[Part 18] Chapter 2a/9
anonymous
January 31 2012, 23:44:54 UTC
Thank you very much for your reviews, dear anons! I hope you enjoy chapter two as much as the first one.
Month 2
Being the sensible man he was, Ludwig regained his self-control soon enough, at least outwardly so that his boss was none the wiser.
It helped that Francis was back in Paris and no longer harassing him by shoving pregnancy books in his face at every opportunity. He had insisted Ludwig stay with him in Paris, of course, but Ludwig had flat out refused to ditch his responsibilities or let Francis do the same.
This meant that Ludwig was free to bury himself in paperwork until he was too tired to fret about the situation he found himself in - or until he had to fix Gilbert’s latest mess. Ludwig couldn’t shake the feeling that he was conspiring with Francis, the timing of his distractions coincided suspiciously with Francis’ nagging calls.
He wasn’t showing yet, nor did he suffer the well-known first trimester ailments such as morning sickness, and Ludwig was determined to use his good fortune to get ahead of schedule. To be truthful, Ludwig didn’t know whether either would or could happen at all, but paperwork didn’t do itself. He had always been a firm believer in “better safe than sorry.”
When he had visited Yao to discuss German investment in China and casually been told, “a pregnant nation shouldn’t work so much, aru!” Ludwig had been told a lot about nation pregnancies. He, however, had been in no state to listen for once.
Ludwig sighed and frowned at the report. He didn’t remember a word he had read. So much for distracting himself with work…
His eyes strayed towards the telephone. Francis would know. He didn’t act like it, but France was an old nation. He might even have been pregnant himself in the past. Ludwig resolutely returned his stare to the unread report. Be it lingering resentment over the fact that this was all Francis’ fault or simply hesitancy to admit his ignorance to his more knowledgeable lover, he just couldn’t bring himself to pick up the phone.
However, his avoidance tactic soon encountered a formidable hurdle: his conscientiousness.
It simply went against Ludwig’s every instinct to ignore a problem and hope it went away. The mere thought made him feel vaguely guilty. That was the kind of solution Feliciano would trust in. Ludwig didn’t intend to go into the mass production of white flags anytime soon.
Every time he met his blissfully clueless president or chancellor and answered “no” when they asked “is there anything else, Germany?” white hot shame nagged at him.
Every time he looked at his crammed schedule, full of appointments all over the world he might not be able to keep yet couldn’t cancel without explaining why, he was horrified.
Denial was turning out more stressful than tackling the problem head on.
He found himself almost, but not quite, relieved when he accompanied his chancellor to Paris a mere two weeks after Francis had returned home. It was time for their bosses’ bimonthly meeting. As wrecked as his nerves were, it felt like it had been two years.
As always, Francis ensured the German delegation was welcomed warmly in Paris. Although their marriage hadn’t led to the unification of France and Germany as it would have in the old days of kings and empires, Francis always made a point to give Franco-German conferences the vibe of a family get-together.
Ludwig was of two minds on this. On the one hand, he remembered the hostility he had once been met with, first as the German Empire whose very founding ceremony had been intended to humiliate France, then as Germany, the enemy of two world wars. It still felt surreal to watch their bosses quarrel about the curvature of bananas instead of plotting the other country’s demise.
On the other hand, Francis’ idea of family get-togethers involved more wine and less work than Ludwig approved of.
[Part 18] Chapter 2b/9
anonymous
January 31 2012, 23:45:51 UTC
This time, Ludwig wished fervently that he could get drunk. Francis made sure of that by asking cheerfully at the airport, “Shall we tell my president and your chancellor the wonderful news at dinner, mon cher?”
Needless to say, Ludwig was a bundle of nerves for the rest of the day.
He kept harassing the delegations in general and Francis in particular by being five times as pedantic as usual. Francis coped by being five times as obnoxious as usual. It didn’t even take him until lunch to earn three slaps and the threat of a restraining order.
By the time dinner rolled around, a private affair with just the nations and their respective bosses, Ludwig’s complexion seemed to be permanently stuck on purple. Incidentally, it was nearly the same shade of purple as Francis’ jaw. Groping a hobby boxer hadn’t been his smoothest move of the day.
“You’re the most infuriating nation I’ve ever known, France! You’ve single-handedly ruined the meeting!” Ludwig hissed as the first course was being served.
Francis shot him a wounded look. “What do you mean I ruined it? You drove two undersecretaries to tears!”
Ludwig’s grip tightened around his knife. “They were already on the verge of tears because you kept trying to harass them into an orgy!”
“I was just being hospitable!”
The president cleared his throat pointedly.
