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It wasn’t much. He knew that. He knew that it wasn’t the best thing he could have bought but he wasn’t worried. Yes, it hadn’t cost him much money and no, it wasn’t huge, but he knew that he would love it all the same. He wasn’t a materialistic person. Yes, he was well aware of the fact that he loved to hold onto items from long in the past. Yes, he knew that he had turned an entire room (and reworked the attic) into a vintage storage room for all the items he held dear over the centuries, but he wasn’t a materialistic person himself.
France knew him better than anyone. He knew or was pretty confident that England would love his gift. It had taken him months of continuous searching to be able to find such a present for his partner, but he didn’t mind putting in the extra effort. England deserved to be spoilt. To be shown that he did pay attention when he was talking.
He got the idea for this perfect present when he and England had been out at dinner one evening. England had been talking about this song that Britannia and then later Scotland (yes, he couldn’t believe that either) would sing for him when he was having trouble sleeping. They got into a discussion of all the old folksongs they had loved as children and that’s when inspiration struck.
France knew that the song/s had to be burnt onto a CD somewhere or he could have it downloaded onto a CD or tape for England and gift them to him for their anniversary. He knew they had only been going out for a couple of months but he knew England was a closet romantic at heart, no matter how many times he tried to deny it and so, France had decided to buy his love a present for their sixth month anniversary. They hadn’t explicitly planned anything of the sort, but France didn’t care, even if he didn’t get anything in return. The best gift he could receive would be the look of utter joy on England’s face when he unwrapped the present.
England had, a few days ago, invited him to spend the day with him at his London manor house and France hadn’t hesitated to accept. What with them both being nations it was hard for them to find the time to simply be together so he jumped at every opportunity to spend the entire day with his partner. He had demanded the day off from his boss and said that if he didn’t get it off then he would just call in sick anyway. His boss had willingly agreed though, so he didn’t have to worry about that.
No, his worry about his present however increased with each step he took bringing him closer to England’s front door. He glances around at the beautifully trimmed English roses lining the front of the house on either side of the porch. He takes in the familiar Victorian style on the outside of the manor and smiles, he remembers just how much Arthur had loved his Victorian Era, despite the child labour and plagues. It had always been his favourite period, maybe not so much as his punk phase but he wasn’t allowed to bring that up. No matter how desperate he was to see Arthur in his black leather jacket and ripped jeans.
He takes a deep breath as he climbs the steps, bracing himself before he raises his hand and presses the doorbell gently. Slipping the neatly wrapped gift in his coat pocket, France smiles when a muffled curse comes from inside the house just before the door swings open. France opens his mouth to greet his partner when he glances down at Arthur’s attire and his mouth dries up.
He clamps his mouth shut before a groan of appreciation can escape as his eyes trail down England’s figure slowly taking in every detail possible. He drinks in the tight Guns and Roses t-shirt showing off Arthur’s toned stomach and defined abs; trailing down he sucks in a sharp breath at the skinny ripped jeans wrapped tightly around his legs. Thick black military-style assault boots adorned his feet. He trails his eyes back up the lean figure and feels them widen when he watches England lick his lips nervously, his tongue bar glinting in the sunlight.
France takes a deep breath lest he jump England before he can even make it into the house, he smiles softly, stroking England's cheek and he almost groans once more at the sight of the eyebrow piercing, nose stud, and earrings.
“You look stunning, Mon Cher. What is the occasion?”
England’s cheeks flush as he leans into France’s touch, an adoring smile shaping his own lips as he locks gazes with his partner. He raises his own hand and places it on top of France’s.
“Well, I don’t know if you want to, but we have been together for six months now and I just thought… I knew how much you wanted to see me in these old clothes, and I thought… well, I just…”
Arthur trails off uncertainly, eyes dropping down to their feet as he shuffles self-consciously. France smiles his expression softening. He drops a kiss on Arthur’s forehead.
“Thank you, Mon Petite Lapin. You look delectable but you know you didn’t have to wear it if you feel uncomfortable, Arthur.”
“I didn’t force myself, I do still like dressing like this on occasion. I just don’t tend to, in front of other people. You are the only one I would willingly dress like this for.”
