Hetalia - England/France - Jealous much?
Dec. 5th, 2010 11:11 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
signe_chanHetalia - England/France - PG-13 - 817 words
Jealous Much?
England had never been particularly good at flirting. He tended to go for the direct approach. Normally. This was different though.
France was an infuriating prick. They'd spent years fighting, hating each other. A good block of time had been spent on trying to kill each other and just because things were different now didn't mean anything had changed. Well...it did...obviously...but that wasn't the point. Just because recent years and recent events had made him start looking at France as someone he might actually want to take to bed and not someone he'd rather ram a knife into didn't mean he was going to get all soppy.
And it was all France's fault anyway. This thing between them, he knew France felt it too. He kept making 'fuck me' eyes at England across the meeting table, but he didn't say anything. Wasn't he meant to be the country of love? He could bloody well make the first move.
The problem, of course, was that he seemed content not to make any move, just to let it stew. Bloody idiot frog. So England was forced to desperate measures. He couldn't be the one to initiate anything, he had his pride, he just had to push France's hand.
So, flirting. Flirting with someone else would induce jealousy, right? And then...then France would finally do something. And no time like the present, while France was still looking at him like that.
On his left was Finland, who was kind of an easy target but England knew better to go there unless he wanted some of his body parts removing by Sweden. On his right was Japan, who was studiously shuffling through his notes.
England liked Japan, he was a nice guy. He didn't necessarily want to drag him into all this mess but, well, desperate time and all that. Slowly he lent over and nudged Japan with an elbow.
“Hi,” he said softly, giving him what he hoped was seductive smile. Japan looked oddly scared and England tensed a little. He was so bad at this, but it couldn't go on like this.
“Hello, England,” Japan said, stiffening a little and shifting. “Can I help you?”
“I just thought we could chat,” England mumbled, shifting closer again. Japan backed up a little, matching his forward motion.
“England-san, I do believe we should pay attention to the meeting,” Japan said, looking wide eyed and scared. England blinked, then flopped dramatically back into his chair. Japan gave him a relieved look and focused on the speaker again. England looked back at France to find the other man smirking at him, then turning and whispering to Spain. It made him blood boil when Spain laughed too.
Then France lent over, lying his hand on Spain's arm and smiling that way he did. And Spain was smiling back and moving to accommodate. And France was stroking his arm. And they were laughing and looking at each other and their lips were so close to each other's.
England's blood was boiling. This, he would not stand for this. It was...it was indecent. And he own plan being used against him! And he wanted to be the one that France looked at like that!
But the meeting dragged and he stayed there sat in his seat as France and Spain flirted, leaning into each other and laughing and smiling and really this nonsense had to stop because everyone knew France was his his his!
The meeting let out and he only noticed because people began standing. France stood too, hugging Spain then sauntering away, throwing a look at England as he went and that was all the encouragement England needed. He stood, pushing past Finland, and gave chase.
He didn't have to follow far, France was waiting for him with that insufferable smile on his face and England just knew he was going to have some damned witty comment and he didn't want to hear it.
So he didn't stop where he normally would, a few paces away. He walked forward, straight into France's personal space. He put his hand on France's hip and brought their lips together before the other man could say anything at all.
France was still smirking against his lips but England didn't let it bother him. He went in hard and fast, pushing his way into France's mouth and dominating him as entirely as he could. Everything about the kiss screamed 'you are mine' and France let him do it, let him do anything he wanted, soft and pliant under England's lips.
When he pulled back France looked a little startled, but mostly pleased.
“England,” he mumbled, “If I knew that all it took to make you do this was a little harmless flirting with Spain I'd have done it years ago.”
“Shut up,” England growled, and kissed him again for good measure.
Jealous Much?
England had never been particularly good at flirting. He tended to go for the direct approach. Normally. This was different though.
France was an infuriating prick. They'd spent years fighting, hating each other. A good block of time had been spent on trying to kill each other and just because things were different now didn't mean anything had changed. Well...it did...obviously...but that wasn't the point. Just because recent years and recent events had made him start looking at France as someone he might actually want to take to bed and not someone he'd rather ram a knife into didn't mean he was going to get all soppy.
And it was all France's fault anyway. This thing between them, he knew France felt it too. He kept making 'fuck me' eyes at England across the meeting table, but he didn't say anything. Wasn't he meant to be the country of love? He could bloody well make the first move.
The problem, of course, was that he seemed content not to make any move, just to let it stew. Bloody idiot frog. So England was forced to desperate measures. He couldn't be the one to initiate anything, he had his pride, he just had to push France's hand.
So, flirting. Flirting with someone else would induce jealousy, right? And then...then France would finally do something. And no time like the present, while France was still looking at him like that.
On his left was Finland, who was kind of an easy target but England knew better to go there unless he wanted some of his body parts removing by Sweden. On his right was Japan, who was studiously shuffling through his notes.
England liked Japan, he was a nice guy. He didn't necessarily want to drag him into all this mess but, well, desperate time and all that. Slowly he lent over and nudged Japan with an elbow.
“Hi,” he said softly, giving him what he hoped was seductive smile. Japan looked oddly scared and England tensed a little. He was so bad at this, but it couldn't go on like this.
“Hello, England,” Japan said, stiffening a little and shifting. “Can I help you?”
“I just thought we could chat,” England mumbled, shifting closer again. Japan backed up a little, matching his forward motion.
“England-san, I do believe we should pay attention to the meeting,” Japan said, looking wide eyed and scared. England blinked, then flopped dramatically back into his chair. Japan gave him a relieved look and focused on the speaker again. England looked back at France to find the other man smirking at him, then turning and whispering to Spain. It made him blood boil when Spain laughed too.
Then France lent over, lying his hand on Spain's arm and smiling that way he did. And Spain was smiling back and moving to accommodate. And France was stroking his arm. And they were laughing and looking at each other and their lips were so close to each other's.
England's blood was boiling. This, he would not stand for this. It was...it was indecent. And he own plan being used against him! And he wanted to be the one that France looked at like that!
But the meeting dragged and he stayed there sat in his seat as France and Spain flirted, leaning into each other and laughing and smiling and really this nonsense had to stop because everyone knew France was his his his!
The meeting let out and he only noticed because people began standing. France stood too, hugging Spain then sauntering away, throwing a look at England as he went and that was all the encouragement England needed. He stood, pushing past Finland, and gave chase.
He didn't have to follow far, France was waiting for him with that insufferable smile on his face and England just knew he was going to have some damned witty comment and he didn't want to hear it.
So he didn't stop where he normally would, a few paces away. He walked forward, straight into France's personal space. He put his hand on France's hip and brought their lips together before the other man could say anything at all.
France was still smirking against his lips but England didn't let it bother him. He went in hard and fast, pushing his way into France's mouth and dominating him as entirely as he could. Everything about the kiss screamed 'you are mine' and France let him do it, let him do anything he wanted, soft and pliant under England's lips.
When he pulled back France looked a little startled, but mostly pleased.
“England,” he mumbled, “If I knew that all it took to make you do this was a little harmless flirting with Spain I'd have done it years ago.”
“Shut up,” England growled, and kissed him again for good measure.