The nations exchanged a tremulous glance, lover’s tiff momentarily forgotten in the face of shared anxiety.
When Ludwig reacted merely with a little choking noise and somehow managed to blush even more, Francis heaved an irritated sigh. He made up for it with a far too bright smile and clapped his hands. “We have an announcement to make,” he said with grating cheerfulness. “We realize this won’t be easy for you, but you will simply have to accept that it is done, alright?” His pleasant tone of voice was laced with an unspoken threat of “or else,” a pointed reminder that Francis had once been an empire and still expected to get his way like one.
This, in turn, made their bosses exchange a frantic look of their own. They hadn’t been oblivious to the tense atmosphere between their nations and now they feared the worst. German-French relations had their constant ups and downs, but at the core, they had been solid for decades. Until today, they had believed the same of their nations’ personal relationship.
“You aren’t going to get a divorce, are you?” the chancellor asked quietly, voice filled with dread.
Again, the bosses’ eyes met as nightmare visions of the diplomatic fallout filled their heads. Nasty VIP break-ups made it into the gossip columns, nasty nation break-ups made it into the history books - as wars.
Francis’ boisterous laughter made both bosses flinch. “Don’t be ridiculous! I wouldn’t leave Ludwig when I just got him pregnant!”
Ludwig just sat there frozen by sheer mortification as three pairs of eyes bore into him, two of them scrutinizing him with scientific - or was that morbid? - intensity whilst the third gleamed with masculine pride.
Francis leant to the side and pressed a kiss to Ludwig’s lips, enjoying that he was for once in no state to shy away and berate him about impropriety. Kissing a statue quickly grew boring, though. He knew he would just have to slip a hand between Ludwig’s legs and give a little squeeze to make things interesting, but he also knew it wouldn’t be the kind of interesting Francis wanted. He pouted. Some days you just couldn’t win. So instead, he draped a proprietary arm over his frozen spouse’s shoulder and smiled brightly at their bosses. “Isn’t it magnificent? The European Union’s personification will be French! England is never going to live it down!”
[Part 18] Chapter 2c/9
anonymous
January 31 2012, 23:46:26 UTC
A muscle in Ludwig’s jaw twitched, it was the first sign of life he had given in a while.
Francis chose to interpret it as “you are absolutely right and in every way superior to England.” He gave Ludwig a saucy wink.
“You’ll make sure Ludwig doesn’t work too hard,” he informed the still dumbfounded chancellor breezily, “and you’ll keep Gilbert and the federal states out of trouble. Ludwig can’t handle the stress of their little squabbles right now!” He wagged the dinner knife imperiously in front of the chancellor’s dumbfounded face. “If I hear of one more instance of Prussia sticking Bavaria into the rain barrel, I’ll hold you personally responsible!”
“Francis!” Ludwig yelped, still red in the face, but now mortified for a completely different reason. “You can’t give orders to my boss!” he hissed urgently.
“Of course I can, mon cher,” Francis replied with a sweet smile and just as sweet little peck on the cheek. His eyes sparkled mischievously as Ludwig’s blush deepened again in response. “Oh! Make sure he eats well, too, he needs nutrients, and that he gets fresh air and sunshine.”
Ludwig coughed awkwardly, torn between feeling flattered and humiliated by Francis’ concern. “I’m not a plant,” he protested weakly. He struggled valiantly against the urge to fidget, but didn’t quite manage it. The bosses were still staring at him as if he had turned into a two-headed monster right in front of their eyes.
Francis scoffed. “Now that’s just plain silly! I wouldn’t make love with a plant!” A thoughtful expression appeared on his face. “Well, there was this one time back in…”
Dinner derailed.
Sweets were known to be soothing for the soul and this time was no different. The bosses looked livelier again after dessert, though it was unlikely they would ever be able to forget Francis’ very personal and even more detailed retelling of the Hundred Years’ War, the X-rated version. It was just as unlikely they would ever again be able to meet the eyes of the other involved nations.
Once the bosses had fled the room after uttering very stiff congratulations, their first words since Francis’ announcement, the Frenchman leant back in his chair. He crossed his arms behind his head and gave a self-satisfied laugh. “That went better than expected!”
Ludwig eyed Francis out of the corner of his eyes as he emptied his glass of water. He ducked his head slightly. “Thank you,” he said quietly.
Francis chuckled. His laughter started out mischievous, oh so pleased with the nasty prank he had played their leaders, but turned deep and sensuous before it faded away. “Anytime,” he purred as he slinked out of his chair and straddled Ludwig’s legs. He predictably opened his mouth to protest about public places and inappropriate behavior, but Francis captured it in a kiss before he could utter so much as a peep. He grinned against Ludwig’s lips. He was undoubtedly the superior tactician in the field of love.
