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A tangled web of duty and desire...
APH: A Different Sort of Waltz 
25th-Apr-2010 02:31 am
Francis ► Touché!
Title: A Different Sort of Waltz [1/?]
Characters/Pairings: France/Scotland(OC), mentions of Austria and the Vienna "ball season"
Rating: PG-13
Warning: Sexual references, sap (h-haha orz)
Summary: In which 700 years of relations is not enough to prepare for a Viennese ball, a month of dance lessons and piecing together the scraps of a relationship long enough to make it real.

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Note: This is, once again, based off a conversation with moonlighten over the end of Love is A Verb, which is really just a fantastic Scotland/France fic and you all should read it.

Anyway, the idea is that this story follows directly on from that (I hope you don't mind moonlighten orz), in the first month of their "real relationship", the trials, the tribulations and best of all, NO SEX. lol I hope I can pull this off orz.




4th January 2010; Edinburgh

Scotland was not a fan of extravagant state functions and never had been, even back in the day when they had been the norm and he and Wales could not make it out of the house without England informing, or rather ordering them that their presence was of the utmost importance and there were no two ways about it.

Of course, over three hundred years of living together and having to suffer the complaints, the tiny glasses of champagne and Scotland’s utter refusal to wear anything close to trousers (if and when he could get away with it) had quickly put a dampener on that aspect, and these days England seemed more than content to attend the get-togethers himself.

Hogmanay had been no less hectic than Christmas and for all the good the drinking and spirit of the season had done him, Scotland was quick to find he was relieved at the prospect that it was over sooner rather than later. A lot had happened, half of which he was still trying to wrap his mind around, and France wasn’t helping any.

Though this was much rather due to the fact that he was lying on top of Scotland, who in turn was resting on his belly on the bed, a position which was rather more distracting than the fancy little rectangle of cardstock he was waving in his face.

“Oh a ball,” France sighs, and sounds utterly delighted at the thought of it, in much the same way any other person would say ‘thank goodness’. Scotland suspects that was how he usually spent his Christmases, instead of at the circus that was his last bout with Scotland, England and the rest of their family. Granted Scotland thinks it could have been worse, but then, it is rather hard to think at all with France’s chin resting on the crown of his head, his blonde hair curling in waves on either side of his face to brush against Scotland’s ears (which were very quickly taking on a very rosy quality of their own) every time he shifted. He pushed his reading glasses back up the bridge of his nose and turned the invite over.

“Vienna,” he reads aloud and makes a quiet, thoughtful sound in the back of his throat that is not quite like laughter, “Just in time for the season. How very typical of Autriche. Wouldn’t you say, mon cher?”

If he were honest Scotland would say that he probably hasn’t spoken more than a few words and exchanged general niceties with Austria since the Second World War or then some, so he’s fucked if he knows. He does however have more to say about France’s sock-clad feet, which were probably as airy as they were silky, and the toes that are currently rubbing up and down Scotland’s calf.

He doesn’t though, as the gesture was due to the heating not being on rather than any attempt to be seductive; because France never dresses for the chill no matter how many times Scotland has berated him over it, and so he makes up for it by curling up against the other nation to leech heat off his layers of clothing.

Currently his groin is pressed up against the small of Scotland’s back. Scotland hasn’t had sex with France for over five months now. Which, really, is nothing in comparison to the two hundred years or so after their spectacular falling out had the first time around, but it was the principle of the thing. As it stands he can’t think of a crueller, more unusual punishment.

But he had promised himself, had promised France, that they were going to take things slow now that they were in a proper relationship; that he had something to prove and he wasn’t going to fall into bed every time France so much as lowered his lashes and looked at him, sidelong and coy. He had shown a surprising amount of grace and restraint thus far in the face of Scotland’s stubbornness though, and a part of him wondered just how long it would last.

“Can’t say for sure,” he says instead, and picks at the creases in the duvet with his fingertips, “I was never exactly over the moon about the whole idea myself.”

“A pity,” France murmurs, and traces his long fingers over the gold-leaf script in such a purposeful way that Scotland lifts his head off his arms to watch. His thumb in particular, circles a certain few words nearest to the bottom of the card, deliberately obscuring them until Scotland gives in and brushes the motion aside with his own hand.

It proves to be a mistake, as France goes on, “but no matter, because I think we shall have a fabulous time, cher,” and the words plus one glare back at him in looping cursive. He pushes himself up on his elbows so fast that he very nearly clips France in the jaw with the back of his head. But he, probably out of centuries honing his dodging skills after coming to expect such moves deliberately from England, moves neatly out the way, although his glasses slip down his face a little, and his eyebrows have climbed up on his creased forehead.

Écosse?” he sounds a little uncertain, but shifts back himself to allow the movement and sits up some, so that his thighs are straddling either side of Scotland’s waist and Christ, if he didn’t know better he would think he was doing it on purpose.

However, he has to draw the line somewhere and while he was not very good at refusing France anything (coupled with the fact that he was far more bull-headed than Scotland gave him credit for), he thought it prudent to put his proverbial foot down on this while he still had the chance.

“I don’t bloody dance,” he tells him with the utmost seriousness of one who had spent a good portion of the near thousand years they had known each other being dragged to such functions on his two left feet and being made a fool out of whilst France flitted around, scouting everything from potential dance partners (who weren’t Scotland) to potential bed mates (who definitely weren’t Scotland either, or he’d have kicked them in the teeth when France wasn’t looking). He cleared his throat. “You know this.”

Clearly this didn’t seem to be much of a problem from his point of view, as France’s thin brows swooped down almost immediately, though his expression was one of confusion rather than annoyance. “Oh, well I suppose you don’t have to dance if you don’t want to, mon cœur.” He hesitated, and then offered, “I thought we could make a date out of it.”

A majority of the time Scotland didn’t want to, but France came alive in the face of such splendour; he had quickly grown bored in the past when Scotland didn’t seem to share his enthusiasm for the event and often ended up on the arm of another guest soon after, another reason that coupled with England’s incessant nagging had done more than its share of damage to put Scotland off the hype of balls for centuries to come.

