Bigger Army Diplomacy

VI

        The morning after was not as calm. In fact, not calm at all.

Wales was shouting out profanities mixed in with actual speech about how he should 'Get the fuck out or mum will kill you and eat you for dinner!'

Britain groaned. It seemed as though the day would be promising, the bright morning sun shining in through the dark mahogany covers on the windows. However, his day was less than perfect, as waking up like this promised a horrible day, according to the superstitions he made for himself when he was four.

He grabbed a coat and stepped out into the sunny day, the sun blinding him. He stepped back into the family mansion -more like castle- as Wales and Northern Ireland continued to argue about stupid things. Seriously, did everyone in his family argue about such petty things?

"Alright, that's enough!" The taller country yelled. The other two stopped after a minute or two, disrespecting him yet following what the oldest said.

"Wales took my coa-" Northern Ireland started. Great Britain cut him off with a glare that, if looks could kill, Northern would be six feet under.

"What actually happened? And be quick, I have to write a letter." He waved his hand at them in a signal to 'start talking'

"Well, I was just sitting there, and Northern came up to me yelling that I took his coat!"

"I did not! My coat was right there, and you took it! Who else could've taken it?"

"Maybe the other people in this household?"

"Shut up!" Jack yelled before the two could continue arguing. "Why don't we just look for your coat?"

The coat, as it turned out, was right where Northern left it. But he was looking in the wrong place, which may have been the cause of his confusion.

Anyway, now that the author has stopped being boring, let's see what France is doing.

Nothing. Alright.

The mentioned teenage girl was staring up at the trim on the rooms extravagant walls, contemplating if she should go downstairs or not. Already ten minutes ago she decided to get up, but she couldn't bring herself to drag her ass out of bed.

She mumbled something to herself like, "I'll get up later."

To be fair, a sort of churning in her stomach was starting to get worse and worse causing her to stay in her bed and feel miserable all day long. She shrugged it off as just a stomach bug that might've been going around, but after several misery-filled minutes and a pounding headache, she geniusly confirmed that, no, it definitely was not just a stomach ache. She probably would've stayed there for a while if Jack hadn't found her.

He passed by France's room on the way to his, before stopping to check on the girl and realizing his brothaled was terribly sick.

"Are you alright?" The blue-haired girl looked over at the doorway, which stood the very person she hated and forced to love at the same time.

"Yeah," She rasped, hoping the other wouldn't realize she was literally dying.

"You're not." He decided for the spitfire girl, elegantly walking over to her side and taking the chair positioned a foot away from her.

She frowned, and took a sip of water from a glass sitting on her nightstand. It cleared her throat for a moment, allowing her to freely speak. "What are you doing here?" Her throat tightened at the end. She grabbed her water and downed a little more.

Jack looked up at the other. He told her the simple truth, or so she thought. "I was going to go write a letter."

France couldn't resist an opening for an insult. "I'm surprised. I didn't know you could write."

He looked surprised at the other's open insulting, before painting a look of mock surprise on his face. "France! Proper ladies don't openly insult like that!"

She snorted. "I thought we already concluded I wasn't a proper lady."

He laughed out loud at this comment. This caused the younger to laugh as well, even just for a moment.

"So," he flattened out his coat. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," she lied through her teeth. The other noticed, and asked, "But how do you feel?"

"Honestly? My head feels like it's about to explode and my stomach is... my stomach. Oh, here's the rasp again!" She exclaimed half heartedly, while the other brought over her water again.

She brought it to her lips and just downed the entire thing. "Merci," She mumbled after she had rid her lips of the excess. "Merci beaucoup."

He chuckled awkwardly. "Yeah. Do you want me to get some more for you?"

"That would be great, merci."

As France watched the back of her betrothaled turn away and walk down the steps, she made a silent oath in her mind.

I will learn more about you, United. Mark my words.