---------- Post added 08-10-2012 at 09:55 PM ----------

"Arthur?" A voice sang to him, an annoying voice that he wanted to hit in the face. "Nhh." Was his only response to said voice. "Wake up dude! You're gonna be late for the meeting!" Arthur had gone drinking with America last night, and he was nursing a hang over from hell. He was just starting to remember that he had a meeting today and he got up, showering and getting ready for the meeting of the nations. He was annoyed that Alfred had waken him. He'd been planning to skip at first, but it seemed America had come by his home to rudely wake him. He grumbled a bit, grabbing a cup of hot tea on the way out the door. He didn't look so good, clothes wrinkled slightly, and big bags under his eyes. He rushed to the meeting, still endin up a bit late. It seemed that all seats were taken except one beside Francis. He groaned inwardly. That was the last thing he wanted to deal with today. He hated that bloody pervert with all of his soul, and sitting beside him only managed to make Arthur's headache worse. He sure hoped today's meeting wouldn't be very long. As long as America wasn't getting on the stupid 'global warming' rant, he figured they'd get out realitivly quick. He was half asleep, hair stickin up in every direction possible, even more than normal. He got a few worried looks, and he returned them with evil glares.

It had been five hours since the meeting started, and Arthur felt his brain melting in his skull. He'd managed to soothe his hangover, but now all he wanted was sleep. "Alfred..." Arthur groaned, something he'd never done in a meeting before. Alfred looked at him oddly before clearing his throat. "Can we please have a bloody break?" He whined. "My stomach is rumbling." Alfred threw him a cheeseburger. "Here, eat this dude!" Arthur as seething, throwing the greasy thing back at Alfred with a shriek. "You git! This is /not/ food!" he yelled, getting stares from most countries, and snickers from others. Alfred cleared his throat again, clearly shocked into a form of silence by the outburst. "um..well, I guess we can just finish for today.." Arthur sighed in relief, standing and cracking all of his joints. He'd been sitting way to long. He collected his belongings and got ready to leave before hearing Alfred talking to Japan in low whispers. "Kiku...I'm worried..he's been drinking a lot lately...you don't think he's still angry about the revolution do you?" Kiku frowned. "I don't know." Was his near silent reply. Kiku was always so quiet. Arthur felt anger rising up in his emotions. America always thought it was all about him.

Arthur stormed out without even a goodbye to anyone. His real reason for being so down lately had to do with Anerica indeed, but not just him. All of his life, Arthur had been alone, and then he'd had Alfred. That was his very reason for living then. He'd had a wonderful little colony, and he'd felt loved. Then he'd had that awful war that split them apart. Then there was Canada. He'd let him go without even a fight. Then there was Francis. That stupid man had asked him, the united bloody kingdom, to marry him! He'd even considered it at first. After all, Francis was strong, attractive, and probably could make his sex life a blast, but there was a huge problem with Francis. France couldn't ever just pick one person, no, he wanted to share himself with the whole damned world, and Arthur found himself angry by that. Why wasn't he good enough for that stupid pervert?! He huffed, cursing loudly. "Bloody fucking frog.." He complained to himself, storming into his own house. He needed a drink. He opened his cabinet, grumpy to find it void of alcohol. He stormed back out and went to the ABC liquor store. He looked around the shelves, grabbing random bottles. He just needed to get smashed until he blacked out.

“Come back to bed Francis” a very soft feminine voice purred from the black silken sheets of his bed. Her blond hair was splayed out over the pillow, her soft pink lips turning down in a pout when he turned down her tempting offer. “I’m sorry my lovely rose, but alas I cannot join you, there’s a meeting I must get off too. Turning his back he scooped up a pair of pants off the floor and tugged them on, followed by his shirt. He ran his fingers through his blond hair doing nothing more than fluffing it out a little. “But Francis can’t they do it without you” she was cross now it showed in her voice. Probably he thought but didn’t say so aloud. The meeting was a good way of getting out of the woman’s house, sometimes they could get so clingy and all because he had slept with them. “Unfortunately I am the star of the meeting today and couldn’t possibly dream of missing it, so I bid you adieu my dear” leaning down he gave her a quick peek on the forehead. “I hope we shall meet again soon” or never he thought as he grabbed the rest of his stuff and fairly ran out the door.

The girl, what was her name again? The girl was nice and all they all were but they weren’t enough and they always wanted to keep France to themselves. Didn’t they know he was a free spirit? That he went wherever the wind took him… or at least wherever the small head took him? But it was starting to become repetitive no one could seem to hold his interest once he bagged them, he would move onto the next one. They all blended together in his mind just one long line of people, men and women. His heart dragged for a moment as he thought of it, he longed to meet someone who wanted more from him then fun. Most everyone thought of him as a giant pervert, and in truth they were right he was, but he did wish someone could see more in him then that. “Maybe that’s all I am” he mused aloud as he walked down the hallway towards the meeting room. One of the countries gave him an odd look, but he wasn’t paying attention, didn’t notice who it was nor did he care.