France feels his heart skip a beat at England’s quiet confession and swears he falls a little deeper in love with the man if that were even possible. He pulls Arthur into a sweet and tender kiss, their lips moving together slowly for a moment before they pull apart and France presses his lips to the tip of England’s nose.
“Anyway, please come in. I may have… attempted to cook something for us. I hope you don’t mind?”
England pulls France into the house, slips his coat off for him, and hangs it up on the coat rack before taking his hand and leading him into the living room. France rolls his eyes, never had he known England to be so shy about anything and he can’t help but indulge the younger nation.
“I don’t mind at all, Mon Cher. What have you made for us?”
He follows England into the dining room and halts in the doorway, his eyes widening in shock at the setup before him. The dining room table was draped in a deep red tablecloth, rose petals scattered up and down its surface. He spies a vase full of Iris and Roses and can’t help but smile at how well they go together. He glances at the plates of steaming food and smiles happily. Two servings of Pot-au-Feu sat on the decorative table, the smell was heavenly and made his mouth water.
Turning around to stare at England, France feels his smile widening at the embarrassed flush coating his cheeks. He walks over to his partner, wraps his arms around his waist, and spins him around while drawing him into a tight embrace. Gently dropping England back to the floor, France nuzzles his neck playfully, dropping a kiss to his pulse point.
“Merci, Arthur. This must have taken you a while to prepare.”
“Well, it didn’t take me too long. Not today anyway.”
“You made this yourself, Mon Cher?”
“I wanted to make something for you that I knew you would like but with my cooking skills, I needed something simple. So, I may have asked Morocco for some French dishes that you liked and that she thought I would be able to make without burning it. I practiced every day since I invited you to make sure it was perfect…”
France pulls England into another embrace when he hears that and isn’t at all ashamed to admit that it brought tears to his eyes. He wraps his arms around England, kissing his forehead in thanks drawing a soft breathless chuckle from his partner. England draws back a moment later and gestures to the table. France happily follows, pulling out England’s chair for him before walking around to his own seat.
As soon as they are both seated, they pick up their cutlery and begin to eat. England waits a moment, anxiety rising as he watches France take his first bite, and is pleasantly surprised when the man groans. France feels the familiar flavour explode across his tongue and knows that he is never letting the man across the table go, never.
“Arthur, this is amazing. It is perfect, thank you, Mon Cher.”
“Are you sure? You really like it?”
“I really, truly love it, Arthur. You are amazing, mon petite Lapin.”
England blushes deeply and takes his first bite, smiling shyly at France. He felt his chest filling with warmth at every muttered compliment and grunt of appreciation from Francis, he was glad that all his hard work had paid off. It hadn’t been easy, but he knew that he had wanted to make today special for his partner. Six months was something of an accomplishment for him, many of his relationships hadn’t been all that serious in the past (especially during his pirate/privateer days) but he really cared for Francis and wanted to do everything he could to make the other man happy.
After they had finished their meal, England guided France back into the living room and gestured for him to sit on the sofa while he prepared dessert.
He comes back out of the kitchen with a tray, carrying a teapot, teacups, and saucers with small bowls of trifle. Placing the tray on the coffee table he proceeds to pour France and himself a cup of tea, passing over the bowl of dessert to his partner they eat in silence for a moment. England leans his head on France’s shoulder content with the way their day had gone so far, though it wasn’t over just yet. He sighs when Francis wraps his arm around his waist after he has placed his empty bowl on the table, tugging the man into his side.
“What would you like to do now, Mon Petite Lapin?”
“I’m not sure. I am happy just spending time with you, Francis.”
“I think I have an idea.”
England sits up, turning to glance at Francis raising an eyebrow in question at the man. He watches in confusion as France stands up from the sofa, and places a quick kiss to his forehead before he disappears out into the hall. He watches the doorway and stares when France walks back in seconds later a small wrapped gift in his hand.
France sits back down on the sofa next to England, faces him, and hands the gift to him. He smiles at the surprised look on England’s face and chuckles softly. When England hesitates, France pushes the present closer to his partner. Arthur hesitantly takes the gift and carefully unwraps the paper, eyes widening when he reads the title of the CD. He looks back up at Francis, glances back down at the CD, and flips the case over, eyes running down the list of songs on it.
