"They did this deliberately" Arthur grumbled, sitting at Francis' table resting his chin on his hand looking irritated.
Germany had decided at the last European Union meeting that the nations weren't working hard enough together on their projects, so they'd all been assigned a partner to complete a section of the work with.
The only reason Arthur could think they'd pair the English nation and French nation together was for a joke.
However Francis was sitting opposite him, studying the documents they'd been given. He hadn't complained since they left the meeting hall. Though obviously he'd protested possibly even more than Arthur himself when Germany first announced it- even going as far as to suggest the only reason Germany was assigning these work partners was so he'd have a chance to be alone with Italy.
"Well let's just get on with it then" Francis muttered, not looking up from the work, "the sooner we get it over and done with the sooner you can bugger off back to your house."
Even though he didn't show it, Arthur felt that sting a little.
"I don't want to be in your stupid house anyway; it stinks of cheese!" Arthur shot back, folding his arms and pouting; there was no way he was helping the frog now.
"Don't be childish" Francis sighed, passing him a clump of paper, "just read through this."
England blinked at him. Francis was acting weird... In a normal situation like this he'd be trying to coax Arthur towards his bedroom, or he'd just piss off to pick up some girl then not do any of the work. He'd be arguing with him at the very least.
Silently, with another careful look at Francis, Arthur began to shift through the documents. It was just all the boring stuff Germany had been going on about at the meeting.
"Francis..." Arthur opened his mouth, trying not to sound too worried or concerned,
"yes?" The Frenchman sounded exasperated, putting down his papers and looking Arthur right in the eye.
Backtracking a little, Arthur glanced a little to the side to study Francis' cooking unit.
"I... I'm hungry do you expect me to starve!" He glanced at his watch, "look its already Nine o'clock!"
Rolling his eyes, Francis put the paper down, making his way over to the kitchen. "Well we can't have that can we" England thought he caught him muttering under his breath.
What on earth was wrong with him today!
"Did you miss out on a date or something!" Finally snapping, Arthur threw his arms up in the air, knocking a few of the papers on the floor.
Francis didn't even turn to look at him, but he muttered a reply, "yes, I'd been working on her for two weeks, and finally she agreed to going out one night with moi,"
"Oh come on, you date someone new every few weeks, you can't be moping about that" Arthur scoffed disbelievingly.
"I'd rather be out with her, than in here with you!" Francis growled, spinning round and glaring at the slightly smaller man.
"Right... I mean; Right!" Arthur snapped, shaking his head, "in that case go on your stupid date, I'll do this stuff; I can copy your handwriting anyway!"
The two glared at each other for a moment; then Francis slammed the pans he'd been holding into the sink. "Cook your own dinner then, don't make a mess!" He stormed away, pulling his coat of the back of his chair and storming out of the room. After a moment Arthur heard the front door slam.
He looked around at the suddenly empty apartment.
It was one thing he found unnerving about Francis' country, it was always so quiet compared to England.
Bending down to pick the papers he'd knocked on the floor up, Arthur rubbed his eyes quickly. He hated Francis! He hated him!
Well, he'd get all this work done and make Francis feel guilty he hadn't done more to help. Never rely on such a distractable country to get anything done!
Francis smiled across politely at the stunning looking woman sitting opposite him. Sure he felt a little guilty about leaving Arthur to do all the work, but he'd already done a fair bit while the Brit was sulking.
"I heard you were in Germany this morning" the woman smiled, "your life must be exciting?"
Francis lifted his glass and winked, "it's all work of course," she laughed.
The Frenchman took a sip of his glass feeling his stomach give a small clench.
"We can get the work done at my house" Francis muttered while he and Arthur waited for the train, "that's closer."
The Brit nodded stiffly, indicating with a nod that the train was coming.
He and Arthur found the only compartment with any spaces left. Of course it meant they had to sit next to each other, but anything was better than standing; even sitting next to the Rosbif.
Francis spent most of the journey flirting with a pretty woman sitting opposite him, while Arthur blinked nervously at the children that were trying to clamber onto his lap.
If it had been anyone else Francis would have said that it was quite cute... But of course if it was anyone else he probably wouldn't have noticed.
Then he felt something slump against him.
The woman he'd been talking to giggled at the scene.
Francis knew Arthur hadn't gotten very much sleep last night; he never did in hotels. But he hadn't been expecting this.
Arthur's messy head was resting on his shoulder, his slim feminine body resting slightly against Francis' side; his hands were resting limply in a slight grip on Francis' arm, positioning it like a pillow.