He runs his hand through his hair. “Look if that’s all it is, I’ll take you out to dinner – ” but pauses halfway through his sentence when the corners of France’s mouth turn down sharply.

“I thought,” he reiterated again, in that slow deliberate way he tended to incline towards whenever Scotland did something to offend his delicate sensibilities, “that we agreed to compromise. I am not asking you,” and here he waved the card in Scotland’s face, “out of any obligation Écosse, make no mistake about that.”

Scotland opened his mouth with the intention of making a cutting remark of his own, but when he closed it again he realized no words, nor a sound argument had yet to spring forth. He rolled out from under France instead, narrowed his eyes at him from the other end of the bed and did not say that in fact the word “compromise” was supposed to work in Scotland’s favour, seeing how he had already done his fair share of being at the other nation’s every beck and call and it was high time they evened out the playing field.

“Well don’t feel like you have to on my account,” he said sarcastically, “by all means An Fhraing, I’m sure you could find much more sophisticated company whom you can dance in circles with, make diplomatic small talk and nibble at those fucking tiny little hors d'oeuvres.” Which honestly were a waste of effort and otherwise good food as far as Scotland was concerned.

High spots of colour bloomed on France’s cheeks. His eyes flashed momentarily before settling back once again into cool indifference. That at least, Scotland could deal with. He’d only been putting up with it for a few hundred years. But then France sighed and tucked a stray lock of hair behind one ear, exposing the thin, straight line of his jaw.

“Has it ever occurred to you,” he asked, “that I should like to be graced by your company that night?”

If it were a joke, Scotland wouldn’t have laughed very much at all regardless.

“Christ,” he muttered, and rubbed his hand over his eyes. Maybe it was in his best interests to play along after all. “Alright, fine. I’ll bite. So let’s say we compromise. What’s in it for me?”

France blinked, slowly. He looked back at the invitation, turning it over in his hands. He pushed his glasses back up his nose again. And then he hid what Scotland thought was probably a wickedly curved smile behind the thick, expensive paper, until all he could see was the faint crinkle of laugh lines at the corners of his eyes.

“You mean besides an all-expenses paid trip to Austria,” he drawled. “What about a lascivious room in a charming Viennese hotel…?”

Scotland snorted. “I think you mean lavish, because bloody hell France who uses that kind of word to describe a –” He stopped, took in the smile that was now more of a lewd grin, and any previous irritation that had remained was quickly smothered by the heat creeping up the back of his neck. “Oh,” he said, and hoped to god his voice didn’t just shake, “Oh, well. Fuck.”

France hummed in his throat, tapping the invitation against his lips and looking rather pleased with himself, “I do hope so. I would like to enjoy your company in more ways than one if it’s all the same to you, cher.” Scotland didn’t have any words to say to that either.

“Compromise my arse,” he said when he did find his voice, and shot France an exasperated, somewhat awed look. “This is bribery.”

France hummed again and propped his chin in his hand. “Is it working?”

“I’m not travelling all the way to Vienna just to fuck you into some five star sheets France, let’s be honest,” the other nation retorted, and found with relief that he could say so with general ease.

Despite the appeal, he was just about willing to have sex anywhere at this point, although their slight misadventure that involved uncomfortable car parts digging into places where they shouldn’t, coupled with the awkward position and the expression on France’s face when Scotland had bundled him into the back seat of his Ford Escort had done more than its fair share to prove that he was alone in thinking this.

Granted it had perhaps been overzealous to use the car as an impromptu venue for a quick shag but then France had standards, of which he was always reminding Scotland of and probably lent to the other half of the reason why his sex life had been dry for five (close to six) months now.

France sighed and scooted closer. Scotland expected he was starting to feel the chill again and lifted his arm to drop it around France’s waist to rub small circles over his back. “Alright,” he said, “but the RSVP doesn’t need to be sent for a week or so. Promise me you’ll at least think about it?”

“I will,” Scotland promised, and made a mental note to bother England for details of this ball France seemed to be so keen on. And if the thought of Scotland attending one such function looked as though it might give his brother a migraine if he even thought about it too long, he might even consider going. For the memories, of course.

“It would be terribly romantic,” France went on, and it was clear that he was already getting ideas no matter whether Scotland had agreed or not. His knuckles rubbed against Scotland’s cheek, hair fanning out like gold on the sheets beneath his head. He traced the bridge of Scotland’s nose with his fingertip and really, he could get used to this.

“Hmm,” Scotland grunted noncommittally and carefully raked France’s hair away from his forehead. He pressed his lips to his brow.

The touching especially, seeing as how France always claimed that skin-on-skin contact had taught him many things about his fellow nations, strengths and weaknesses aside. He tried not to think about it too deeply, because as it was he thought he’d be lucky to find someone who hadn’t fallen to those whimsical charms, and that in itself could be rather depressing.

“And you look so handsome in formalwear,” he added, eyes fluttering shut briefly at the gesture. He continued to pet Scotland with the back of his hand, fingers tracing over his jaw and down the pulse in neck. It set every nerve on fire, warm tingles that pooled in his belly and intent on rushing all to his face, his chest and his loins. France hooked his ankle around the back of his, drawing their legs together.

“Did you know,” he said softly, conspiratorially, as Scotland started to caress him in turn, mouth moving slowly down his nose, pressing kisses to his cheeks and jaw and ear. His leg curved around his lower back now, arm tightening across broad shoulders. “I’ve always had a thing for kilts.”

Scotland huffed against his ear, somewhere halfway between laughter as he took the skin between his teeth and sucked at the soft patch of skin behind it that made France’s fingers flex and tremble a little, and his back arch just so. “Flattery won’t get you an answer any faster,” he told him. “But ta’ for that.”

“It is nothing but the truth,” France replied, his voice taking on a somewhat breathless quality; his heel was digging rather pointedly into Scotland’s back now. “I have nothing but the finest appreciation for clothing with remarkably easy access.”