To be continued…
Footnotes: The founding of the German Empire was proclaimed 1871 in Versailles after the Germans had taken Paris in the German-French war. Predictably, the French were not amused.
Month 2
Being the sensible man he was, Ludwig regained his self-control soon enough, at least outwardly so that his boss was none the wiser.
It helped that Francis was back in Paris and no longer harassing him by shoving pregnancy books in his face at every opportunity. He had insisted Ludwig stay with him in Paris, of course, but Ludwig had flat out refused to ditch his responsibilities or let Francis do the same.
This meant that Ludwig was free to bury himself in paperwork until he was too tired to fret about the situation he found himself in - or until he had to fix Gilbert’s latest mess. Ludwig couldn’t shake the feeling that he was conspiring with Francis, the timing of his distractions coincided suspiciously with Francis’ nagging calls.
He wasn’t showing yet, nor did he suffer the well-known first trimester ailments such as morning sickness, and Ludwig was determined to use his good fortune to get ahead of schedule. To be truthful, Ludwig didn’t know whether either would or could happen at all, but paperwork didn’t do itself. He had always been a firm believer in “better safe than sorry.”
When he had visited Yao to discuss German investment in China and casually been told, “a pregnant nation shouldn’t work so much, aru!” Ludwig had been told a lot about nation pregnancies. He, however, had been in no state to listen for once.
Ludwig sighed and frowned at the report. He didn’t remember a word he had read. So much for distracting himself with work…
His eyes strayed towards the telephone. Francis would know. He didn’t act like it, but France was an old nation. He might even have been pregnant himself in the past. Ludwig resolutely returned his stare to the unread report. Be it lingering resentment over the fact that this was all Francis’ fault or simply hesitancy to admit his ignorance to his more knowledgeable lover, he just couldn’t bring himself to pick up the phone.
However, his avoidance tactic soon encountered a formidable hurdle: his conscientiousness.
It simply went against Ludwig’s every instinct to ignore a problem and hope it went away. The mere thought made him feel vaguely guilty. That was the kind of solution Feliciano would trust in. Ludwig didn’t intend to go into the mass production of white flags anytime soon.
Every time he met his blissfully clueless president or chancellor and answered “no” when they asked “is there anything else, Germany?” white hot shame nagged at him.
Every time he looked at his crammed schedule, full of appointments all over the world he might not be able to keep yet couldn’t cancel without explaining why, he was horrified.
Denial was turning out more stressful than tackling the problem head on.
He found himself almost, but not quite, relieved when he accompanied his chancellor to Paris a mere two weeks after Francis had returned home. It was time for their bosses’ bimonthly meeting. As wrecked as his nerves were, it felt like it had been two years.
As always, Francis ensured the German delegation was welcomed warmly in Paris. Although their marriage hadn’t led to the unification of France and Germany as it would have in the old days of kings and empires, Francis always made a point to give Franco-German conferences the vibe of a family get-together.
Ludwig was of two minds on this. On the one hand, he remembered the hostility he had once been met with, first as the German Empire whose very founding ceremony had been intended to humiliate France, then as Germany, the enemy of two world wars. It still felt surreal to watch their bosses quarrel about the curvature of bananas instead of plotting the other country’s demise.
On the other hand, Francis’ idea of family get-togethers involved more wine and less work than Ludwig approved of.
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Needless to say, Ludwig was a bundle of nerves for the rest of the day.
He kept harassing the delegations in general and Francis in particular by being five times as pedantic as usual. Francis coped by being five times as obnoxious as usual. It didn’t even take him until lunch to earn three slaps and the threat of a restraining order.
By the time dinner rolled around, a private affair with just the nations and their respective bosses, Ludwig’s complexion seemed to be permanently stuck on purple. Incidentally, it was nearly the same shade of purple as Francis’ jaw. Groping a hobby boxer hadn’t been his smoothest move of the day.
“You’re the most infuriating nation I’ve ever known, France! You’ve single-handedly ruined the meeting!” Ludwig hissed as the first course was being served.
Francis shot him a wounded look. “What do you mean I ruined it? You drove two undersecretaries to tears!”
Ludwig’s grip tightened around his knife. “They were already on the verge of tears because you kept trying to harass them into an orgy!”
“I was just being hospitable!”
The president cleared his throat pointedly.
The nations exchanged a tremulous glance, lover’s tiff momentarily forgotten in the face of shared anxiety.
