[FIC] A Twist or a Waltz
Title: A Twist or a Waltz
Author: mikkary_bones
Fandom: Hetalia
Characters/Pairings: France/England, Belgium, Seychelles, Monaco
Rating: PG/K+
Notes: England challenges France to a dancing contest (gratuitous humor)
Austria's parties were always quite lovely, France had to admit. Full of gold and champagne and a certain orchestrated splendor that brought back the feeling of days gone by. And dancing, of course -- there was always dancing, Austria's passion and France's fond hobby. He would have attended the parties simply for the plethora of willing dance partners, even if they had not been quite so splendid.
Currently, he was dancing with Belgium, whose orange curls were bobbing as she twirled, light on her dancer's feet. He led her across the floor, dipped her, and they ended the dance with a flourish.
Belgium was breathless and laughing when they separated. "That was good, France, oh, that was good," she said, and pushed her hair back behind her ears. "I haven't danced like that in years, I think."
France smiled and bowed. "But of course," he said flirtatiously. "You simply have not danced with me enough."
Good-natured as always, Belgium laughed and hit him on the arm. "You haven't asked," she said.
Their banter was interrupted by the sound of slow applause. France looked up to see England approaching them with more than his usual look of superiority. "Not bad, not bad," the nation said, acknowledging Belgium with a nod even as he spoke to France. "For a beginner, that is."
"A beginner?" France asked, bristling. "Were you even watching, or have you been drinking too much punch already? We are professional level, at the very least."
England raised one of his monstrous eyebrows. "Professional? Hardly. Your leading is sloppy and she," he gestured to Belgium, "has improper carriage. I could dance, by myself, twice as well as both of you."
Now France allowed himself to relax with a smirk, crossing his arms and giving England a skeptical look. "Is that a challenge, then, my dear?" he asked.
"Oh no," Belgium said, raising her hands and backing away. "Oh no, no, no, this is like the nineteenth century all over again and I don't care what he has to say about my carriage, I'm not getting between you two again."
"Alright then," England said, as France sketched a bow towards Belgium's retreating form. "Two minutes to find new partners."
"You're on," France said, even though they were both (probably) much too old for this. He hurried away, searching the room and practically bumping into Seychelles, who was quite the vision today, in a red dress with her thick brown hair all tucked up behind her head.
"Hello, Papa," Seychelles said, taking his elbow and smiling up at him. "How are you today?"
France didn't have time for such pleasantries. "Seychelles, angel, tell me," he said, grasping her forearms and bending down so their faces were on a level. "Can you dance?"
Seychelles gave him a strange look, and then laughed. "Of course, you taught me--"
"Good," France said, and pulled her along with him. "Come with me."
They met England back where France had accepted the challenge. He had a bemused looking Monaco in tow. "There you are," he said, giving France and Seychelles a haughty glance.
France looked at Monaco. "Oh, that is low, England, using my own children against me."
"I could say the same to you," England said loftily, giving Seychelles a look.
"Alright, boys," Seychelles said, tugging at France's arm before he had a chance to reply and renew the age old argument. "What's this about, then?"
"To prove I am the better dancer," England said immediately. Monaco, to her credit, rolled her eyes, and France was obscurely proud.
Seychelles raised an eyebrow. "A dancing contest, then?" She giggled, covering her mouth. "That sounds like fun. Who's judging?"
"I am," both France and England replied simultaneously. They looked at each other.
"We will," Monaco said, meeting Seychelles' eyes and exchanging a nod.
"That's too subjective!" England objected even as France said, "Of course you know who you are supporting, yes?" They glared at each other. "Fine," England said after a moment. "No judge. I feel that the outcome of this contest will be obvious enough that we won't need one."
France scoffed but agreed. "Of course. My superiority will be evident, beyond a doubt."
They were about to launch into another argument when Seychelles grabbed both of them and towed them onto the dance floor. "Come on," she said, "a new song is starting." She and Monaco exchanged another grin as they each took hold of their respective partners. France would have wondered what they were planning, but he was too preoccupied with the fact that he was the better dancer and he was going to win.
The waltz began and France led Seychelles with as much style as he could muster. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw England was leading Monaco in a much more demure manner. He smirked. England was as stuffy and as afraid of innovation as ever. "This way," he told Seychelles, steering her back and closer to England. On the turn, he stuck out his foot to try and trip the other nation, and received a kick on the shin for his pain.
