Frain week 2022: Day 3: Love Language
What me posting another one so late? I started this and then kind of forgot so here it finally is!
@aphfrainweek
Relationship: Frain (France x Spain)
Summary: France and Spain ask England to choose which one of theirs is the true language of love!
Word Count: 1066
Mature
Disclaimer: I’m aware this is not what a love language is but I felt uninspired for that, while for language I’m mega inspired, which is why it took me a while.
Thank you to that one discord user that believes himself to be Spain ;) I wouldn’t have had the Spanish to do this without you!
Anyway enjoy!
Title: To simp for Spanish or to simp for French? That is the question.
"Obviously having hung around both of you and associating that with you both I find neither of your languages to be particularly attractive."
"Menteur" Liar
"Estás mintiendo." You're lying.
Arthur rubbed his brow in annoyance, cheeks heating up as he looked over to the two Mediterranean countries standing in front of his desk.
"Look, if you don't trust me to be honest how do you want me to end your dispute?" He sighed, frustrated.
"Angleterre, we need someone neutral. You pretend to hate us both equally-" France started, making air quotes with his fingers.
"Pretend?!?" Arthur interjected with a raised eyebrow and Francis ignored him with an amused eye roll.
"Yes yes, You are thus the best judge to aid us I resolving this debate."
Antonio nodded next to his partner in crime.
"It had to be you, Inglaterra."
England groaned.
"What about Belgium?"
"Would choose Spain just to annoy me."
England snorted, "seems like her. What about Germany?"
"He'd choose France because he is his neighbour and it would be good for neighbourly relations." Spain sighed.
England snorted once more, "Sounds like him, true. One of the Italies?"
Both Spain and France shook their head vigorously.
England suddenly understood, "ah, yes, can't make the debate even more complicated by adding Italian into consideration."
France and Spain nodded sagely.
England was about ready to bash his head against his desk.
"So how are you two planning to figure out which one is the uhm…" he hesitated, having trouble getting the words past his lips, "sexiest?"
Both countries in front of him snorted.
"Which one of our languages is the true language of love, obviously." Spain clarified. "And for you to understand I managed to grab one of the automatic translators we use during the meetings." The man passed him a little gadget that must cost a fortune before crossing his arms.
"Does Germany know you stole one of-" Arthur was cut off.
France scoffed, "yes, a dumb competition because Spain refuses to accept that it is widely agreed upon that it is mine."
"Yeah well Spanish and seduction start with the same letter," the Spaniard deadpanned and Francis groaned.
"I don’t think.." England started once more before being interrupted. Again.
"Antoine t'es un putain d'idiot parfois je te jure…"
Antonio you're a fucking idiot sometimes I swear…
England glared at the Frenchman before the machine in front of him translated what was said.
"Now that's not very ni-"
Interrupted once more by the Spaniard this time,
"Language of love?! My ass." The Spaniard muttered "compared to something like-" and Spain's frown got replaced by a grin while the man moved his hand trough his hair, taking up what was clearly meant to be an attractive pose,
¿Puedes hablar un poco más? Es que dicen que la música cura el alma."
Could you talk a bit more? They say music heals the soul.
England received the translation and raised an amused eyebrow as he watched France's cheeks turn a little pink.
"Obviously, I hadn't started yet." The Frenchman huffed out, annoyed before suddenly undoing some of his buttons and giving the Spaniard a cheeky grin.
"Si j'écrivais un poème pour toutes les choses que j'aime chez toi, mon cher, j'ai peur qu'il n'y ait pas assez de papier."
If I were to were to write a poem for all the things I like about you, my dear, I fear there would not be enough paper anymore.
England whistled, impressed.
Seeing this Spain upped the ante, removing his jacket and opening his shirt as well before moving closer to truly look Francis in the eye. The Brit just hoped they wouldn't start a physical fight, he's not really in the mood to risk collateral damage trying to stop them.
"No sabía que te gustara la joyería, esos ojos son los zafiros más hermosos que he visto nunca."
I didn't know you were into jewellery, those eyes are the prettiest sapphires I've ever seen.
England raised an eyebrow wondering if the other two were still competing or have switched over to actually seducing each other.
Francis looked away, seemingly embarrassed, although the smile on his face did betray he was flattered.
He quickly recomposed himself though grinning as if he was sure his next sentence would grant him the win.
"Entre le soleil et toi je ne sais pas qui me rends le plus chaud et en dessous de qui je préférer être allongé tout nus"
Between the sun and you, I do not know who heats me up the most (both figuratively and literally) and under which I prefer being laid out all naked.
France stepped closer to the Spaniard and took his face in his hand.
"Mais je pense bien que ce soit toi."
But I do believe it's you.
England didn't quite know what to say, completely speechless.
Hand still holding his face the Spaniard's eyes had darkened and he was licking his lips.
"Tengo hambre, y tus labios se ven muy dulces."
I'm hungry, and your lips look sweet
England didn't even have the time to process what it meant before the two countries had pulled each other closer to smash their mouths together. Both eagerly getting rid of any piece of clothing they were wearing.
"Uhh," he started this time not letting himself be interrupted, even though the little grunts and moans were getting louder and louder.
"So congrats you both won, or both lost, it depends on how you look at the situation," he shrugged seeing as they were both ignoring him once more and with a last eye roll left the room muttering something along the lines of "-both simps for each other… embarrassing…"
That’s before he suddenly came back, arms on his hips trying to strike a pose that left no room to disagreement.
"Also, hey, this is my office. Go fuck in one of your own!"
France and Spain briefly disentangled themselves before looking at him, both red faced and hungry looks in their eyes.
"Si querías unirte, todo lo que tenías que hacer era preguntar."
If you wanted to join all you had to do was ask.
France was a bit more direct.
"Amene tes fesses"
Bring your arse over here. (But literally, bring your buttcheeks.)
The machine translated both the Spanish and the French and England turned bright red once more.
"Oh…"
And then…
“Okay”
—
Fin
Love this ship with England in the mix as well tbh. Ahhh...