Cuddling with Vichy
In a thread with londonbombing, Vichy said this:
In that logic...I deserve everything that happened to me. The slurs, the abuse, the absolute lack of any personal sense of safety. I deserve that for putting Germany through hellish reparations and debt.
Weimar responded vehemently, and the following scene spun off in chat.
Weimar: NO YOU DONT
Weimar: D=
Weimar: ...may I please touch your hand?
Vichy: I...yes...?
Weimar: *takes Vichy's hand and places it against his ribs*
I wake up every day hungry from those reparations
but that in NO WAY justifies what happened to you
I don't deserve this
and YOU don't deserve what happened to you either
Vichy: Looks back and forth very quickly between Weimar's face and ribs.
I can feel all your ribs...
Weimar: ...yeah
Vichy: I'm sorry
Weimar: I know
I forgive you
Vichy: Thank you.
Weimar: *lets go*
Vichy: *keeps his hand there for a moment longer*
Weimar: *smiles a little*
Vichy: *Moves his hand up to Weimar's shoulder*
Weimar: *smiles a little more, waiting and watching to see what Vichy does, enjoying the simplicity of the touch*
Vichy: *Very, very slowly moves his hand up, cupping Weimar's face*
Weimar: *lets his eyes flutter closed, savoring the tiny intimacy, fighting his instinct to lean into Vichy's hand*
Vichy: You've been so kind to me.
Weimar: I could not live with myself otherwise, France.
Vichy: No one ever said you had to be
Weimar: Then I say so.
Vichy: Thank you
Weimar: You are always welcome.
Vichy: *Waits a long moment and then leans forward, dropping a brief, chaste kiss on his cheek*
Weimar: *smiles like he doesn't quite know whether to beam or cry, reaching up to touch the spot France kissed, awed*
Vichy: I do not fear you
Weimar: That...is a blessing, one I treasure. But...it is not. Necessarily. A reason to kiss me. *blushes and swallows and looks away*
Vichy: *wan smile* I do not fear you...I like you. I...I trust you. *As much as he can anyway*
Weimar: *relaxes faintly at the second remark* Then I treasure all of it.
Vichy: Could I...? *braces his hands questioningly on his shoulders*
Weimar: *nods slowly* Anything you wish.
Vichy: Just this. *Hugs him, trying to seek the safety he feels hugging both Allemagnes*
Weimar: *gingerly wraps his arms around him, hugging him close but not tightly back. tries to say 'I will never let anyone hurt you while I breathe' with the curve of his embrace, since it it so hard to make France feel safe with the actual words*
Vichy: *Leans his head against Weimar's shoulder, eyes closing for a moment. It is strange how safe this feels. Gentle and undemanding.*
Weimar: *holds him, cherishing the close warmth, one hand moving to hover by France's head* *in a soft murmur* May I...I'd like to touch your hair?
Vichy: You're....you're asking? *And for that, the answer is so easy* Yes...of course. Go ahead.
Weimar: I promised you, didn't I? *strokes France's soft, short hair, gently brushing his finger's through the strands, his other arm still warm and steady around France's back*
Vichy: Promises and actions are different things entirely.
Weimar: Not for me.
*it isn't a boast, it's a vow*
Vichy: *smiles into the material of his clothing* Thank you.
Weimar: You are welcome. *keeps holding him and petting his hair, smiling as well*
Vichy: *Relaxes, uncurling into that safety, the unconditional reassurance he's offered* Perhaps...someday...I can give you the affection I used to prefer
Weimar: If you wished to, I would be...delighted, and honored. But only if you wish. I expect nothing from you, France, and all I /request/ is the opportunity to remain in your life, to continue to be kind to you.
Vichy: A request I can grant...will grant happily. *Comfortable, feeling so. safe., it's easy to lean up and kiss his cheek again*
Weimar: Thank you. Truly. *for both the allowance and the kiss*
Vichy: Thank you for taking away my fear.
Weimar: *holding, stroking, whispering* Thank you for easing my self-loathing.
Vichy: I am glad to help?
Weimar: As am I.
Vichy: *looks at him with a small, crooked smile*
Weimar: *smiles back with a little bit of shyness, a little bit of adoration*
Vichy: *Looks at him with his own kind of shyness, but also a quiet kind of longing, searching for who he used to be*
Could you...kiss me?
Weimar: *the hand in his hair pauses, cradling his head gently, their faces close* *gently, wanting to be sure France is sure* I could. I would love to. Do you want me to?
Vichy: *looks up with a quiet desperation* I want to know if I can want to
Weimar: *accepts the invitation, albeit convoluted, closing the gap slowly, with plenty of time for France to pull back, pressing a light, tender kiss against France's lips*
Vichy: *softly, so softly* Dieu...*His body tenses to flinch away, but he realizes...he has no want to*
Weimar: *pulls back a little at the tension, but without dropping the embrace* *softly, without a hint of any sort of judgment* Does my invitation still stand?