"That's cheating, you know," Seychelles pointed out, though she giggled.
"All's fair in love and war," France replied, shamelessly quoting England's favorite poet.
"So which is--" Seychelles began, but then squeaked and stumbled as they moved past the other couple again. "Monaco! How could you!"
England was laughing. France swept Seychelles around in a wide turn, and used the opportunity to jab England with his elbow. "Ha," he said, eminently self-satisfied as England stumbled. Then Monaco stepped on his toes, and he yelped and stumbled as well.
"She gets really competitive," Seychelles said, wonderingly, and the next time the couples stepped past each other, she moved her leg back just so, forcing Monaco to sidestep awkwardly so as not to trip over it.
"So do you," France pointed out, and twirled her.
"Like father, like daughter," Seychelles replied, and grinned.
Luckily, the song ended before the pairs could do any serious damage to each other, though they had already created a bit of a scene. The dance floor was clear in a wide area around them, and several nations had come to watch, America and Canada among them.
"There," England said, grinning widely in a way that France remembered from his pirating days, when he had been the terror of the seven seas. "I win."
"No," France replied. "We were clearly superior."
"I agree," Seychelles chimed in.
"You cheated first," argued Monaco.
"It was not cheating," France said loftily. "It was dancing. And," he added quickly, in England direction, "you cannot argue, you know you are just as bad, my dear."
England opened his mouth, shut it, and glared, looking away. "We still won."
France tutted at him. "Your form was terrible."
Seychelles, watching them both, crossed her arms over her chest. "You know, it might be strange to think about, but maybe you two could try to compromise?" She looked at England and then at France. "Call it a draw?" They both bristled at that, and Seychelles sighed. "Or, I don't know, dance together next time, and don't drag the rest of us into it."
The two nations looked at each other. "That is-- that's highly improper!" England argued, crossing his arms over his chest.
France laughed, reached out, and put his hand on England's shoulder, where it was almost immediately shrugged off. "He only says that because I will not let him lead."
England sputtered, Seychelles and Monaco laughed, and the contest was forgotten. For now. (But France still thought he was the rightful winner.)
Author: mikkary_bones
Fandom: Hetalia
Characters/Pairings: France/England, Belgium, Seychelles, Monaco
Rating: PG/K+
Notes: England challenges France to a dancing contest (gratuitous humor)
Austria's parties were always quite lovely, France had to admit. Full of gold and champagne and a certain orchestrated splendor that brought back the feeling of days gone by. And dancing, of course -- there was always dancing, Austria's passion and France's fond hobby. He would have attended the parties simply for the plethora of willing dance partners, even if they had not been quite so splendid.
Currently, he was dancing with Belgium, whose orange curls were bobbing as she twirled, light on her dancer's feet. He led her across the floor, dipped her, and they ended the dance with a flourish.
Belgium was breathless and laughing when they separated. "That was good, France, oh, that was good," she said, and pushed her hair back behind her ears. "I haven't danced like that in years, I think."
France smiled and bowed. "But of course," he said flirtatiously. "You simply have not danced with me enough."
Good-natured as always, Belgium laughed and hit him on the arm. "You haven't asked," she said.
Their banter was interrupted by the sound of slow applause. France looked up to see England approaching them with more than his usual look of superiority. "Not bad, not bad," the nation said, acknowledging Belgium with a nod even as he spoke to France. "For a beginner, that is."
"A beginner?" France asked, bristling. "Were you even watching, or have you been drinking too much punch already? We are professional level, at the very least."
England raised one of his monstrous eyebrows. "Professional? Hardly. Your leading is sloppy and she," he gestured to Belgium, "has improper carriage. I could dance, by myself, twice as well as both of you."
Now France allowed himself to relax with a smirk, crossing his arms and giving England a skeptical look. "Is that a challenge, then, my dear?" he asked.
"Oh no," Belgium said, raising her hands and backing away. "Oh no, no, no, this is like the nineteenth century all over again and I don't care what he has to say about my carriage, I'm not getting between you two again."
"Alright then," England said, as France sketched a bow towards Belgium's retreating form. "Two minutes to find new partners."