Scotland nosed the juncture between his neck and shoulder, at the faint scent of cologne that lingered on France’s collar and the way it pushed all the right buttons. He palmed his hip. “You know,” he began, as the fires continued to race, building up the warmth until he was sure it was radiating off him in waves because France kept trying to drag him closer with his foot, “this bed isn’t qualified for any such rating, stars or not, but I seem to recall that it holds its own pretty well in spite of that.”

“Well I suppose that’s true…” France cocked his head a little, shifted around as though testing the statement and then smiled beatifically up at Scotland, in much the same way he always did when he knew exactly what it was he wanted. “What would you have me do?”

He had an entire mental list, and most of those things fell just short of breaking the bed in its frame while they were at it, but he wasn’t quite sure how to tell France this without losing half his clothes then and there.

Slow, Scotland reminded himself, even as he swallowed somewhat thickly when he framed France’s face in his hands. You’re supposed to be taking it slow, Jesus fucking Christ.

But the sensible part of him, the one that protested their skirting around this like they were teenagers all over again and was all for Scotland fucking France until the windows rattled on their hinges, told him to suck it up and deal with it or else go and join a monastery for all he was faffing about.

Scotland really couldn’t argue with that kind of logic, which is why when France pulled him down by his shirtfront he couldn’t really do anything but reciprocate, tangling his fingers in blonde hair and kissing him deeply. France sighed against his mouth, glasses frames bending and lenses smudging, heat and warmth making them look frosted over until Scotland had the sense of mind to push them back up over his forehead. He kissed over his eyelids, irises so, so blue and dark as they gazed up at him that he felt like he had swallowed his tongue when France kissed him again.

Except he couldn’t have done, because France was sucking on it in such a way that it made his head spin, and cinching his legs like a vice around Scotland’s waist. He was fumbling with his shirt, fingers clumsy on the tiny buttons almost as much as France’s were sure on the hem of his jumper, already halfway up his torso with the intention of pulling it over his head.

He succeeded, and suddenly there were fingers everywhere, dancing cool patterns all over his flushed skin and Scotland pressed France deep into the mattress, kissing up all the whispered endearments in incomprehensible French, which by any account, was probably as nonsensical as it sounded. The invitation letter lay forgotten on the other side of the bed; Scotland fumbled with the last of the buttons, cursing them as France left hot, wet kisses down his neck because fuck he couldn’t get him naked fast enough –

– and then there was the music.

Which was odd because Scotland had never believed the whole “choir of angels singing” rot that was usually associated with a stroke of good fortune, and least of all when he was about to get laid, but there it was, clear as day, albeit slightly muffled and vibrating incessantly in the pocket of his trousers where France’s thigh was squeezing around his waist.

He had managed to open the last button with a deft flick of his thumb, and had to suck in a dry breath when France’s shirt thin shirt fell open, chest flushed and heaving, and he shuddered when Scotland brushed his finger over a nipple, ducked his head to mouth at his chest.

The music grew loud and shrill. Scotland dropped his forehead against France’s belly.

“Fuck,” he muttered sourly, “Fuck I can never catch a break,” and was all the more irritated when it just didn’t stop. “Go the hell away,” he groaned, half fumbling in his pocket for his mobile as the nation beneath him made a particular noise that bordered on obscene, and Scotland’s ears flushed red because it just wasn’t fair.

What?” he said sharply, when he had manoeuvred around enough to press the “call” button, falling back to lie on his side and pinch the bridge of his nose with his other hand. “I’m kind of busy at the moment so unless this is really fucking important, I –”

It was one of his bosses. Not England nor Wales, in which case Scotland would have had given either of them a talking to the next time they met up, but in fact, a purely business call as to the whereabouts of the paperwork Scotland was supposed to have completed over the holidays and dropped off at parliament earlier that day.

It was also of course, the paperwork that Scotland had forgotten about entirely since the start of the Christmas season, and was probably lost under a pile of debris somewhere in his living room. His stomach dropped to his toes a little.

A mood killer if there ever was one, notwithstanding the fact that France would be heading back into Paris tomorrow -

“Fuck,” Scotland said again, and ran his hand through his hair, “Fuck, no of course I’ve got it. Of course, I do. Just give me a minute, I –” He made a face. France was kissing down his neck, making a sympathetic noise and pressing his cheek to Scotland’s collarbone. Christ.

He put his hand over the receiver. “Hold that thought,” he said, and rested his chin against the top of France’s blonde head. “I’ll be right back.” He kissed his hair, and cheeks and lips and that ‘why am I not surprised?’ frown that graced his features when Scotland pulled back far enough to look at him. “Don’t…just, stay there. Okay? Just, fuck …give me five minutes?”

France sighed, blowing hair out of his eyes. He looked just as annoyed as Scotland felt. “Cher…

“Five minutes,” he said, and kissed him firmly before vaulting off the side of the bed and ducking, shirtless, out of the room and down the hall. France could hear his heavy footsteps and curses all the way down the stairs.

He collapsed back against the pillows with a sigh.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

It took an hour of searching, another half to get in the car, drive the unread documents to parliament and pretend like he had found the facts and figures of the economy remotely profound, and then god knows how long through the late afternoon traffic just to get back again.

He found France in the kitchen, fully dressed and not a hair out of place, as though nothing had transpired between them in the time he had left and returned. He had, bless him, taken the opportunity to pour them some whisky for his troubles. Scotland took the whole bottle.

“Did we ever have this much trouble before?” he asked, later when they were sitting on the couch, sprawled so far down that his head could rest on France’s shoulder with the bottle nursed in his lap.

France’s mouth had been set in a flat line since his return, although he answered coolly in turn, “We never actively stopped having sex before, mon cœur.”

“Aye, but you would think it would actually be easier not to do it –”

“My dear, if you are not going to shut up and drink then at least stop hogging the bottle.”

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[Part 2]



A/N:

omg I actually wrote a fic in a MODERN setting aaaah. D: And a multi-chaptered one that's already more or less set out in my head. What is thissssssss.

Anyway, as you might have guessed, this fic details that short period after which Scotland and France got together, took things slow and didn't really get up to much sex at all. It was a frustrating time for everyone believe me. But you learn a lot about a person outside of the bedroom, which is what I'll be trying to demonstrate in this fic here. If all goes well orz.

