This is the same Annon as above with another Fill, I just love this request XD Franada this time ------ It had been too long really since he’d been able to see Canada, loving Angleterre being far too protective of the colony. He smiled at the boy who’d been sat opposite him in the latest ally meeting, resting his chin in his entwined Fingers.
Canada his little Canada. Gripped onto his files tigher and turned to look at his brother who’d started the meeting. France admired that hair that fell gently against his face, forming a curtain, shielding his face from the eyes on either side. He admired the lose curl they had, the soft sheen he could never really be satisfied with in his own hair.
In a bout of shyness -or was it nervousness?- Canada raised a finger to his lips, biting the tip of his fingers lightly, emphasising the pout of his lower lip; The Action innocent in his eyes yet so so tempting.
His little Canada had grown up so well, he was about up to France’s shoulder if not taller than even that.
Was Angleterre et Amérique Fighting again?
Canada Brushed his hair out of his face, a face of annoyance crossing his features, his glasses catching the light; Those lavender eyes invisible behind the shine. A frown fell across his face, without thinking- had he even been paying attention to anything going on around him?- he reached across, taking off the glasses, in a low tone, not lustful nor flirtatious, just factual he muttered.
“Your eyes are Beautiful”
France was hopelessly in love. When it had actually happened he had no clue, but the beating of his heart, the tenderness he held any memory to do with Canada, the effect just a small action form the boy ignited. They were telling him the message clearly. He was in Love.
He smiled brightly at Canada, gently cupping his cheek, heart pounding in his ears, internally Squealing at the blush on those cheeks.
His voice left his lips in a small Whisper, auditable, but soft.
“Je t’amie, Mon Mathieu”
Now how would Canada respond? The ball was his court.
------
It had been too long really since he’d been able to see Canada, loving Angleterre being far too protective of the colony. He smiled at the boy who’d been sat opposite him in the latest ally meeting, resting his chin in his entwined Fingers.
Canada his little Canada. Gripped onto his files tigher and turned to look at his brother who’d started the meeting. France admired that hair that fell gently against his face, forming a curtain, shielding his face from the eyes on either side. He admired the lose curl they had, the soft sheen he could never really be satisfied with in his own hair.
In a bout of shyness -or was it nervousness?- Canada raised a finger to his lips, biting the tip of his fingers lightly, emphasising the pout of his lower lip; The Action innocent in his eyes yet so so tempting.
His little Canada had grown up so well, he was about up to France’s shoulder if not taller than even that.
Was Angleterre et Amérique Fighting again?
Canada Brushed his hair out of his face, a face of annoyance crossing his features, his glasses catching the light; Those lavender eyes invisible behind the shine. A frown fell across his face, without thinking- had he even been paying attention to anything going on around him?- he reached across, taking off the glasses, in a low tone, not lustful nor flirtatious, just factual he muttered.
“Your eyes are Beautiful”
France was hopelessly in love. When it had actually happened he had no clue, but the beating of his heart, the tenderness he held any memory to do with Canada, the effect just a small action form the boy ignited. They were telling him the message clearly. He was in Love.
He smiled brightly at Canada, gently cupping his cheek, heart pounding in his ears, internally Squealing at the blush on those cheeks.
His voice left his lips in a small Whisper, auditable, but soft.
“Je t’amie, Mon Mathieu”
Now how would Canada respond? The ball was his court.
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