He throws his arms around Francis, laughing happily.
“How did you find it? How did you even know?”
France wraps his arms around England in return almost pulling the younger nation into his lap as he strokes a hand down his spine.
“You mentioned how Scotland used to sing it to you when you were small, and I knew you wanted to hear it again. So, I spent months hunting every single music store I found to find it for you. I was days away from asking Scotland if I could just record him signing it when I finally found a CD with it on.”
“I can’t believe you would go through that much trouble for me.”
France pulls away, cupping England’s cheeks in his hands making sure that their eyes meet before he drops a feather-light kiss to England’s nose.
“Arthur, this was nothing. It wasn’t any trouble. I would do anything for you, Mon Cher. Anything to keep you happy and to show you that I care about you and listen to you when you talk. I would do it all over again just to see you smile, Mon Petite.”
“Merci, Francis. I love you so much.”
“Je t’aime aussi, Artur.”
England brushes his lips gently against France’s, slipping his fingers through the soft, wavy shoulder-length hair sighing when Francis tugs him closer increasing the pressure slightly. He smiled happily, they may not have progressed much further than small kisses with the slightest make-out session every now and again, but he didn’t mind. They would progress in their own time and he was okay with that.
France strokes along England’s neck, holding his head in place as he sweeps his tongue teasingly across his bottom lip before he pulls back. He rests his forehead against Arthur’s and sits content, a lazy smile playing across his lips. England laughs breathlessly at his partner before he presses a kiss to France’s nose and jumps up from the sofa.
Crossing the room, he opens the CD case and gently places the CD into his player, grinning as he skips to the song he wants to play and closes his eyes when the song begins to dance through the air. He startles when arms wrap around his waist but soon relaxes against the sturdy frame of Francis, breathing in his comforting scent.
(I don’t own the song, nor the lyrics. All rights reserved to the record production company and singer).
Loo-li, loo-li, loo-li, lai-lay
Loo-li, loo-li, loo-li lai-lay
France presses light kisses to his neck as the song drifts through the living room.
Lay down your head and I'll sing you a lullaby
Back to the years of loo-li lai-lay
And I'll sing you to sleep and I'll sing you tomorrow
Bless you, with love for the road that you go
England turns in France’s arms, wrapping his own around his neck and drawing him in close, he begins to sway to the music, humming along with the melody. France shifts his arms into a more comfortable position. He clasps his hands, resting them on the small of Arthur’s back, and draws him against his chest as close as possible.
May you sail far to the far fields of fortune
With diamonds and pearls at your head and your feet
And may you need never to banish misfortune
May you find kindness in all that you meet
France presses a soft kiss to England’s temple, loving how well the younger nation fit into his arms, he sighs happily when Arthur snuggles into the crook of his neck. A shiver travels down his spine when he feels a gentle kiss being pressed against his collarbone.
May there always be angels to watch over you
To guide you each step of the way
To guard you and keep you safe from all harm
Loo-li, loo-li, lai-lay
England’s smooth tenor voice joins the singer’s sweet alto creating a soothing harmony that has France relaxing against his Partner’s embrace. His muscles turn to jelly as they continue to sway along with the music.
May you bring love and may you bring happiness
Be loved in return to the end of your days
Now fall off to sleep, I'm not meaning to keep you
I'll just sit for a while and sing loo-li, lai-lay
France proceeds to place soft, feather-light kisses up and down England’s neck, trailing them across his cheeks, on his nose, forehead, and temple. Decorating his face in chaste pecks as England continues to sing the words of the traditional lullaby. France imagines little England lying in bed with either Britannia or Scotland sitting beside him singing this to get him to drift off to sleep. It is the most adorable imagery and he tightens his arms around England.
May there always be angels to watch over you
To guide you each step of the way
To guard you and keep you safe from all harm
Loo-li, loo-li, lai-lay, loo-li, loo-li, lai-lay
Loo-li, loo-li, loo-li, lai-lay
Loo-li, loo-li, loo-li lai-lay
Loo-li, loo-li, loo-li lai-lay
Loo-li, loo-li, loo-li lai-lay
Loo-li, lai-lay
The song draws to a close and France pulls away from England, his expression soft and open, more so than the younger had ever seen it before and he can feel his chest filling with love and affection for the man in front of him. He smiles. France returns the gesture as he reaches over to pause the CD. The room falls silent as they continue to gaze at each other.
