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Story#102:

"What If"

"What if we were lovers?"

His golden-flecked verdigris eyes fall upon me and I smile one of those special smiles I save only for him, as he raises one of those formidable yet inexplicably sexy brows my way.

I lay back down against the tree trunk beside him, beneath the lazy shade of branches and majestic reddish brown leaves overhead, taking a deep breath of the fresh afternoon air under the sunny-cloud-littered sky. . It was a perfect day. But I don't think any day perfect without my young master by my side.

"If we were lovers…" I continue brazenly. "I'd 'old your 'and tightly…" I reach out for his hand to demonstrate this, entwining our fingers.

He stiffens at the touch for a moment, debating whether to just let me or to pull away, so I clasp my other hand over our linked fingers for good measure. He decides to relinquish and humour me with a hooded look instead.

"…An' I would never, ever let go." I finish, giving his hand a meaningful squeeze.

I hear him sigh melodramatically, and though I had returned my gaze to the clouds high above us, I could clearly see him rolling his eyes. Then as if the heavens wished to join in on the joke, I suddenly spot what uncannily resembles his eyebrows in two identical tufts of clouds. Side by side they look like a pair of fuzzy crawling caterpillars –I could barely suppress my laughter! Oh, and what have we here? Right beside the caterpillars is one particularly handsome cloud formation that looks like a frog with a beard! Incroyable!~! I excitedly point it out to Arthur saying it is a sign from the heavens; who quickly jabs me in the side with his free hand.

"If we were lovers..." I say after my laughter subsided and we settle back down against the tree, closing my eyes to savour the idea and all the joyous prospects attached to it. "Mornings would always be like Christmas, only much better! Because when I open my eyes, I would find ze best present I could ever want, sleeping beside me. I would wake up a little earlier every time, jus' to watch you. Your face is so cute an' innocent when you're asleep, petit lapin! So different from now zat you are –aïe~!" (Okay, perhaps I deserved that kick…) "An' when ze time for you to wake draws near, my 'eart would beat a little faster… Zhere are far an' few zhings more captivating zan watching ze sunrise… An' for me, one of zem is watching ze day's first sunbeams reflected in your eyes when you open zem..."

Some silence passed between us in which I was certain he was holding his breath…

"If we were lovers… I would devote myself to cooking for you every day. Jus' like before! I will not allow you to skip meals, as I know you sometimes do –oh, but with your food, it is perfectly understandable why your appetite has deserted you!" (I get two more kicks in the shin for that, but I am trying to be romantic so I let it pass…) "I should like it very much if you put on a little more weight. *Je t'promettre, Ar'zzur, you will love food as much as you love sex! But of course, we will also 'ave a lot of sex after, so you don't get fat like America! You will never 'ave to settle for your bland and boring—"

"Oh, but if we were lovers~!" my little bunny hastily interjects, catching me off-guard and pinning me to the ground.

Ah, how I secretly adore it when mon Angleterre is forceful and bossy…

"I couldn't possibly let you do all the cooking now could I, love? No, I think not! I shall see to it that you have the privilege of sampling my cooking now and then! And that you gobble it up like a good little lover or else… you won't get any desert, even if you beg me~" His hands wrap around my neck, and for a moment I think he'll tighten his grip, but in the next instant his hands travel upward; his fingers tracing the scruff lining my jaw and teasing my lower lip… And my heart is pounding in my ears, as always, so utterly seduced.

"So cruel. Yet so very sexy…" I growl breathless.

A brief struggle ensues, that ends as soon as I sit atop his pubis and have both his wrists firmly restrained. "If we were lovers, I wouldn't 'ave to 'old back… No longer will I 'ave to fantasize about you naked an' flushed in my bed, moaning an' screaming my name as I pleasure you until you are completely undone! I assure you, mon cher, you will be ze one begging me for mercy!" I bend down to press my lips to the edge of his lips, and he doesn't turn away, but instead glares daggers up at me in spite of the growing roses in his cheeks.

"Bloody wanker..." my little Englishman grunts, trying once again to free himself.

After only a few seconds, I feel his resistance melt away, along with his defiant expression. His lashes fall to half-lidded pools of green, his mouth parts ever so slightly and he flicks out his tongue to lick at the spot where my lips were. And that was all a man could do to resist and forget all else… (Who am I to refuse such an irresistible offer? I am but a fool madly in love…) I lean down eagerly but before our lips connect, I find myself against the ground once again, our positions reversed in an instant (and merde! I can't believe I fell for his demure submissive act, yet again!). But I won't surrender to him so easily. We briefly roll and wrestle again, before I let him think he's won (I knew he was going to punch me there and twist my arm in the process, and of course I let him, being the generous *grand frère that I am…).

