A/N: A short story written purely on a whim. Sorry for the ones that are waiting the new chapter of "Failing at escaping from Italy", I haven't been very inspirated for the last few days. Due to personal problems (such as lack of sleep...). But I shall update it in a few days! Meanwhile, enjoy this GerUK fic that kinda wrote itself.
Also, another annoying plot bunny has been bothering me lately and I've been itching to start writing it.
It was a common fact that Germany despised France almost as much as England did.
It was also a common fact that Ludwig Beilschmidt found Francis Bonnefoy's perverted ways very disgusting and offending (especially when Francis tried his luck with the German).
Most, if not all, of other nations were aware of these facts, especially the other G8 countries. While France and Germany weren't at each other's throats (like England and France were), there was still threatening atmosphere looming over them as they glared at each other from different sides of table.
Everyone was used to these incidents after decades of having to witness them, but lately there has been another issue that has been making Germany even more pissed at the suave French. And it was something the French didn't seem to be doing to annoy him. That fact itself made Ludwig want to punch the Frenchman every time he saw him during the meetings.
And what, you might ask, was this thing that made the usually calm German man so angry?
Oh, it was simple.
France kept flirting with England.
And why would that annoy Germany, you might ask again. The answer, once again, is rather simple.
Because England and Germany were lovers, although not many knew of them being together. Of course their brothers knew – they had known from the start – and Germany's two best friends Japan and Italy knew. As for others, Hungary might have a good guess about what was going on between them, but besides her there was no one else.
Not France nor America knew about them, mostly due to the Briton's request. ("It's none of their bloody business what we do on our spare time! Besides, that bloody frog would most likely start stalking us in hopes of threesome.")
So, naturally France was oblivious to the reasons for Germany's even more heated glares during G8- and World Meetings. That French seemed to be unable to keep his arms off from Arthur, always touching his arms, thighs and sometimes Francis even tried to grope even more intimate places, only to receive a firm punch to the jaw from the agitated Englishman.
Ludwig, being the closet pervert he is, didn't want to let France or anyone else touch his Brit in that way. It was a privilege reserved only for him.
Only he should be able to make Arthur blush like that, only he should have the right to caress his cheeks gently with his fingertips. Only he should make England sputter in embarrassment whenever his sensitive spot was touched.
Only he should say 'I love you' to Arthur, despite the language he said it in.
He could not stand seeing France sitting next to England during meetings, smiling so innocently while catching glimpses of the Brit on his side from time to time, thinking God knows what. Germany did not even want to know what the French was thinking of, although the lust-filled gaze told everything, leaving nothing to guess about his intentions.
And England would always be so utterly oblivious to France's gazes, only reacting when the other touched or talked to him directly, and Arthur usually ended up punching or kicking the annoying Frenchman off of him.
Germany did not doubt England's capacity to defend himself, but he did not dare to underestimate France either, which was why he was usually the one to break those two up. Why on Earth did they let them sit next to each other?
Germany could suppress his urge to kill off Francis until the end of the meetings... usually. On rare occasions, he did punch Francis, although not nearly as hard as he deserved. (And America would always stop him from punching again, in fear of WW3.)
He didn't want Arthur anywhere near Francis, but he knew he couldn't just say that aloud, since despite the past wars, France and England were friends. Although neither of them seemed to acknowledge the fact.
Personally Ludwig didn't mind their friendship, not at all. If that French could only keep his hands to himself...
Arthur was his to touch, his to kiss, his to love... not Francis's.
This feeling of jealousy was confusing and uncontrollable, like an eruption of a volcano, or any other natural disasters. It continueasly nagged inside his mind, disrupting his inward calmness that had resided in his head for a while.
However, he was glad. Happy, even, since depite France's efforts – which would have worked on many of the other nations – England never let it go too far. He would slap and growl angrily at the French, cheeks flushed in embarrassment as he gave a short glance to Ludwig and apologized voicelessly.
And England would always, always remind him that he loved only Germany, only Ludwig, and not that French pervert who had apparently chosen him as his next victim of heartbreak.
The blush on England's cheeks while saying all that always made Ludwig smile and embrace him while murmuring 'Ich liebe dich' to the emerald-eyed nation's ear. England would hug him back, smiling so uncharacteristically happily that it would make Ludwig feel giddy, and kiss him chastely to his cheek before pulling out from the hug and grasping the German's hand with his own.
Germany knew he had no reason to be worried about France stealing England away from him, not after hundreds of reassuring words and confessions and kisses. He couldn't deny England's so obvious adoration directed towards him, even if he was unbelievably insecure and vulnerable, since his relationship with England was something he hadn't gotten accustomed to in the past.
Nonetheless, Germany still wanted to make France learn that hitting on England as blatantly as he did was not acceptable. Preferably with his fists.