His eyes were closed, and breathing easy.
"Is he your boyfriend?" The girl asked, "sorry, I thought you were straight, but now I look at it, you two are too cute together for you to be straight."
Francis opened his mouth to protest. His initial thoughts being that Arthur had selfishly lost him a quick shag in the train's toilets.
He closed his mouth, cautiously moving his arm from Arthur's hands and wrapping it round his shoulders, holding the other's body a little closer to his.
He removed it quickly at the end of the journey when he felt Arthur stirring.
Arthur yawned and stretched, rubbing his tired eyes. Francis felt his heart rate increasing; of course this only made him feel more irritated than he already was.
He was meant to be angry because this partner work thing meant he couldn't go on his date tonight, and here was he actually not having denied in conversation that Arthur was his boyfriend...
...Of course it was just to humour the girl; that must have been why he hadn't said anything.
Now Arthur was awake and complaining loudly to anyone that would listen that the seats were uncomfortable Francis couldn't believe what he'd been thinking while he was asleep.
The food had just arrived, and the woman was fluttering her eyelashes and asking what sort of work he was doing.
Francis kept the conversation flowing, but he couldn't help but think of Arthur back at his flat trying to cook himself something to eat (not necessarily edible). What if he made a mess? What if he broke something? What if he hurt himself!
...Wait, was he just worried about the irritating Rosbif for a moment?
Here he was with a beautiful mademoiselle and he was thinking about England! When he should be studying this brilliant body.
Unconsciously he brought his face to his hand.
They'd stopped for a break through the meeting. A 'Cooling Off Period' Germany had called it. Of course it meant that Francis could go and lark around with Antonio and Gilbert for an hour or so.
Arthur was looking a little lost, as he always did at European meetings.
Usually he could talk to Alfred, Matthew, or Kiku at normal world meetings. But he struggled making friends with the those he didn't know very well.
Admittedly he got on alright with Gilbert, but he was always with Francis and Antonio during breaks.
Maybe if Denmark could persuade Norway to join the EU then Arthur could talk to him; they'd always gotten on okay.
Francis watched Arthur jump when Germany called him over. Probably to try and get Arthur to join the Euro again.
He found his eyes skimming up and down Arthur's lithe form. His thin waist and curvy hips; it was a body any woman would be happy to have.
His hair was looking even messier than usual; he kept running his hands through it throughout the meeting whenever he thought no one was looking. It was probably to keep himself awake.
Francis always had a room next to Arthur's at meetings in the hotels; so he was aware of the Brit's insomnia like tendencies when sleeping in a bed he wasn't used too.
"After this, do you want to come back to my place for another drink?" The woman flashed her eyelashes suggestively.
This was the moment Francis had been waiting for, but he found himself yet again wondering how Arthur was doing...
"Sorry, I've got loads of work to do... But I'd love to see you again," he pulled a winning smile, kissing the woman's hand passionately.
"You're more patient than I first thought" she grinned, "but your still paying the bill,"
"of course mademoiselle" he beamed.
He was already aware of the problem he had calling anyone but Arthur 'my dear' as of late. Up until recently it had been a name he called everyone, but it just felt so personal to Arthur now.
He paid the bill, and for his date's taxi. Before turning and walking home.
Opening the door he found the lights still on, and all the paper work finished on the table.
Then his eyes fell on the kitchen.
Whatever monstrosity Arthur had been cooking up was all over the floor, along with one of his best pans and a shattered plate.
"Arthur!" He barked, looking around for the Brit. He couldn't have scarpered could he?
No, his coat and suitcase was still here.
Storming through the house, Francis pushed open all the doors; eventually finding that the bathroom door had been locked.
"What did I tell you before I left!" He demanded, shouting through the door, "you do know your cleaning that up don't you!"
"I tried!" Came the frustrated reply,
"Well come back and try harder!" The Frenchman yelled, banging his fist on the door. This was only met with silence.
With an angry huff, Francis marched back to the kitchen pulling out the dust pan and brush, bending down beside the mess. It didn't even look like Arthur had used it.
Francis sweeped up the glass, making to empty the shards in the bin. Then he froze.
Arthur hadn't been lying, he had indeed been trying to clean up the mess. There was already quite a large amount of glass in the bin. The glass had a strange red tint to it.
"Mon Dieu" Francis breathed, peering closer; it was blood there was no doubt of that.
Changing tactics, he emptied the rest of the glass into the bin and hurried back to the bathroom, hammering on the door again.