"Tsk, such a gentleman, mon cher jeune maître!*" I pant out of breath as he settles his sexy derriere atop my chest this time, rather letting me enjoy the view too. He is sweet like that, my petit ange.

"You taught me well, mon cher grand frère," he smirks cheekily.

I have to stop myself from drooling at the how alluring my beloved native language sounds off his tongue combined with that oh-so-very British sarcasm. He knows he could drive me over the edge merely by speaking to me at length in perfect French, and like before I am again drowning in that maddening sea of confusion, as to how this closet hooligan could be so irresistible in my eyes; and furthermore why I still choose to embrace this chaos over the numerous takers who grovel at my feet… I suspect it might be some kind of curse he unleashed upon me…

I don't mind at all, actually…

"Even if we were lovers, darling, I still wouldn't let you have what you want so easily!"

"You never do, cher. An' per'aps zat is why I want you even more…" I run my hands up his long legs making him suppress a shiver and I take this chance to move to a sitting position. He lets his weight fall to my lap (which I confess feels much too sinful for comfort) and he allows me to coax his body closer to mine, his hands on my shoulders and mine on his waist. I feel my cheeks burn as it mirrored my love's own tinted ones, and my heart has resumed its erratic thrumming in my ears, as my senses dully try to cope with this rush of euphoria.

"If we were lovers…" I say softly, solemnly, to his bright green eyes. "I wouldn't 'ave to steal your kisses… I would own them –these lips..." My thumb tenderly strokes his chin, then his lips, and cautiously I plant a chaste peck there. He doesn't resist. "Your beautiful eyes… and nose… and face…" and for each feature, I claim a kiss, feathery-light ones, the kind I know he loves. "And of course, these sexy British eyebrows…" and I take my time there, kissing each one lightly at first but then I get carried away, unable to stop my tongue from tasting, and my mouth from nipping between kisses. I feel his eyelashes fluttering against my skin and I smile inwardly, knowing I'm exploiting one of his most erogenous spots.

"T-that tickles, f-frog!"

I laugh before planting one last peck on each brow, pulling away to fix my gaze on the entirety of him. "If we were lovers… you would say you love me back every time I say it to you…"

"Say what?"

"Je t'aime…"

I encase his lips in mine, and we share a tentative but passionate kiss. And I have to remind myself to breathe when I feel his head gently settle upon my shoulder, the steady breaths from his lips tickling my nape.

"I love you back…" I feel him whisper against my skin, more than hear it. I think I could have imagined it, but I choose to believe otherwise.

I kiss his unruly hair, greedily taking in the scent of him: Honey, Earl Grey tea leaves, and roses in bloom. "You know, if we were lovers… we couldz finally stop pretending zat we are not…

"Doesn't zat sound nice, Ar'zzur?"

This time I am sure I did not imagine it. The soft sweet-smelling breeze that ruffles our hair, the calming sound of rustling leaves, the birds chirping merrily about their way, and mon cher's voice in my ear:

"Yes, Francis… it does."

Our lips find each other's skin and what begins as small nips and open-mouthed kisses turn into love bites and hickeys; then fiercely sweet lip-locks, and well, the rest is easy to guess… You know, the kind of things that dear enemies secretly share when they think no one is looking…

And mon dieu, it really is such a perfect day!

The kind of days that Arthur and I like to pretend…

You can never have enough of those.

Notes:

*mon cher jeune maître - my young master.

*grand frère – big brother.

*Je t'promettre – I promise you.

(I'm sure you already know the other more common French endearments so...)

This was hard. Writing first POV France is hard…! 8I

I wrote this way back when I was overly depressed, which is why this is overly fluffy –not the mood I'm accustomed to. Then again, I'm not accustomed to fanfiction writing in general (haha)! I'm just plain clumsy in this art of putting ideas into words. Anyway, this was a sort of practice piece, and the drill was "short and simple" (I think I failed...?). All the same, thank you for reading, lovelies! c:

(10/20/2012 - 06/20/2013)

X-posted: LM_Artless {AO3} / frukdilection {dA}

My DBZ & other fics: MariekoWest {AO3} / MewrSaidTheCat {FFnet}{dA}

Original (Hetero-)Stories & Prose: Lovisa_Baobab {AO3}
Blog/Works Archive: mariexfolie {fc2 blog}