NAME: Your Hands Are Cold
WARNINGS: femmslash, Iggy's mouth, FrUK fluff, feminine forms, France as the uke… again, Shakespeare references, some French
CHARACTERS/PAIRINGS: femme!England/femme!France ;; hints at femme!England/America
SUMMARY: England is tired of France running. So she shows up at her house uninvited. Or so it may seem. Kind of AU…
NOTES: I'm totally making up the names of France and UK's femme forms here. Sorry.
Ariana didn't know why she was tired of her French-girl running. You would think she would relish the time away from the blue-eyed nation. But it just wasn't so…
Green eyes looked out of her kitchen window into the misty morning. She didn't know what she was looking for the in the fog. Perhaps her Frenchie's smiling face would part the miserable grey that descended on her fair city of London. Or maybe England was plotting something. She looked at the clock on the wall, ticking its life away, it seemed, and sighed. Then she took up a brown suitcase and put her teacup in the sink. It was time to chase down France…
Francine just wanted to run. It wasn't like her to want to run this much, but the way Ariana… no. Ariana wasn't the one to blame. Though Francine got lost in those green eyes, and fell in love ten times over with the Englishwoman's bespectacled face and wonderful accent… it just wasn't right. Francine was a Frenchwoman, born and bred to hate anyone English. Anyone like Ariana.
France buried her head into the pillow she had been moping on and shut her eyes against the sights, sounds, and feelings that Ariana always brought: the smell of earl grey tea and… roses. England's national flower was the rose, unlike what others thought. Francine's flower was an iris, though… she loved roses a little more. And lilies. Ariana smelled… magical. She even looked magical… like something straight out of A Midsummer Night's Dream. She was Titania to Francine's lowly Nick Bottom. Francine was Helena, chasing Ariana's Demetrius, who was in love with... America's Hermia, perhaps.
But, in the end? Didn't Helena and Demetrius marry? Too hopeful a thought. Ariana was in love with another, perhaps. That was why she was so cold to Francine's advances. Francine shuddered and opened her eyes. All this thought about what seemed like one-sided love was making her sick. She had to stop.
She rose out of the bed, wondering where her perseverance had gone. She wouldn't just give up easily on this sort of matter. She was considered 'easy' by the other Europeans, also 'head-strong' to them when it came to getting into others' pants. But not anymore; she was in love, so she had stopped all advances on the others in Europe and around the world, too.
Francine looked over at the shutters on the window and opened them, thankful she was wearing a nightgown this time. She usually wore nothing, and looking out the window was usually quite embarrassing nowadays. Even if it was one-sided, she was still in love and still 'saving' herself for that day when…
…when what, Francine? She asked herself, propping the heel of her hand on her face as she put her elbow on the sill to look out. She noticed the bandages on her hands, but didn't think anything of it. She had been merely making her house more spring-like and… Francine then noticed her rather large rose bush was almost in full bloom, nearly blocking her view of the Eiffel Tower. She sighed lightly at the sight of her city surrounded by roses, but the image wouldn't last. The doorbell was ringing.
Francine had the decency to grab a robe on her way out of her room: one that was a lovely pale yellow with real-looking red roses embroidered on it. A gift from Spain when he and her were on good terms, actually. A memory now. Francine made her way down the stairs to the front door.
But upon opening it, she was surprised at who was calling on her.
"Morning, Francine. Hope I didn't wake you," Ariana said with a little smirk on her face. Francine gulped as she watched the Englishwoman looked her up and down and then as she chuckled when Francine closed the edges of her robe and crossed her arms over her chest. "Why so shy, Franny? You're usually… what do they call it now… easy…"
Was the Englishwoman mocking her now? Did she somehow know that she had zoomed in on just loving Ariana and now was mocking her for it? Ariana was in love with Alfred! Or Antonio… Ariana couldn't… She just wasn't…
"What are you doing here, Ariana?" Francine asked, blocking the doorway with her body. She saw the bags in Ariana's pale hands and saw that the bus was already pulling away from the curb back into the street.
"I came to see you. Is that a crime now? Come on, we're not in a war. Be civil…" Ariana said, dropping her bags on 'war' and gripping Francine's chin lightly on 'civil.' Francine gasped lightly, her mouth parting slightly as Ariana ran her thumb under Francine's lips.
She finally wrenched her face away from the dangerous touch and turned her body from Ariana's. Ariana blinked. Her playful strategy wasn't working. The Englishwoman suddenly turned shy and sighed, her breath turning to icicles in the cold shadow of Francine's house. For a spring day, it sure was cold that morning. "I'm sorry. You can act towards me however you wish."
There was a tight silence, and during it, Francine looked at Ariana through thick eyelashes and saw that the other girl was shaking slightly. Ariana caught her staring and crossed her arms over her chest. She was cold and… this visit just wasn't working right. "… If you must know, I did come to see you. And the reason why isn't to… mock you or fight you or anything. I came here out of… a deep… love I have for you. I… I love you, Francine…" Ariana finally said, her voice catching in her throat a couple of times. She wasn't used to telling people her feelings. Especially her feelings for France of all people.
Francine was shocked for a brief minute before she turned away quickly, her cheeks flushing an unflattering shade of red. She glanced down at a blooming lily that was off her porch a little ways. Ariana looked up from the interesting knot of wood on Francine's smooth porch and almost squealed at how cute the Frenchwoman looked. But that would not be proper for an English lady, so she refrained from doing so.
Francine then looked behind her at a low table in her living room. Inside, her feelings for the Englishwoman were billowing up again, and she longed to just jump into the British lady's arms. But she knew Ariana would never allow it to happen, being the rigid sort she was. So Francine looked for something to give to the other woman, anything that could express her love. She found it on the low table in front of the couch: a single red rose. She plucked it from it's vase and held it up to Ariana, who was now just staring at her.
"Take it, Ariana…" Francine replied carefully.
Ariana took the slender stem in her hands, noticing that the thorns had been carefully cut off. She held on to Francine's hands as she looked over them. There were fresh bandages over them, where bleeding had happened when she had carved off those thorns, no doubt. Francine watched Ariana's eyes dart over her hands and decided to speak first, "Your hands are cold…" she said sweetly, taking up the other woman's other hand and in attempt to warm them.
"Maybe its because you're treating me so coldly," Ariana replied, a slight growl in the back of her throat.
Francine laughed, but there was a catch in the back of her throat. Ariana noticed that her love interest's eyes were glassy. She looked like she was about to cry. "That's because… I thought you loved someone else all this time… and… and…"
Ariana didn't want Francine to cry more than she didn't want to show her affection for the other woman. Ariana wrapped her arms around the Frenchwoman and pulled her close, "That was a stupid thought."
"How I was supposed to know? You yourself have been cold to me. Maybe it was just pay back…" Francine replied.
"I'm sorry. I was just… being myself, I guess. We've had… such a tumultuous past together and I thought… maybe you hated me."
"Well I don't. I… Je te… Je t'aime, Ariana." Francine replied quietly.
Ariana pulled away from Francine to see her crying. There were only tears falling down her cheeks. Ariana used her thumb to try and dry France's tears away, but than only made the Frenchwoman cry harder. Ariana wasn't sure what to do, as she hardly showed her emotions in public. Finally the blonde woman looked up at Ariana and went up on tiptoe, hissing the green-eyed Nation's lips softly before coming back down on her heels and, still clutching Ariana's hand, plucked up one of the Englishwoman's bags and lead Ariana inside.
-is dead- Okay... this took longer than it should have, and now I would like to recuperate.
Hetalia yuri is so awesome...