blood_winged (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
blood_winged) wrote2011-11-25 08:14 pm
blood_winged) wrote2011-11-25 08:14 pm
Entry tags:
[Fanfic] One Good Thing.
Title: One Good Thing.
Genre: General.
Characters: England, France.
Rating/Warnings: U, none.
Summary: 500 word fluff. Arthur and Francis do sometimes get along.
(![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
panoramiccc made me do it)
Arthur gazed up at the sky, mapping out the constellations with his eyes. It was warm, unseasonably warm and even more so for England, and he hadn’t really wanted to waste it, though the company was definitely something he could have done without. Still, when they were alone, it was easier to get along… When no one was watching and they weren’t trying to pretend so desperately that they despised one another.
As if the other man hand sensed his thoughts, he felt a bump against the top of his head and heard a quiet, low-voiced laugh. They had both been drinking, and in the absence of a fight it had mellowed the both of them considerably. The light pressure against the top of his head wasn’t entirely unwanted, it was almost pleasant to have the contact, and to be in the company of someone who knew him so well despite how he would have protested to the contrary.
“I hate you,” he said, without a trace of malice, rather as something that needed to be said, and he heard that laugh again – soft, drowsy, as if Francis was already half asleep.
“I know,” the older blonde replied, and Arthur heard him shifting position. He clasped his hands over his chest and closed his eyes, just listening to the insects chirping around them, the flowers shifting in the light breeze, birds chirping sleepily in the trees, the sound of Francis’ breathing. A slow sigh escaped him.
“I honestly can’t think of a single thing you’ve done that I’ve approved of,” he went on, tapping his fingers and cracking his eyes open. Francis chuckled, pressing his head briefly up against Arthur’s.
“Non?” The man pulled away, and Arthur snapped his eyes closed, feeling the French nation’s gaze on him. “There ‘ave been a few times in the past when we ‘ave worked well together, chéri.”
“Don’t bloody call me that.” He wouldn’t open his eyes, he didn’t want to look at the other man, it was easier to talk to him when he wasn’t looking at him. Still, he could feel the others’ attention fixed on his face. It made him itch. He hated it. “And name one. Name one instance where something we’ve done together has turned out well.” Francis fell silent then, and Arthur was sure he had him. He heard the man lie back down, felt the touch of his head against his own, smelled the faint scent of lilies that the French nation always seemed to trail around with him, and he allowed himself the tiniest smile.
“Canada,” Francis said.
Arthur frowned slightly. He looked up at the sky and found Orion, shining dimly through the light produced by the street lamps. His heart beat slowly against his ribs and Francis was quiet, save for each soft exhale as he breathed. Canada. He couldn’t deny that Francis had a good point there. That dear, sweet, kind boy was the best of the both of them.
“Mm. Canada.”
Genre: General.
Characters: England, France.
Rating/Warnings: U, none.
Summary: 500 word fluff. Arthur and Francis do sometimes get along.
(
panoramiccc made me do it)*****
Arthur gazed up at the sky, mapping out the constellations with his eyes. It was warm, unseasonably warm and even more so for England, and he hadn’t really wanted to waste it, though the company was definitely something he could have done without. Still, when they were alone, it was easier to get along… When no one was watching and they weren’t trying to pretend so desperately that they despised one another.
As if the other man hand sensed his thoughts, he felt a bump against the top of his head and heard a quiet, low-voiced laugh. They had both been drinking, and in the absence of a fight it had mellowed the both of them considerably. The light pressure against the top of his head wasn’t entirely unwanted, it was almost pleasant to have the contact, and to be in the company of someone who knew him so well despite how he would have protested to the contrary.
“I hate you,” he said, without a trace of malice, rather as something that needed to be said, and he heard that laugh again – soft, drowsy, as if Francis was already half asleep.
“I know,” the older blonde replied, and Arthur heard him shifting position. He clasped his hands over his chest and closed his eyes, just listening to the insects chirping around them, the flowers shifting in the light breeze, birds chirping sleepily in the trees, the sound of Francis’ breathing. A slow sigh escaped him.
“I honestly can’t think of a single thing you’ve done that I’ve approved of,” he went on, tapping his fingers and cracking his eyes open. Francis chuckled, pressing his head briefly up against Arthur’s.
“Non?” The man pulled away, and Arthur snapped his eyes closed, feeling the French nation’s gaze on him. “There ‘ave been a few times in the past when we ‘ave worked well together, chéri.”
“Don’t bloody call me that.” He wouldn’t open his eyes, he didn’t want to look at the other man, it was easier to talk to him when he wasn’t looking at him. Still, he could feel the others’ attention fixed on his face. It made him itch. He hated it. “And name one. Name one instance where something we’ve done together has turned out well.” Francis fell silent then, and Arthur was sure he had him. He heard the man lie back down, felt the touch of his head against his own, smelled the faint scent of lilies that the French nation always seemed to trail around with him, and he allowed himself the tiniest smile.
“Canada,” Francis said.
Arthur frowned slightly. He looked up at the sky and found Orion, shining dimly through the light produced by the street lamps. His heart beat slowly against his ribs and Francis was quiet, save for each soft exhale as he breathed. Canada. He couldn’t deny that Francis had a good point there. That dear, sweet, kind boy was the best of the both of them.
“Mm. Canada.”
no subject
no subject