"God dammit, France." You muttered to yourself, tapping your foot impatiently as you glared daggers at the ground. "Hurry the hell up!"
About ten minutes ago, France showed up on your doorstep, asking to escape the pouring rain and spend the night, which you relucntantly agreed to. The first order of business was for France to take a shower, seeing as he just about froze his ass off out there.
You really hoped he'd hurry up; you needed to lay down the rules, make sure he knew sex wasn't an option. Maybe it was at England's or America's or whoever the hell people ship him with, but it sure as hell wasn't welcome in your house.
Finally, your patience ran out; he'd been showering for 45 minutes now, he has to be done! "France!" You yelled, pounding your fist on the door. "Get your ass out here!" He obliged to your request and opened the door.
Your eyes just about popped out of your head; standing there was France, his wavy blond hair dripping wet, a towel clinging to his hips that looked ready to slip off any minute. The Frenchman noticed your staring and his lips upturned into a cocky smirk. "Honhonhon! You like what you see, oui?"
Your face turned bright red from both anger and embarressment. "Sh-Shut up!" You yelled, pushing him back into the bathroom. "Put some damn clothes on!" You slammed the door shut, breathing hard. Just count to ten, you told yourself. You needed to calm down before you lost control and marched back into the bathroom, killing France on the spot.
So you counted to ten. You counted again in Russian. And German. And Italian. You were pretty sure one of these days counting wouldn't work and you'd end up ripping that stupid pervert's head off. It'd be his own damn fault, you thought bitterly.
You sighed, your mind picturing the view you got, and you silently cursed yourself for dwelling on it.
"France, sleep on the damn couch!" You yelled, your face turning even redder, if that was possible.
"France." You said, pinching the bridge of your nose between your thumb and forefinger. "My patience is running dangerously low right now. So do me a favor and listen to me for once, 'kay?"
"But why can't I sleep with you?" He whined. God, it was like reasoning with a toddler.
"For obvious reasons, idiot."
He looked at you, pleading with his light blue orbs. You met those eyes with a hard glare. That look might work on drunk women for sex, but, ho no, it sure as hell wouldn't work on you! "NO."
He pleaded somemore with those goddamn eyes and you growned. Dammit, he was good! "Fine." You said, waving the white flag. France grinned, about to say something, but you cut him off. "However, if I find my clothes off the next morning, I will personally drown you in the shower."
As the two of you made your way up to the bedroom, you could have sworn you heard him mutter "damn" under his breath.
"Remember, France." You said, getting under the covers. "No sex."
He nodded. "Right. No sex."
"Night, France." You said, turning out the lights.
About 30 seconds later, you felt France pull you against his chest, trapping you. "Fraaaaance." You hissed.
He chuckled. "I'm just hugging you. You didn't say anything about hugging." You silently cursed yourself for forgeting to mention it. You tried to wiggle out of his arms, but he was a lot stronger than you thought and kept a firm grip on you. With a sigh, you gave up.
There was a moment of tense silence before France broke it. "Ma chere, may I ask you a question?"
You looked at him in surprise. "What?"
"Why do you hate me so much?"
You certainly didn't see that coming. Yeah, you hit him a lot, mostly for being a perv, but that didn't mean you hated him, not at all. You actually, more or less, liked France, and when you were alone, laughed at the sexual referance or perverted remark he'd made that day. Of course, you never did it in his presence; were you to do such, it would get to his head and you'd never hear the end of it. But you never expected him to jump to conclusions and assume something like that. For once, you actually felt a bit guilty.
"I don't hate you." You whispered. "Honest. I hit you a lot, but that doesn't mean I hate you, not at all."
The Frenchman grabbed your chin, lifting it up so that you were looking into his eyes. "I'm glad." He said before crashing his lips down on yours. Your eyes widened. You thought about pushing him away, but some part of you wanted him to keep kissing you.
But wait........Did that mean you were in love with France?
But there's no way you'd ever fall for that stupid perv! Right? You aren't sure how it happened, but you found yourself kissing back, running your fingers through his wavy blond locks. He pulled away, flashing you a perverted smirk. "Ah, I knew you would fall for moi!"
You rolled your eyes, punching the Frenchman lightly on the shoulder. Somehow, you had a feeling that would get to his head.