[ drabble ] Crêpes Banane [ France/Spain, Hetalia ]
Title: Crêpes Banane
Author: frostberryjam
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: France/Spain (Axis Powers Hetalia)
Summary: France and Spain have breakfast. Established relationship.
Author Notes: Inspired by a certain post in a certain community and a certain person who shall remain nameless. (That's a lot of 'certains'.)
The sizzle of butter reaching the point of almost browning muffled the sound of bare feet moving across cold tiles. Francis paused in holding a ladle full of batter as arms slid around his waist, heat in the form of tanned skin and muscle molding itself to his back. “Buenos dias.”
He wasn’t a morning person. But he could make an exception in this case. It was, in fact, a very good day. “Bonjour à vous aussi, l'âme. Crêpes?”
Antonio’s chin landed on his shoulder, peering at the flat frying pan as the ladle tipped over and drizzled the batter over the heated surface. “Mmn.” He hummed his pleasure and approval. Then to Francis’ disappointment, the Spaniard drew back and padded his way over to the fridge. Francis admired the view (stupid tomato boxers, why hadn’t he taken a pair of scissors to them yet?) out of the corner of his eye as Antonio bent over to browse through the fridge’s contents.
He could cut them off with a knife, Francis fantasized. Pull Antonio down on the kitchen table, slide the blade under the hem of one leg, make a new use for the melted butter, fingers slick enough to press inside, then with his--
“How about a banana?”
…banana?
Francis cleared his throat, snapping from his fantasy in time to hastily flip over the crepe onto the layered plate without burning it beyond recognition. “Pardon?”
“Bananas. For the crêpes?”
“If that is what you would like.” The other nation replied absently, eyeing now the knife block across the kitchen from him, wondering if he could grab one of the handles and convince Antonio that they could afford to get sticky -- and then take a shower together -- before bothering to eat breakfast. He could do it. Antonio had this little spot right on his hip that made him melt when nibbled--
Francis had a dreamy, lewd smile on his face as he turned off the flames on the gas stove and put the pan out of the way. It was unfortunate that in the meanwhile the other had snagged the plate of crêpes and had already sat down at the table, busy unwrapping a banana. Francis deflated for a moment and then reminded himself that there’d still be butter after they were done eating. And that his bathroom wasn’t going anywhere. The delicious shower could wait too.
“You think Prussia’s going to come by today?”
“… no. Last I saw of him he was trying to convince Sealand to go home with him.” The blond snorted. Prussia’s thing for cute, small creatures wasn’t usually dangerous. But Finland and Sweden were probably indisposed to viewing it that way. He took a seat and watched absently as Antonio built his crêpe with generous long slices of banana, folded it and drizzled it slowly with thin ropes of honey.
He blinked. Sat back. Of course it looked good, but there was something--
“It’s like our lovechild!”
Francis choked on air. “What?”
Antonio raised his thumb to his mouth, sucking off vestiges of honey. He was grinning rather airily. Francis vaguely wondered if he’d slammed Antonio’s head too hard too many times against the headboard last night. “Banana crêpes. It’s you and me, you see? France and Spain together--hey, do you have any tomatoes--?”
“… I suppose?” Francis dubiously stared at the sweet concoction on Antonio’s plate while the other pushed his chair back, chair legs scrapping along the floor and stood. Francis picked up his own fork and stole a bite of the crêpe, sliding the metal into his mouth and savoring the taste of bananas and honey. As well as the view as Antonio bent over again to look through the vegetable drawer at the bottom of the fridge.
He swallowed and set the fork down.
To hell with breakfast.
He grabbed the butter dish. He had a better idea as to how France and Spain could be together.
Author: frostberryjam
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: France/Spain (Axis Powers Hetalia)
Summary: France and Spain have breakfast. Established relationship.
Author Notes: Inspired by a certain post in a certain community and a certain person who shall remain nameless. (That's a lot of 'certains'.)
The sizzle of butter reaching the point of almost browning muffled the sound of bare feet moving across cold tiles. Francis paused in holding a ladle full of batter as arms slid around his waist, heat in the form of tanned skin and muscle molding itself to his back. “Buenos dias.”
He wasn’t a morning person. But he could make an exception in this case. It was, in fact, a very good day. “Bonjour à vous aussi, l'âme. Crêpes?”
Antonio’s chin landed on his shoulder, peering at the flat frying pan as the ladle tipped over and drizzled the batter over the heated surface. “Mmn.” He hummed his pleasure and approval. Then to Francis’ disappointment, the Spaniard drew back and padded his way over to the fridge. Francis admired the view (stupid tomato boxers, why hadn’t he taken a pair of scissors to them yet?) out of the corner of his eye as Antonio bent over to browse through the fridge’s contents.
He could cut them off with a knife, Francis fantasized. Pull Antonio down on the kitchen table, slide the blade under the hem of one leg, make a new use for the melted butter, fingers slick enough to press inside, then with his--
“How about a banana?”
…banana?
Francis cleared his throat, snapping from his fantasy in time to hastily flip over the crepe onto the layered plate without burning it beyond recognition. “Pardon?”
“Bananas. For the crêpes?”
“If that is what you would like.” The other nation replied absently, eyeing now the knife block across the kitchen from him, wondering if he could grab one of the handles and convince Antonio that they could afford to get sticky -- and then take a shower together -- before bothering to eat breakfast. He could do it. Antonio had this little spot right on his hip that made him melt when nibbled--
Francis had a dreamy, lewd smile on his face as he turned off the flames on the gas stove and put the pan out of the way. It was unfortunate that in the meanwhile the other had snagged the plate of crêpes and had already sat down at the table, busy unwrapping a banana. Francis deflated for a moment and then reminded himself that there’d still be butter after they were done eating. And that his bathroom wasn’t going anywhere. The delicious shower could wait too.
“You think Prussia’s going to come by today?”
“… no. Last I saw of him he was trying to convince Sealand to go home with him.” The blond snorted. Prussia’s thing for cute, small creatures wasn’t usually dangerous. But Finland and Sweden were probably indisposed to viewing it that way. He took a seat and watched absently as Antonio built his crêpe with generous long slices of banana, folded it and drizzled it slowly with thin ropes of honey.
He blinked. Sat back. Of course it looked good, but there was something--
“It’s like our lovechild!”
Francis choked on air. “What?”
Antonio raised his thumb to his mouth, sucking off vestiges of honey. He was grinning rather airily. Francis vaguely wondered if he’d slammed Antonio’s head too hard too many times against the headboard last night. “Banana crêpes. It’s you and me, you see? France and Spain together--hey, do you have any tomatoes--?”
“… I suppose?” Francis dubiously stared at the sweet concoction on Antonio’s plate while the other pushed his chair back, chair legs scrapping along the floor and stood. Francis picked up his own fork and stole a bite of the crêpe, sliding the metal into his mouth and savoring the taste of bananas and honey. As well as the view as Antonio bent over again to look through the vegetable drawer at the bottom of the fridge.
He swallowed and set the fork down.
To hell with breakfast.
He grabbed the butter dish. He had a better idea as to how France and Spain could be together.