Love or Lust (Hetalia/Fruk or USUK?)

Jalousie

When the Brit got home at 2 a.m, he was surprised to see France still awake, staring at the T.V. "Good morning." France said, his voice broken. "What's wrong with you?" England asked, hanging his dark coat up by the door. He crossed the dark wooden floor to the large couch France was sitting on and sat beside him. "Oh... Nothing." France sighed. England folded his arms, knowing that this was not about nothing. France looked up with his bright blue eyes, his hair pulled back into a messy blond pony tail. England silently whimpered, he found France very attractive with his hair like that. He shook his head. Why am I thinking that?! He thought to himself. "I heard your conversation with America." He blurted out.

England froze, all positive thoughts flying out his ear. "Y-you did?" He turned bright red. France smiled politely. "I mean, iif you love him and not me I'll understand..." France paused, looking up at the Brit like an injured puppy. England felt like he was being plaid, but couldn't help the stab he felt in his chest as he leaned forward and kissed the French man. 

England hated himself for enjoying it. He knew he had feelings for America, but France was irresistible. France deepened the kiss, making England dizzy, then pulled away, leaving the Brit cold inside. "I just need to know..." France hesitated, glancing at a bottle of wine. "Do you love him?" His blue eyes were full of water, as if her were going to cry. England hated it when people cried. "Yes, but not in the way you're thinking." England took Frances hand, hating himself for lying. France leaned against England's shoulder and dosed there. The Brit sighed with relief. He had dodged a bullet for now. But he felt like it would ricochet at any moment.