Vichy: It does...but I don't know if I will take it. This...this is wonderful but...*that wan smile again* It is progress. I need more, still.
Weimar: Anything you need. Always. *strokes France's back softly* You have only to ask.
Vichy: Then I ask for your patience.
Weimar: I can hardly be patient for something I do not deserve or expect. Even so, it is yours.
Vichy: *Smiles* They say, in the future, after the war? We will be great friends. I hope it is true.
Weimar: I hope so as well.
Vichy: *Another kiss, brief as breath, but he means so much behind it. Trust, friendship, hope*
Weimar: *sips it, gasps it, cherishes it and everything the moment tastes of; mercy, redemption, hope. It is second chances and undreamt-of affection and it strikes the howling demons of guilt and self-hatred dumb*
Vichy: *Doesn't kiss again, but remains so close. Parts of his body, rewired and frightened animal instincts, tremble to get away, but his mind reminds him that he is safe. Weimar might have the face of his enemy, but he is not. This is his healer*
Weimar: *pets his hair again, trailing his fingers through it, marveling at how soft it is, then slipping down to stroke France's back once again, with simple affection*
Vichy: You make it so easy to smile.
Weimar: *every time you smile because of him, he hates himself a little less. To hear you say that makes him shudder faintly, a tiny whimper of gratitude and overwhelmed joy shivering high in his throat*
Vichy: *And the emotion in that sound throws him off so much* We need each other... *says with the wonder of realization*
Weimar: and what a strange miracle, that we have found those we need. *similarly stunned*
Vichy: But perhaps miracles aren't so bad.
Weimar: *little chuckle* You are normally much more critical of your miracles, I take it.
Vichy: Should I be? I've just had so few lately, I'm that much more surprised when they come.
Weimar: *still stroking France's hair lightly, speaking tenderly* No. You deserve as many miracles as you can stand.
Vichy: *Smiles, leaning into that gentle touch* Then they wouldn't be miracles.
Weimar: *fondly* picky, picky
Vichy: *smiles* I can't help it.
Weimar: Only a handful of truly exquisite miracles for you, then.
Vichy: The ones worth savoring?
Weimar: I would call your bread a miracle, then. *smiles and lets the teasing fall away* Yes, very much so.
Vichy: Oh it's not a miracle. It's just French. *chuckles*
Weimar: Close enough.
In that logic...I deserve everything that happened to me. The slurs, the abuse, the absolute lack of any personal sense of safety. I deserve that for putting Germany through hellish reparations and debt.
Weimar responded vehemently, and the following scene spun off in chat.
Weimar: NO YOU DONT
Weimar: D=
Weimar: ...may I please touch your hand?
Vichy: I...yes...?
Weimar: *takes Vichy's hand and places it against his ribs*
I wake up every day hungry from those reparations
but that in NO WAY justifies what happened to you
I don't deserve this
and YOU don't deserve what happened to you either
Vichy: Looks back and forth very quickly between Weimar's face and ribs.
I can feel all your ribs...
Weimar: ...yeah
Vichy: I'm sorry
Weimar: I know
I forgive you
Vichy: Thank you.
Weimar: *lets go*
Vichy: *keeps his hand there for a moment longer*
Weimar: *smiles a little*
Vichy: *Moves his hand up to Weimar's shoulder*
Weimar: *smiles a little more, waiting and watching to see what Vichy does, enjoying the simplicity of the touch*
Vichy: *Very, very slowly moves his hand up, cupping Weimar's face*
Weimar: *lets his eyes flutter closed, savoring the tiny intimacy, fighting his instinct to lean into Vichy's hand*
Vichy: You've been so kind to me.
Weimar: I could not live with myself otherwise, France.
Vichy: No one ever said you had to be
Weimar: Then I say so.
Vichy: Thank you
Weimar: You are always welcome.
Vichy: *Waits a long moment and then leans forward, dropping a brief, chaste kiss on his cheek*
Weimar: *smiles like he doesn't quite know whether to beam or cry, reaching up to touch the spot France kissed, awed*
Vichy: I do not fear you
Weimar: That...is a blessing, one I treasure. But...it is not. Necessarily. A reason to kiss me. *blushes and swallows and looks away*
Vichy: *wan smile* I do not fear you...I like you. I...I trust you. *As much as he can anyway*
Weimar: *relaxes faintly at the second remark* Then I treasure all of it.
Vichy: Could I...? *braces his hands questioningly on his shoulders*
Weimar: *nods slowly* Anything you wish.
