Fic: Des Vignettes [1/9]
Title: Des Vignettes
Rating: G for this chapter; R for the whole fic
Characters & Pairings: England/France, America; mentions of Japan, Russia and Spain
Warnings: None for this chapter. In the whole fic, language, some blood, and sex.
Notes: De-anon from the kink meme; originally written for this prompt.
Summary: 1904, 2004, and a few moments in between. In which France and England talk, fight, kiss and confound their way towards some form of progress.
-
Year Zero
“Well, then,” says England, arms folded tightly across his chest as if to shield himself.
France has one ankle resting on his opposite knee and a cigarette in his fingers. “Quite so.”
They stare at the documents on the long tabletop in between them.
“I must inform you,” England says, as his fingers begin to tap rhythmically against his elbow, “that this means nothing.”
“But of course.” France dislodges some ash from the end of the paper cylinder with a delicate, slender finger. “We can agree that from its terms.”
England nods emphatically. “Nothing in it.”
“Wasted ink.”
“Inconsequential.”
“Meaningless.”
They fall silent again. England taps his fingers harder upon his arm until their noise is audible, and glowers in turn at France, at the table just in front of him, and at the papers. France smokes his cigarette.
“Well, aren’t you going to sign it?” England bursts out.
France makes a lethargic movement of his hand, wafting smoke across the table. “After you, my friend. I will allow you the honour.”
“Oh, I’m sure,” England sneers, and in an abrupt show of defiance he snatches up a pen and yanks the agreement towards him. France, surprised by this level of movement, raises his eyebrows and tilts his head in curiosity.
Holding the pen in his fist, England glares at the paper for a long time, remaining motionless. At one point, his brow gives an aggressive twitch.
“It won’t change anything,” he reminds France at last. “I don’t know why I’m bothering.”
“Politics,” France says, shifts his lifted leg so that it crosses the other at the knee. “Only politics. Pragmatism, I might say.”
“I would hardly call an alliance with you practical.”
“It isn’t an alliance,” France says, airily yet very swiftly.
England flicks his eyes down at the document. “No. Of course not.”
France hums, looking up at the ceiling for a time as if in devout contemplation as he takes the final few draws from the cigarette. He puts it out carefully in the ashtray between them, folds his fingers together and examines his nails intently, and then at last looks back at England.
“Will you please get on with it?” he snaps suddenly.
Starting, England’s head jerks up to look at him, and then back down. His brow furrows.
“This is because of Japan,” he says, with the tone of somebody who is very concerned that their addressee should understand them.
“And of Russia, yes.” France leans slightly forwards.
England scowls, takes a deep breath, and then signs with a violent jerk of his wrist.
France lets out a long sigh through his nose, staring at the letters scrawled upon the paper. “Well, then. Good. Wonderful.”
“Your turn.” England pushes hard on the documents and sends them skidding down the table. France catches them under his palm, and then lifts his hand to his face, dully noting the stains of fresh ink on his skin from England’s pen.
He smiles grimly, rolls one shoulder back and loops a hasty signature alongside the first.
“Thank Christ.” England stands with a noisy scrape of his chair and heads at once for the door. “That’s finally over with.”
“Why does it matter, if it means nothing?” France calls after him, still turning the pen over in his fingers.
England stops in the doorway, but says nothing and does not look around. Very soon he starts walking again, and slams the door behind him.
-
The Entente Cordiale was signed in London on the 8th of April, 1904. Its purpose was to prevent France and the UK from having to fight in the Russo-Japanese War (France being allied with Russia, and the UK with Japan). It consisted of a series of agreements regarding the two nations’ colonial claims in various regions, and wasn’t generally considered very solid or meaningful at the time.
Although this whole fic is already on the kink meme, I'll be posting the chapters separately to my personal journal, since that's the way they're meant to be read.
So I haven't posted on LJ in months. Uh. Hi.
On to chapter 2 ->
Rating: G for this chapter; R for the whole fic
Characters & Pairings: England/France, America; mentions of Japan, Russia and Spain
Warnings: None for this chapter. In the whole fic, language, some blood, and sex.
Notes: De-anon from the kink meme; originally written for this prompt.
Summary: 1904, 2004, and a few moments in between. In which France and England talk, fight, kiss and confound their way towards some form of progress.
-
Year Zero
“Well, then,” says England, arms folded tightly across his chest as if to shield himself.
France has one ankle resting on his opposite knee and a cigarette in his fingers. “Quite so.”
They stare at the documents on the long tabletop in between them.
“I must inform you,” England says, as his fingers begin to tap rhythmically against his elbow, “that this means nothing.”
“But of course.” France dislodges some ash from the end of the paper cylinder with a delicate, slender finger. “We can agree that from its terms.”
England nods emphatically. “Nothing in it.”
“Wasted ink.”
“Inconsequential.”
“Meaningless.”
They fall silent again. England taps his fingers harder upon his arm until their noise is audible, and glowers in turn at France, at the table just in front of him, and at the papers. France smokes his cigarette.
“Well, aren’t you going to sign it?” England bursts out.
France makes a lethargic movement of his hand, wafting smoke across the table. “After you, my friend. I will allow you the honour.”
“Oh, I’m sure,” England sneers, and in an abrupt show of defiance he snatches up a pen and yanks the agreement towards him. France, surprised by this level of movement, raises his eyebrows and tilts his head in curiosity.
Holding the pen in his fist, England glares at the paper for a long time, remaining motionless. At one point, his brow gives an aggressive twitch.
“It won’t change anything,” he reminds France at last. “I don’t know why I’m bothering.”
“Politics,” France says, shifts his lifted leg so that it crosses the other at the knee. “Only politics. Pragmatism, I might say.”
“I would hardly call an alliance with you practical.”
“It isn’t an alliance,” France says, airily yet very swiftly.
England flicks his eyes down at the document. “No. Of course not.”
France hums, looking up at the ceiling for a time as if in devout contemplation as he takes the final few draws from the cigarette. He puts it out carefully in the ashtray between them, folds his fingers together and examines his nails intently, and then at last looks back at England.
“Will you please get on with it?” he snaps suddenly.
Starting, England’s head jerks up to look at him, and then back down. His brow furrows.
“This is because of Japan,” he says, with the tone of somebody who is very concerned that their addressee should understand them.
“And of Russia, yes.” France leans slightly forwards.
England scowls, takes a deep breath, and then signs with a violent jerk of his wrist.
France lets out a long sigh through his nose, staring at the letters scrawled upon the paper. “Well, then. Good. Wonderful.”
“Your turn.” England pushes hard on the documents and sends them skidding down the table. France catches them under his palm, and then lifts his hand to his face, dully noting the stains of fresh ink on his skin from England’s pen.
He smiles grimly, rolls one shoulder back and loops a hasty signature alongside the first.
“Thank Christ.” England stands with a noisy scrape of his chair and heads at once for the door. “That’s finally over with.”
“Why does it matter, if it means nothing?” France calls after him, still turning the pen over in his fingers.
England stops in the doorway, but says nothing and does not look around. Very soon he starts walking again, and slams the door behind him.
-
The Entente Cordiale was signed in London on the 8th of April, 1904. Its purpose was to prevent France and the UK from having to fight in the Russo-Japanese War (France being allied with Russia, and the UK with Japan). It consisted of a series of agreements regarding the two nations’ colonial claims in various regions, and wasn’t generally considered very solid or meaningful at the time.
Although this whole fic is already on the kink meme, I'll be posting the chapters separately to my personal journal, since that's the way they're meant to be read.
So I haven't posted on LJ in months. Uh. Hi.
On to chapter 2 ->