Ball season in Austria - Held from New Years all the way to Easter, this time in Austria is alive with hundreds of balls, from Imperial to modern but no less splendid. I imagine "ball season" is popular amongst the nations too, especially France, who loves that sort of thing; I bet he would never miss a chance to show Austria up at his own aristocratic event ...though whether he succeeds is something else entirely. XD
Comments 
24th-Apr-2010 07:12 pm (UTC)
\o/

France. Compromise - you're so twisting the word, it's aweful. Why did Scotland think he could compete?
But I can't blame Scotland, balls seems totally boring - if at least it was in a little town, during the National day, but now - aristocratic and pansy stuff, poor Scotland (I hope he'll find a way to escape)

Good luck with the multi chapter.

And by the way, the right form is "mon cher". Always with the possessiv :)
/goes back to Scotland history book.
25th-Apr-2010 06:58 am (UTC)
/o/

I love how much he twists words into his favour. Scotland didn't stand a chance unfortunately orz.
But you're exactly right, balls are fancy and shiny and uncomfortable and a complete waste of time in his opinion. He's had to suffer through so many of them too lol. (Oh he'll try. Don't worry. XD)

Awww thank you bb, I'll do my best. Fingers crossed!

Oh so there's always a possessive? I find that curious, because in English you can shorten "my dear" to just "dear" or even "dearest/sweetheart/etc" as an endearment. Is there any equivalent in French?

/omg Scottish history book ;sldfk <333
25th-Apr-2010 07:25 am (UTC)
I wanna see him fly out of a window in a tuxedo now :p

Well... there's always a possessive with cher , you can't shorten it at all (even if this expression isn't really romantic in the first place :/)
Actually endearment word without the possessive is more the "official stupid nickname you give to your other half", like... well, people seems to like England being called "sourcils" (eyebrows) - no possessive cause it's the "official stupid nickname". So words like "chéri" or "poussin" can work the both way, but in case, just use the possessive :)

/going to write this fucking fic today orz

25th-Apr-2010 07:34 am (UTC)
LOL. I bet he learnt a thing or two watching Sean Connery playing James Bond so why not. I bet he'll make an epic escape. XDb

Always a possessive, okay. Got it. Thank you. \o/ (lol well I didn't think it was romantic. It's just a habit and is not really meant to be sweet at all. Actually France was hardly ever sweet on Scotland, unless he wanted something orz.)

Ohhhh I see. That makes sense. And lol yes "sourcils", "mon petit chou" and "mon lapin" are the ones I see him use the most often for England in fic. XD But "official stupid nickname" is cute. <3 I see what you mean about the possessives though. France comes up with some really interesting nicknames. :D

/CHEERS YOU ON /o/
25th-Apr-2010 07:47 am (UTC)
Cannot unsee the manryness *o*

(oh, yeah... in this case, it totally works, cause mon cher is a bit formal, and can be said with a lot of sarcasm as well)

You wouldn't even know with the nicknames - those are pretty nice and serious, but some others are so ridiculous... - I think you can create a stupid nickname from everything

/thanks :)
25th-Apr-2010 08:03 am (UTC)
Oh god I kind of need Scotland playing James Bond like burning now. I can't handre that level of manriness. ;A;

(Yes the sarcasm fff. I always imagine him saying it with a little bit of sarcasm and formality because there was always that distance between them... but now he just does it out of habit haha. Especially when Scotland is being, in his opinion, an idiot.)

lol how ridiculous? Tell meeeee. XD

/Fight on! You'll feel better once it's over. XDb
25th-Apr-2010 08:32 am (UTC)
O3O
O3O
France wouldn't mind shagging James Bond at all XD. Me neither.

(oh, France. So... classy, even when you're angry ^^)

Choupinou, Loulou, Roudoudou, ma choute, ma crotte (pooh), mon bouton d'or (buttercup), mon sucre d'orge (rock candy)... My parents call each other 'doudou' (which is the favourite toy of little children, the one they keep to sleep well)

/Playlist on, and poem of introduction found. I'll feel so accomplished tonight \o/(but this fic has awaken a need for poetry and Old French that needs to be fed O3O)
25th-Apr-2010 09:54 am (UTC)
He'd certainly have some competition if James Bond!Scotland made an appearance. EVERYONE would want to shag him then. XD

(That's pretty much France in a nutshell for me. Always so classy. <3)

A-Awww those are so cute and so silly. "doudou" awwww. Oh France. The things you come up with. <3

/Ahaha the playlist is always important! That sounds awesome! \o/ (l-lol I always spend more time on research than the actual fic itself...especially if there's a poem involved haha XD)
25th-Apr-2010 10:57 am (UTC)
And Scotland wouldn't understand why other nations are suddenly so interested in him XD (Hoho, Francis, fighting to keep Scotland's love >3)

(Hmmm... I guess he losts control only for the very very important stuff. But when he gets angry, it's not pretty XD)

He's very imaginative

/full of sexy love songs :p
I went to the uni library on a Saturday morning - it shows how motivated I am and found stuff for Fruk and Fra/Ger *o*. Thanksfully, I found a website with a full list of poems :p (some authors are still known today, so even if I didn't studied them, 5 or 6 totally rang a bell)
25th-Apr-2010 01:51 pm (UTC)
Ahaha yes it would be new and exciting and sort of flattering. XD (For once in his life he'd be shooing off other suitors haha)

(I think everyone shoud duck and cover when France loses his temper. Because it's not pretty at all. XD)

/pffft sexy love songs and dramatic baww baww songs. That is my playlist. \o/
Oh wow that's amazing. Go you! XD ;sldkf how exciting, I'm not surprised haha And now it's just a matter of choosing the perfect one. XDb
25th-Apr-2010 02:22 pm (UTC)
It would be nice to see that - I wonder if somehow it can fit in history (maybe after the 1st James Bond in cinema XD?)

(Yeah. I wonder when was the last time he snapped...)

