"Oh mon petit chou, see how marvelous you become when you actually bother to keep up with the times," France cooed.
"I feel embarrassed," England muttered. "I look stupid. I-I want my armor back."
"Non, Angleterre. I assure you that you look simply dashing in that." This was what France really thought. England did look rather handsome with a mostly green tunic and cream-colored bottoms. It suited him more than the sight of mental and the stench of blood. Though, France thought with a lewd laugh, England would look best without any clothes. As most people would do in France's honest opinion.
"Which worries me."
France frowned. "How mistrustful of you. My heart feels like breaking right now."
"Please, don't let me bother." The words were carefully drawled out by England from his mouth.
"Though I really can't think how you could stand to wear armor all day long. It's hot and hard to move around."
England harrumphed. "You're not just enough of a man. I can't even begin to imagine how you can stand to wear all of those frills, and those layers and layers of coats."
"It's called being fashionable, chou."
England snorted at this. "I don't see how fashionable you'll get when someone suddenly stabs you in the back."
"I think I'll handle. After all, you're here to save me when that happens, oui?" France smiled the brightest of smiles. A feeling was niggling at the back of his head.
"We're enemies, you idiot!" England turned his back on France and began walking away. But he didn't move fast enough for France not to notice the sheer redness of his face.
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Five times France realized he was in love with England [2/5]
(Anonymous) 2009-05-08 02:04 pm (UTC)(link)"I feel embarrassed," England muttered. "I look stupid. I-I want my armor back."
"Non, Angleterre. I assure you that you look simply dashing in that." This was what France really thought. England did look rather handsome with a mostly green tunic and cream-colored bottoms. It suited him more than the sight of mental and the stench of blood. Though, France thought with a lewd laugh, England would look best without any clothes. As most people would do in France's honest opinion.
"Which worries me."
France frowned. "How mistrustful of you. My heart feels like breaking right now."
"Please, don't let me bother." The words were carefully drawled out by England from his mouth.
"Though I really can't think how you could stand to wear armor all day long. It's hot and hard to move around."
England harrumphed. "You're not just enough of a man. I can't even begin to imagine how you can stand to wear all of those frills, and those layers and layers of coats."
"It's called being fashionable, chou."
England snorted at this. "I don't see how fashionable you'll get when someone suddenly stabs you in the back."
"I think I'll handle. After all, you're here to save me when that happens, oui?" France smiled the brightest of smiles. A feeling was niggling at the back of his head.
"We're enemies, you idiot!" England turned his back on France and began walking away. But he didn't move fast enough for France not to notice the sheer redness of his face.
"Je t'aime, mon lapin!"
"I hate you, French get!"