• Every day was basically the same. England, the tiny country of only about six human years old, would go out into the woods in the morning and say hello to his fairy friends, practice magic, and work on his hunting skills. Then /he/ would come. That Frenchman with the silly clothes and hair. Rapunzel, Frog, Cheese eating surrender monkey. France. He would cross over in his little boat, usually with breakfast and lunch for the two of them, and they would mock each other, fight with each other, taunt each other like the little kids they were. France stays well into the afternoon until he has to go back home. Back to his own people. England would go back home and spend the evening with his big brothers. Dinner, cooked by Scotland, would be terrible compared to the breakfast and lunch France had made. And he would have to fall asleep to the sounds of them killing each other.

    Some days were different but not by much. Some days he and France acted civil. Some people might even call it friendly. If you looked close enough then you might even see the tiny spark of young love.

    On those special days France would bring dinner too and they would sleep under the stars. He would be able to leave all his cares in the world somewhere else. Just for those nights. Of course then they had to wake up. No one would know who starts it but they would have to start bickering. France would leave in a huff, or sometimes it would be England who stormed off into the woods telling him to go back to his own country.

    Some days he would never come. Those days he would wander into the villages. See his people. See their suffering at the hands of his boss. He was pretty sure that France and him had the same boss ever since that night he would rather forget. Blot out of his memory forever. Wish it was never part of his history. He didn't even know what had happened. France's boss told him to come over. Told him what to do to England. He didn't think France knew what was going on ether. The next day France's boss had control of him and his people. That was part of why he was supposed to come. To teach him about French culture. Teach him his language. Chivalry, how to build castles, he tried teaching him how to cook but that was an utter disaster. He hated the lessons and he was sure France did too.

    Today was different. Different to every other day. England went to France's side of the channel. He had to. He had been wandering through a village one day and he kept noticing something. People were pressing their lips to eachother. He had seen it before but he had never really thought about it. He walked up to a man who was next to one couple who were doing it. "Whats wrong with them?" he asked innocently.

    The man looked down at the little country. "Them? They are in love." he answered simply. Love? The frog knew all about that. Or at least he bragged he did a lot. So that's why he was here. He wanted to know what the bloody hell that was.

    He had to look all over the place for him but he soon found the frog talking to some important looking people. He walked up to him and tugged on his, what he called dress, to get his attention. France looked down at him and back up to the men. "Exuze moi sil vous plait monsoirs." he said in a voice much more mature then he usually heard.

    He took England's hand and led him into an alleyway. He will swear his heart didn't act funny at France's touch. "What do you want England? I'm busy today." France said, a little annoyed.

    "W-Well... I needed to ask you something." he said, a little nervous. He didn't know why though.

    "What is it? You couldn't wait until tomorrow?" The older child crossed his arms.

    England blushed. "I... It's about... l-love."

    France raised an eyebrow. "You want to ask me something about love? Is there someone special that you want my help with?" he smirked.

    "N-No! W-Why would I love anyone!? I have much better things to do then waist time on any silly emotions!" he yelled at him, blushing darker. "I... I want to know why people put their lips together. I asked someone in my country and he just told me they were in love. That's why I came to you."

    France smiled. "It's called kissing. You kiss someone you love. It's how to show them you love them."

    England looked up to him. "So, have you ever kissed anyone before?" he asked with his blush still on his face.

    France chuckled. "Of course I have!" he lied. "I'm the country of love!"

    England looked down to his feet. "So there's someone you love isn't there?"

    France bent down to look him eye to eye. "Oui. There is."

    The little nation turned around. "So... If there was someone who I loved... Which there defiantly is not! I would have to do that?"

    France stood up. "Oui... Angletere what are you... "

    "C-Can I... try it with you?" he mumbled, barely audible. "Because if I ever did love someone I would want to know what it's like. A-And you've already done this kind of thing so it doesn't even matter." he sputtered out.

    France turned him around and looked England in the eye. England looked back and just starred into those blue eyes. He swore they didn't sparkle. France leaned in and before England knew what was happening their lips met. His eyes widened a little bit in shock as his face lit up red. His heart beat at a million times a second and he had no idea why but France's lips against his own just felt right. And good. Like he was meant for this. Little England just stood there, not knowing what to do. Should he reach up for him? Should he shove him away? He had no idea. Before he could make up his mind France had pulled away.

    "Now when you find someone you love you'll know what to do." the Frenchman smiled at him and turned away. "If that's all you need then-" he felt a tug at his sleeve.

    France turned to look at the red cheeked child holding onto him, looking away. "W-Who do you love France?"

    France chuckled. "Like I would tell you. You're just going to have to figure it out petit lapin."

    England pulled his hand away. "Fine! I won't ever tell you who I love! Ever!" he yelled, storming away.

    France just laughed. "I'll figure it out anyway sorcills!" he shouted to him.

    "Don't make me curse you, you dress wearing, girly, frog!"

    The other two figures in the alleyway watched as the little countries yelled at eachother while England made his way out. The taller one leaned up against the blue 60's style british police box. "And that, Donna, is the story of your country's first kiss."

    The one named Donna looked to him. "You're saying... That the country of England... Is gay?" the taller man rolled his eyes.

    "Well, he's more bisexual really. As a nation he would have to be." he explained quickly.

    Donna put one finger up and looked confused. "Also... England is gay for France?! England and France bicker like an old married- ... Oh... But they're constantly at war with eachother!" Donna said, trying to wrap her head around it.

    "I know. I was there for some of it." he shrugged. "I remember one time I was talking to king Edward II, great guy by the way, although for some reason he seemed to have something against my scarf..."

    Donna gave him a stern look. "Doctor, you're rambling. And what scarf? I swear I have only seen you in one of those two suits and that coat."

    The doctor smiled. "I love this coat. Janice Joplin gave me this coat... Anyway, places to go, people to see." he said quickly as he stood up and turned to the door of the blue box. "Have you met my friend Winston?"

    Donna just shrugged off the previous rambling and looked back to the child nation of France who seemed to be day dreaming. "You would think France would be in love with, I don't know, Canada."
    The doctor, who was now inside the box, poked his head out and gave her a look of disgust. "You do know that Canada is France and England's son right?!"

    Donna looked surprised. "How could I know that!?" she said, stepping into the box. The door closed and it started to fade away with a "Vworp Vworp" noise, leaving nothing behind but a gust of wind.