1. Chapter 1 (1/2)

i don't know much about foreign affairs, being an alfredian and all...but i tried my best. that was a joke...heh. not really aiming for any specific stuff though really...um, timeline is present-day. my first time writing these two, so i hope it turned out all right. another cheesy ending, beware.

written for kanki youji. i hope it's to you're liking ^^ angst-fluff, yes?

"if we want to change europe my dear

itish friends - and we frenchmen do wish to change europe - we need you inside europe to help us do so, not standing on the outside."

~president nicolas sarkozy

"angleterre!" a familiar voice called, echoing throughout the halls of england's home. said nation frowned to himself, setting his tea cup back on its saucer before leaning back. crossing his arms firmly over his chest, he prepared to face his long-time acquaintance.

"there you are!" france greeted enthusiastically, although the not entirely innocent glee in his eyes sparked immediate annoyance in the other.

"oi, what do you want, france?" the green-eyed one inquired, already riled up.

"can't i visit once in awhile just for the sake of visiting, mon cher?" france defended, taking a seat beside the englishman at his kitchen table, uninvited.

"i wish you wouldn't, frog-leg," england

istled, crossing his legs primly, and taking a sip of tea as he turned away to look out the kitchen window.

a triangle of birds passed by overhead, dark shapes against the clouded sky. it was particularly cold for early spring, the wind adding a harsh chill to the usual dreary weather. rainy, always rainy.

"il gèle!" france exclaimed, as if reading england's mind, running his hands up and down his arms for emphasis. "mon dieu, angleterre, how do you live in this?"

"the heating is out," the

it explained, no hint of apology in his voice as he drained the last of his tea. "the fire is on, though, if you would prefer to sit there."

wordlessly, france got to his feet and made his way into the adjoining room, not waiting to be led. he knew this house so well, perhaps as well as his own. at the idea, another surge of irritation flooded through england. bloody daft frog.

grudgingly, he followed after france, settling on the floor beside the other near the fire after a stretch, legs folded carefully beneath him, hands in his lap, back ramrod straight.

"angleterre!" the blue-eyed one reprimanded, chuckling a beautiful chime that made the younger nation's heart twinge with a vaguely pleasant sensation, before he allowed the familiar vexation to overcome him once more. "you need to relax."

he made to touch the

it, but his hand was smacked away angrily. "don't touch me, bloody git!"

"mon cher, calm…" france placated, smiling disarmingly. "it's just the two of us, no one else."

"that's precisely the issue," england crossed his arms again. "we don't get along, france. stop trying to act as if we do."

"the way you say that, angleterre, such conviction…" france straightened slightly, though his limbs still sprawled in a carelessly elegant way. "though i suppose we have had more than our fair share of fights. we're just not destined to get along, it would seem…"

"i know," the

it replied bitterly, thoroughly catching the frenchman off guard.

"mon dieu, you just agreed with me…?" france replied in half mocking disbelief, hoping to incite a more familiar reaction from the other nation. "the world must be ending!"

"i'm serious, francis!" england shouted in aggravation, before looking into the fire, expression morphing into one of profound melancholy. "i'm serious…"

and france knew the other nation was serious. dead serious. rarely, did the

it ever call him by his proper title of "france" much less his given name. and the behavior…not characteristic of his dear friend at all.

"i'm so tired of fighting," england continued, head in his hands. "so many years…so many fruitless years. but i can't see anything ever being different. i can't."

"don't say that, angleterre," the older nation interceded, placing a comforting hand on the younger's shoulder. "sure we've had tough spots, but we've gotten along at points. it hasn't been all bad, it hasn't…"

"but we keep regressing!" england argued, remorse creeping into his tone. "we're stuck in a circle of violence. this stupid bleeding cycle. and we can't get out. i don't want things to keep on this way. fighting one moment, civil the next. we're too old for this, francis, too old…"