Hetalia Stuff

Wine and Whiskey (I'M OBSESSED WITH ONESHOTS-)

Red hair. Forest green eyes. Light freckles. Tall build. Ridiculous smile. Taste of whiskey. This all associated with one feeling; Love. That was love for Francis, but love varied from person to person.

To another person love was blonde hair. Indigo eyes. Light stubble. Smaller build. Charming smile. Taste of wine. This was all love to Alistair.

When had these features become associated with love? Why was there a time they were not? None even remembered the time, and if they did, it was scarcely spoken of, even after alcohol stained those mouths.

Times of pain were many, times of peace were few, yet at the very least it could be found, perhaps momentarily, when sought, if done so in the right place, or person.

At times, the person of peace may be unreachable, so all that is possible are memories, with the trigger of a familiar object, or perhaps a drink.

It could be whiskey, bringing back a loud, uniquely accented voice, brash jokes, a childish tendency or two, and hidden emotions.

It could be wine, bringing back dramatics, embarrassing comments, an obnoxious laugh, and wandering emotions.

What was a mere taste, though, when the person themselves stood in front of you, a brilliant smile on their face? When this moment was one you had been waiting for?

Yet...

"That's not supposed to happen!" The exclamation cut through the anticipation, and Francis blinked up at Alistair, hopeful smile, turning confused. "Quoi?"

"It's the man who's supposed to propose, not the..." Alistair trailed off, quickly trying to think of the accurate word to end the sentence.

"And what am I?" Francis asked in a less than impressed tone. "Uh... The woman between us?" Alistair tried uncertainly, which got him a tired sigh in reply. "I did not go through all this suffering to get a response like that."

"Well, the fuck do you expect me to do, get overexcited like some kind of sissy?"

"Non, but at least say 'yes' normally!"

"Nay, overrated. I'd say 'aye' if anything."

"..."

"Not helping, I know."

"Sitting on one knee for a long time hurts, you know."

"That's because you're an old man."

"I AM NO-" Francis cut himself off before the conversation escalated into other matters so far they would forget he was even proposing in the first place.

"Give me the ring, I'll do it." Alistair said, holding his hand out to take it. The blonde grinned, stood up, then slipped the ring onto his finger instead after moving as though he was going to give it to him. "Too late~!"

"Wait no that's nOT SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN-" The redhead stared at the ring as though it had personally offended him, but did not take it off. The Frenchman's expression was beyond smug as he looked at the other expectantly.

Eventually, the Scot let out a defeated sigh, an embarrassed blush creeping up his cheeks. "...Fine..." He grumbled, scowling. Francis beamed, hugging him. "Finally!"

"Yeah, yeah, get over it, Frannie."

Truly, it could be odd, what people saw as love and how they acted towards that. Few had love they could keep burning for over a thousand years. Those who did were considered lucky, and tended to feel so.

These two? An undying story of love, but nevertheless a trying one. It was a long wait to a true, binding marriage, where none would leave if the other did not, like times of old.

It was over.

I HATE THIS KEYBOARD I WANNA TYPE ON MY LAPTOP NOT THIS COMPUTER AKSHKASFJGJKNK IT SLOWS ME DOWN A SHITON

ANYWAY I BRING YOU A SCOTFRA ONESHOT STRAIGHT FROM THE BOREDOM OF THE CLASSROOM-

Basically, the two were in this... Unlabelled relationship for a long time, let's put it this way. It's the present here, so gay marriage is legal. France proposes before Scotland, who thinks that's a big no because, y'know, that's his outlook on life.

Amazing proposal, isn't it?

And good God there's like no normal ScotFra fanart at all??? Somehow this was the best I could find???