promt: Just an ordinary day in the life of a couple. And somehow I managed fluff; what? How'd that happen?
In All The Little ThingsFrance awakes first, as he usually does; the day is one of those beautiful once-a-week Sundays where there are never meetings or duties or appointments to drag him from his bed. (It’s a blessing, France thinks, that there are far too many different religions and beliefs to ever properly organize anything on the weekend
( ... )
Re: [Part 20] In All The Little Things (1/?)
anonymous
October 9 2011, 03:56:00 UTC
The house is still and silent as he walks down the stairs, his footsteps echoing through the halls and empty rooms; he enters the kitchen and opens the blinds, wishing to open the windows to the fresh, morning breeze but unwilling to let the cold in. The day is just starting and France loves it, loves being a part of it, even if others like England would rather sleep through it.
(“I hardly get enough sleep as it is,” England argued when he wanted to watch the sunrise on his roof together, “Don’t even think about taking away my Sundays. And I've seen the sunrise a million times, you bloody romantic frog.” A tired England is a grumpy(er) England, so France pouts and complains and makes a big fuss of it but lets him sleep anyway
( ... )
[Part 20] In All The Little Things (3/?)
anonymous
October 9 2011, 04:01:12 UTC
Ack! Sorry for the title and format fail up there! That was supposed to be part 2.They finish breakfast quickly and by the time France clears their plates and puts them in the dishwasher, England is finally awake. He yawns loudly and stretches like a cat; France watches as his shirt rides up enough to expose his pale stomach and when England notices the stare, he glares and pulls the shirt back down with a scowl. “Pervert,” he accuses, but there is hardly any fire in the insult. (It’s the magic of these lazy Sundays, France thinks
( ... )
[Part 20] In All The Little Things (FIXED PART 3/?)
anonymous
October 9 2011, 04:06:46 UTC
Alright. I fail. In my defense, it's late. Let's try this again, shall we?They finish breakfast quickly and by the time France clears their plates and puts them in the dishwasher, England is finally awake. He yawns loudly and stretches like a cat; France watches as his shirt rides up enough to expose his pale stomach and when England notices the stare, he glares and pulls the shirt back down with a scowl. “Pervert,” he accuses, but there is hardly any fire in the insult. (It’s the magic of these lazy Sundays, France thinks
( ... )
[Part 20] In All The Little Things (4/?)
anonymous
October 9 2011, 04:16:08 UTC
(( In the kitchen there’s a fridge that’s rather boring and rather ordinary. But on this fridge there’s this piece of paper that France has titled his ‘grocery list.’
There in France’s neat handwriting it reads:
farine porc pain sucre cigarettes
And underneath all that, England’s added in his scrawling cursive ‘buy me some black pudding’. France can’t stand black pudding - he thinks it absolutely awful.
But the next time he goes to the store, he buys some anyway. ))
France surveys his pantry for a moment while England waits. Finally, he emerges, grabs England’s hand and begins pulling him to the stairs. “What the hell, France!” England yells, yanking his hand away. “What in the world are you doing?”
“Let’s go out to eat instead,” France answers. “But I will not be seen in public with you like that. Go change.”
England grumbles at him - it sounds an awful lot like ‘I don’t want to be seen in public with you at all’ - but heads upstairs anyway
( ... )
[Part 20] In All The Little Things (5/5)
anonymous
October 9 2011, 04:33:29 UTC
They eat at a lovely little café and England only complains once - a true record, France thinks. Afterwards they walk through the streets with no destination in mind, no true purpose in mind, with fingers woven together, bodies pressed close, and magical intertwining footsteps trialing behind them in the snow
( ... )
Re: [Part 20] In All The Little Things (5/5)
anonymous
October 9 2011, 18:24:27 UTC
I love, love, loved this, anon! The style is a perfect complement to the lazy-yet-sometimes-spontaneous feeling of their day, and all the little details and denial-but-not made me smile so much. This fill is everything I love about FrUK.
Re: [Part 20] In All The Little Things (5/5)
anonymous
October 11 2011, 23:44:03 UTC
This is gorgeous. I admit that I'm a sucker for domesticity, anytime, anywhere, but this was particularly well-written. I quite love that part at the very end, too, where they're not quite ready to say those dreaded three words. Thank you for sharing!
Re: [Part 20] In All The Little Things (5/5)
anonymous
October 29 2011, 19:13:05 UTC
You know, I used to not care for domesticity but now I'm a junkie for it. Especially FrUK domesticty. And your fic hits all the good points for me. Great job.
promt: Just an ordinary day in the life of a couple. And somehow I managed fluff; what? How'd that happen?
In All The Little ThingsFrance awakes first, as he usually does; the day is one of those beautiful once-a-week Sundays where there are never meetings or duties or appointments to drag him from his bed. (It’s a blessing, France thinks, that there are far too many different religions and beliefs to ever properly organize anything on the weekend ( ... )
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(“I hardly get enough sleep as it is,” England argued when he wanted to watch the sunrise on his roof together, “Don’t even think about taking away my Sundays. And I've seen the sunrise a million times, you bloody romantic frog.” A tired England is a grumpy(er) England, so France pouts and complains and makes a big fuss of it but lets him sleep anyway ( ... )
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There in France’s neat handwriting it reads:
farine
porc
pain
sucre
cigarettes
And underneath all that, England’s added in his scrawling cursive ‘buy me some black pudding’. France can’t stand black pudding - he thinks it absolutely awful.
But the next time he goes to the store, he buys some anyway. ))
France surveys his pantry for a moment while England waits. Finally, he emerges, grabs England’s hand and begins pulling him to the stairs. “What the hell, France!” England yells, yanking his hand away. “What in the world are you doing?”
“Let’s go out to eat instead,” France answers. “But I will not be seen in public with you like that. Go change.”
England grumbles at him - it sounds an awful lot like ‘I don’t want to be seen in public with you at all’ - but heads upstairs anyway ( ... )
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it’s silly and it’s strange - except it’s England, so maybe it’s lovely and it’s sweet and maybe France loves them anyway - the socks, that is
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