France, England, and FrUk Oneshots

The Morning After

(A/N I AWAKEN... I don't really even know what this oneshot is about, the idea came to me when I was half asleep. I guess this is my "getting back into writing fanfic" chapter lol. Anyways, enjoy!)

*Somewhat NSFW?*

  France's eyes fluttered open to the sound of rhythmic breathing and an arm wrapped around him. His blanket was comfortably draped across him, feeling wondrous on his bare skin. Although he was still quite tired, a feeling of being more alive than before ran through his veins.

  The night before was a bit of a blur... who was he in bed with? He had a vague idea and closed his eyes momentarily, hoping that his guess was correct.

He tried to turn his head over to look without creating too much noise or movement. Judging from what France could see from the edge of his vision, the individual beside him appeared to be a man... but he couldn't be entirely sure. If so, that was a step closer in the right direction.

France prepared himself to roll over before a thought flickered through his mind. "What if it's not him? I don't want to know if it's not."

He grimaced, eyes flicking back again. Obviously knowing or not wouldn't change reality, but there was something about the idea of seeing a different person that made his stomach sink.

"Okay, I'll just get up first and brace myself to look," he decided. He managed to wriggle out of reach from the mystery man and planted his feet on the ground. He was completely naked- but not like that was different than most days.

France allowed himself to stretch, his arms reaching up as if he was grasping for stars. He stood up and immediately went to the large window that led to his balcony and parted the curtains.

Sunlight temporarily blinded France, but he blinked it away and gazed out at Paris. His partner rustled in the bed behind him. Rays of sun touched the ground around France and began to warm his skin. He let out a deep breath, glad to be up and about.

"What are you doing?... Come back to bed, love," a familiar English accent mumbled, his voice full of drowsiness.

France chuckled, closing his eyes. "Dieu merci," he muttered with a sigh of relief.

"What was that?", came the sleepy response.

France turned his head to look at England in the bed, rubbing his eyes with his hand and squinting at the open window.

"I just needed to stretch," France replied, his gaze lingering on the Englishman in his bed.

England blinked several times more and squinted at France. "Why are you standing naked at the bloody window?", he scoffed, confusion and amusement crossing his face.

"I wanted some sunlight, is that an issue?"

"I mean," England sighed with a roll of his eyes, "what if somebody sees you naked, you daft frog."

France shrugged. "Ah, you know I don't care about such things." He smirked and continued. "Besides, I'm sure my neighbors are quite used to it."

England snorted. "Well I'd rather not have half of Paris gossiping about you and I shagging each other- or seeing my.. er... bits."

"You don't need to censor yourself when we've just had sex, Arthur," France reminded him. "And besides, I'm sure half of the world has already been gossiping about you and I. We're unfortunately not as covert as you think."

"Just close the bloody curtains and come back to bed, will you?"

France chuckled and pulled the drapes shut. England fumbled with the bedside lamp before turning it on and reaching his arms out towards France.