When Ludwig reacted merely with a little choking noise and somehow managed to blush even more, Francis heaved an irritated sigh. He made up for it with a far too bright smile and clapped his hands. “We have an announcement to make,” he said with grating cheerfulness. “We realize this won’t be easy for you, but you will simply have to accept that it is done, alright?” His pleasant tone of voice was laced with an unspoken threat of “or else,” a pointed reminder that Francis had once been an empire and still expected to get his way like one.
This, in turn, made their bosses exchange a frantic look of their own. They hadn’t been oblivious to the tense atmosphere between their nations and now they feared the worst. German-French relations had their constant ups and downs, but at the core, they had been solid for decades. Until today, they had believed the same of their nations’ personal relationship.
“You aren’t going to get a divorce, are you?” the chancellor asked quietly, voice filled with dread.
Again, the bosses’ eyes met as nightmare visions of the diplomatic fallout filled their heads. Nasty VIP break-ups made it into the gossip columns, nasty nation break-ups made it into the history books - as wars.
Francis’ boisterous laughter made both bosses flinch. “Don’t be ridiculous! I wouldn’t leave Ludwig when I just got him pregnant!”
Ludwig just sat there frozen by sheer mortification as three pairs of eyes bore into him, two of them scrutinizing him with scientific - or was that morbid? - intensity whilst the third gleamed with masculine pride.
Francis leant to the side and pressed a kiss to Ludwig’s lips, enjoying that he was for once in no state to shy away and berate him about impropriety. Kissing a statue quickly grew boring, though. He knew he would just have to slip a hand between Ludwig’s legs and give a little squeeze to make things interesting, but he also knew it wouldn’t be the kind of interesting Francis wanted. He pouted. Some days you just couldn’t win. So instead, he draped a proprietary arm over his frozen spouse’s shoulder and smiled brightly at their bosses. “Isn’t it magnificent? The European Union’s personification will be French! England is never going to live it down!”
Reply
Francis chose to interpret it as “you are absolutely right and in every way superior to England.” He gave Ludwig a saucy wink.
“You’ll make sure Ludwig doesn’t work too hard,” he informed the still dumbfounded chancellor breezily, “and you’ll keep Gilbert and the federal states out of trouble. Ludwig can’t handle the stress of their little squabbles right now!” He wagged the dinner knife imperiously in front of the chancellor’s dumbfounded face. “If I hear of one more instance of Prussia sticking Bavaria into the rain barrel, I’ll hold you personally responsible!”
“Francis!” Ludwig yelped, still red in the face, but now mortified for a completely different reason. “You can’t give orders to my boss!” he hissed urgently.
“Of course I can, mon cher,” Francis replied with a sweet smile and just as sweet little peck on the cheek. His eyes sparkled mischievously as Ludwig’s blush deepened again in response. “Oh! Make sure he eats well, too, he needs nutrients, and that he gets fresh air and sunshine.”
Ludwig coughed awkwardly, torn between feeling flattered and humiliated by Francis’ concern. “I’m not a plant,” he protested weakly. He struggled valiantly against the urge to fidget, but didn’t quite manage it. The bosses were still staring at him as if he had turned into a two-headed monster right in front of their eyes.
Francis scoffed. “Now that’s just plain silly! I wouldn’t make love with a plant!” A thoughtful expression appeared on his face. “Well, there was this one time back in…”
Dinner derailed.
Sweets were known to be soothing for the soul and this time was no different. The bosses looked livelier again after dessert, though it was unlikely they would ever be able to forget Francis’ very personal and even more detailed retelling of the Hundred Years’ War, the X-rated version. It was just as unlikely they would ever again be able to meet the eyes of the other involved nations.
Once the bosses had fled the room after uttering very stiff congratulations, their first words since Francis’ announcement, the Frenchman leant back in his chair. He crossed his arms behind his head and gave a self-satisfied laugh. “That went better than expected!”
Ludwig eyed Francis out of the corner of his eyes as he emptied his glass of water. He ducked his head slightly. “Thank you,” he said quietly.
Francis chuckled. His laughter started out mischievous, oh so pleased with the nasty prank he had played their leaders, but turned deep and sensuous before it faded away. “Anytime,” he purred as he slinked out of his chair and straddled Ludwig’s legs. He predictably opened his mouth to protest about public places and inappropriate behavior, but Francis captured it in a kiss before he could utter so much as a peep. He grinned against Ludwig’s lips. He was undoubtedly the superior tactician in the field of love.
To be continued…
Footnotes: The founding of the German Empire was proclaimed 1871 in Versailles after the Germans had taken Paris in the German-French war. Predictably, the French were not amused.
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