All day long, he hadn’t answered the phone and just planned what to do with England the next days. For a moment he was afraid this wasn’t going to work out and that he was going to be discovered, but then he convinced himself that it was impossible something like that could happen.
Unless America decided to come over.
Then he would be over too. Literally.
France took his bag full of clothes and stuff he needed and decided to finally travel back to England. It took him no more than two hours to get before England’s familiar apartment. He pressed the buzzer and waited for England to answer:
“Who is it?”
It was time for action.
“It’s me AMERICA!” France shouted a little too loudly. Some passersby turned to look at him as if he was mad. He didn’t care. “Open!”
As soon as he shouted the order, the door clicked open and France cheerfully made his way to England’s apartment. England was waiting before his door, his arms crossed over his chest and a scowl on his face.
“Could you please not shout so loud next time?” England reproached. “I almost became deaf!”
France grinned, dropped the bag on the ground and hugged the other nation close, shutting him up for good. Then, as if nothing was the matter, picked his bag back up and went inside the apartment, leaving a stunned England behind.
England’s apartment was really clean, France noticed immediately and snorted to himself. England apartment was never clean when he came over as he preferred to do other, more important stuff, than clean around. But America was an exception, no? England really worked himself out to make a good impression on America.
“Nice!” France exclaimed and then turned to look at England, who was strangely silent. “So! Where’s your room?”
That seemed to push England out of his thoughts. England looked up at him and raised an awfully bushy eyebrow.
“My room?” he repeated, stupidly. France laughed.
“Of course! Where else should I stay?”
England was taken aback by this and blinked at France, opening and closing his mouth in shock.
“What?”
France dropped the bag down once more and literally fell on the couch before him, the only couch England had in his living room. England watched his every movement and finally exclaimed:
“I prepared the guest room for you, America.” England said as if talking to a baby. France scowled.
“Mean! I wanted to share the bed with you!”
To say England fainted from the shock would be an understatement.
“Excuse me?” England thought it over, blushed tenfold and then turned his back to America. France wanted to laugh, but didn’t, and just stood up once more and approached England. He patted the other hard on the back and leaned closer to the other face. England’s breath hitched at the sudden closeness and made a step backwards. France grinned.
Love me the "American" way [5b/?]
Unless America decided to come over.
Then he would be over too. Literally.
France took his bag full of clothes and stuff he needed and decided to finally travel back to England. It took him no more than two hours to get before England’s familiar apartment. He pressed the buzzer and waited for England to answer:
“Who is it?”
It was time for action.
“It’s me AMERICA!” France shouted a little too loudly. Some passersby turned to look at him as if he was mad. He didn’t care. “Open!”
As soon as he shouted the order, the door clicked open and France cheerfully made his way to England’s apartment. England was waiting before his door, his arms crossed over his chest and a scowl on his face.
“Could you please not shout so loud next time?” England reproached. “I almost became deaf!”
France grinned, dropped the bag on the ground and hugged the other nation close, shutting him up for good. Then, as if nothing was the matter, picked his bag back up and went inside the apartment, leaving a stunned England behind.
England’s apartment was really clean, France noticed immediately and snorted to himself. England apartment was never clean when he came over as he preferred to do other, more important stuff, than clean around. But America was an exception, no? England really worked himself out to make a good impression on America.
“Nice!” France exclaimed and then turned to look at England, who was strangely silent. “So! Where’s your room?”
That seemed to push England out of his thoughts. England looked up at him and raised an awfully bushy eyebrow.
“My room?” he repeated, stupidly. France laughed.
“Of course! Where else should I stay?”
England was taken aback by this and blinked at France, opening and closing his mouth in shock.
“What?”
France dropped the bag down once more and literally fell on the couch before him, the only couch England had in his living room. England watched his every movement and finally exclaimed:
“I prepared the guest room for you, America.” England said as if talking to a baby. France scowled.
“Mean! I wanted to share the bed with you!”
To say England fainted from the shock would be an understatement.
“Excuse me?” England thought it over, blushed tenfold and then turned his back to America. France wanted to laugh, but didn’t, and just stood up once more and approached England. He patted the other hard on the back and leaned closer to the other face. England’s breath hitched at the sudden closeness and made a step backwards. France grinned.