England pulls away after a moment, he slips his hands into Francis’ and interlaces their fingers. Staring down at their conjoined hands he lifts them both up and places soft kisses on the back of France’s knuckles.
“Francis, you know I love you.”
“I know Artur,” France answers softly, not wishing to speak louder than a murmur in case he disturbs the charged air surrounding them.
“Well, I wanted to thank you. Really thank you for always being there for me. I know I have said it before, but I really do appreciate everything you have ever done for me, even though it may not have seemed like it at the time. I have always loved you, maybe not as a romantic partner in the beginning but over the centuries and decades we have known each other my affection for you has grown. At first, it terrified me because the entire world knew us to be traditional enemies and then there was that whole thing with mine and America’s ‘Special Relationship’. You know I worried that you would think there was something going on between us when that first came out. I hated the idea of you thinking I could love anyone more than I loved you, but I couldn’t build up the courage to tell you how I felt.”
England squeezes France’s hands in his own, smiling up at his partner of six months. His eyes open and showing just how much he adores the French nation. He hears France’s breath catch in his throat and it makes his smile grow that much wider.
“I constantly worried that you hated me, that you really despised me as much as you claimed and it made me so anxious that I would always end up snapping at you and then when I would see you flirting with the other nations I felt jealous. I shouldn’t have, I know that, you weren’t mine so I shouldn’t have felt jealous, but I couldn’t help it. I loved you with everything I had but I was too much of a coward to tell you how I truly felt about you and I only ended up pushing you away.
You were my light in the darkness, whenever I felt alone and isolated, you would always know. You would always be there for me. A shoulder to cry on, an ear to listen. I can’t describe just how happy I was to find your letter but at the same time, I felt sick. I couldn’t help but think that it was too late. That your letter was written decades ago, and I missed my chance to be with you. That you had moved on and didn’t feel that way anymore, but I couldn’t stop myself from trying. Even if you laughed at me or rejected me and turned me away. I was scared that I would lose you as a friend and companion, but I suddenly had this need to tell you how I felt about you. If there was even the slightest chance that you would still feel the same, then I had to take it.”
France feels his eyes beginning to burn at England’s quiet confessions, his throat constricting as his chest tightens with each word. He tightens his arms around England’s waist and rests his head against his shoulder.
“I had never felt happier than I did when you told me that you still felt the same, that I hadn’t scared you away with my abrasive actions towards you over the past few decades. I felt whole. That my life was finally complete and if I were to fade away the next day then I would have no regrets. These past six months have been the best and I pray for many more to come. You are the one and only person, nation or human, I could ever wish for Francis. Je t'aime de tout mon Coeur, Francis.”
He couldn’t stop them if he tried. Tears streamed down Francis’ cheeks and he could feel his shoulders trembling with the effort to hold them back. He takes a deep shuddering breath hoping to calm himself down a little before he draws his face away from England’s shoulder and immediately pulls the smaller man into a passionate kiss. He presses his lips against Arthur’s swipes his tongue over his bottom lip and gently caresses England’s tongue with his own when Arthur opens his mouth a little. He feels himself shudder when he draws a small moan from the back of England’s throat.
His emotions run rampant, his love for Arthur overflowing from his heart as he pulls the man flush against his chest. Their kiss is passionate, yet still so tender and loving that he feels as if he were going to faint at any given moment. He keeps it going for a short moment before pulling back. He litters England's face (cheeks, forehead, temple, nose, chin, and ears) with peppered kisses, chuckling breathlessly as England giggles against his attack.
“Gosh, Artur, you have no idea how much I love you. You are the most important person or thing in the world to me and I couldn’t bear it if you were to leave me. I will do everything in my power to keep you happy; to make you feel loved, wanted, and appreciated every moment of our lives. Je t'aimerai jusqu'à la fin des temps, Ma moitié.”