Vichy: Just this. *Hugs him, trying to seek the safety he feels hugging both Allemagnes*
Weimar: *gingerly wraps his arms around him, hugging him close but not tightly back. tries to say 'I will never let anyone hurt you while I breathe' with the curve of his embrace, since it it so hard to make France feel safe with the actual words*
Vichy: *Leans his head against Weimar's shoulder, eyes closing for a moment. It is strange how safe this feels. Gentle and undemanding.*
Weimar: *holds him, cherishing the close warmth, one hand moving to hover by France's head* *in a soft murmur* May I...I'd like to touch your hair?
Vichy: You're....you're asking? *And for that, the answer is so easy* Yes...of course. Go ahead.
Weimar: I promised you, didn't I? *strokes France's soft, short hair, gently brushing his finger's through the strands, his other arm still warm and steady around France's back*
Vichy: Promises and actions are different things entirely.
Weimar: Not for me.
*it isn't a boast, it's a vow*
Vichy: *smiles into the material of his clothing* Thank you.
Weimar: You are welcome. *keeps holding him and petting his hair, smiling as well*
Vichy: *Relaxes, uncurling into that safety, the unconditional reassurance he's offered* Perhaps...someday...I can give you the affection I used to prefer
Weimar: If you wished to, I would be...delighted, and honored. But only if you wish. I expect nothing from you, France, and all I /request/ is the opportunity to remain in your life, to continue to be kind to you.
Vichy: A request I can grant...will grant happily. *Comfortable, feeling so. safe., it's easy to lean up and kiss his cheek again*
Weimar: Thank you. Truly. *for both the allowance and the kiss*
Vichy: Thank you for taking away my fear.
Weimar: *holding, stroking, whispering* Thank you for easing my self-loathing.
Vichy: I am glad to help?
Weimar: As am I.
Vichy: *looks at him with a small, crooked smile*
Weimar: *smiles back with a little bit of shyness, a little bit of adoration*
Vichy: *Looks at him with his own kind of shyness, but also a quiet kind of longing, searching for who he used to be*
Could you...kiss me?
Weimar: *the hand in his hair pauses, cradling his head gently, their faces close* *gently, wanting to be sure France is sure* I could. I would love to. Do you want me to?
Vichy: *looks up with a quiet desperation* I want to know if I can want to
Weimar: *accepts the invitation, albeit convoluted, closing the gap slowly, with plenty of time for France to pull back, pressing a light, tender kiss against France's lips*
Vichy: *softly, so softly* Dieu...*His body tenses to flinch away, but he realizes...he has no want to*
Weimar: *pulls back a little at the tension, but without dropping the embrace* *softly, without a hint of any sort of judgment* Does my invitation still stand?
Vichy: It does...but I don't know if I will take it. This...this is wonderful but...*that wan smile again* It is progress. I need more, still.
Weimar: Anything you need. Always. *strokes France's back softly* You have only to ask.
Vichy: Then I ask for your patience.
Weimar: I can hardly be patient for something I do not deserve or expect. Even so, it is yours.
Vichy: *Smiles* They say, in the future, after the war? We will be great friends. I hope it is true.
Weimar: I hope so as well.
Vichy: *Another kiss, brief as breath, but he means so much behind it. Trust, friendship, hope*
Weimar: *sips it, gasps it, cherishes it and everything the moment tastes of; mercy, redemption, hope. It is second chances and undreamt-of affection and it strikes the howling demons of guilt and self-hatred dumb*
Vichy: *Doesn't kiss again, but remains so close. Parts of his body, rewired and frightened animal instincts, tremble to get away, but his mind reminds him that he is safe. Weimar might have the face of his enemy, but he is not. This is his healer*
Weimar: *pets his hair again, trailing his fingers through it, marveling at how soft it is, then slipping down to stroke France's back once again, with simple affection*
Vichy: You make it so easy to smile.
Weimar: *every time you smile because of him, he hates himself a little less. To hear you say that makes him shudder faintly, a tiny whimper of gratitude and overwhelmed joy shivering high in his throat*
Vichy: *And the emotion in that sound throws him off so much* We need each other... *says with the wonder of realization*
Weimar: and what a strange miracle, that we have found those we need. *similarly stunned*
Vichy: But perhaps miracles aren't so bad.
Weimar: *little chuckle* You are normally much more critical of your miracles, I take it.
Vichy: Should I be? I've just had so few lately, I'm that much more surprised when they come.
Weimar: *still stroking France's hair lightly, speaking tenderly* No. You deserve as many miracles as you can stand.
Vichy: *Smiles, leaning into that gentle touch* Then they wouldn't be miracles.
Weimar: *fondly* picky, picky
Vichy: *smiles* I can't help it.
Weimar: Only a handful of truly exquisite miracles for you, then.
Vichy: The ones worth savoring?
Weimar: I would call your bread a miracle, then. *smiles and lets the teasing fall away* Yes, very much so.
Vichy: Oh it's not a miracle. It's just French. *chuckles*
Weimar: Close enough.