. Germany had been the recipient of Japan's announcement and reacted just as shocked. Young nations, so naïve. France bet some planned going to confession or praying all night, if they had to party the next. America just never took no for an answer.
France was lost in his musings when England stepped out from behind, coming to a halt by his side. They stood in silence at first. Both thought the same and were aware of it.
"Do you remember?", England's question was unnecessary, but it rang out anyway.
"I was convinced I was going to hell. One doesn't forget this fear easily. Stupid me." France shook his head. He had been scared out of his wits, and known that God did not take in murderers. Or gluttons, vain people, or proud ones. It was a terrifying prospect, burning in purgatory for eternity. The priests had fooled everyone, or maybe they had been fooled themselves.
France was mildly surprised at England raising one of the bushy eyebrows at him. "You truly thought the apocalypse was coming?"
"Of course, everyone did. The priests were talking of it years in advance. I lost count of how often I attended church through that age. More than weekly for sure. Did you not?"
"What I thought was you were using the end of the world as a reason to conquer me while knowing it wouldn't happen. I suppose I shouldn't have overestimated your cunning. Not even you could have come up with a scheme as this." France felt insulted, but he could see where England was coming from. He was begging him to let him conquer, because it was something he always wanted to do before the world ended. Then it didn't. Must have seemed like France was screwing with him.
"I am not that diabolical", France's voice was a bit softer than intended. "Do you know who told America this would be one of the last days on this earth?", he changed the subject.
"Probably some loons like Scientology or Mormons or Jehovah's Witnesses. How should I know? The kid believes everything", England scoffed.
"I wonder where he got that from", France couldn't resist teasing his ancient enemy. While he didn't take the mortals seriously this time around, there was still a slim possibility and who knew, maybe he ought to annoy England whilst he still could.
"You, certainly. How many rumours have I fed you in the past?", oops, the Frenchman had set himself up for failure on that one. England was right, unfortunately. The man could spin a mean story. France recalled them inventing propaganda against Germany during World Wars I and II. So much of it was still stuck in their citizens' minds. It was better to have England on his side, admittedly.
"I never kept count." He'd give the Brit a bit of leeway. Just in case.
The pair lapsed into semi-quiet again, when Russia passed by them. "England, France", the birthday "boy" addressed them. "How are you liking the party?"
"Uh, enjoyable. Yes, exactly. Nice and calm. Nothing like what the horror of America's celebration tomorrow will be", England said. Phew, hopefully Russia would take it.
"I am glad you share my opinion, England. Thank you for your gift. And you, France? The book you gave me as a present sounds promising, I hope I will have the opportunity to read it, da? But how are you faring?", ugh, of course not. At least it seemed opting for a written work instead of wine had been a good choice. (He hoped the second part implied Russia believed the masses and not that he was trying to spare France's feelings. He'd taken a while with the pick and it had been expensive.) When France spotted now-even-drunker Prussia, he knew how to redirect their host's attention.
"I must agree with England, as unbelievable as it is. Until now, the party is nice. I suggest you take care of our friend on the table to your right, though. It wouldn't do if he vomited all over the tablecloth." Russia slowly turned to take a glance at a singing Prussian, beer bottle in hand, dancing on the table.
"It is good tablecloth. I will remove Prussia at once. Thanks for bringing it to my knowledge." The Russian gave them a nod and walked in the direction of the inebriated albino. France let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. This was common when he dealt with the cold nation.
"America's party will be a nightmare. That much wasn't a lie." England sighed.
"And my agreement with you was the truth, for once." It was France's turn to sigh.
"The fireworks will be terribly noisy and flashy."
"The food will either force me to hunger all night or I will leave with additional kilograms." Both sighed.
When Russia's attempts at pulling Prussia down from the table resulted in the host being thrown up on, nearly half of the nations including France and England took their leave.
31st December, 1999
The plane ride had been unspectacular, America's gathering to either party through the world's end or welcome the new year, century and millennium was something else.
As France had predicted, the food was subpar and fatty. Approximately ninety of the nations were drunk. Many made out with whomever they came across. (France swore he spotted an awkward Germany and enthusiastic North Italy kissing. Aw.) Austria had acquired a piano, somehow, and played depressing melodies one could only hear if they pressed their ear to the instrument. The pop music blaring through America's stereo was deafeningly loud, France thought he was at a concert for a minute. He checked his watch. 23:39, it read. A little over twenty minutes left. He spotted England, nursing a flute of champagne, looking distinctly out of place. He waved him over, not bothering to yell.
The man came up to him, a chuckle leaving his lips. France could not hear the words, but centuries of practice enabled him to read his lips. Do you want to get out of here? France nodded vigorously.
They exited the house, hearing a few sounds they could have done without, saw Norway pull on Denmark's necktie for some reason or another, and passed by China complaining about his age. (While France and England couldn't understand what he was saying, seeing China holding his back and making faces spoke volumes.)
It was finally a bit quieter outside of America's mansion (with that size, it had to be one), but the music still blasted through open windows and the streets were filled with amateur pyromaniacs. America had already set up fireworks on the roof, which he'd bragged about all through the travel.
The air was cold as it normally was in late December, but cleaner than inside. (America had insisted on artificial smoke and a real fire in his fireplace. France was stunned there was even one.) He looked up at the stars. They were the same as they had been a thousand years ago in the field located somewhere in England, when they had held each other through the supposed last night of the world.
"Can you believe it?", he asked his companion, filled with wonder.
"What do you mean?"
"That it's been so long. A millennium, thousand years."
"We've changed so much since then", England stated. He was right. They'd been mere children then, clutching at each other in the face of death. The world had kept turning still, and the tides of time had carried them through lively phases. Their hundred years of war, the imperial age, fighting over Canada and other colonies across the globe. Wars over belief, America's independence and France's revolution, wars because of Napoleon, the scramble for Africa, the Entente Cordiale and the World Wars. Europe semi-unified in peace. For over fifty years now. Wars may have marred their history, but it wasn't everything.
"And yet it feels like it hasn't been more than a day." France gave England a smile, who returned it. Why did it seem as though the universe was shifting this very second? Just a hundred years ago, this would have been impossible. Standing so close to each other, adults hardened by what history had thrown at them. He wanted to say something, but at the same time, he feared he would shatter the fragile atmosphere surrounding them.
It happened anyways. The host dragged them inside for the countdown, making everyone get up to the roof to see the fireworks. America thrust two glasses of champagne at them both, racing to a makeshift stage.
"All right! It's a minute until 2000! Let's welcome the year with a BIG BANG!", America screamed into a microphone. The nations cheered. "Or with a kiss, if you want! It's supposed to be as much good luck as one under the mistletoe you know!" France had entirely forgotten that tradition. (And he called himself nation of love. He was ashamed.) Why did that sentence make him hyperaware of England's proximity? Or that England was actually coming closer? Was he imagining that?
France barely processed the yelling. 10, 9, 8…
His heart began beating uncontrollably. 7, 6, 5…
England stood right in front of him. 4, 3…
It was incomprehensible, but he leaned in and his old enemy mirrored the actions. 2, 1…
What France later remembered was how it felt more than natural that when fireworks lit up the sky in countless colours, he kissed England like his life depended on it.
In the night between 999 and 1000, two children held each other while lying in a field in England, scared of the future. In the night between 1999 and 2000, two adults kissed each other on a rooftop in Washington D. C., eager for the next thousand years, knowing just how far they had come in those they had just spent.