*There is a bit of flirtiness in this, but nothing close to smut. I also mentioned some state OC's and Britannia.
When France had told him that he would be staying over for a few days England had not interpreted it as 'watching everything he did carefully with some to zero explanation'.
This particular evening England was plopped down on the floor in front of the fireplace, bent over in his sorcery books as usual. France was lying on the couch behind him and attempting to read the coded runes by himself with no training or help.
After the meeting, where they discussed politics and the difference between communism and capitalism, Japan had privately asked him to research the topic of male pregnancy. Of course he had complied, what else was he to do? He had known China for quite a long time (though not nearly as long as Russia or Japan) and this was a new topic.
New topics were usually entertaining to learn about, to study when there was nothing else to do other than mow the lawn and wait for The Beatles to make more music.
"I have a few questions mon amour," France started, only to be cut off by England.
"If you have questions," here he turned to make a nasty face at the blond, "you can start off by not calling me that, I am not your love."
Sitting up on his forearms, France smiled a smile that almost certainly had a dirtier meaning behind it, "fair enough," he purred, "what's the second step? Taking off your shirt~?"
"That's not funny," England cautioned, scooting further away. They hadn't had such a relationship for a long time, seeing as the rockier bits of history were often better for a certain style of... intimacy.
"Alright alright," France sighed, "but what else could I do to understand?"
Going back to his book, England lowered his bushy eyebrows in clear disapproval, "For one thing you could learn the material you wish to study,"
Laughing, France rolled over onto his stomach, still staring at the back of England's head as he addressed him, "And who would I learn that from? I don't have fairy friends like you and Norway, it isn't so easy for me..."
He paused, seeming to want the best possible reaction, "mon amour,"
The words rang in England's ears. Finally, the younger blond turned to face his ally, a twinge of amusement pulling on the corners of his mouth, "You are annoying me on purpose, are you not?"
"You got me," France smiled darkly, "I'm trying to get the reaction I want out of you."
"Well," England huffed, hoisting himself onto the couch next to the other, "If it's sex you want I can tell you right now that..."
France raised an eyebrow, a smile edging in on his expression. Seeing this, England made a face, disgusted by the older man's readiness for the situation.
"...you aren't getting any," England sneered, combatting the flirty air in the room with sass. When France pouted and looked distressed (and as if he was about to argue on the topic) England hurried on, "Besides, I have to keep researching, this is kind of important after all,"
"Hmm," France hummed, sitting up and looking down at the old paper in the personification's hands, "I've been meaning to ask that,"
"Ask what?" England responded, carefully turning a page of the worn out material.
"What are you researching? You've told me that it's important multiple times yet it has still not been explained to me," France mussed, tapping his scruffy chin with one long index finger.
England paused, having not expected any real interest on the subject. Pondering what he was to say for only slightly longer than necessary, England responded slowly, "I don't think I'm supposed to confide it with you, to tell the truth,"
When France sighed and sat up further causing England to instinctively scoot away, hurrying to explain his words, "I-I mean," he stuttered, unable to hide the alarm in Frances sudden movement even as the other blond went still once more, violet eyes trained on his own green ones, "I could probably tell you, I'm just not-"
"Spare me your explanations," France sighed, closing his eyes tiredly, "I understand. Though..."
Snapping his eyelids open he made eye contact with the English man, yet another teasing smile barely hidden behind the long blond-gray hair, "...if it has to do with what you, Matthew, and the others were discussing I'm sure you don't have to hide it,"
England's face twisted in a mixture of disbelief and disgust, "You were eavesdropping?!"
Shrugging as it were no big deal, France sat up the rest of the way, taping his thin fingers against his knees, "It's not that bad mon amour, it doesn't even fully affect you-"
"Of course it does!" England spluttered, "This is supposed to be a secretive operation!"
"Well," France shrugged, noting how the other didn't notice how he had called him 'love' once more, "You should be more careful then, but now I know and you can't exactly go back and change the past so that I would forget. Why don't you explain to me what specifically you are researching?"
"Like hell I would!" exclaimed England furiously, hugging the leather-coated book to his chest as tightly as he could without damaging it's delicate pages, "I have to tell Kiku about this, you aren't supposed to know!"
"There is no need for that," France sighed again, "I understand your anger, eavesdropping is a very primitive form of spying after all," ignoring the hissed utterance of 'that isn't the problem here' he continued. "But pretending I don't know will just be more harmful to your cause, why don't you share with me what you are doing?"
"No," England growled, pulling his knees against the cover of the book that hugged his chest, "I won't do that without telling Japan, he trusts me,"
"Does he though?" France mussed, "Are you sure he trusts you?"
Instead of letting England struggle to find a proper answer to this France cut off his attempts with more fancy word play, "He could trust me as well, because we are basically connected at the hip,"
England spoke over the blonde's laughter at his own joke, "we are not 'connected at the hip' and we never have been, your jokes are only amusing to yourself dumbass,"
"Hm that's too bad," France giggled, trying to get down the rest of his amusement, "they are pretty funny jokes once you give them a chance-"
"I am NOT giving your jokes a chance frog," England hissed, "and I am NOT giving you a chance to work on this project without Kiku's permission. Besides, Russia would most likely not enjoy you working on this project, and he was the one who started it I believe,"
"He was?" There was a certain mirth in the statement. Almost as if he did not believe the Russian cared enough to start such an invasive project. England took hidden joy in the disbelief. He had also been surprised when Japan told them about Russia's placement in the project.
He had, as the only one in the small group who understood magic, been working for considerably less time than the tall, seemingly childish nation. Smirking, England shifted his weight into a more prideful position, "are you shocked? Come on, give me a good reaction Francis,"
"I'm not shocked," France said simply smiling kindly and seeming to not notice the bragyness of Britain's response, "In fact," he closed his eyes in a happy expression, "I saw this coming, Ivan seems to have a bit of a soft spot for Yao,"
England laughed, putting all of his emotion into the gesture, "What? No way he does, Russia's probably in it for personal gain,"
"That's what you think," France hummed, opening his eyes slowly, "But you don't really understand love do you Arthur?"
"Of course I understand- wait, what?" But France was already continuing, on a roll now that he was in the conversational offensive position.
"I do not think you do Arthur," he responded quietly, sudden seriousness filling his words, "love is very complex, few people understand it,"
"Then who is to say that you do and I do not?" England snorted, making a nasty, judging face in his general direction, "What about this situation says that I do not understand love?"
"Many things point to your confusion in the subject," France nodded, clearly viewing this as fact, "and as for your first question, I clearly care more about keeping relationships real. You do not understand how many layers there are to a healthy one."
"Accusatory much?" England growled, finally standing from the couch, "I can kick you out you know, this is my house, not yours." To prove the point, he pulled France up as well, yanking the sleeve of his very purple sweatshirt until he stood.
"Whoa now," France held up his arms as he stood, "there is no reason to be so angry!"
"Of course there is!" England huffed, beginning to drag him to the door, "you are being disrespectful in my house, you insulted my cooking, you are insulting my project, you-"
Sighing and pulling back and away from the other's grasp, France shook his head, "I wasn't being disrespectful to your cooking my making my own food, that isn't disrespect, I just didn't want to leave you without any,"
France had learned a long time ago how to get away from England's cooking without outright refusing it, if he made his own food before Arthur offered any he could say that he was full. But of course England still saw this as disrespectful since he was the host and it was turning down his hospitality.
"That's a very kind thought," England said through gritted teeth, "but next time you shouldn't make such obvious excuses, I quite like my cooking, and even if all of you don't seem to like my personal cooking I don't see why you don't like my people's,"
"This conversation isn't about your people," France sighed, "and shouldn't you be researching if it's so important?"
Taken aback, England stuttered, "O-of course, but I-"
"Right!" France exclaimed, smiling widely to portray indifference about their argument, "I'll go get you some animal crackers and cheese," He then turned away, leaving England spluttering about how even he knew that animal crackers did not go with cheese, especially not cheddar which was all he had in the fridge at the moment. (America had given it to him as a parting gift, apparently they made some killer extra sharp in upstate New York.)
But he went back to the floor where he had been sitting anyway, a heavy blush layering on his cheeks every second. As France got out normal crackers and even a few biscuits (or cookies as America was so adamantly insistent on calling them) he buried his nose back in the book he had been studying.
England loved reading all of his sorcery books, but the spell sections were his favorite. That was why he was struggling a bit. He had a basic knowledge of potions but he never went out of his way to read about them or make any so the terminology was a bit tricky. He was certain he had read this section before but he didn't remember any of it since he didn't need the information at the time, or rather he preferred not to think about it.
There was silence for around twenty minutes, France gently laying out the food he was to give his ally and England sweating about words he was having an unexpectedly hard time translating. Finally, however, he spoke up and broke the tense atmosphere with his own frustrated, drawn out words, "Whenever this was..." he paused to squint at a rune, "...if it happened, it had to have been a damn long time ago, I've never seen China use any modern magic and these are some bloody old spells,"
France laughed, "Well of course you haven't, he doesn't have any reason to and, between me and you, I'm pretty sure magic is only ever easy for you, Norway, and Romania,"
"And Moldova," England credited the small nation, "but we all specialize in different things, maybe at some point China would have been to potions one,"
"Possibly," France acknowledged, "but was Britannia the one with magic back then?"
Heart softening at the mention of his mother, England shifted his weight, "It was just a suggestion, and I don't think she actually used it much,"
"Fair enough," France nodded again, going back to plating the crackers and cheese, groaning under his breath, "Why do you have this cheese? Cheddar is alright and all, but I would think you would prefer other types..."
"Just be glad it isn't that plasticy American cheese," England muttered, "that stuff is bloody nasty,"
Laughing, France turned to him, "Let me guess, Alfred gave this to you?"
"Of course he did!" England blistered, "I don't go out of my way to meet up with New York and buy cheese from her!"
"Does anyone really hang out with her though?" France smirked, "She has quite the boisterous personality, and that oily pizza is disgusting!"
They were again silent for a bit, England struggling with a particularly unfamiliar rune as France cleaned up the wrapping from the package of cheese. Finally he was finished with cleaning the area and picked up the platter, beginning his walk back to the living room. He made it to the couch, setting the food down on the coffee table.
"I do commend her on the bagels though..." he mussed, plopping down onto the couch.
"Who?" England asked, slightly flustered and not really paying attention.
"New York," France stated, "Anyway," he rushed on, "how much further have you gotten?"
"Not much," England sighed, "and I'm still mystified as to why anyone would use, it seems very risky and hard to make,"
"Probably," France nodded, "but I'm sure it would be easier if you had a history in making this type of... is it still called magic? I'm not familiar with all the hexes and spells and curses and stuff,"
"It's still magic," England confirmed, cutting France's attempt at another sentence off to start an explanation about the difference between the things he had mentioned. (Of course France wasn't really listening, he didn't actually care about these things, just as he didn't care about the modern technological advances that were happening. Quite honestly both freaked him out.) Once the Brit was finished he turned around, staring into Frances eyes, "Does that make sense?"
"Y-yeah," France stuttered, pretending to have been listening, "that was a big help,"
England smiled, "If you need any more explanations feel free to ask me!"
A/N: This is the cheese I was talking about (it's the best frickin' cheese ever): https://www.cabotcheese.coop/product/new-york-extra-sharp-cheddar-cheese/