The meeting was as long as it was boring “shut up already Alfred” France mumbled under his breath, the notepad in front of him was filled to the brim with five hours worth of doodling, most of the doodles were on the raunchy side, but hey he was France it’s what everyone expected of him anyway. He thought back to his empty loft. It could be filled easily by one person or another, but for once he wanted a quiet night alone, without anyone expecting anything of him. Whenever he invited anyone back to his place they always assumed he was going to nail them. Which was true most of the time, but still!

After the meeting France nearly fled from the meeting room, his first stop was the liquor store the last girl who had come back to his place had pretty much drank him dry, but she was good in bed so he forgave her. Humming under his breath he spotted his most favorite person ahead of him, “Arthur! My love!” he cried throwing his arms around the country from behind his arms wrapped securely around England’s neck. “Why won’t you marry me?” he asked his mouth dangerously close to Arthur’s ear in this position. “It breaks my heart it really does” he said in mock sadness his hands forming a little heart over England’s chest.

Arthur heard the voice and cursed, going stiff as warm arms wrapped around him and even warmer lips grazed his ear. He tried to squirm from the grasp, growling dangerously. "Get off of me frog. Today's not the day to fuck around with your stupid games." He hissed. "You know bloody well why I won't marry you bastard. You only care for yourself and don't tbi k about anyone else's feelings. You're a fucking whore! Besides, you're not even that handsome! You have longer hair then some women!" He'd never attacked Francis like this before, but he was feeling extra touchy. He grabbed a few more bottles. "Now, of you'll excuse me, I have a date." He lied. He didn't even know why he'd lied. Maybe because if Francis knew he'd be alone and intoxicated, he'd make sure to be there. Then Alfred walked in, making Arthur rush to get his stuff to the counter. "Iggy!" Alfred yelled, hugging in. "Dude..you getting drunk again?" Alfred frowned. "It worries me when you just sit all alone drinking like that...Arthur...you need to find someone to make sure you don't hurt yourself.." that sparked his fury further. "Git! Shup up! I'm not a teenage girl! I don't hurt myself!" He paid for his items and stormed out.

Alfred looked at Francis for A moment. "I'm not sure what's with him. I mean, he's always an old stiff, but he seems worse lately...Francis...I'm worried. He won't date these days, and he really shouldn't sit around that empty house drinking that much. What if he.." Alfred paused, trying to swallow the limo in his throat. "I'm just worried he might try to take his own life. You know he's so suicidal all the time.." He was indirectly asking the Frenchman to check up on Arthur. "Besides, couldn't you better bag him if he's smashed? I'm pretty sure Iggy's never gone that far in his life. He's such An old stiff."

Arthur opened the first bottle of Gin, chugging it down until he felt like he was buzzed. He'd wait til later to get completely drunk. He was feeling kind of sexy, taking off some of his top layers of clothes. He left himself in his boxers and long white shirt. He invitied the top two buttons. He didn't even have the door locked. He took another swig. He always felt better when he drank.

England’s words hit right below the belt, then circled that area a few times and shot right up into his heart. The sinking feeling in his chest coupled with a hand squeezing it almost brutally had him silent a moment. Yes he was considered a whore, yes he didn’t always think about anyone else but himself, but to have those worst qualities about himself thrown out like that was enough to give anyone pause. Masking the fact that he was even remotely upset he smiled forcing cheer where there was none. “Now I get called a whore a lot, mainly by jealous people who can’t get any, but I’ve never been called anything less than angelically gorgeous “ he said his arms retracting and hands finding his hips as he struck a pose nose in the air. He would never let England know his words had pained him, he had too much pride for that.

Alfred and Francis watched Arthur stalk out the liquor store bags of booze in either hand. “Yeah maybe I should stop by on my way home, not like I’m doing anything tonight anyway, or anyone for that matter. Shocking I know” he said in response to America’s surprised look, paying for his alcohol he passed America and clapped him warmly on the shoulder. “I’ll get to the bottom of this and maybe even into Arthur’s pants” he joked with a little wink for America’s benefit. “After all it does pay to be persistent, maybe this time I will even get England to agree to marry me, miracles can happen!” whistling a jaunty little tune to himself France made his way home happy to find it empty. Once a creepy stalker girl had made a copy of his key and invited herself in, he had found her many times naked in various parts of the house and after having his way with her each time he would send her on her way. He didn’t get why she kept coming back. So he had moved and gotten extra locks, so far she hadn’t found him.

After collecting a few key items ie food from his place he made the short trip over to England’s place. He was surprised to find the door unlocked, almost as if he was expected. His first sight of a nearly nude England was as pleasant as it was shocking. Dang England’s a lot more muscled then I ever gave him credit for was his first thought when he saw him. Setting the food on a chair he claimed one of the unopened bottles and uncapped it taking a long draught before saying anything else. “What a homey little scene we have here” he started after wiping his lips. “The wife making dinner for his hubby” he teased pointing to the bag of food. He got right to work ignoring England’s yells and grumbles, soon enough the smell of good French food permeated the air.