/Not much angsty - well, a bit. But sexy love songs with sexy lyrics rrrr. And somehow the one whicch fits the most is one about corrida. I wonder why XD
I absolutely want to end with this one cause it's totally Scotland : http://www.lyricsfreak.com/p/pogues/point+mirabeau_20293804.html (hahaha, you even have the English translation, awesome).
25th-Apr-2010 04:11 pm (UTC)
You know I think it could. I was just doing some reading, and I always thought James Bond was English...but the character himself actually has Scottish roots because Ian Fleming liked how well Sean Connery portrayed him. You learn something new every day lol. And there's a story about how he lost his virginity at 16 in Paris lolololol ...I seriously need fic of this now. So hard. (hahaha yes. Suddenly everyone is all over Scotland in the 60s and France won't stand for it! XD)

(I can't imagine. o__o Though most likely it was during some war or bad governmental period and he was already on edge. So there were many more fights with England haha.)

Ohohoho sexy lyrics. I love it. So appropriate. XD
o-omg that song, it's so true. D: That's totally Scotland omg. I love it so much. It's perfect for him. XD <333 (And the translation just makes it all the better! \o/)
25th-Apr-2010 04:26 pm (UTC)
He has Scottish roots :O. Awesome \o/ WTF this story mwahahahaha . I think this would be a very interesting fic (/add to do list orz... it's expending so much I don't even)

(there's always a fight with England. Anyway, he loves it, whatever he might say)

Well, at the beginning it's a poem from the 1910's, and they made a song about it - I don't know about this English version, but well, the French version I listen to made me fall in love with the original author. (I'm going to enter the poetry kink. I write so slowly orz. But yeah, I don't have translations of the other poems :/. I'll try to find some, otherwise I rape the original version I guess)
24th-Apr-2010 08:46 pm (UTC)
A call from his boss. Ouch. >>; This is why it was easier 100 years ago, no pones! It took day to receive a message XD

Awesomesauce!

France lying ontop of Scotlad was really cute...
25th-Apr-2010 07:00 am (UTC)
Well it IS a weekday. I don't know how he expected to get away with it haha orz. And lololol yes that's a good point! Back in the day it took ages to get a message out and at least then he could pretend he wasn't home. XD

Thank you!

I like making them do ridiculously sappy things like cuddling, I don't even know orz. That being said Scotland makes a very good heating system haha.
25th-Apr-2010 08:19 am (UTC)
Yessssss, part of me was going: throw it out the WINDOW and answer it LATER you stupid man! >>; Parliament can't be THAT important XD But then we wouldn't have the awkward post-aborted-smexings conversation...


Save on heating bills, and make a nation feel loved, go and hug Scotland! 8D

25th-Apr-2010 09:57 am (UTC)
The problem with Scotland is that he just answers his phone without checking to see who's calling though. Otherwise he MIGHT have. XDDD; lol he doesn't have any excuse as to WHY he doesn't have the paperwork though, especially after a whole month. So he had to face the music orz. |D

Ahaha best ad campaign ever. I'd totally follow it. XDb
26th-Apr-2010 04:17 pm (UTC)
He should just get England to do it for him! Like homework, what else are little brothers for?
24th-Apr-2010 08:55 pm (UTC)
akskjfjd (why do my comments on your stuff always start like this?)

Aaaaaahhh these two, these twoooo! Oh god, poor Scotland, he never can catch a break can he? Poor guy. Meanwhile France is intensely disappointed. Please please please post the bit with the car. I HAVE BEEN WANTING TO SEE IT SINCE YOU TOLD ME ABOUT IT I like it when they're just being all cuddly though, it's a nice change. <3

Didn't know Austria still hosted balls, kind of makes me want to go to one...
25th-Apr-2010 07:05 am (UTC)
;flgkk;lfkg I don't know but I feel so honoured that they do. THANK YOU. XD

Their relationship is so fine. So perfect (not) haha. Scotland will never catch a break ever because his luck is just that terrible orz. And even if he DOES get one it never lasts. XD; France is entirely unused to sex not coming to him when he wills it. Especially now when he's trying to be FAITHFUL orz. Patience my dear I NEED TO WORK MY WAY UP TO IT. That's the climax, no pun intended. They are SO cuddly in private, I've told you this. So romantic haha. <333

I didn't either until I saw the LIST and wow. He has so MANY. That's so typical of an aristocrat, but I'm glad, because it means I can write about balls and not have to worry about it being set in a previous time period lol.
25th-Apr-2010 12:24 am (UTC)
Thank you, and I have absolutely no problems at all with the continuation as I love this and can already tell that it's is now going to be my headcanon for this period of their relationship! (I'm eagerly awaiting them 'defiling' England's Bentley, particularly.) I'm so happy to have inspired this in any way.

It really is a wonder that Scotland has managed to hold out this long. Testament to the strength of his stubborness, I guess! The UST is going to be absolutely epic in this, isn't it...

Again, I have to wonder if Scotland deliberately makes his house even colder before France comes around - leaving the windows and doors open perhaps - to encourage this sort of behaviour. (And I'm sure that France actually got himself a New Zealand jumper for Christmas, as well, that he could be wearing (even lumpier and uglier than usual as it was completed last minute...).)

And a ball? Poor Scotland, especially considering his history with them. Though anything that gets Scotland into formalwear is worth it in my view! And I love that France is using the whole 'compromise' thing in his favour, very sneaky.

Hahaha, I suppose being interrupted by his boss at such a crucial moment might finally give Scotland the impetus he needs to get through his paperwork in a timely fashion!


(I don't know why, but I'm so stuck on the image of France wearing reading glasses. I bet they really suit him...)



25th-Apr-2010 07:19 am (UTC)
I'm glad to hear that, I didn't want to step on your toes or anything since you already have so much of your headcanon extensively set out already. Which is why this is only a short period in their relationship haha, but then they never stood a chance of holding out for very long anyway. XD (Oh I can't wait to get to that part, I don't even. England's pain will be enormous.)

