Something about Australia.
It has been a curiosity of mine for a good long while now; I had merely forgotten about it until he suddenly popped up. They are bushy, just like Art'ur's. Perhaps not quite as thick, but still noticeable to an extent that they stick out on his face. Et though his hair is darker than l'Angleterre, their eyes glimmer beautifully alike. Vert. Vert like the fields. Vert like an emerald. Vert like the greedy monster within me that yearns to get closer to him, simply because of their similar appearance.
Along with resembling l'Angleterre, he unfortunately bares a resemblance to l'Amérique; poor, unfortunate boy. Those two bits of hair that never fail to stick up from his part. So curious. It is eating away at me. I want to know. I need to know.
And so, one day, I approached him. It was after Angleterre et I had fallen out et I had given him away to Amerique. Mon couer was in a ransacked state et I needed something to quell the empty feeling inside. Australia was the unfortunate target I had selected.
He was seated with one leg crossed over another. He might have been reading something, I do not recall. I do, however, recall stepping to him, et inviting myself to sit upon his lap. My crotch just resting upon his leg. Hnn... had it been l'Angleterre...
A smile was present on my face, a blank stare was upon his. "France," he said; an unwelcoming greeting.
"Bonjour, mon ami. Ça va?" was my own, much warmer, 'hello'. My hands soon made friends with the boy's shoulders and I continued to grin; he continued to stare. "'m alroight. In a bettah position than you, mate."
It was a quizzical thing to hear. Raising an eyebrow, I confessed I did not understand. And as I leaned forward, hands slowly snaking over his shoulders and onto his back, he leaned back into his chair a bit more; though, he could not escape. As my lips drew closer to his skin, I suddenly felt just what he had implied moments ago. A hand at Australia's shoulder was quickly moved to one of the boy's thighs, pushing it down to prevent it from damaging anything important.
"Oh la la," I chuckled; though, in all honesty, I was terrified that he might hurt petit Louis. I forced my grin further, eyes on his face. "How playful." He frowned slightly but remained quiet. For several moments we sat in silence, staring at one another. My advances needed to be slower with this boy. They needed to be more well rounded and cautious. He was fun, just like l'Angleterre. Before I knew it, I was smirking.
"You know," I began, "your eyes are quite beautiful." Judging from his expression, I could tell he was not used to such compliments; it was a mix between confusion, embarrassment, et gratitude. Perhaps this would be easier than I anticipated. "Green," I continued, "like a budding field, laced with shimmering droplets of morning dew. Green like the emerald sea and just as deep. Green..." I murmured, the hand at Australia's thigh slowly relaxing and drawing away from the leg. "Green..." That hand rested upon his chest now and I leaned closer to touch my lips to his, but he shut his eyes and turned his head away; causing my kiss to miss his lips and land delicately upon his cheek instead. "Mmmm," I noised against his skin. It was time to bring up my curiosity.
"Australia," I whispered, lips traveling to his ear, "I have often been curious~" I felt him move under me slightly. He then made a soft questioning grunt. "Tiens~ You have gained the eyebrows from Angleterre... but you have a cowlick, the same as that of Amérique~" My smirk must have stretched from ear to ear as I leaned away so I could gauge his reactions. He was staring at me with an unamused, blank face. "Are they the same?" I asked. That blank stare turned to a "What the hell are you talking about?" sort of look.
"Ah. I will just see for myself then," I murmured and drew a hand up to Australia's face, cupping his cheek with it gently. Uncertainty and suspicion flooded those green eyes. The boy was on guard, ready to prevent any sort of questionable situation. "Y'know, France," he stated, "I don't know how you do it in Europe, mate. But we Aussies respect this thing called loyalty." My fingers had just begun moving towards the eyebrow when that word fell from his lips. I pulled back, giving the boy a hard stare. Was he accusing me of being unloyal?
"We have loyalty in Europe as well, Australia. Why do you bring that up?"
"Well, you're always chasin England 'round, or whatevah yah call it, ain'tcha mate?"
More than my words can show. "Oui."
"Then yuh shouldn't be goin 'round getting with other men. Or women. Or whatevah."
This fun little experiment was turning against me quickly. With much more bitterness in my words, I leaned close again, lips near his neck to hide my hurt expression as I said, "Angleterre et Amérique are together now. Where is his loyalty? It is not like I am his lover anymore. I may do as I please et who I desire." The boy squirmed uncomfortably underneath me. Mon Dieu. I felt miserable now et did not even want to pester him any longer. And so, I moved off of him, began to drift away, but a hand caught me by the wrist. I did not turn around et only stopped moving. "Just means y'gotta fight harder!" Australia blurted out.