Arthur had been posing sort of, not really noticing when Francis came in. Normally, he'd be all freaked out by the fact he was almost nude in front of a pervert, but he wasn't really thinking properly at all. He never had been really good at holding his liquor, and now he was more than a little drunk. "Francie?" he asked, sounding indifferent about the man's presence. He stood up shakily, nearly falling. He pulled off the shirt, placing it on the couch. He was staring at France with confusion. "We're married?" He asked. "wouldn't I be the wifey? You're the more manlier one..." He butchered his own language as he slurred. He fell against Francis' body, not bothering to move from there. He was surprisingly comfortable. He stood there in silence for a while.

As Arthur's mind tried to work out the mess, he started getting all emotional. "no body loves me!!" He cried. "and when they do, it's not just me...it's other people!!" He was all whiny like he often got while drinking. "Francis..kiss me..." He begged, leaning in closer to his victim. He was really out of it, not even realizing his own actions. "Kiss me, and then run away with me. To a magical place where it's just me, you, and our love." Arthur slumped to the floor as he lost balence. "I love you." He cried, clinging tj one of Francis' legs like a child would their mother. It was then that he passed out cold, right there on the kitchen floor.

Arthur managed to wake up just a little while later, a little less intoxicated, but still a bit out of it. The smell of French food was lingering in the room, and his stomach rumbled. He hadn't eaten in quite a while, and that food smelled like heaven. He stood shakily, dragging his bottle of gin along with him. He sipped at it halfhearterdly, half hoping to pass out again. He realized Francis must be here since there was the smell of good food. Somehow, even as he was thinking a tiny bit clearer, he wasn't bothered by the fact that France was in his house. That meant he wasn't alone. He wondered if Francis had come to check on him, get in his pants, or both. Deep down he really hoped it was because Francis cared to some degree. He didn't fell like anyone cared about him, and it would be nice to have someone who did. After all, his own brother, the brother that he'd raised, he hadn't even cared enough to check up on him.

He peaked around the house, eventually finding Francis, staring at him. It was true that Francis was drop dead gorgeous. Arthur's very favorite feature was tht long, golden hair. Sometimes he hated Francis for being so beautiful. It made him feel so ugly and mediocre. Arthur also liked the blue eyes that reminded him of some sort of angel. He himself, well, he had highly unruly hair, ugly green eyes, and the thickest eyebrows in the planet. He stepped just a bit closer. He didn't want to admit it, but he /wanted/ France to take him. He just wouldn't let himself give in. He knew he could never be France's only one. That was like asking Alfred not to eat cheeseburgers...or asking Russia to be sane. He sighed. "Shouldn't you be out trying to score a bed partner?" He wasn't harsh with his words though, he sounded more like a wounded little girl, his voice cracking harshly. "Will you ever be able to settle down?" He asked, careful to keep a distance between them. "You could find a real nice lass an have a family if you wanted.." He hoped his feelings weren't showing. He was dangerously close to tears, another thing that only happened when he'd been drinking.

France was utterly at a loss as to how to deal with this new version of England, this clingy, emotional, mess of a man who just asked him to run away with him, and on top of that to kiss him. He was actually more than a little relieved when Arthur passed out cold on the kitchen flood. Made dealing with him that much easier. His cheeks still burned at the words, “too bad I can’t take that as a real acceptance of my proposal he won’t remember this in the morning anyway…. Though if I really wanted to trick him into marriage now I know the way, just get him really really drunk” he was joking with himself. Arthur had really thrown him for a loop with all his drunken slurred talk.

Shaking his fair head down at the man passed out on the floor Francis bent at the waist and hefted him up. “Dang weighs more than I thought he would… or maybe I’m just out of shape” he muttered as he carried Arthur into the living room and dumped him on the couch. “Like a little drunken angel” he laughed at his own joke feeling better already, those had only been drunken words after all, he couldn’t even count the times he had gone and said something enormously stupid because of the stuff. Apparently he had asked a girl to marry him once while he was drunk. He shuddered at the memory, taken weeks to get that girl off his back. Finally he had no choice but to file a restraining order. He felt kind of bad about that, but no matter how many times he had told her it was a mistake nothing more, she just didn’t seem to get it. In the end it had worked out for the best, last he had heard she was getting married soon anyway.

Humming a soft tune to himself he went to the kitchen and started preparing dinner, it wasn’t anything much, he had been in the mood for something simple anyway, Pot au feu which was just beef stew and mixed vegetables. England needed something hefty in his stomach anyway. An hour later France stood in the kitchen stirring a pot filled with vegetables and meat on the stove, England could sleep as long as he wanted, stew tasted better after simmering a few hours anyway. After putting the top on the pot he went out and checked on the little sleeping England, still passed out on the couch.

A short while later found England sitting at the table with France. Francis took a long moment to answer his questions settling instead for serving him some food and claiming the seat at the other side of the table, all he had was a glass of wine which he sipped at now and again. “One I had a bed partner this morning and I really wasn’t in the mood for more… least not today, and second.. yes I do plan to settle down why do you think I ask you to marry me all the time?” he teased gently taking a graceful sip of his wine.