I think that it's half to do with him holding out (for once) and half because he keeps getting interrupted just when he thinks the mood is right and it'll be perfect. The UST is going to be glorious, you don't even know. For both of them. >BD

lol I wouldn't put it past him. I swear he opens all the windows and doors to let in some fresh air, and the cold is just so crisp, but it lingers even after France goes around closing all of them and crawls all over Scotland because he's the only available heat source. Just as planned. (Oh god yes. And he had to be polite about it even if his eyes spoke all kinds of horrors. It's a nice shade of blue, but really, the fleur-de-lis' look rather more like bird feet than a grand, heraldic symbol. He doesn't use it unless he absolutely has to, and even then not voluntarily around anyone but Scotland.)

I've always wanted to write a fancy get-together with the nations, so I was pleasantly surprised to learn Austria still hosted such things. Scotland just fails at them sadly. Even if he does clean up rather well when he dresses with an effort, in France's opinion. And honestly, France only goes because he's trying to show Austria up orz. He's an expert at twisting words to his favour haha, Scotland didn't stand a chance.

Well one can only hope! Though I have a feeling that he just ends up going through as much as he can in the week leading up to France's visit, even if he never finishes. But then he calls everyone who he thinks might interrupt him and explicitly tells them not to bother him unless the English are invading it was a matter of life and death.

(I think France half wears them because of the aesthetic appeal it lends him, but more because he actually does need them. They're probably chic and really expensive though, like everything else he owns. Not that it matters because Scotland is always taking them off to kiss him anyway haha.)
25th-Apr-2010 08:59 am (UTC)
Well, the period from Hogmanay to when they do eventually shag again was pretty much just a vague 'there's lots of UST' period in my head, so I'm really looking forward to seeing what you're going to do! (He'd want to disinfect it inside out afterwards, but he can't risk harming the panelling, upholstery or paintwork, so it's a terrible dilemma for him. I'm sure he'll want to spread that pain around extensively, as well.)

Poor, poor Scotland! Well I almost love UST more than the actual resolving of it, so I'm very much looking forward to that!

So crafty! And, of course, Scotland will have just thrown on a few more layers (and be bulked out to enormous proportions, I imagine) so he'll be especially toasty. (I suspect that it 'accidentally' got left at Scotland's when he was packing after the holiday period. I bet they look delightful together in their misshapen heraldic jumpers...)

I can't think that there's much that coould be further from Scotland's kind of scene. So uncomfortable. But I imagine France would absolutely be in his element and love every minute of it. Can't wait to see it!

(I just love the image of that. I hope Scotland is careful with them when he does take them off, and doesn't just go flinging them about the place to get crushed under piles of stuff as he is wont to do!)

Also, I forgot to mention in my first comment, but the idea of Scotland trying anything amorous in his car cracked me up. I don't think the poor thing could take the strain if he'd managed, for one thing; it'd shake itself to pieces and then where would he be?

25th-Apr-2010 09:49 am (UTC)
Well in a nutshell it's basically Scotland trying his utter best to take the reins in their relationship, but then France will throw his arms around his neck and they'll start making out on the couch but never make it to the "pants off" stage because they're trying to make it seem like it's more that just this. It's very frustrating for all involved. XD (I can see his hands just trembling all over it, like he wants to touch it but he DOESN'T, and oh someone is going to pay. In fact I wouldn't put it past him to chase Scotland with a sharp, pointy object afterwards.)

UST is always fun to write. In fact it's usually a shame when it's over so I'll try my best to make it last haha.

Hahaha yes, he'd just be chilling in his many jumpers and socks and be completely at ease, whereas France is just in a light, fashionable jacket and scarf, drawing his knees close to his chest for warmth until Scotland takes "pity" on him and puts his arms around him. He's very sneaky. (Of course he did haha. ...Oh god that's such beautiful imagery. Especially since I imagine France's is a little too big and hangs awkwardly off his frame, not accentuating anything at ALL, to his irritation. I bet Scotland wouldn't be able to keep his hands off him in that jumper because he looks so...well, NOT perfect.)

I can just imagine Scotland standing there awkwardly with a tiny glass of champagne wishing he could make like Sean Connery and just do a James Bond out the window haha.

(I think he just pushes them up into France's hair and leaves it up to him whether he wants to take them off to put them carefully aside or not, just so he doesn't have to claim responsbility if something DOES happen. He just wants to be able to kiss France as much as he wants, whenever he bloody well likes. XD)

It was definitely a spur of the moment thing. I suspect he was halfway drunk and trying to show France that he could be kinky too. Of course that plan spectacularly backfired when France hissed "Don't you dare put me down" and refused to let go of him, even when Scotland managed to get his pants down to his knees. He has standards. And utterly refused to let his bare arse touch the upholstery. So that idea went down like a lead balloon rather quickly.
25th-Apr-2010 05:30 pm (UTC)
That sounds fantastic! For some reason, the idea of them (deliberately) not having sex almost makes me happier than them actually doing so. I think it probably has something to do with the connection to them actually re-learning how to be with each other with their clothes on, and that just... Yeah, really happy. (Scotland will have to get very far away, very fast if he wants to keep all of his extremities intact, I think.)

I read in your other comments about them being really cuddly, and I totally agree. Scotland, specifically, has an awful lot of previously cooped up cuddling to share, I think. (... Why am I now imagining France wearing nothing but the hideous jumper? And why is it an appealing image?)

Mmm, James Bond Scotland is also a very appealing image.

(As he should. I completely agree with him on that score.)

I'm not surprised he didn't go along with it, no matter the circumstances. I suspect Scotland's car is even more of a health hazard than his house and who knows how long it's been since it was properly cleaned. (No fae to help him with that.)
26th-Apr-2010 08:14 am (UTC)
The fact that even France is trying now to make it work is what makes it worthwhile. So he tries not to grump too much over the fact that he's not getting any (which is probably a first for him). And it's nice to be able to write them remembering what attracted them to each other in the first place. (I think England would blame France for Scotland turning out the way he did. He's convinced that no one else could convince him to do such nonsense. And then they'd have to barricade the door orz.)

