“Lesson four.” France stirred his morning café in a little seaside shop on the north of his land. “Inside information.”
“How do we get that?” Spain yawned. He would have rather stayed in bed. That was until France decided he would awaken him by sneaking in and stealing the blankets. He then replaced them with rose petals. Not that Spain didn’t like the scent of roses in the morning, but they hardly offered anything to snuggle into.
Spain yawned again and he heard France crunch into a heavily buttered croissant. It was way too early to be out learning how to get over one country and rope in another one.
He rubbed his eyes and pillowed his head in his arms on the quaint breakfast table. His left ear, Valencia, was almost resting in the butter.
“It means we spy.”
Spain gave him an irritable look over his elbow. “That’s not going to go very well… Actually, that sounds kind of…”
A dazed sort of look overcame Spain’s features and a little bit of drool appeared at the side of the mouth. “Wait, why didn’t you teach me this when the cute Italy brothers were young?”
“Hey,” France laughed with superiority and pointed his nose to the sky. “I have many secrets. Did you know I can make a killing on selling certain photos to Hungary?”
“Wait—Hungary?” Spain exclaimed with some apprehension.
“Oui,” France carried on, bringing out his pilfered binoculars from his bag to adjust them. They could come in handy. “She’ll pay a handsome sum for anything involving that uptight Austria.”
“You never happened to take any of me and Austria, did you?” Spain looked a little strained.
“Why?” France batted his eyelashes devilishly. They were fair, just like his hair. He playfully looked at his friend through the Japanese gadget.
Spain was unnaturally attractive in a deep green V-neck shirt. France smiled a little uncertainly, pleased that the country had taken his advice but wondering if his own loose cornflower blue shirt flattered him enough.
“Did you do anything worth taking a photo of?” France teased.
“N-No.”
Strangely, a speech bubble appeared on Spain’s chest very much like a comic book and France read: ‘Unless you count that awful wedding night.’
France’s jaw nearly fell off his face and he rubbed the lenses of the binoculars on his shirt, wondering if they were just a supped up beer-goggle prototype.
Spain looked like his everyday, normal, attractive self without the Japanese technology. The blond put the binoculars back up to his eyes and the supernatural text was gone.
The French speaking nation patted his flushed forehead with a distressed laugh. Now he was seeing things like England!
“Allons-y, Spain, we’re wasting the morning light.” He grabbed Spain by the back of his collar and literally had to drag the other nation out of his chair and into the sunlit street.
“The faster I help you, the faster you’ll find happiness again!” France nodded in satisfaction at his words. “You should have come to me from the start. Us romantic nations know so much more when it involves matters of the heart.”
“I don’t know about that,” Spain laughed, running a hand through his brown hair messily. “Austria had a book and everything.”
“Details, details…” France muttered and then spotted the perfect practice subject. “Look, there’s the Netherlands.” He pointed across the street to a tall nation holding some bags with a very stony expression.
“Ah,” Spain smiled nervously. “I’m not really int—”
“Shhsh!!!” France sputtered and dove, pushing Spain down into some bushes on the side. The orange bastard had almost spotted them. Spying didn’t really work if the subject knew someone was watching.
France immediately flipped open the binoculars and peered out from between some branches.
“F-France.” Spain whispered and the blond nation turned his magnified gaze on his friend.
A Tomato Whose Name I Don't Know Yet 5a/?
Chapter Five
“Lesson four.” France stirred his morning café in a little seaside shop on the north of his land. “Inside information.”
“How do we get that?” Spain yawned. He would have rather stayed in bed. That was until France decided he would awaken him by sneaking in and stealing the blankets. He then replaced them with rose petals. Not that Spain didn’t like the scent of roses in the morning, but they hardly offered anything to snuggle into.
Spain yawned again and he heard France crunch into a heavily buttered croissant. It was way too early to be out learning how to get over one country and rope in another one.
He rubbed his eyes and pillowed his head in his arms on the quaint breakfast table. His left ear, Valencia, was almost resting in the butter.
“It means we spy.”
Spain gave him an irritable look over his elbow. “That’s not going to go very well… Actually, that sounds kind of…”
A dazed sort of look overcame Spain’s features and a little bit of drool appeared at the side of the mouth. “Wait, why didn’t you teach me this when the cute Italy brothers were young?”
“Hey,” France laughed with superiority and pointed his nose to the sky. “I have many secrets. Did you know I can make a killing on selling certain photos to Hungary?”
“Wait—Hungary?” Spain exclaimed with some apprehension.
“Oui,” France carried on, bringing out his pilfered binoculars from his bag to adjust them. They could come in handy. “She’ll pay a handsome sum for anything involving that uptight Austria.”
“You never happened to take any of me and Austria, did you?” Spain looked a little strained.
“Why?” France batted his eyelashes devilishly. They were fair, just like his hair. He playfully looked at his friend through the Japanese gadget.
Spain was unnaturally attractive in a deep green V-neck shirt. France smiled a little uncertainly, pleased that the country had taken his advice but wondering if his own loose cornflower blue shirt flattered him enough.
“Did you do anything worth taking a photo of?” France teased.
“N-No.”
Strangely, a speech bubble appeared on Spain’s chest very much like a comic book and France read: ‘Unless you count that awful wedding night.’
France’s jaw nearly fell off his face and he rubbed the lenses of the binoculars on his shirt, wondering if they were just a supped up beer-goggle prototype.
Spain looked like his everyday, normal, attractive self without the Japanese technology. The blond put the binoculars back up to his eyes and the supernatural text was gone.
The French speaking nation patted his flushed forehead with a distressed laugh. Now he was seeing things like England!
“Allons-y, Spain, we’re wasting the morning light.” He grabbed Spain by the back of his collar and literally had to drag the other nation out of his chair and into the sunlit street.
“The faster I help you, the faster you’ll find happiness again!” France nodded in satisfaction at his words. “You should have come to me from the start. Us romantic nations know so much more when it involves matters of the heart.”
“I don’t know about that,” Spain laughed, running a hand through his brown hair messily. “Austria had a book and everything.”
“Details, details…” France muttered and then spotted the perfect practice subject. “Look, there’s the Netherlands.” He pointed across the street to a tall nation holding some bags with a very stony expression.
“Ah,” Spain smiled nervously. “I’m not really int—”
“Shhsh!!!” France sputtered and dove, pushing Spain down into some bushes on the side. The orange bastard had almost spotted them. Spying didn’t really work if the subject knew someone was watching.
France immediately flipped open the binoculars and peered out from between some branches.
“F-France.” Spain whispered and the blond nation turned his magnified gaze on his friend.
~~~
Con’t in Chapter 5b