138 Bastille days

Write a fic for Bastille day, I said. It won't be long, I said.

André- Paris

Every year during Bastille day, the French cities and provinces hold a birthday party at France's apartment. As so, Paris was in charge of organising the whole day. Though being a capital, it meant that he had a little more national and international affairs work to complete, so when he arrives, usually most of the organisation was complete.

When Paris entered the apartment, he greeted his fellow representatives, and scanned the area. Friendly banter filled the area as the cities and provinces worked, mostly putting on the decorations. By the time he arrived at the apartment, balloons and streamers in the shade of the Tricolore already decorated the whole place. Paris huffed— always the same red, white and blue shades, huh? But hey, it was Bastille day, what else did he expect?

A fellow city placed some champagne glasses on the table, a cake with the French flag sitting proudly on the centre, an unopened bottle of champagne beside it. Assorted gifts, such as liquors and food items lied under the table, as well as the odd pot plant and clothes. He recognised who had brung them based on their regional origins— the pastis came from Marseilles, the Bordeaux wine came from Bordeaux (who else), the beer came from one of the Northern cities, and that apple cider definitely came from Brittany. Perhaps the truffle oil came from Lyon, but it might had come from Provence. The rest... well, he'll figure it out later, he had a party to organise.

He checked on the work of the other representatives. Whether it was decorating or preparing meals and the such. Making sure that every element was satisfactory until-

"Hey, Francis' in the driveway!" Marseilles called out as she leaned over the balcony. It was the afternoon when he had arrived. Wow time flew fast. Paris edged in closer, and saw France's car on the street.

"Careful, Marseilles," Paris called out, urging her to inch back. "Remember the surprise in surprise party, d'accord?" Francis knew that he will be greeted by a surprise party. After all, they had been doing this for several years by now. But André enjoyed preserving the suspension of disbelief: it was fun, and no one's complaining. He clapped his hands as he turned around. "Alright, everyone, to your positions!"

He switched the lights off, and back on again when Francis opened the door. Everyone jumped out and yelled the customary bon anniversaire, a kazoo somehow sneaking into the background. Francis laughed, and thanked them all, like he did every year, as half the representative flocked around him to properly greet him, the other half digging into the refreshments already. Paris laughed.

Music played, food was eaten, alcohol was drunk as they exchanged friendly banter. Before they knew it, the dusk melted into the evening, and some of them were tipsy from excess alcohol. Paris noticed Francis standing outside on the balcony, the golden Eiffel Tower contrasting the inky sky. He moved forward.

"So, the fireworks are going to start soon!" André brought up as he leaned forward, the balcony's stone railings cool against his elbows. Francis nodded, and hummed in agreement.

"Yep, probably the best part of Bastille day." He sighed in content, and drank the rest of his champagne while André nodded in agreement.

"The worst part would be the cleaning up." André looked behind him, and by then, most of the representatives were fully tipsy. "Ugh, wow clean up's a bitch every year!" They laughed.

"Uh-huh." He breathed out. "Heh. Remember that year when someone brought in hair dye and somehow we all had our hair dyed blue in the morning?" Paris chortled.

"It was even that gross cartoony blue too!" He laughed. "Well, could be worse. What if someone brought in that cartoony neon green hair dye?" Francis scrunched up his face in disgust as he stuck his tongue out.