England got all fidgety, playing with his fingers in a nervous sort of way. He got himself a bowl of the stew, blowing on a spoonful to cool it down some. "I must be even more out of it than I thought." he muttered. "Don't you just sk me to marry you because you know that's the only way to get me to comply with you? After all, I'm probably the only country you haven't had in your bed. I know Alfred's been a partner of yours, Italy swears you sent him to heaven, Germany slapped the shit out of me and blushed at the topic, Spain and Gilbert claim you took them both on the same night..." He gave a pained frown. "there's no way I'm putting myself through living hell by marrying you. You know I believe in mono relationships. You can't commit to anything. Besides...why are you after /me/ of all people? You can have anyone in the world. Anyone. Any man, any woman. And you pick someone who's as plan as I am..I'm not attractive, smart, or funny. I'm..me.." He made a face, then stood, approaching Francis. He got dangerously close, his lips hovering so close that he could practically taste Francis' breath. He wanted to kiss him, just once..just this once while he could blame it on alcohol. But he didn't. He back off and took France's wine, chugging it down. "You should go." he said as he ran from the room.

Arthur sat up in his room, closing and locking the door tightly. He broke into peices, bawling like a baby. He got the secret bottle of gin he kept in his room and started drinking, tears still flowing. He hated these moments. Francis....tht was who he hated. He hated the frog for trying to seduce him. He knew the only reason Francis wanted to get hitched was because he wanted to have England as a new trophy for his huge ego. He wanted to be able to say 'oh, yeah, I freaked with the stiff old Arthur. I can get /anyone/ in bed, even the grumpy English prude' The thoughts of that only made him more upset which made him drink even more. He needed a man. A loving, caring man who could be with just him and no one else. But that just wasn't possible now was it? No one belived in personal relationships. Most countries just wanted to shag for fun and pleasure, but not Arthur. He wanted love. The real kind, and not the stupid frog's 'amour' as he called it. He'd talked to do many people that'd been with this man, and he didn't want to let him have the two things Arthur had left. His heart, and his virginity. Those were the two things he'd never trusted anyone with.

She walked into the little house and smiled. "Francis?" She called, only hearing a loud sobbing sound from a room upstairs. "Francis?" She called again, wondering if that was him. It didn't sound like a Frenchman though. It was much softer and more..fragile sounding. She glared and crossed her thin little arms. She'd been a woman Francis had once put a restraining order on, but she'd seen him enter this house a few hours ago, and over the hours, she hadn't been able to resist going in and talking to him, maybe even convincing him to climb under the sheets with her. "Francis Bonnefoy!" She yelled, Surprised when she saw the cutest little British man she'd even laid eyes on. His eyes were puffy and red, and he seemed highly distraught. "Aww. Are you ok?" She asked, pulling him into an embrace if sorts. He smilled like whiskey, gin, and wine. "I-I was hoping you would take your boyfriend and leave. I'm trying to rest." She smiled broadly and dragged Arthur into a full blown kiss. He was terrified by the action, eyes going wide as he struggled. The woman seemed kind of crazy to him. Like she might be just as much a pervert as France. She broke off for air and England whimpered. "Francis..." He choked out in panic.

France would have smiled at all the reminders of past fun, ah Italy had been so cute to play with so expressive he was, and Germany was really a notch in his belt, had to work hard to get that man to come to bed with him. But in the end it was well worth it for them both. He would have smiled, if England hadn’t looked so damn sad, Francis frowned and studied the face before him. Arthur always made it seem like he hated France, hated how he was a pervert, hated how he liked to have many bed partners, and hated even his looks. But sometimes the way he talked like now made France think otherwise. He opened his mouth to say something only to stop as England’s lips hovered temptingly close to his own, but it was for the alcohol of course, England wouldn’t dream of kissing France… France was icky. While England was pure, everything France wasn’t.

Watching Arthur leave he really thought about his words, why did he want to marry England, he ignored the get out bit, he wasn’t going anywhere. But why did he want to marry Arthur. The man could be so stuck up and looked down on France for what he was… but he was also sweet, and interesting, and France loved his head of shaggy blonde hair darker then his own, those cute eyebrows that only looked good on England, and those eyes most of all. Expressive green eyes that had enchanted Francis since the first time he saw them. Maybe he should try wooing Arthur instead of just trying to jump his bones all the time, he mused all of this over when a familiar chill ran down his spine. This chill came from one person and one person only, he knew this feeling. Jumping to his feet he ran up the stairs. She was here he knew it, poor Arthur wouldn’t know what to do with such a crazy woman.

“Maria!” he was less shocked to see the woman then he was to see the sight he walked in on, her arms were curled around Arthur and she was giving him quite the passionate smooch. Might loosen him up a little was his first thought before he shook his head and glared at the thin pretty woman holding his would be husband. “I thought the court made it quite clear that you were to stay at least one hundred feet away from me” he snapped annoyed that she would pop up today of all days. Stalking over to the cozy looking pair he fairly ripped England out of her grip and tugged him flush against his own body, his eyes still on the woman. “Now you better get out Maria I will call the police this time, you are breeching your restraining order” she huffed at him her eyes pleading. “But Francis you know we are made for one another, I would never turn you out of my bed” she whined, her whine grating on his nerves. "Just get out" he snapped his arms still holding Arthur hostage against his body.

