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The Talk

France glared as the rain pelted the thick witch glass of the window, ignoring the collected works of Shakespeare in his lap. It was not his ideal choice for entertainment, but it was the only reading material that he could find or more accurately the only reading material England would let him find in the house. Even then it was only the Bard's most dramatic and thoroughly depressing plays(he doubted that Scotland approved of 'The Play That Must Not Be Named') and not some of his light pretty sonnets or even his whimsical Midsummer's Night. France would love a Puck right about now to lighten his mood. He sighed, leaving puffs of condensation on the frigid warped glass and supposed it could be worse. France had personally been dreading a day like today, with iron gray skies and rain coming down so heavy and thick it looked solid. He had been half expected a tantrum from America at the first hint of house arrest and a constant stream of profanities from England in reaction to it.

Instead, England had simply nodded at the state of the weather and gone about his business of ruining breakfast, mentioning to the twins in passing that they would be spending the day inside. To France's surprise, America had agreed and much more, looked excited about it, whispering to his twin all through breakfast. The meal had taken longer than normal of course. France had let England humiliate himself first before taking over completely to produce crepes so light and airy angels could have slept on them.

The anticipation from the little ones only grew afterward now that Canada was involved as the little ones waited near breathless and danced impatiently from foot to foot for the older nations to finish cleaning up. France found himself just as curious as he dried the last of the dishes, America's excitement contagious to all except England who looked utterly calm. France refused to ask him what was going on just on principle but stuck close as England led the little ones out of the kitchen and to the largest sitting room of the house, the twins following after him like little ducklings.

There, England started to unlock several large chests that France had never really noticed before. He considered most, if not all, of England's furniture boringly functional. France was surprised at what was pulled from them and in such great amount.

Upon their arrival some time ago for this experimental visit, France had thought it was odd that America didn't have any toys. He knew England was callous but the rosbif seemed to have a genuine soft spot of the new nation. With the exception of a pink stuffed bunny that America took to bed with him, the little nation appeared to have no other toys.

Until now…..

Blocks and balls of all sizes and colors followed a small army of stuffed animals in every species imaginable (with more than a few unicorns France noted in the mix and even a dragon or two) onto the floor. Costumes, all the twin's size and in amazing detail, were shaken out and checked for tears and other damages associated with America's play and acts of heroism. Thick sheaves of heavy paper were straightened out and weighted down with sticks of charcoal, paints, and brushes. Books, hefty leather bound tomes full of pictures, were reverently taken out and set aside for later in the evening. Hand puppets, toy soldiers, and even a miniature tea set were produced as well along with an assortment of large fluffy blanket and many a soft cushion, the masonry for a pillow fort. After everything was sorted and set out, England simply told the children to stay in the room and try to keep it down to a dull roar before leaving for the adjoining parlor, shutting the door behind him but leaving it open just enough to hear what was going on.

France followed to find the island nation already set up by the fire in a comfortable chair with a book within reach, and his embroidery basket and project set out. Accompanied by a full pot of tea, it was obvious that England was planned for the day as well, leaving France with nothing to do. A vicious smirk on England's lips confirmed this notion as he otherwise pointedly ignored France in favor of his book, tea, and subjective silence.

Sleeping through the day had turned out to be useless. The rain was too noisy and England's house too small to fully muffle the sound of it. France longed for the seemingly endless rooms of Versailles where he could have hid from the pitter patter of raindrop under art, music, and charming company.

Speaking of charming company, there was none to be found here at least in France's opinion. Conversation was out. England stuck to uninterested monosyllables when asked any questions and flat out ignored insults in favor of the printed word or his cross stitch. France chalked it up to an unfair advantage of dealing with this sort of weather. England wasn't exactly known for its sunshine or arid state after all.

The insults that danced on the end of France's tongue curled up and dead sooner than he would of liked as the amorous nation studied his island neighbor. England was near professional at beginning alone. While it had its obvious downsides, it also meant that England was very good at entertaining himself. He worked with a focus on his embroidery that bordered on the obsessive as an entire garden started to emerge on the face of the plain sheet of cotton. France had no idea what he was making but it hardly mattered at this point. England was obviously pleased and placated and that was enough to irk France into a full out sulk.

Faced with a lack of options, France was left with pouting over Shakespeare and glaring at the unfeeling rain until some problematic words floated through the crack in the door.

"So do you know what is llama?", England and France heard America ask Canada. France knew the other nation was listening because England paused mid stitch in curious confusion.

"Llama?" Canada asked back, his tone bespoke his confusion as he stretched out the word to make it take foot hold in his mind. The little nation took a mental leap with it from there, "Do you mean l'amour? Cause one is an animal and the other is a feeling…kinda."

