Work Text:
England tapped out a cigarette from its box and held it to his mouth, lighting it with the golden lighter engraved with his initials, a birthday present from the queen. Closing his eyes he took a deep breath in and felt his shoulder immediately slump with relief as the toxic smoke infiltrated his lungs. He leant against the balcony railings, enjoying the cool evening breeze brush through his sandy coulored hair.
England opened his green eyes when he heard the sound of footsteps behind him. He knew who it was without looking. Of course he could. After so many years of battles, companionship, betrayal, and heartbreak, they could recognize each other whilst being both deaf and blind.
“Why am I not surprised to see you out here all on your own,” came the voice behind him, “You’ve always been like this, not one for extravagant parties, preferring to work in some muddy field in the countryside.”
England sighed deeply and took another drag before turning around and facing the smirking man. He was wearing a vest embroidered with delicate beaded flowers covered with a dark coat, paired with a white cravat which filled out his neck nicely.
“What do you want,” he said, his voice sounding tired.
France’s face fell slightly at the sounds of England’s voice. He walked up to the Englishman and leaned his hip to the rail.
“ Rien, I just wanted to say hello, you have been avoiding me all night.” France crossed his arms and looked down at England.
France was right, England had been avoiding him. After what had happened last time they met like this, and the time before that… and the time before that. Well, England thought it was better if they put a stop to… to whatever was between them. But it was hard, oh it was so difficult. England just couldn't resist the sweet temptation of France’s affection, no matter how hard he tried, no matter how hard it hurt they just couldn't stay away from each other. So he thought it best if he just avoided him, you can't give into a man who isn't there, after all. Not like England would admit that.
The Englishman averted his gaze to the garden, “I have no idea what you are talking about, now leave.”
“ Mon ami, you know exactly what I am talking about, look at me,” said the frenchman.
England forced his eyes to look at France, his eyes taking in the golden locks of hair tied back with soft strands left out and gently framing his face. England’s mossy green eyes met France’s lavender ones. The evening was quiet, the night air occasionally disturbed with the sound of people enjoying themselves inside.
France carefully reached his hand out and gently grazed England’s gloved one, “You seem troubled.”
England quickly yanked his hand back, “What gave you that idea?”
“You are smoking,” France pointed out. “Not only are you smoking but you are smoking a cigarette.”
England huffed in annoyance and took a last drag before dropping it on the ground and stomping it out.
“Now I definitely know something is wrong, how very un-gentlemanly of you.” France smirked.
“Oh shut it will you.” Said England exasperated. “If you must know I am very, very tired and I want to be left alone, but no, I am always needed and people have to always talk to me because there is always a job to do that apparently only I can do.” The green eyed man clenched his fists, his fingers digging into his palm.
They were silent for a moment. France looked out over the garden. “You need a break.”
“Yes,” replied the Englishman. “Yes I do, but I do not need your help with that.”
France looked back towards him, a playful glint in his eyes, “why ever not, you know I can help you relax mon coeur. ”
“Because we both know how it will end,” England’s voice came out unsteady, ignoring the nickname and its meaning to the best of his abilities. “We both know…we both know the pain that will come tomorrow.”
France smirked, “Ah mon ami, don’t worry I’ll be gentle.”
England blushed and rolled his eyes, “You know that is not what I meant, you plonker!”
France sighed and let his smile drop, “Je sais… mais, don't you think that pain is worth it, I would feel that pain ten fold if it meant I could hold you in my arms.”
“Stop! Just stop talking,” England's eyes were wide and angry, “you can’t just say stuff like that, God I hate you!”
“I know you do,” France chuckled sadly.
France came closer to England and placed his hand on the other man's shoulder bringing him in closer until they were standing chest to shoulder.
“ Si vous plait, ça fait si longtemps. ”
The shorter man was quick with shrugging the hand off his shoulder but didn't step away. Though the hand was off his shoulder, the place it had been placed still felt tingly. England looked into France’s eyes, battling with himself until he gave in with a sigh.
“Fine, but not here,” he said, looking behind them towards the party goers outside. All that separated them from the ball was the glass doors. England took a breath and pressed his lips together considering his next move looking at the gardens, empty and quite below them.
Right, the gardens, he gently tugged at France’s sleeve before making his way inside, not checking to see if the other had followed.
—-------------------------------------------------------------------
The sound of laughter and chatter faded into the sound of the leaves rustling on the trees as they swayed with the wind. England was pulling France deeper into the garden, their gloved hands clasped together.
Eventually they arrived by a pond. There was a willow tree planted next to it, its drooping branches hung partially over the water. They approached the willow and stood beneath it facing the pond and admiring the stars reflecting in it. The water was so still it looked like a second night sky.
England turned to look at France who was standing slightly behind him. He was taken aback by the look in his lavender eyes. France was looking at him as if he was the rarest of jewels, the prettiest of flowers, or as one would look at a lover.
“Alright, no need to look at me like that.” England looked away with a blush, the faint sound of music could still be heard, filling the air with the soft tunes of live instruments.
He cleared his throat and stuck out his hand, “May I have this dance.”
The long haired man's eyes widened in shock, a soft smile forming on his face, “What is this? The great nation of England is asking me for a dance, I must be dreaming!”
England narrowed his eyes and waved his hand towards the man in front of him, “yes, believe it or not, I will gladly pinch you to prove that you are very much awake.” His own small smile slowly graced his lips. “Now is that a yes or a no?”
France let out a laugh that sounded dangerously close to a giggle, “ Oui, I will gladly have this dance with you.”
France lay his hand on England’s and they pulled each other close. They gently started swaying side to side, before they started guiding and twirling each other, taking turns leading the dance. They danced to the music for what felt like hours. Eventually the music faded out and their dance went with it.
Once the music had died down completely, they found themselves pressed against each other, chest to chest. Their faces were so close they were sharing each other's breath. Neither knew or cared who leaned in first but their lips found each other there in that dark quiet garden. Just the sound of the pond’s water gently lapping at the rocks and the rustle of leaves with the faint sound of a new song playing in the far distance.
Tomorrow they will be nations and leave each other, denying anything that had happened, with only the soft ache and longing in their chests that will remind them of the night before. They will go back to the insults and bickering, to the slander and threats. But tonight, they were humans, embracing each other as two lovers amongst the stars with only the moon as their witness.