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Title: I Never Liked You
Fandom: Hetalia
Author: Kat
Rating: OT
Chars/Pairs: England/France
Genre: Humor, Song Challenge, Denial
Warnings: None
Word Count: 619
Summary: England doesn't know why he is bothering to worry about France.
A/N: This is the first fic of a series that will have fics from various fandoms all inspired by the intro of “Tonight (We Are Young)” by FUN.
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. I do not make any money from this fanfic whatsoever.
England spied around the corner of the wall that separated the rest of the bar from the hall that lead to the toilets. He wasn’t quite prepared to approach the table he was watching. He needed to come up with a good reason for being there and “accidentally” running into France and his table of female admirers first. He most certainly wasn’t there checking on France. He did not feel bad at all for their fight a few months back and it most certainly did not bother him that they were not speaking. But he couldn’t figure out why the hell he was there.
Sighing in defeat, England decided to change tactics and take a spot at the bar to analyze the situation further, with a beer.
It was stupid really. He fought with that insufferable frog all the time. What could possibly be different from their last fight from the billions of others they’d had? It wasn’t that he’d struck him. They’d tried to kill each other so many times, they’d lost count. And if the way France was soaking up all the attention and sympathy from his current company was any indication, then the bastard wasn’t suffering. England slammed down his beer and scowled. He was not jealous. It simply was not possible. He fumed, refusing to entertain any thoughts for the next few minutes. They came anyway.
It was a stupid fight. All of their fights were stupid. And that stupid letch had tried to kiss him, and worse, countless times over the centuries. There was nothing special about the last time. Then why was he skulking about watching France? Hadn’t he outgrown that a few centuries ago? He needed another beer.
He was startled when France sat down next to him.
“Fancy seeing you here,” France slurred lightly. His usual charm was intact but the way his eyes were glossed over showed that he had been drinking more than usual.
“It’s a small world. Abandon your lovely entourage for me? I’m touched.” The sarcasm was punctuated with a large gulp of beer.
“They were… boring, lovely but boring,” France admitted a little too casually.
England hated to admit he was starting to miss France’s over dramatics.
“They lack… passion.” France continued waving his hand around dismissively. “Now really, why are you checking up on me?”
“I am not checking up on you.”
“You missed me.” France grinned.
“Never, you prissy frog.” England scowled.
“Ever the sweet talker.” France batted his eyelashes.
“You’re a delusional pervert.”
“I’m not that one that talks to fairies and unicorns.”
“I am still not a pervert.”
“We’ll see.” France winked.
England decided he’d had reached his France tolerance for the evening. He stood up and glared at his fellow country, intent on leaving. “Go shove a cucumber up your ass.”
“See. It’s always the quiet ones.” France got up and promptly, yet somehow gracefully, tripped on his own feet. “I am starting a new trend,” he offered up in explanation for his fumble.
England sighed. For reasons he was not willing to think about, he could not let himself leave the drunken idiot to his own devices. “Here, I’ll drop you off at home.” He offered out his hand.
France took it a little too willingly. “How chivalrous!” he said, while glomming onto England’s side.
“Back off!” England detached himself from drunken fool, wondering how he’d ever felt anything but contempt for him. He helped him out of the bar just the same.
“Does this mean you like me again?”
“I never liked you.”
“Of course.” From the way France was grinning, England could tell the other country had somehow just won, but what or how he did not know.
Fandom: Hetalia
Author: Kat
Rating: OT
Chars/Pairs: England/France
Genre: Humor, Song Challenge, Denial
Warnings: None
Word Count: 619
Summary: England doesn't know why he is bothering to worry about France.
A/N: This is the first fic of a series that will have fics from various fandoms all inspired by the intro of “Tonight (We Are Young)” by FUN.
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. I do not make any money from this fanfic whatsoever.
England spied around the corner of the wall that separated the rest of the bar from the hall that lead to the toilets. He wasn’t quite prepared to approach the table he was watching. He needed to come up with a good reason for being there and “accidentally” running into France and his table of female admirers first. He most certainly wasn’t there checking on France. He did not feel bad at all for their fight a few months back and it most certainly did not bother him that they were not speaking. But he couldn’t figure out why the hell he was there.
Sighing in defeat, England decided to change tactics and take a spot at the bar to analyze the situation further, with a beer.
It was stupid really. He fought with that insufferable frog all the time. What could possibly be different from their last fight from the billions of others they’d had? It wasn’t that he’d struck him. They’d tried to kill each other so many times, they’d lost count. And if the way France was soaking up all the attention and sympathy from his current company was any indication, then the bastard wasn’t suffering. England slammed down his beer and scowled. He was not jealous. It simply was not possible. He fumed, refusing to entertain any thoughts for the next few minutes. They came anyway.
It was a stupid fight. All of their fights were stupid. And that stupid letch had tried to kiss him, and worse, countless times over the centuries. There was nothing special about the last time. Then why was he skulking about watching France? Hadn’t he outgrown that a few centuries ago? He needed another beer.
He was startled when France sat down next to him.
“Fancy seeing you here,” France slurred lightly. His usual charm was intact but the way his eyes were glossed over showed that he had been drinking more than usual.
“It’s a small world. Abandon your lovely entourage for me? I’m touched.” The sarcasm was punctuated with a large gulp of beer.
“They were… boring, lovely but boring,” France admitted a little too casually.
England hated to admit he was starting to miss France’s over dramatics.
“They lack… passion.” France continued waving his hand around dismissively. “Now really, why are you checking up on me?”
“I am not checking up on you.”
“You missed me.” France grinned.
“Never, you prissy frog.” England scowled.
“Ever the sweet talker.” France batted his eyelashes.
“You’re a delusional pervert.”
“I’m not that one that talks to fairies and unicorns.”
“I am still not a pervert.”
“We’ll see.” France winked.
England decided he’d had reached his France tolerance for the evening. He stood up and glared at his fellow country, intent on leaving. “Go shove a cucumber up your ass.”
“See. It’s always the quiet ones.” France got up and promptly, yet somehow gracefully, tripped on his own feet. “I am starting a new trend,” he offered up in explanation for his fumble.
England sighed. For reasons he was not willing to think about, he could not let himself leave the drunken idiot to his own devices. “Here, I’ll drop you off at home.” He offered out his hand.
France took it a little too willingly. “How chivalrous!” he said, while glomming onto England’s side.
“Back off!” England detached himself from drunken fool, wondering how he’d ever felt anything but contempt for him. He helped him out of the bar just the same.
“Does this mean you like me again?”
“I never liked you.”
“Of course.” From the way France was grinning, England could tell the other country had somehow just won, but what or how he did not know.
