A/N: Well… I haven't posted in a while, eh? :3 But in other news, it's France's birthday! :D Bon anniversaire, Francine~! ENGLAND LOVES YOU. 3

So this a present for the ever lovely Francine Bonnefoy, not really a fic about her birthday, but a fluffy Fem!France/England and a little FACE family adorable-ness. ;)

I'm sorry if anyone's OOC… or if this story doesn't make sense. :)) Hahahaha.

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Francine dragged a chair by the window, sitting down. The warm sun was streaming inside… it was so comfy and the spring air was so cool…

She closed her eyes, she had been so tired lately, and she had finished up all the work anyway… one nap wouldn't hurt, right?

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Alfred peeked into the room, chuckling softly to himself as he saw France's head slack against the window sill, her eyes shut, and her almost often tired face now looked peaceful. Stupid Frenchie, only resting now… she shouldn't have done so much in the first place…

He pulled off his bomber jacket, quietly moving toward her, and he covered up her lap. Her lips seemed to curve into a little smile, and she stirred a little.

A corner of his mouth lifted in a grin, and he turned, leaving the room.

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As Alfred exited the room, Matthew blinked at the American's lack of his "awesome hero jacket".

But Canada said nothing about it, instead staying silent as he watched Al's fading shadow. Then he stuck his head into his Mama's office. Sure enough, America's jacket was tucked neatly over her lap, almost like a make-shift blanket.

He made a small sound of amusement, pushing inside and creeping silently over to Francine. Her curly hair was already falling out of the crown that held it up. Ah, Mama… we told you not to do it. You're so stubborn…

He carefully tugged it out, and her blonde hair spilled down onto her shoulders, but she barely stirred. Matthew placed the crown back on top of her head, smiling as he carefully ran his fingers through her hair. His Mama looked like a princess now.

He straightened up, satisfied with his work, and he left the room.

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Arthur stood in front of France, his arms folded. And he shook his head, muttering to himself crossly, "Bloody Frog… you shouldn't have done Canada and America's paperwork for them…"

The dark circles under eyes had been obvious during the day. She had even offered to help him with his own papers, but of course, he refused. Not out of concern! B-but… he just didn't need any h-help from idiotic Franny!

Okay fine, she had done a very sweet gesture for their former colonies, even if they had declined… she still helped them with it, doing much more than she knew she could handle, making them go enjoy themselves while she finished up for them…

And now… she looked so b-b-beau… p-peaceful… a soft smile gracing her ruby lips, her crown lying perfectly on her head, her bangs barely sweeping the tops of her long lashes as her head fell forward slightly, a soft sigh leaving her lips…

He felt heat rushing to his cheeks, his eyebrows pinching together as he wrenched his gaze to the window.

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Francine woke at the sound of birds chirping sweetly outside, and she rubbed her now refreshed eyes, yawning.

It didn't seem like I did a lot of work now.

She blinked at the jacket in her lap, Amerique? As she tilted her head down to pick it up, her blonde hair swished downward like a curtain.

She paused, picking up a lock of it and frowning, hadn't it been tied up? Then she laughed, it must've been her little Mathieu.

France stood up, inhaling deeply, that rest was a nice reward after finishing all the paperwork. For some reason, it had been one of the best naps she'd had in a long time… soft and warm… and strangely sweet…

She hummed happily as she pushed out of her office, walking down the hall and into the living room, where Alfred and Matthew were playing a video game.

Well… America was actually just laughing at Canada's attempts at playing; the poor dear seemed to die every time he pressed a button… and Matthew would smack the American's arm, telling him to shut up, though obviously, it wasn't really fixing anything.

She grinned, "Bonjour, mes chous."

They turned to her in surprise, and she handed America his jacket, "Merci."

Francine gave Canada a peck on the cheek, smiling, "And you too."

Alfred shook his head quickly, pointing to himself, "No! This hero should be the one t-t-th-tha…" He seemed to be having a hard time saying the word, and he stuttered on.

Matthew rolled his eyes, elbowing his sorta-brother sharply in the ribs to shut him up, giving Francine a smile, "He means we should be thanking you, Mama."

She shook her head, "No need, I was just happy to help… now, if you excuse me, I will be out in the garden with my roses." She wiggled her fingers at them in a little wave before she disappeared down the hallway.

America and Canada sighed; so stubborn, France.

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Francine walked down the hall, her head bobbing lightly from side to side as she sang a little French song. A door opened as she turned the corner, and suddenly she was standing in front of England.

She gave him a grin as she moved past him, choosing not to tease him at the moment, she didn't want some meaningless argument to ruin the good day…

Arthur's cheeks burned furiously as the smell of roses lifted into the air when she passed him, her wavy hair bouncing. He forced his eyes to the ground, a sound of irritation leaving his lips.

France glanced back at him in confusion, halting in her steps, "Angleterre?"

He jumped slightly, his head snapping back up, but he didn't turn to look at her, "W-what?"

"Are you okay?" Concern was evident in her voice.

England folded his arms tightly, forcing himself to start walking, "F-fine!"

She frowned, shrugging, before she continued on her way outside.

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Arthur forced himself not to think about what he had done earlier, but annoyingly enough, his thoughts wandered back, making his bottom lip tremble under the weight of his teeth…

His head turned back down to her, and he bit the inside of his cheek.

He rested his hand against the window, leaning down until he could feel her soft breathing touching his lips. Her hair smelled faintly of the roses out in the garden, if not sweeter…

Damn, he thought, goddamn it.

Gritting his teeth, his hand pressing harder against the glass, and he gently slipped his fingers under her chin, tilting her head up.

He softly pressed his lips onto hers, their vanilla taste flooding into his senses. He allowed himself to press a little harder, and a soft muffled sound fell from her lips, though they remained still against his.

He pulled away, straightening back up… observing her face; her suspiciously pinked cheeks… and he licked his lips… he could still taste the vanilla on them. He flushed, inhaling sharply, before he quickly ran out of the room.