You despised these world meetings and you had a damn good reason to.
France. He claimed to be deeply in love with you and every time there was a world meeting, he always tried something. You were half hoping he'd get sick and stay home, just so you could get through the meeting without having the sudden desire to murder someone painfully.
You had arrived early and the only person there besides you was Britain. Not a surprise, the man was the most punctual person you knew. This worked out rather well for you; Britain was your best friend and secret crush. But, he probably just saw you as a friend. He was the type to like books over girls. But that's what you loved about him.
You greeted him and started a good conversation. You talked until the meeting began. "Excuse me, ma chere. May I sit here?" You looked up and stifled a groan. Looks like France didn't get sick. But really, did the man ever give up?
He didn't wait for you to answer and sat next to you, flashing you a flirtious smile. You rolled your eyes, turning your attention to the person speaking. It was America, going on about global warming and global man. You rolled your eyes again. What a childish idea.
You felt a hand on your leg and you flinched, but showed no emotion. You weren't going to give him any satisfaction. But the hand continued to go up and you felt your face grow warm. Ok, that was it, you'd had enough. "Hands to yourself, bastard." You hissed, forcing his hand onto his leg.
France only grinned, raising his eyebrows. "Ah, but you enjoyed it, did you not?" He had the nerve to wrap an arm around your shoulder.
Had this not been a meeting, you would have slugged him already. "Hands. Off." You were only going to say it once.
Slowly, he pulled his arm away. You thought he was done- until you felt his hand on your leg again. You sighed.
This was going to be a long meeting.
He watched you from across the table. Looks like you were having an argument with France. No surprise there, it happened every year. Britain didn't like it, though.
Every year, frog face tried something with you, and it really pissed Britain off. I mean really, what gave frog face the right to hug you and try........sexual actions with you? That was something only lovers did, and it was obvious that you hated him. Not that that ever stopped frog face; he was tenacious, Britain would give him that.
It still irked him to no end, though. Britain really, really liked you, so seeing frog face do things to you made him want to murder the French perv. He actually sort of hoped you would get mad enough to punch that sicko in the face; I mean, nothing says fuck off like a good punch.
The meeting was finally over and you made your way to the door. There was no way you would stay any longer.
"Wait, ma chere!" The Frenchman called after you. Like hell you'd wait!
You ran to the door, and almost made it- but you tripped over your feet. You silently cursed your clumsiness. France wrapped his arms around you, smiling. "Ah, ma chere! And you thought you could escape me! Smack, smack, smack!" It's like the guy wanted you to punch him in the face.
But then, to your surprise, his smile faded and was replaced by a serious look. "Can we speak, in private?"
You'd admit, you were curious. You'd never seen France get serious before. It made you wonder what he wanted.
You nodded in agreement.
"What's this about?" You asked, crossing your arms, your eyebrows raised.
The Frenchman got down on one knee and looked up at you. "I would like you to marry me." You froze. Oh. Hell. No.
"........What?" You breathed.
"I would like you to marry me." He repeated. And here you thought he was just a perv. He did claim to love you, but you thought it was just an excuse to be pervy. You didn't think he was serious.
"Please!" He stood up, grabbing your hands, his face dangerously close to yours. You could hear your heart pounding out of your chest. "I do love you!"
"She's not marrying you!" You and France turned to look at the shouter.
It was Britain?
Britain was absolutely pissed. Marriage? What the hell was frog face thinking?! She wasn't marrying him!
He stomped over to the stunned Frenchman and grabbed the collar of his shirt. "For your information, she's marrying me! So fuck off!" With that said, he grabbed your hand and pulled you away, leaving a stunned Frenchman behind you.
"Hey, Britain. When did I agree to marry you?"
His eyes widened. Damn. "Well, uh-!!" The blond could do nothing but stutter, his face getting redder and redder.
You smiled and swiftly pressed your lips to his. "Stupid. What took you so long?