Arthur was relived the instant Francis arrived. He shivered against the man who was holding him so close. The woman seemed rather whiny. "You are a pshyco bitch!" Arthur screamed, shrill at the very top of his lungs. "For the love of god! You come into my house without so much as a knock, you scream for Francis for like, then minutes, and then you practically eat my face off?! What the bleeding hell is wrong with you?!" He sounded auote frantic and terrified. He yanked himself from Francis arms, grabbing a shotgun from above the mantle and holding it, pointed at her. "Get out!!!" He screamed at her, making her bolt out the door. He was breathing all heavy, still holding the gun. His eyes were the size of golf balls, and he was shaking. "I swear. You have the fucking creepiest bed partners ever." He out the gun back up and ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know what I'd have done id you didn't get her off of me..she could've..no, /Would've/ taken advantage of me. In my own house.." He felt the fears coming on, and he ran over to press his face against Francis' chest, bursting into little peices as he held on tightly to the man's shirt. "Thank you so much." He held himself there, crying against France until he got a good hold on himself. He kissed the other's cheek as a sign of his graditude. "Alfred says that heros are supposed to get kisses from the people they save, so of he asked, I followed his rules." He got his phone and called the police, telling them all that had happened. He then called Alfred, knowing that he should talk to his brother. That tended to calm him down.

Alfred hurried to his brother's house. He knew Arthur must be frightened, and he was a hero, so he had to help. He came in and grabbed the small English man, holding him for a moment. "Are you on bro? I got here as soon as I could!" Arthur nodded. "Yeah. Just really freaked out. Francis...saved me." Alfred grinned and winked at France. "God going dude. My bro sure does need a hero. He's like a little damsel in distress." Arthur growled. "Shut up git! I'm a man! Not a damsel in distress." Alfred laughed. "Ywah, what ever Iggy. Francis totally saved your life. Now you have to lay a sexy, hot smooch on him. "I already kissed him." Arthur hissed, making Alfred laugh. "Good job Iggy! Was it hot?" Arthur glared. "I kissed his cheek you bleeding wanker!" Alfred laughed. "And now I know the only reason you're a virgin is because no one wants to sleep with a cranky old coot." Arthur slapped Alfred across the face. "You shut up! You know that's not true!" Alfred blinked in surprise. "Im sorry dude.." He held up his hands in surrender and Arthur stormed out of the room.

Alfred sighed and turned to Francis. "Look, I don't normally ask favors, but can you stay here for the night. Arthur was clearly shaken by the woman, and I'm sure he's terrified. He's not used to that sort of think happening. And be careful with his emotions. He seems kind of touchy..even more than usual. Rub his back as sing to him if he has sleeping issues. Make him hot cider before bed and be sure you run your hands through his hair after the cider. It soothes him and makes him practically putty in your hands." Alfred smiled a little. "Thanks." He bolted, not giving France time to object.

“That’s one way to get rid of a stalker” he said in a low voice as he watched the woman bolt from the room fearful of getting her head blown off by an Englishman with a shotgun. Who once she was gone fell to pieces and rushed to France for comfort. Him of all people, well it could only be the fact that he was the only one there, but still it was nice that England felt okay enough to use him as comfort. Wrapping his arms around the small Englishman he made soft sounds of comfort low in his throat just letting the man cry himself out. He was more shocked by the kiss then he was even by Arthur’s thanks and turning to him in a time of need. “Well if that’s a way to get a kiss off of you I should do it more often” he said though he knew Arthur hadn’t heard him, the man was on the phone with his brother, who no doubt was on his way as soon as the words tumbled out of England’s pretty mouth. He headed downstairs to pour them all a good strong drink and to wait for Alfred’s arrival. In the kitchen he took a bite of England’s forgotten stew before putting it back in the pot, the food wasn’t bad just cold he wasn’t one to waste food. Humming to himself he poured a wine for him and shots for the other two.

Alfred was like a tornado when he came in whirling through everything with that energy that was uniquely his. “I’m sure Arthur would have been fine you should have seen the way he pointed that shotgun at her, I’m sure he would have used it had she not fled for her very life” he chuckled darkly at the memory “maybe now she won’t bother me anymore. So in a way Arthur saved me too, and I remember the rules, the hero gets a kiss” his eyes shone. But by that time Arthur was in the other room, and only Alfred heard him. But he must have chosen to ignore it because all he did was leave him with specific instructions on how to take care of Arthur and bolted.

Soon enough Francis made his way up the stairs with the hot cider in one hand and his own glass of wine in the other, setting both on the end table next to the bed. Arthur was in the shower, he could hear the water running, making himself comfortable on the bed he flipped on the television skimming through the channels, soon he was bored with that and turned the tv off. The next thing he knew he found himself in the bathroom. “Hey Arthur I was thinking you know that woman might not bother me anymore and all because of my crazy English friend. In a way you’re my hero too. And I have to follow the rules right?” he asked advancing on the shower and tugging the curtain aside to expose England in all his glory.

