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"Throw off your worries when you throw off your clothes at night."

-Napoleon Bonaparte

August 15th

"Francis! Do you know what today is?"

Eyes disconnecting from his elegant breakfast, the Frenchman glanced up. Enthusiasm abound, your smile grew upon locking stares with your lover. Francis sighed; your charm was irresistible. "Oui?" He leaned across the table, assessing you with a lusty smirk. "What is today, mon cher?"

"Napoleon's birthday!" you exclaimed, clapping your hands together.

"Why, it is, isn't it?" Francis sighed nostalgically. "Ah, my beloved Bonaparte…"

Disapproval invaded your eyes.

"Your beloved Bonaparte?" Your eyebrows rose. "I think not, Francis."

"Que?" Francis blinked. "But of course! He was French, after all."

Rearing to your full height, you retorted, "You can't have him!" Confusion entered the Frenchman's suddenly troubled gaze. Your glare was lethal, piercing the essence of his soul. Francis was shocked. Had he said something to upset you?

"Mon amour," he stated in a concerned tone, "what is the matter?"

Scintillating stare intensifying, you clenched your fists. "I said that you can't have Napoleon. He is not yours."

An epiphany struck Francis; envy had to be the reason for your reaction! "Ahh, I see what troubles my most beautiful lover! Ohonhonhon~!" He stood, hand slinking around your waist. "Fear not, my heart belongs only to you~!" He pressed his lips to your cheek whilst his free hand claimed your defiant chin. "Your jealousy is so cute, mon chou~!"

Before he could steal a kiss, your fist drilled his stomach.

With a hard shove, you snapped, "Not happening, Francis!"

Nursing his injury as he clutched the table, Francis exclaimed, "Je suis perplexe!" What on earth had gotten into you? He had no idea what he had done! "Je suis désolé! I am sorry, mon cher! But, what have I done to offend you? Why can't I call my beloved Bonaparte my own?"

"I told you not to say that."

"But why not?"

With a roll of your eyes, you replied, "Because he is mine." Napoleon belonged to you? The thought amused him at first, but upon seeing how serious you were, discomfort nudged Francis. Your eyes never lied. The deep admiration reflected in your gaze made insecurity flare within him.

"Oh please!" Francis ran his fingers through his silky locks. "And what of me, mmm?"

Advancing on you, the Frenchman snatched your wrist and pulled you against him. Disgust crinkled your nose. "What of you, indeed! Get off me, you pervert! Or I'll scream for Britain!" Expertly snaking his leg around yours, Francis pulled your support from beneath you, hands catching your back as you collided with the table. The tablecloth bunched beneath you as Francis climbed on top of your prone body. "Hey!"

Straddling you eagerly, he chuckled huskily, "Scream your pretty little head off, by all means." Mouth hovering over yours, he heatedly whispered, "Because I will not allow even dearest Napoleon your love." Lips falling upon yours with unparalleled passion, Francis kissed you with such determination and dominance that you had no choice but to surrender.

Breathless, you stared up at him when he pulled back, victorious.

Extended Ending

"You are mine, mon amour," Francis affectionately nuzzled the nape of your neck.

To his surprise, you started giggling, stopping him from kissing you a second time as he leaned forward. He lifted a questioning eyebrow. "Francis," you struggled not to laugh, "this is the first time I've seen the Country of Love suffer from jealousy…pffft!"

"Oui, but I can tell that l'amour you possess for Napoleon is quite real."

"Of course it is; Napoleon is amazing."

Francis's smile tightened. "But not as amazing as moi, especially where the bedroom is concerned." He winked and you grinned. "Care to see why?"

You smirked deviously. "By all means, blow my mind."