I APPOLOGIZE TO EVERYONE WHO IS SCOTTISH. I CANNOT WRITE THE ACCENT.

And My French is probably wrong... No Translating, though... Sorry. But no.

I OWN NOTHING. Just the Sccotland OC, Angus K. Pilmore. He's-a mine~

France gazed down at his lover, threading long, nimble fingers through silky, unruly red hair. Emerald eyes glanced up at him, gently kissing at a slightly raised scar on his stomach. France shuddered a bit, feeling a tingle of pleasure travel his body. Careful, calloused fingertips gently traced down his body and glazed green eyes followed their path.

"…I…" France began softly, gazing down at Scotland with a little blush. "I don't know how you can look at me like this…" The other looked at him, face curious. "…The… the scars…" The Frenchman murmured, glancing away. "… They're… terrible… I'm not… pretty…" He finished lamely, attempting to draw his legs up and slowly wrapping his arms around himself to cover his naked body.

Scotland gazed at him for a moment; to see his France trying to hide himself; feeling so… insecure… He gently gripped France's wrists, moving his arms away and leaning down. He pressed a small kiss to a long scar across his chest, slowly moving them to his collarbone.

"…Yer right, France…" He whispered softly, moving up along his neck to his chin. "Ye aren't pretty…" Before France could respond, he gently kissed his lips, fingers threading trough soft blonde hair. The shorter man blinked, but gently kissed back, humming. Scotland gave his own hum at the feeling of France's hand running down his chest, teasing at his own scars. He gently pulled away, their lips barely lingering on each other. The blonde gently nipped at the redhead's lower lip before gazing up at him. The Scot smiled. "…Yer beautiful."

France blushed, looking away.

"Non… I-I'm not…" He muttered, gasping quietly as angry red scars were teased at by gentle, calloused fingertips.

"Ye are…" Scotland replied, gently kissing down his neck and collarbone. "Yer the most beautiful person I know…" France blushed, gazing down into green eyes. "I know why ye have the scars… I'm sharing yer pain, love… mine hurt, too… but they aren't terrible or hideous…" He whispered, gently kissing across a taut stomach. "They're part of who ye are; and tha's why I love ye…" He glanced up at France's brilliantly blue clouded eyes, small tears forming in them.

A delicate hand threaded through long, silky red hair and a soft smile graced even softer lips.

"…Je t'aime… tellement beaucoup…" He whispered. Scotland smiled softly, gently leaning up to kiss him.

"Je t'aime, trop…" He whispered back. "Mon bel amour…"

Hope you enjoyed~ Reviews are love, and flames just kindle the fire in which I bake my Pocky~!

-Sincerely yours, StrawberryPockyStix~