America loosened his grip in confusion and England took the chance to push him away.
“Why are you talking about France after we just - “
“Shut up!” England screamed. “If you like being fucked by him so much -“
“WHAT?” America interrupted but England continued.
“- you should’ve at least had the decency to end our relationship first!”
“What? How? How could you even think I’d cheat on you with France?” America said.
“Because I saw you two! On the couch in your fucking living room no less!” England cried. The horrible memory flooded back. He had decided to drop in on America unexpectedly so he had quietly entered his house and hearing a noise, had followed it to the living room. Peeking around the entryway he had seen the worst thing imaginable. France was naked, now that wasn’t too unusual but underneath him, writhing in obvious pleasure was a blonde haired, bespectacled man. The image of the two sweaty blondes ramming into each other, their moaning, their whispering softly to each other in French…
“Wait a minute,” England said out loud. His eyes met America’s who seemed to be coming to the same conclusion. “You, uh, don’t speak French, do you?” England asked.
“No,” America said simply.
“Bollocks,” England said quietly then buried his head into his hands. Not again, he thought. I’ll never live this down. Sure enough, America’s boisterous laughter echoed through the room.
“Now normally I’d be offended that you confused me with Canada again,” America said after catching his breath from all his stupid laughter. “But seriously, if you’re gonna handcuff me to the bed and have your way with me every time you think I’m cheating on you,” he said as he wrapped his arms around England. “Then I’m gonna have to invite Canada and France over more often,” he finished teasingly before planting a kiss on England’s bright red cheek.
“Hmph,” England said before burying his head in America’s shoulder.
They held each other silently for a minute before England raised his head and stared meaningfully at America. “Throw away that couch,” he said.
“I was just thinking that,” America smiled.
- - -
“But- but he’s not home right now.”
“Pas un problème. We can still enter.”
“Why is that?”
“You remember that couch? Oui, that one. He got that from me a long time ago. It’s still French territory in my eyes.”
“Why are you talking about France after we just - “
“Shut up!” England screamed. “If you like being fucked by him so much -“
“WHAT?” America interrupted but England continued.
“- you should’ve at least had the decency to end our relationship first!”
“What? How? How could you even think I’d cheat on you with France?” America said.
“Because I saw you two! On the couch in your fucking living room no less!” England cried. The horrible memory flooded back. He had decided to drop in on America unexpectedly so he had quietly entered his house and hearing a noise, had followed it to the living room. Peeking around the entryway he had seen the worst thing imaginable. France was naked, now that wasn’t too unusual but underneath him, writhing in obvious pleasure was a blonde haired, bespectacled man. The image of the two sweaty blondes ramming into each other, their moaning, their whispering softly to each other in French…
“Wait a minute,” England said out loud. His eyes met America’s who seemed to be coming to the same conclusion. “You, uh, don’t speak French, do you?” England asked.
“No,” America said simply.
“Bollocks,” England said quietly then buried his head into his hands. Not again, he thought. I’ll never live this down. Sure enough, America’s boisterous laughter echoed through the room.
“Now normally I’d be offended that you confused me with Canada again,” America said after catching his breath from all his stupid laughter. “But seriously, if you’re gonna handcuff me to the bed and have your way with me every time you think I’m cheating on you,” he said as he wrapped his arms around England. “Then I’m gonna have to invite Canada and France over more often,” he finished teasingly before planting a kiss on England’s bright red cheek.
“Hmph,” England said before burying his head in America’s shoulder.
They held each other silently for a minute before England raised his head and stared meaningfully at America. “Throw away that couch,” he said.
“I was just thinking that,” America smiled.
- - -
“But- but he’s not home right now.”
“Pas un problème. We can still enter.”
“Why is that?”
“You remember that couch? Oui, that one. He got that from me a long time ago. It’s still French territory in my eyes.”
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