[There's a moment when Austria does look up, instinctively trying to find their lantern among all the others. He shakes his head, considering being playful and faking that he's found it, and it feels as if it would fit their usual banter. But as he's about to say it, it doesn't feel natural for that instant.] Not at all. [It's said plainly.] We can get another, perhaps. Or one like it. That one was meant to be let go. We can have many more, as many as we want. [Did the concept of eternity still apply at a place like this? He and France didn't seem any older. It was plausible. And attractive.
Just as he instinctively tried to find the lantern, he skims their surroundings as if it were a reflex to France's words, before those words sink in.] I don't see any... [He trails off, and his pulse quickens.]
You're... you're...!! I don't believe you! [It's a hushed scolding, and Austria's attention is everywhere and nowhere all at once as the back of his neck grows cold.] I've been going out of my mind trying to keep things nice, because I care about this, I missed you, and here you're asking me to ruin it-- [The word ruin sticks in his mind and his thoughts fly to that one October night and he exhales, flustered.
And as France continues speaking, Austria can't help but feel challenged. Angry... is it that he wanted Austria angry? Is he laughing at the thought of it now that Austria is openly needy for France's affection? He doesn't have time to process it because France's lips are on him again, and with the words France has been choosing to express himself, Austria is beginning to wonder...] D...do you think we can make it back to our flat? [It's said weakly, almost as a formality.] It doesn't matter how... poetic it might be if I returned the favor from that night so many years ago, this isn't a private garden, it's a public park, how classless could we possibly--
[He's kissing France's neck, and he's hard. All the words coming out of his own mouth haven't exactly convinced the rest of him, and his eyes are scanning the area for a secluded spot. The concept of shame is skewed in a place like this, he knows, and he's rationalizing more and more by the second, grasping at him hungrily and walking (stumbling?) them both over to a curved row of trees. Knowing this place, there's a good chance they were arranged that way intentionally. It feels like a clumsy dance in a ballroom, basket hanging from Austria's wrist as he clasps France's hand.]
God, I thought I was done with this level of severity. [He takes a moment to collect himself, but he's face to face with his lover, pressed as tightly as he can be to him, hands not-so-gently tugging at the fabric of France's jacket.]
I want to take you the way you took me.
[The basket is softly dropped, and Austria grasps France's wrist, less softly. The other slides to France's chest to work on buttons. The need to see at least some of France's body in all this is only thing that's going to peel him off at this point.]
no subject
Just as he instinctively tried to find the lantern, he skims their surroundings as if it were a reflex to France's words, before those words sink in.] I don't see any... [He trails off, and his pulse quickens.]
You're... you're...!! I don't believe you! [It's a hushed scolding, and Austria's attention is everywhere and nowhere all at once as the back of his neck grows cold.] I've been going out of my mind trying to keep things nice, because I care about this, I missed you, and here you're asking me to ruin it-- [The word ruin sticks in his mind and his thoughts fly to that one October night and he exhales, flustered.
And as France continues speaking, Austria can't help but feel challenged. Angry... is it that he wanted Austria angry? Is he laughing at the thought of it now that Austria is openly needy for France's affection? He doesn't have time to process it because France's lips are on him again, and with the words France has been choosing to express himself, Austria is beginning to wonder...] D...do you think we can make it back to our flat? [It's said weakly, almost as a formality.] It doesn't matter how... poetic it might be if I returned the favor from that night so many years ago, this isn't a private garden, it's a public park, how classless could we possibly--
[He's kissing France's neck, and he's hard. All the words coming out of his own mouth haven't exactly convinced the rest of him, and his eyes are scanning the area for a secluded spot. The concept of shame is skewed in a place like this, he knows, and he's rationalizing more and more by the second, grasping at him hungrily and walking (stumbling?) them both over to a curved row of trees. Knowing this place, there's a good chance they were arranged that way intentionally. It feels like a clumsy dance in a ballroom, basket hanging from Austria's wrist as he clasps France's hand.]
God, I thought I was done with this level of severity. [He takes a moment to collect himself, but he's face to face with his lover, pressed as tightly as he can be to him, hands not-so-gently tugging at the fabric of France's jacket.]
I want to take you the way you took me.
[The basket is softly dropped, and Austria grasps France's wrist, less softly. The other slides to France's chest to work on buttons. The need to see at least some of France's body in all this is only thing that's going to peel him off at this point.]