"Yeah, no, maybe, huh?", America mouth vomited words, confirming France's suspicions about his intellect. In his opinion, Canada was obviously the brighter of the two, "Um, it's the thing that Francey Pants is always going on about.". France rolled his eyes at the ridiculous nick name America had forced upon him. Apparently, it blew some part of America's tiny mind that France's country name and human title were so similar in composition that he needed to make up his own way of addressing the older nation. It didn't help either that England snickered just about every time he heard it, much like he was doing now. France shot him a glare, but leaned toward the conversation. Nations were horrible snoops and gossips.

"That's l'amour. What about it?", Canada sounded miffed. A soft sound of clothe rustling hinted a shrug from the quiet twin.

"Well, what is it?", America was tenacious. Whenever he encountered a subject he took an interest in, he was the kind of being that had to know everything about it before he was satisfied. "You said it was a kinda feeling but it seems to upset England whenever Francey Pants says it.".

Ah, the heart of the matter, France decided. America was sensitive to England's likes and dislikes, sometimes overly so. There was still a deep hole out in the front yard from where America had effortlessly uprooted a fully grown oak with his bare hands simply because England had commented he would have prefered it in the back yard to give shade to his roses. France risked looking over at England to find the other nation glaring at him. Feigning a smirk to cover his worry, France turned his attention back to the children's conversation, paying close attention to it. He certainly didn't want America to get it into his head that France was a threat to England that needed to be dealt with. He was, but the super strong baby nation didn't need to know that and France liked where his kneecaps were.

Apparently Canada felt the same way about it too because the tone he spoke in next was deliberately soothing. "It's a good thing really. You do it with other people. Sometimes a lot of other people.". A gasp from England made France drag a slow heavy hand down his face. He could feel England's look of instant death drilling into the back of his head. "This is not going to end well.", France thought warily to himself.

Murder made mortal came in the form of a taunt hand gripping the back of France's head as acid green eyes burned down upon him like fiery hail. "You told him! About…it!", England hissed, the sound like a blade being freed from its sheath. France hadn't even heard him move across the room from his spot by the fire.

"Of course not!", France snapped back, keeping his voice low. No need to alert or trouble the little ones with unnecessary violence. No one was bleeding…yet. "He just kind of…sort of…..maybe walked in on me when someone was visiting, once or twice. I mean who really remembers these things?".

"Such as locking doors, you depraved git!", England seethed. The rest of his soft tirade was cut off though by the sound of young voices again. France didn't know whether to be grateful for it or fear for the worst.

"A lot of people? How many? I don't want to share.", America was starting to sound cross, something that made England gentle his hold on France's silken locks and lean forward. There was a pause which turned out to be Canada counting slowly on his toes, an odd quirk on the young one's part.

"Four…..no, five.", Canada confirmed. England's tight hold was replaced with a chokingly tight head lock.

"F-five!", England sputtered in rage, ignoring the hands that slapped futilely against his taunt arm.

"A misunderstanding! Spain came to visit and brought his entourage with him. Things got out of hand!", France managed to gasp out. He somehow twisted in the grip just enough to free himself, the two nations falling over each other in the ensuing struggle.

"I'll show you out of hand!", England yelled, forgetting about little curious ears. A small noise made both nations look up, caught mid act of attempted murder. France lay on the floor with his arms flung over his head and England right above him, his fist drawn back and his other hand on the amorous nation's throat. France risked a glance from the enquiring eyes to look up at England who was clearly trying to think up a plausible story of non violence for the two. Canada beat him to the punch.

"It kind of looks like that but with less clothing.", Canada said placidly, pointing at the older nations. While England's face took on shades of red France didn't even think was physically possible until now, America studied them with a thoughtful look.

"Ohhhhh, I get it. L'amore is husbandry.", America shrugged before turning back to his brother, "Why didn't you just say that instead of making up weird words for it?". Canada's young brow crinkled under the onslaught of thoughts he was having involving his twin and various points of his intelligence and powers of observation. Reading the atmosphere was obviously not going to be one of America's fortes. Through extreme will and self effort, Canada let it go, hinting to a wisdom that France had thought was years away in the making. It appeared America brought out hidden qualities in others without even meaning to.

"I thought you had a game that you wanted to show me.", Canada answered diplomatically. Luckily for everyone involved, America's short attention span held true to form, the little nation instantly brightening as he dragged Canada back into the room. For his act of merciful kindness, Canada was made a dragon thus proving that no good deed goes unpunished.

On his part, France spent the rest of the day torturing a critically mortified England who curled up in the corner under his own personal rain cloud, looking ready to die from terminal embarrassment. All in all, France considered it a day well spent.