England had run upstairs after his stupid brother insulted him, annoyed and grumpy. He slung his clothes off and went to his glorious bathroom, stepping into a hit shower. It felt so good, running over him and making him loosen up some. He scrubbed himself, trying to be clean of that vile woman who'd made him feel so dirty. He was in the midst of washing his hair when the curtain was ripped back, exposing him, and every bit of him at that. He screamed like a little girl, his hands shooting down to cover himself. "Francis!" He'd meant to yell at him, but it sounded more like a whine. "Tge rules say nothing about busting on people in the shower. I'm nude for Christ sake!" He shut off the water and pulled a towel around his waist, sprinting over to push Francis out of his bathroom. "For the love of god, as least let me get ready for bed before you decide you want to invade my mouth." He pushed Francis out, and locked the door.

After drying his hair and pulling on some clothes, Arthur brushed his teeth and then went back into his room. He wasn't as drunk anymore after flushing it out of his system some. He was only a bit buzzed, and his judgement was still a tiny bit impaired. "You want your kiss?" He asked, giving Francis a little look. "You can have it, but only if you promise you won't use your tongue." He went over to the glass and made humming sound. "You're planning in staying the night aren't you?" He sighed. "I guess Alfred put you up to this?" He stared at the liquid that made him both sleepy and venerable. He was very skeptic about drinking it. It would make him do drowsy, not to mention the fact that when mixed with someone stroking his hair, it made him practically melt in their arms. He decided he'd only drink it of France directly told him to, so for now he sat on the bed, flicking the tv onto one of those dramatic Franch soap operas where the handsome French guy always got the beautiful Franch lady. He liked these shows, though he'd never told anyone. "If you tell anyone that I watch this bike crap, I will blow your head off with that shotgun." He warned, snuggling himself into the bed. He have the side beside him a little pat. "You're welcome to get in the bed with me of you'd like." He blushed. "But no spooning! You stay on /you're/ side!" He pointed to the closet. "You can get pajamas in there if you'd like, please do take a shower before getting in my bed..and..fuck this." He got up, dragging Francis to the closet.

After picking out some clothes and pulling out an extra toothbrush, Arthur turned on the water to the shower, heating it up Nicely. "Take off your clothes." he commanded, just standing there expectantly. "You decided to be a peeping tom on me, so it's only fair I see you too." In truth, he just wanted to see a sexy, naked, Francis in his bathroom. "When you're done taking them off, you can hand them to me and I'll take them to the washroom. I have to put on a load of clothes anyway." He contined to wait, not ready to take no as an answer. If Francis wanted to be a pervert, then Arthur would show him how that felt. "And if you're planning in using cider to make me your toy, I'd do that before it gets cold." He said with a brilliant smirk.

Comfortable with his body and used to having people see him naked France felt no qualms about stripping down to his birthday suit in front of Arthur. Winking at England he flipped on the water and stepped into the shower. “I’ll invade your mouth after my shower, it will be a better kiss when we are nice and cozy cuddled up in bed together” he stressed the word together but he was only teasing Arthur it was no fun getting into anyone’s pants when they were drunk. At least France didn’t think so though he couldn’t count the number of times he had gotten drunk and woken up at someone’s place. After Arthur left with his clothes Francis turned his complete attention to the shower, it felt wonderful to have hot water sliding down his body, a hot shower always left him super relaxed and tired. Something about the heat he assumed. Grabbing the soap he cleaned himself thoroughly checking his body as was habit. France might sleep with a lot of people, but he always got himself tested and made sure they had been tested recently too. He didn’t want to catch anything, there had only been a few times where he had slept with someone before checking and he had been drunk. It’s why he was so careful drinking most of the time. Grabbing the shampoo he scrubbed it into his scalp, most anyone he slept with always loved his silky blond hair, it was a point of pride for him and he liked to keep it smooth and shiny.

After a most invigorating shower he found Arthur on his bed watching those French drama’s from earlier. Francis thought it was cute, out of all types of drama to watch he had picked French. Maybe that boded well for him, or maybe he was just reading too much into it. He shrugged and settled down beside Arthur on the bed already drowsy from the shower, “so what’s happening?” he asked scooting closer and sliding an arm around Arthur’s shoulder tucking the smaller man closer. “Oh yeah and I do believe I still owe my rescuer a kiss and as promised no tongue” he smiled and cupped the Englishman’s chin tilting it up so their lips hovered an inch apart. “Sorry to say though I intend to have this kiss and savor It right smack dab on the lips” and without giving sweet little England any time to think he dipped his head down and kissed him lightly, tenderly on the lips. It was a practiced experienced kiss, England tasted of his toothpaste, it was a nice taste though. Pulling back Francis winked at the blushing country. “There I believe my dept has been paid. Now drink your cider and lay with me I want to see if I can turn you into putty” he chuckled at the thought lifting the glass off the end table and holding it to Arthur’s lips. “Drink up now”

