FrancexReader: When in Paris **Prize**

“Wow, France!” you exclaimed. “This is amazing!”

The two of you were standing on top of the Eiffel Tower in Paris, France. It was nighttime, so all of the lights were on all over the city, making it look like it was sparkling. You felt like you were on top of the world!

“So what do you think, ma cheríe?” France asked, smiling at the awed look on your face. “Is the city as beautiful as you thought it would be?”

“Yes,” you breathed, “even more so than I imagined!” You turned around so you were facing France with your back to the railing. “I think that I’m falling in love with your capital city, France.”

France did that perverted laugh of his. “I see that you love me, _____. What is one thing in particular that you like about this city?” he pressed. “What is the thing here that impresses you the most?” You thought for a moment.

“Oh, I know!” you grinned and stepped away from the railing to stand in the middle of the platform. “I love the Eiffel Tower!” You spun around in a circle, giggling. “It’s huge! It’s much bigger than I thought it would be!”

France looked like he was trying very, very hard not to dissolve into hysterical laughter. “Oh really?

“Yes!” you grinned, oblivious to the accidental double meaning in your words. “I mean, from all the stuff I heard about it and the pictures I saw, I didn’t actually think about the size.”

France was really having trouble keeping in his laughter now. “Are you enjoying yourself, mon amour?”

You nodded eagerly. “I have never had so much fun in my life!”

At that statement, France could no longer contain his laughter. He collapsed to the platform, tears streaming down his cheeks as he clutched his stomach as he let out a deep belly laugh, one that you had never heard before.

You looked confused. “Is it something I said?” France only laughed harder.

After about ten minutes, France finally got a hold of himself and stood up, wiping away tears.

“_____,” he chuckled, “do you remember what England and America told you about the city of Paris and how it affect me?” You nodded, still a bit confused. “Tell me what they said, then,” France requested, lips quirking up in a smile.

“Well, England said that Paris is your heart, just like how my capitol is my heart,” you said. “Them America butted in and said that there was one part of Paris that isn’t your heart.”

“Oui,” France said, “keep going.”

“America said that that piece was your ‘vital regions’,” you continued. “When I asked, England said that it was…” Your eyes suddenly got very wide as your realized what France had found so funny.

France began laughing all over again at the look on your face. “G-go on…” he urged.

You turned about fifty different shades of red. “Th-the Eiffel T-t-tower…” you sputtered.

France straightened and smiled at you. “Well then,” he said, pecking you on the cheek and wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, “would you like a tour?”

You had never turned that red.