Hahaha it all works out. Scotland's been wanting this sort of thing in their relationship for years and France, let's be honest, loves the attention. So they do a lot of cuddling in private I would imagine. And in public...well I think it would go something like this other picture I drew. (Oh god. I'll bet he does it because he doesn't want the wool to stick to his other clothes orz. And he walks around the house that way because it's large enough to keep warm in and the look on Scotland's face when he strolls into the living room is always priceless.)

I'm convinced there was a period in the 60s where everyone wanted to date Scotland because of the James Bond success, much to England's horror. And France was jealous for the first time in forever and sought to monopolize his time as much as possible. XD

Oh Scotland just get a new car already, seriously. I can imagine France (and even England) putting down a handkerchief and sitting on that rather than on the car seat itself haha. Plus it's probably full of junk. Old beer cans, bits and pieces of his business suits, newspapers, magazines etc.
26th-Apr-2010 04:08 pm (UTC)
Very nice to read, as well! I was just thinking about that recently, as I was finishing up LiaV: given how shitty things had been, relationship-wise, for Scotland in recent years, that maybe even he was more in love with the idea of being in love with France, and the image of France as he used to be, than France himself, almost. Idk, I was always thinking about the change having to come from France's end, and that Scotland was totally secure in that regard, but I suppose the distance must have affected both their perceptions in lots of ways, so there's going to be a certain amount of rediscovery on both their parts, I guess. (Does this even make sense? I think I'm waffling a bit here... orz)

... That is so very cute. Ahaha, the height difference especially! I imagine France's fusses over him a lot - straightening his collar, brushing imaginary dirt from his clothes etc - and Scotland just gets more and more flustered, bless him! (England and Portugal are adorable, too!)

... France being jealous of Scotland is something I would very much like to see! I suspect Scotland wouldn't know what the hell to do with that at the time.

Once the Escort collapses into a cloud of rust, he'll just get another old banger to replace it and it'll be as filthy as the last one in very short order, I imagine, as he'll just get into it after he's been out walking without cleaning off his boots or clothes, and, as you say, just fling all sorts of rubbish around inside it until it too looks properly 'lived in'...
26th-Apr-2010 04:35 pm (UTC)
No I get what you're saying, and it makes perfect sense! I was thinking about how Scotland prides himself in never forgetting anything, which made me think that he probably plays over those initial few years a lot, like when both he and France were very young and how fascinated they were in each other. And that imagery just grew more romanticised with time, which is why I think their initial falling out hit him so hard. He totally glossed over all of France's bad points, to his own detriment. As for France, well... there's always a line that replays over and over in my head when I think about why he fell in love himself without realizing it, and that is: "I loved you when you were nothing"... which sounds silly and sappy, but important in that I always felt Scotland loved France for himself, before he became world-renowned and classy and everyone loved him for what he had to offer. He loved that savage little Roman colony who was always getting into fights and just happened to have a pretty smile. And that's what hits him the most during his rediscovery. (If...that makes sense too, lol rambling)

Thank you! <3 I think the height difference is what I enjoy the most about their physical appeal. Because I imagine Scotland wouldn't bend down to subject himself to that embarrassment, but France continues to fuss anyway. (I love England and Portugal's BFFery. And old, old alliances in general. <3)

Hahaha I bet he was completely at a loss. Another thing that I always feel, with France, is that he thinks Scotland will always be there, ready and available whenever he wills him to be. It never crosses his mind that other people/nations might be interested in him too. So when it happens en masse, like this, he gets a little possessive. Because god knows France loves to stake his claims orz.

One day France will tire of it and hire a cleaner without telling him, and then Scotland will return to the house/car being completely spotless with everything back in its place. And he'll have a fit because now he's lost sight of all his things haha.
26th-Apr-2010 10:36 pm (UTC)
No, it makes perfect sense, and I totally agree. Scotland no doubt had his perfect 'head'France, and sort of edited reality to some extented to line up with that which was so unhealthy for him and no doubt contributed in a large part to him sticking with things for far, far longer than he should have done. I don't think it's silly or sappy! I love that... I don't really know what to call it, relationship dynamic? The 'before they were famous' sort of thing, anyway.

(Sorry for spamming your comments with fic, but it just reminded me of a bit of the one I told you about with teen Scotland, and wee Wales and England (I haven't changed the names yet, though...)

Scotland was in high spirits now that they'd started walking again, and he shared tales of his people with Wales, sang him songs and spun riddles. He even told him of a lass who had caught his eye; a lass whose voice was 'as clear as a bell' and who danced 'like thistledown floating on the breeze', her feet barely touching the ground.

Wales, who had just begun to reach an age where he could appreciate such qualities in lasses himself, asked eagerly, "And is she the prettiest lass you've ever seen?"

Scotland chuckled, swiping at a tall patch of foxgloves with the stick he was carrying. "Naw, the prettiest lass I've ever seen turned out to be a lad, but he's still –" He cut himself off with a scowl, then spun the stick around his hand to rap Wales smartly over the top of the head with it.

Wales bit back the yelp of pain that was his natural reaction, knowing that he'd get hit again and harder if he loosed it. "What was that for?" he asked instead, when he could be sure that his brother wouldn't be able to hear the threat of tears seeping into his voice.

"You need to learn to keep your nose out of other people's affairs," Scotland said, gruffly. "And don't ask so many bloody questions."


... Sorry!)

Height difference isn't something I've really appreciated before, but I definitely do with these two! (And I just got distracted trying to find out what the next oldest alliance was, but alas Google just returned loads of stuff about the Anglo-Portuguese and Auld alliances and I am none the wiser... Also, I've just read 'For Dignity Has No Price' (I don't know why I haven't read it before, but, for some reason, as much as I love England/Portugal, I'd never read any before) and it was absolutely stunning. You write such amazing historical fic, a wonderful England, and I love your Portugal.)

Well, I suppose he's right enough in that Scotland always had been ready and available, but never thinking that anyone else might be interested in Scotland? Oh, France... (That makes me feel so bad for Scotland, yet again.)

