“So…” England said, as they walked. “Are you going back to your house or are you going to stay here?”
They hadn’t been really talking since they had lunch, both of them too deep in thought to say anything, and just walked together down one of the busiest streets of London in silence. It hadn’t been really an uncomfortable silence and France was totally taken aback from the sudden question:
“What?” he asked, sincerely confused as America would have been. England shrugged and continued:
“If you go back, I’m coming with you.” England shrugged once more, nonchalantly. “Until you feel better.” He added then, as if trying to justify himself.
“No, I’m staying in Europe.” France immediately said then. There was no way he would let England go to America and meet the real Alfred F. Jones. It would be better to stay in London or back to Paris, until the spell… or whatever it was… wore off instead.
“Does your boss know you are here, then?” England asked, curious. France wanted to laugh, but didn’t.
“Yes, of course.” He grinned. “I told him I was going to visit you and even reserved a hotel room for me. He is awesome just like that.”
England was looking at him with the corner of his eye and France immediately caught a note of disappointment in the island’s green eyes.
“So you are staying in a hotel?” England asked then. “I would have offered you to stay with me, but if your boss reserved a hotel room…”
France couldn’t believe his ears. Did England just offered him to stay in his house? France considered it for a moment: staying under England’s roof, maybe even sleeping in the same bed, sharing things, having breakfast together… France wanted to. He really, really wanted to. He had spent the night at England’s house before, of course, even if they hadn’t exactly wanted it. Going out drinking had ended in him sleeping in England’s bed more than once but it had never ended just where France wanted to (in England’s pants, to be exact). Maybe now, if he just said yes, maybe…
“I guess its better this way.” England smiled to himself, “You are such a hassle and it’s difficult to feed you.”
France should just tell England that he was going to sleep with him… no, he wanted to say. Stay with him. But, what if. What if they called him home and his boss asked for him? He was supposed to stay in bed. What if they don’t find him and went to search for him at home? They’ll immediately know he had lied and his cover would totally blow up. It was a risk and a big one at that.
Nevertheless, this was a once in a lifetime offer.
“You are ridiculously silent, you know?” England suddenly asked.
“Am I?” France laughed. His head was hurting. England shook his head.
“Really, America. What is wrong with you?”
“I am thinking.” France said, to which England snorted.
Love me the "American" way [4a/?]
They hadn’t been really talking since they had lunch, both of them too deep in thought to say anything, and just walked together down one of the busiest streets of London in silence. It hadn’t been really an uncomfortable silence and France was totally taken aback from the sudden question:
“What?” he asked, sincerely confused as America would have been. England shrugged and continued:
“If you go back, I’m coming with you.” England shrugged once more, nonchalantly. “Until you feel better.” He added then, as if trying to justify himself.
“No, I’m staying in Europe.” France immediately said then. There was no way he would let England go to America and meet the real Alfred F. Jones. It would be better to stay in London or back to Paris, until the spell… or whatever it was… wore off instead.
“Does your boss know you are here, then?” England asked, curious. France wanted to laugh, but didn’t.
“Yes, of course.” He grinned. “I told him I was going to visit you and even reserved a hotel room for me. He is awesome just like that.”
England was looking at him with the corner of his eye and France immediately caught a note of disappointment in the island’s green eyes.
“So you are staying in a hotel?” England asked then. “I would have offered you to stay with me, but if your boss reserved a hotel room…”
France couldn’t believe his ears. Did England just offered him to stay in his house? France considered it for a moment: staying under England’s roof, maybe even sleeping in the same bed, sharing things, having breakfast together… France wanted to. He really, really wanted to. He had spent the night at England’s house before, of course, even if they hadn’t exactly wanted it. Going out drinking had ended in him sleeping in England’s bed more than once but it had never ended just where France wanted to (in England’s pants, to be exact). Maybe now, if he just said yes, maybe…
“I guess its better this way.” England smiled to himself, “You are such a hassle and it’s difficult to feed you.”
France should just tell England that he was going to sleep with him… no, he wanted to say. Stay with him. But, what if. What if they called him home and his boss asked for him? He was supposed to stay in bed. What if they don’t find him and went to search for him at home? They’ll immediately know he had lied and his cover would totally blow up. It was a risk and a big one at that.
Nevertheless, this was a once in a lifetime offer.
“You are ridiculously silent, you know?” England suddenly asked.
“Am I?” France laughed. His head was hurting. England shook his head.
“Really, America. What is wrong with you?”
“I am thinking.” France said, to which England snorted.
“That’s quite offensive.”