Don't {fanfiction}
Title- Don'tRating- K plus
Warning- France, minor OCs, mild gender confusion, flying mint bunny
Fandom- Hetalia Axis PowersPairing- FranceXEngland
Genre- Humour
Summary- Through idiotic brothers and his own mishaps, England comes to the conclusion that he must court France. Pre100YearsWar FrancexEngland, sequel to Hate Me.
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Yumi- Originally a oneshot, but I decided to upload it in three pieces
Bob- because you're weird like that
Yumi- and I wanted to have it finished by now, but I don't. So, hell, here's the sequel to Hate Me. This will not make much sense if you have not read hate me,
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Don't
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France was late.
England sighed, fiddling with the hem of his long shirt, grumbling in mild cusses as he leaned himself up against the tree, scuffing the ground. It had been a few months since he had seen the older boy, but those few months had made a difference.
England smirked. He had grown mysteriously tall due to one thing or another and he was pleased to say that he must be nearly as tall as France now, if not bigger. It would be great if he was bigger, but it was probably too much to ask. His smirk widened. France would have a heart attack or one of his feminine fits once he saw that he was no longer 'mon petit lapin'. England didn't really know what that meant, but 'petit' had something to do with small size, he thought, so he most certainly wasn't that.
He sighed, staring at the clouds roll by. It wasn't raining for once, which wasn't missed as he hated the horrid weather and it wouldn't do to have France crying about his hair getting all wet like the flamboyant fool he was. England let a breath escape his closed lips.
He bet he was still wearing that hideously girly dress. The bishop had caught England in his and he suffered a telling off worse than the one he got for growing his hair, which just proved that trusting France was not a very clever thing to do if you wished to stay out of trouble.
England was getting mad now. France had made the damn arrangements with his damn bird carrying messages back and forth to the mainland, so he could at least have the decency to show on time.
He dropped to the ground, blowing out his cheeks like a squirrel gathering nuts in a sulk. His brothers might show up and, as of late, they weren't on the best of terms for some reason, but, then again, they never really were the most happy of families.
England closed his eyes. If France didn't show up by the time he counted to three he was going to go to sleep; the frog could wait like he had waited then.
One. The leaves fluttered around the grass in the wind.
Two. A rabbit nudged England with it's nose before scurrying off.
Three. A young French boy was leaning over him with a bemused look on his face. "Angleterre?"
"I'm asleep, frog," the growl came and England squeezed his eyes shut, his face heating up peculiarly.
"Then how can you talk to me?" France thumped down beside him, crossing his legs and using his forefinger to poke the younger's furrowed brow.
"I'm magic."
"I can see that."
England decided that pretending to be asleep was too boring to be going on with and annoying France and reluctantly letting France bug him might be a little more entertaining than that. He sat up and narrowed his eyes at the other blonde, who smiled knowingly.
"You grew, oui?"
England grinned impishly, hopping up and dragging and protesting France with him. Leveling his hand, he made a line from his forehead to between the French boy's eyes. He let out a small huff of defeat and dropped his hand as France smiled. "Big brother is still taller, oui?" he teased.
"Shut up, I've grown loads," he hissed, his face growing weirdly hot again.
"I know, I know; maybe one day," came the infuriating laugh. England growled, but then stopped, bemused.
It wasn't like France was completely the same neither. He wasn't wearing a dress anymore and actually looked like a guy. His hair was ever so slightly shorter, no more than two centimeteres so, and less seemed a little taller too and was wearing a white shirt and strange looking pants that looked a bit better than similar, new and uncomfortable trousers England had been given to wear.
His face heated up for the third time, having just cooled down. He really didn't like this feeling of uncomfortable heat filling his cheeks. "Shut up, frog!"
France smirked, leaning forward, far too close for England's liking. "Still so shabby; now that you almost look your age, you'd think you'd want to look good. How do you ever think you could court a lady looking like that?" he crooned, pulling England's pink tinted cheek hard.
"W-why would I want to court a lady to begin with," he retorted awkwardly, "Hunting stuff is more fun than a boring, stick in the mud girl."
France grinned, "You've so much more to go," he sighed, petting his face in a way that looked stupid to England, "You are still so very very immature."
A scowl. "And you wonder why I hate you."
After France had left somewhere, England sat down at the foot of the tree again, confusion settling over him.
He knew what his face going red meant; he'd saw the ladies do it in the nearby village do it when the men carried their handkerchiefs and called them beautiful. England hadn't ever really been complimented, but he guessed it would be embarrassing; therefore, his face being all hot was a sign of embarrassment.
He growled as it happened again and he buried his face in his arms, much to the dismay of the mint coloured rabbit trying to catch his attention beside him. France was making him embarrassed, which gave him another reason to despise the older boy, surely.
"There's other reasons, Albion."
England removed his head from between his knees to look at his little companion beside him. "What kind of reasons?" he replied sourly as the little creature clambered up on his lap.
"Well," Flying mint bunny started, "The ladies blush when they're being courted. People blush when they're angry. There's lots of reasons."
England grimaced. He'd been angry at France before; hell, he was always angry at France. Anger wasn't it. And, now that Mint Bunny mentioned it, he didn't feel overly mortified when France had teased him for his height, just peculiar.
"That's stupid," he retorted, hiding under his mussed fringe, "Your first option, I mean. I must have been angry; that's it."
The creature sighed. "Whatever you say, Albion, but don't you find it strange that you haven't reacted this way before?"
Growling, the young boy put his head between his legs again. "'m not a lady," his mumbled, his face heating up for the umpteenth time. He wished the stupid flush would just go away; life was so much easier when France didn't look cool, but just looked better than him, before he grew to almost France's height so the other boy couldn't look down on him anymore. Life was easier without France, period.
Then it hit him. Well, sort of. Actually, he was a long way off, but it doesn't really matter.
"I got it!" he cried out, jumping up and pointing at the startled faerie floating beside him, "I'm not a lady, but France is a whole different story!"
Mint Bunny looked distressed. "Please tell me you're not going where I think you're going with this."
England stuck his chin up, looking triumphant as he proclaimed- "I'm going to court France!"
The faerie face palmed.