France x World Oneshots

2p FrUk ~ You Shouldn't Be Out Here

There's François, there's smoking. If you don't like it, don't read it.

Also, apologies for not writing more.... I have not had motivation to write for a long time.

🌹🌹🌹🌹

François sighed and took a drag of his cigarette, coughing a bit as the smoke stung his sore throat. He had managed to escape his husband's mothering view for a short while and was making the most of it, getting the nicotine that his body craved.

The patio door whooshed open and he heard a disapproving voice tutting behind him. "So this is where you went!" His cigarette was plucked from his fingers. "Honestly, how do you expect to get better if you don't give it a break once and awhile?"

François' eyes lazily flicked over to his husband, who was currently putting out his cigarette, and mumbled a "sorry". A smirk tugged at his lips at Oliver's motherly, yet childish, behavior.

"Don't say it if you don't mean it!" Oliver's cheeks puffed out as François silently scanned him.

The Frenchman blinked slowly before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He could keep this up all night if he had to, but, in his opinion, it would be a waste of good cigarettes and money.

Oliver sputtered in disbelief and snatched the pack and lighter from François, his eye twitching a little. "I can't believe you! You shouldn't even be out here in the first place, François! Now get back in bed!" he huffed at him, stamping his foot and pointing inside.

François considered him for a few seconds before turning his gaze back to Paris. At this point, Oliver was fuming and about to explode, but the Frenchman's words made him pause.

"You worry too much." He reached into his pocket once more and pulled out another pack of cigarettes. His eyes lazily scanned the city as he opened the package and pulled one of the cancer sticks from it's confines. "Lighter."

Oliver's mouth fell open and he was about to say something, but stopped and just plopped down in François' lap with a sigh instead. "I can't believe you..." he huffed, lighting the Frenchman's cigarette for him.

François took a long drag and tilted his head back, letting the smoke swirl up into the air so it didn't get in Oliver's face. "Thanks..." he croaked, sickness showing in his voice. A distant look appeared in his deep purple eyes and he found himself staring at the Eiffel Tower, its lights dancing in the darkness of his pupils. One of his arms slowly curled around his husband's waist and he pulled him closer, eyes slowly closing. "Oliver?"

"Yes dear?"

"I love you."