Arthur was watching the show, yelling at the television. He was clearly angry. The woman had cheated on the sweet guy, and she was begging to have him back. "You bloody idiot! You can't have him back!" He let Francis snuggle him with no qualms. "Can you believe this girl? She thinks it's perfectly ok to break his heart and then try to get him back. I would never do that!" He screamed. He shuttered as Francis lifted his chin up. He didn't really mind if he was kissed. He liked it. France was quite experienced and knew what he was doing. England found himself melting against those lips, even kissing back. He tried not to show his disappointment when the kiss ended. His eyes were closed and he was dazed for a moment. He took the cider and started drinking. It made him kind of sleepy. He mumbled softly and nuzzled against France. Normally he would turn all mushy and kissy, but tonight he was just tired. He fell fast asleep.

In the morning, England woke up all snuggled and comfy with Francis. His head kind of hurt, and he walked down to kitchen and got some potion that he made just for his headaches. He sipped a bit of it and sighed as it stopped the awful headache. He brushed his teeth and got dressed, checking up on France who seemed to be asleep. He leaned down and kissed his cheek, smiling at him. He left to go down to his basement, pulling on his black cloak and he stood in the middle of a huge pentagram, chanting softly until the room started to glow with power. He took a cauldron and started to mix things together, chanting over the pot that started to glow like the rest of the room was. He was making love potion for a certain contact of his. The liquid turned a pretty shade of pink and he started to put it in different identical bottles, labeling it in latin so only a smart person could use it properly. He put it on a shelf with lots of other potions. He picked up one in particular, a purple one. It was one that could make a person happy for a period of time. He took it upstairs, pushing the hood down and mixing the potion into his tea. He felt awful for using such a thing as this just to make himself happy. He was about to drink, but sat it down for a moment.

”Why would anyone love a little whore like you? The only thing you’re good for is a quick romp in the sack. Then once that is over you’re good for nothing else. Not the man you would bring home to mommy or daddy, but one you do in a dark alley somewhere where no one can see you” the cold voice laughed as Francis stood there dumbfounded, the words spoken were true every word. “Though I do have to admit you are good at what you do” the voice turned thoughtful, the speakers face was lost in shadow the parts he could see twisted with a vicious sort of pleasure. Then the voice turned familiar it changed into Arthur’s, each word he said breaking Francis’s heart into smaller and smaller pieces until there was nothing left but dust. “Is it any wonder I don’t want to be with you? No one does you are just a good for nothing whore” Arthur’s voice mocked laughing.

The laughter echoed in his head as Francis sat up rubbing a hand over his eyes. He had realized until he touched his eyes that they were wet, wiping the moisture away he stretched feeling his back pop trying to forget the way England’s voice had sounded and all the hurtful things he had said… and how very true the words were. He sighed running fingers through his bed head smoothing it out, looking around the room he forgot where he was and debated making a quick exit stage left out the window. Wouldn’t be the first time he woke up in someone else’s room and ducked out the window. Once he ended up out the window with no pants, not his finest moment, and had to make it all the way back home ducking from hiding place to hiding place to cover his nudity. He still hadn’t gotten his pants back. It took him a long tense moment to remember where he was, and when he did the awful dream came back vividly, sinking his head into his hands he willed the dream away. When he had better control over himself he rolled out of the bed fixing the rumbled sheets with firm tugs before heading downstairs. He found Arthur in much the same position he had been, head in hands sitting at the table with a cup of untouched tea beside him. Forcing a cheer he didn’t feel he smiled taking the vacant seat across from Arthur. “What’s wrong my little English rose?” he asked glad Arthur hadn’t looked up and seen just how forced his smile was, how Francis wished he had time to be alone sort through his feelings.

Arthur looked up slightly at Francis, surprised that he was still here. "Francis.." He muttered. "You're still here with me." He felt even sadder now. He felt the tears well up and he quickly downed the tea. It didn't exactly make him happy, but at least he wasn't crying. "You ok?" He asked. He saw the forced smile and got concerned. "France..?" He got really close and cupped the frenchman's face in his hands. "Hey...look at me. What's wrong?" He hadn't seen Francis upset before. He kissed Francis' cheek. "Please...I don't want to see you sad..even though I do hate you.." He knew he didn't really hate France, but the two of them often said things like that to each other. He sighed, trying to think of anything he could do to make Francis smile a real smile. "If I promise to spend this whole day with you, will you be happy?" He asked, completly willing which wasn't normal for him at all. "We can go swimming or something if you want. I don't have anything to do."

Arthur’s words stung him even as they warmed his heart, “how very kind of you willing to sacrifice yourself to such a cruelty as spending an entire day with moi, but I do have a previous engagement that I couldn’t possibly break. I shall return later to check on you” standing he broke the contact. “Remember to eat, if you don’t feel like cooking just warm up the stew I left for you, expect me later” because my traitorous self can’t seem to keep away from you despite the fact that you despise me so usually words like that Francis would and did laugh off, the dream had left him raw and bleeding. He didn’t like to be seen weak like this. Better to head home drown himself in wine and a willing woman and return later when he felt more like himself. Turning he headed for the door remembering at the last moment that his clothes were in the dryer wrinkled but clean and dry. Shedding England’s clothes right there in the laundry room he pulled on his own clothes and left.