"You're on," France said, even though they were both (probably) much too old for this. He hurried away, searching the room and practically bumping into Seychelles, who was quite the vision today, in a red dress with her thick brown hair all tucked up behind her head.
"Hello, Papa," Seychelles said, taking his elbow and smiling up at him. "How are you today?"
France didn't have time for such pleasantries. "Seychelles, angel, tell me," he said, grasping her forearms and bending down so their faces were on a level. "Can you dance?"
Seychelles gave him a strange look, and then laughed. "Of course, you taught me--"
"Good," France said, and pulled her along with him. "Come with me."
They met England back where France had accepted the challenge. He had a bemused looking Monaco in tow. "There you are," he said, giving France and Seychelles a haughty glance.
France looked at Monaco. "Oh, that is low, England, using my own children against me."
"I could say the same to you," England said loftily, giving Seychelles a look.
"Alright, boys," Seychelles said, tugging at France's arm before he had a chance to reply and renew the age old argument. "What's this about, then?"
"To prove I am the better dancer," England said immediately. Monaco, to her credit, rolled her eyes, and France was obscurely proud.
Seychelles raised an eyebrow. "A dancing contest, then?" She giggled, covering her mouth. "That sounds like fun. Who's judging?"
"I am," both France and England replied simultaneously. They looked at each other.
"We will," Monaco said, meeting Seychelles' eyes and exchanging a nod.
"That's too subjective!" England objected even as France said, "Of course you know who you are supporting, yes?" They glared at each other. "Fine," England said after a moment. "No judge. I feel that the outcome of this contest will be obvious enough that we won't need one."
France scoffed but agreed. "Of course. My superiority will be evident, beyond a doubt."
They were about to launch into another argument when Seychelles grabbed both of them and towed them onto the dance floor. "Come on," she said, "a new song is starting." She and Monaco exchanged another grin as they each took hold of their respective partners. France would have wondered what they were planning, but he was too preoccupied with the fact that he was the better dancer and he was going to win.
The waltz began and France led Seychelles with as much style as he could muster. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw England was leading Monaco in a much more demure manner. He smirked. England was as stuffy and as afraid of innovation as ever. "This way," he told Seychelles, steering her back and closer to England. On the turn, he stuck out his foot to try and trip the other nation, and received a kick on the shin for his pain.
"That's cheating, you know," Seychelles pointed out, though she giggled.
"All's fair in love and war," France replied, shamelessly quoting England's favorite poet.
"So which is--" Seychelles began, but then squeaked and stumbled as they moved past the other couple again. "Monaco! How could you!"
England was laughing. France swept Seychelles around in a wide turn, and used the opportunity to jab England with his elbow. "Ha," he said, eminently self-satisfied as England stumbled. Then Monaco stepped on his toes, and he yelped and stumbled as well.
"She gets really competitive," Seychelles said, wonderingly, and the next time the couples stepped past each other, she moved her leg back just so, forcing Monaco to sidestep awkwardly so as not to trip over it.
"So do you," France pointed out, and twirled her.
"Like father, like daughter," Seychelles replied, and grinned.
Luckily, the song ended before the pairs could do any serious damage to each other, though they had already created a bit of a scene. The dance floor was clear in a wide area around them, and several nations had come to watch, America and Canada among them.
"There," England said, grinning widely in a way that France remembered from his pirating days, when he had been the terror of the seven seas. "I win."
"No," France replied. "We were clearly superior."
"I agree," Seychelles chimed in.
"You cheated first," argued Monaco.
"It was not cheating," France said loftily. "It was dancing. And," he added quickly, in England direction, "you cannot argue, you know you are just as bad, my dear."
England opened his mouth, shut it, and glared, looking away. "We still won."
France tutted at him. "Your form was terrible."
Seychelles, watching them both, crossed her arms over her chest. "You know, it might be strange to think about, but maybe you two could try to compromise?" She looked at England and then at France. "Call it a draw?" They both bristled at that, and Seychelles sighed. "Or, I don't know, dance together next time, and don't drag the rest of us into it."
The two nations looked at each other. "That is-- that's highly improper!" England argued, crossing his arms over his chest.
France laughed, reached out, and put his hand on England's shoulder, where it was almost immediately shrugged off. "He only says that because I will not let him lead."
England sputtered, Seychelles and Monaco laughed, and the contest was forgotten. For now. (But France still thought he was the rightful winner.)