Hahaha, that'd be priceless! Scotland had a system for all his piles of junk (or, at least, that's what he tells everyone when they complain), and now it's just ruined.
27th-Apr-2010 02:35 am (UTC)
I think for the longest time, hormones and feelings and such made him see France and by extension, their relationship, through rose-coloured glasses. And even after he realized reality wasn't so sweet, he was too far gone by that stage to simply drop it and go find someone else. Not that he wanted to mind you. And yes, relationship dynamic! I love bitty!France so much haha.

(Hahaha not at all! I don't mind in the least. We don't have any IMs or anything to chat in so this is the next best thing! XD And omg they're so precious as kids. I can just see Scotland leading the pack with Wales dragging bb!England by the hand along behind them. So cute orz.

Oh Wales, you know better than to ask such invasive questions haha. Scotland's young, teenage mind can't handle that on top of his crush~ He's so sweet and shy over it awwww. And such a stern big brother, smacking them all haha.)

It's not really something I actively look for, but these two have really upped the appeal for me so much. Now I just want to write anything where Scotland ends up carrying France around. XD (You know I never actually wondered about that! I have no idea what it could be. Most alliances were made just to last out the long wars nations seemed to have going on all the time. I think both the Auld Alliance and the Anglo-Portuguese alliance are rare instances. ...But I DO know that the Franco-Ottoman alliance lasted about 300 years. And the Entente Cordiale is just over 100 so...) (Hahaha well this fic journal is full of England/Portugal if you're interested in looking for some more. XD But thank you so very much. I've had such trouble continuing it because Port's since grown as a character but I'm still intent on finishing it. <3)

Well if you think about it, France went through many years regarding Scotland as "the noble savage" that he allied himself to just to get back at England. Only because he wasn't as posh orz. So I imagine it comes as a rude shock when people brush past him because they're interested in Scotland far, far more. (You're so mean France sob)

He'd probably go and make a mess again just to stop everything looking so clean. My god... I can just imagine France making changes to his house in the same was Scotland does to his apartment. Only his idea of it is setting up really arty pieces on the coffee table, throwing out all his messes and buying him new clothes and fabulously comfortable quilts and sheets for his bed. XD
27th-Apr-2010 03:54 pm (UTC)
Totally rose-coloured glasses. Makes me wonder if anyone on the outside ever stepped in and tried to give him a reality check. England, no doubt, but that wouldn't ever be anything Scotland would listen to coming from him even if it were true.

(Ta! Ahaha, I love them as kids! Wales and Scotland are just on their way to bother England (not that Wales really wants to, but he looks up to Scotland so much that he's very easily led regarding things like that) because Scotland thinks it's high time he got over his obsession with making friends with the fae, but, of course, that doesn't work out too well.

Scotland's a firm believer in 'spare the rod and spoil the child', especially when it comes to keeping his brothers in line. And also a firm believer in pushing them into large bodies of water when they particularly annoyed him, a fine tradition that he continued with the colonies he helped raise, too.)

Scotland carrying France around is always enjoyable! (Some source or other was telling me that the Franco-American military alliance is one of the oldest extant ones and, well, it doesn't strike me as a particularly strong one nowadays... Though it does fit nicely with some of my America headcanon, nevertheless.)(And I am, thank you! I'm looking forward to reading it!)


Yeah, I can totally see that, but, as ever, I'm upset on Scotland's behalf that he didn't see past the... rough edges more! Hahaha, France, you can't be everything to everybody, no matter how galling that might be!

Well, I'm certain he'd appreciate anything to make the bed more inviting and comfortable, but I can't imagine he has much time for arty things cluttering up all the flat surfaces where he could be putting all of his piles of unread paperwork etc.
27th-Apr-2010 04:18 pm (UTC)
I think Netherlands has said something once or twice but Scotland really doesn't listen to him either. But this is going from my building on their being business partners. He (like a lot of nations) pretty much thinks that France is easy, given his track record, and Scotland's delusional if he thinks it will last. I mean I like the Netherlands and all, I think he's a pretty cool guy, but I want to write him making some passing lewd remark about France (and Canada, because he has a thing for French-speaking blondes orz) that results in Scotland punching him in the face.

(Their childhood must have been fun haha. And oh Wales, I swear he gets dragged into all kinds of mishaps because of BOTH of his brothers. A pity Scotland's methods don't work though. Wales probably gets reluctant the moment England wibbles and starts crying, but Scotland won't stand for the tears so he smacks him harder orz. I bet he used to act all tough around France because he wanted to show off a little though.)

He's probably had to do it a few times so France didn't get muddy rainwater on his new boots. Or he had to pick him up and run after England kicked his arse orz. (Franco-American relations are certainly ironic... I mean they got along fabulously after the revolution and I always thought France took America's virginity /shot but these days it's just...awful. I think he's trying to do an England and make fun of France, but England just does it better lol)

France is single-minded like that. It probably took a while for him to notice how...soft Scotland was on him. And then he went on to exploit that religiously. As far as France is concerned, the whole world is in love with him, I'm sure!

......He probably brings sex toys with him every now and again too. That or I just want to write Scotland's kids finding a curious pair of handcuffs in his sock drawer and using condoms as water balloons orz. After which France chides them for their behaviour and goes on to explain in great detail their proper usage. I can only imagine Scotland's face. The horror. And Norway's Viking wrath when he finds out their minds have been poisoned lol.
27th-Apr-2010 08:49 pm (UTC)
... Well, nothing against Netherlands and all, but I approve of Scotland punching people in the face so much (for reasons that escape me, really). I'd love to see that!

(Yeah, Wales is always being pulled between the two of them, even to this day. He's just to soft to say no most of the time, and, yes, a sucker for the waterworks (which I'm sure England soon learned to turn on and off pretty much at will as a child for that very reason. Scotland smacked them for just about everything; very little patience for all of that nonsense back then. Haha, I can imagine him doing that and it's very endearing!)

Certainly more effective than a cloak, I suppose! (Me too. I think England would be a little embarassed by his efforts, really; just amateurish in comparison!)

Ahaha, oh France, no concept of age-appropriateness at all, I suspect.
1st-May-2010 06:32 am (UTC)
I really loved their interaction here, so sweet and funny and so, so in love. I can't wait to read more, my curiosity as to how this will all work between them needs to be sated!
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