Several hours later he found himself at the door of Arthur’s house hand on the knob, he hadn’t been able to bring himself to lift a bottle of wine or woo any female, or male for that matter. He felt better though, or at least he told himself he felt better. He had heard all those words before, just because the dream Arthur had said them, and the real Arthur probably thought them, didn’t make any difference. He was who he was. Without preamble he opened the door with a cheerful “HONEY I’M HOME!” he chuckled to himself as he kicked his shoes off lounging on the recliner. “COME GREET YOUR HUBBY WITH A SMOOCH WILL YOU?”

Arthur sputtered a few words, trying to make Francis stay, but failing miserably. "P-Please...can't you cancel..?" He felt like he might break into a billion shards of glass as he watched Francis' retreating form. "I-I...F-FRANCIS!" He yelled, appalled that he'd been left alone. He sighed and went to collect the bottles of potion from his study. "It's not like I need him around." He lied to himself. "I'm strong, I don't need friends.." He went to sell his product to the magic academys and then returned to his home, his mood going more and more sour as time went on. He was lonely and bored and started to get angry with Francis. He was determined to make the man pay for leaving him alone all day. He called all of the other nations, finding that none of them had any plans with Francis. He now knew that Francis must be with some sex buddy. He wasn't sure why that made him so angry.

As France came in, he glared at the man, placing a hand on his hip in an almost effeminate way. "I will do no such thing you bloody prick! How dare you go off and get laid and leave me all day here! You could've just told me you didn't want me around! If you don't want to spend time with me, just say so you dumb, bimbo. You fucking, no good, WHORE!!!" He tried the hardest not to cry. He ran off to his study and slammed the door shut. He had to get his mind off of it. He started to cast magic. That normally made him feel better. He started to cry, water rolling down from his eyes and hitting the pentagram he needed to cast his magic. He screamed as the circle kind of started to run together. The chalk had gotten wet and smeared, messing up the spell and harming its caster. He fell against the ground, screaming like he was dying. He threw his head back and screamed even louder, blood flowing from his eyes. "Ahhhh!" He cried. He now knew it was not good to try magic when he was so angry and hurt. He wiped the blood away, more flowing down. He felt it start to pool in his mouth, running all down his chin. He cried even louder. He knew to save himself he had to get out of the circle, but he couldn't move. The room was glowing a red color.

“Well isn’t that right out of my dream” Francis watched Arthur storm out of the room, heard his footsteps on the stairs as the man went to his room. He had half a mind to bolt out the door, his insides felt all twisted hurt spiking through him. Arthur hadn’t even known about the dream, but he knew just the words that would hurt the most. Seconds from bolting out the door and burying his head in the sand somewhere he stopped, it was the scream that stopped him, the scream that had his heart stop and go cold before stuttering into motion pounding hard. He was frozen for a moment before bolting up the stairs and shoving the door open to Arthur’s office.

The sight that met his eyes had his stomach rolling, Arthur sat or more like laid in the middle of a pentagram blood dripping from his eyes, nose, and mouth. Somehow the spell must have backfired on him, he wasn’t exactly sure how it worked but he did think it best to get England out of the circle of power. Reaching into the circle he could feel the power, his hands trembling somehow managed to hook themselves under Arthur’s armpits and pull the country out of the circle. At last the screaming stopped, swinging the smaller country up and into his arms he set him down on the couch in the study using his shirt sleeve to gently wipe the blood away. He would be okay, at least Francis thought so, nothing seemed to be wrong other than all the blood, leaning down he put his head to Arthur’s chest listening to the steady beating of his heart, sounded normal, his breathing was normal.

Arthur was close to fainting when Francis came in, and he couldn't see the man very well, and he was limp as he was pulled out of the circle. As France pulled him out, the power faded. He choked on his own blood and let himself be carried to the couch. He tried to process who was holding him. Whoever it was, they were cleaning the blood away. He sniffled a few times. The blood had stopped flowing, and now a new liquid came from him. Tears. They were rolling down his cheeks and he snuggled against his savior. He blinked a few times, trying to see. He finally got his vision, and he found himself face to face with France. He slung his arm around the man's neck, staring up into his eyes. "F-Francis..." He cried harder now. "Why don't you want to be with me...I just wanted to spend some time with you..that was all I wanted, but you left me here. All alone..just to go mess with some woman no doubt." He sobbed softly. "I'm sorry..I should be quiet now..I'm so sorry." He started to stand up, falling back down. He'd lost enough blood to make him weak. "Y-You can leave..no have no obligation to me. I didn't mean to..go off on you." He closed his eyes. "I just..thought we were friends." He held himself, trying to think of what to say. "I wanted to be special to you." He whispered. "I've wanted that for so long..."