ALRIGHTY!

To those of you who know where I got the title, THIS IS NOT A SONGFIC. But I got the idea to write the fic froma song- "What is Light [Where is Laughter]" by Skrillex.

It goes: I can't be your lantern/is this what you came for?

So, I was hit over the head with a story idea while on holidays… And I'm not really sure how you guys will find it. I mean, I love me some romance, but I've never written it before. This is the reason: I actually prefer pain and destruction. And comedy.

But it all gets put on hold when it comes to my favourite couples, which is why this fanfic, if you choose to accept it, will include all my favourites, but especially the best in the known universe, USUK!

P.S: Don't tell any of my friends about this. They will kill me for writing romance because it's out of character. And I know one FrUK supporter who will bash me up with her peace prize… [freak of nature]

OK, try to enjoy!

"But I don't understand," Francis said. "I made the reservation."

The waitress, nametag proclaiming her as "Gwen", shook her head and scanned the reservation book once again, brushing a dark curl behind one ear. "I'm sorry, sir, but it isn't here. I can't find any mention of a reservation for Bonnefoy."

We hadn't even been seated yet, and the Frog had already messed up. I may have been expecting it, but it didn't make it any better.

He leaned forward and put his hand over her wrist, a small smile on his face. Her eyes grew a little bigger and she leaned forward as, with the power of thought, his eyes became more impossibly blue and his hair more like spun gold. Around his head was a halo of pink roses. "Oui, I know what you said," his voice was soft, intimate. "But is there any way…?"

I shook my head and looked out across the road as France continued to harass Gwen. The bright cityscape of New Pyong gleamed against the night sky, filled with traffic and alcohol and streetlights struggling against smog. In contrast, the Purple Ochre was a low, Spanish-style courtyard beneath a roof of bougainvillea and fairy lights, the lighting dim and yellow.

"Are you French?" Gwen asked, a suspicious note colouring her voice. My head snapped around as France blinked uncertainly.

"…Que?"

The waitress raised an eyebrow. "Obviously, you're French. Now, answer me this: were you a political leader during all those explosions in the South Pacific? You know the ones, in the '50s to the '70s?"

I nearly laughed at the look on the Frog's face. Political leader? Try personification of the whole bloody country. He really didn't have a comeback for that one, apart from:

"Madamoiselle, dois-je chercher… Do I look old enough to be a political leader during this time?"

"Touché," she grinned, and brushed his hand off her wrist. "Be that as it may, sir, you do not have a reservation."

I took this as my cue to interrupt the rather intimate conversation. "Of course you don't have a reservation, bloody git. You couldn't have because you were too busy perving on Feliciano."

France had the presence of mind to look shocked. "I was not!"

"Yes, you bloody well were! You walked out of our room to make the call and Feli ran down the corridor wearing nothing but a dress shirt, screaming for the bloody Kraut to help him find his pants!"

France chuckled, looking distracted. "Oh, yes, and Vasch nearly shot him because Lili saw…"

"So you do remember!"

"That doesn't mean I was perving on little Feli! Even if that shade of blue looks wonderful with his skin…" he trailed off, eyes blanking out as he was pulled into his sick fantasies.

I rolled my eyes and leaned past him towards Gwen. "Reservation for two, under the name of Arthur Kirkland, ma'am."

She looked quickly down at the book and nodded, highlighting my name. "Alright, Mr. Kirland, this way please. I'm Gwen, and I'll be your server for this evening."

Ok, so I couldn't wait any longer before I knew. Reviews are love1 I know this is short, my author's notes are practically the same length, but we gotta do what we gotta do.

PLEASE TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK!