England felt arms wrap around his waist and put his book down on the nightstand. He turned his head to see France smiling at him.
"What are you doing you bloody-" he was interrupted by two French lips pressing against his.
"Francis-"
As a reply France pushed himself away, closing his eyes and curling up in a little ball.
England's eyes never left his love. He was kind of adorable, lying there with his long hair all over the place. His features looked soft and princely, something he usually didn't have.
God, England loved him. And he always will.