"Arthur you've hurt yourself, open this door so I can have a look,"
"I'm dealing with it!" The Brit snapped back.
Francis thought he heard a small whimper.
"If you don't open this door, I will bust it open!" The Frenchman wasn't kidding; he was already stepping back aiming his shoulder at the door.
But just before he charged, he heard a click as Arthur unlocked it.
Pushing open the door, Francis found Arthur sitting on the side of the bath beside the sink cradling his right arm, one side of his face was scolded red; and Francis had a sneaky suspicion that underneath all the blood his arm was also burnt.
Already from this distance Arthur's arm looked grotesque; little chips of glass stuck out of it like a pin cushion; tearing at the sensitive skin.
"I'll buy you a new plate" the Englishman muttered, not meeting Francis' gaze; flinching when Francis bent down and pressed his hand gently to the burn on Arthur's cheek.
"How on earth did you manage this?" He asked softly, feeling the skin beneath his hand scolding.
"My omelette spat at me..."
Omelette? That mess had been an omelette? But Francis chose not to criticise now.
Sniffing, Arthur held up his arm painfully for Francis to see; reluctant to straighten it too much. "I fell over with the plate when I burnt myself, and my arm sort of fell on the glass" he admitted, looking annoyed at his own clumsiness. "I tried using my magic to heal it but all the glass gets in the way..."
That would explain why it looked so badly torn. Arthur had tried to heal himself over the glass and ended up making the situation worse.
"Let me," getting back to his feet, Francis opened up his cupboard looking for a pair of tweezers. Locating them, he turned back to Arthur who was eyeing up the implement with little trust.
"You're not touching me with those" he began to argue, giving a small squeak of pain when he tried to heal himself again; succeeding only in tearing more skin.
"ne soyez pas comme un enfant" Don't be such a child Francis ordered, carefully securing Arthur's injured arm. Locating the first piece of glass, fixing the tweezers around it and carefully edging it out.
Arthur whimpered but he didn't complain or shout.
When Francis had pulled all the bloody glass from Arthur's arm, he let the Brit mutter something under his breath; resulting in the cuts on his arm beginning to close up, then the burn begin to fade.
He looked just as perfect as ever.
Laughing, Francis shook his head, "how do you do it Angleterre?"
Pouting, Arthur shifted away from him, "I thought you were meant to be with your date?"
Feeling a grimace of annoyance, Francis scowled. "Well it's a good thing I did come back; that wound may have been infected if I didn't come back till tomorrow."
"I wasn't complaining..." Arthur's voice was so quiet Francis thought he might have misheard. But Arthur's cheeks turned a delicate pink colour.
"Mon cher, are you that jealous?" Francis grinned, shielding himself from the predictable reaction.
"Where did you get that from bastard!" The Brit demanded, if possible he was flushing even deeper.
"That is a very suiting blush" The Frenchman smirked, running his forefinger under Arthur's chin.
Stammering, Arthur stepped scooted a little further away, "I'm not blushing!" He snapped, "I-I'm just really angry!"
Clutching his sides, Francis was beside himself with laughter, wiping a tear from his eye. Holding out a hand towards the sulking English nation, "come on cher, I'll order us something."
Taking Francis' hand, he let the other man pull him to his feet.
Arthur stumbled a little, falling into Francis' chest; almost unbalancing the Frenchman. But Francis managed to steady himself; his hands falling to Arthur's waist accidentally.
They both exchanged an embarrassed look before pulling away from one another, letting the other's blush slip.
Francis phoned the Italian down the road, while Arthur fell back onto the sofa, covering his face with his hands.
Earlier today Francis had been absolutely furious at him, now suddenly he'd hurried back from his date and was back to normal again.
"She wasn't that ugly was she?" Arthur asked, glancing up at Francis when he put the phone down.
"What?" Francis tilted his head looking confused,
"Your 'date', she must have been for you to hurry back to me of all people," Arthur felt himself squirm a little with his statement, but he knew it was true.
"Non, she was very beautiful" Francis dismissed, watching the Brit's body shift uncomfortably on the sofa; fighting a sudden urge that had just crept into his head.
"Then why'd you leave her and come back here?" Those deep green eyes blinked at him with all innocence.
Making his way over to the sofa, Francis sat down on the sideways on the sofa, looking down and the Brit with a confused smile.
"You know cher, I'm not sure why" he admitted, slowly reaching out his hand to run through Arthur's bird's nest hair.
Sitting up, the Brit didn't protest against Francis' touch.
"You must be losing it" Arthur laughed nervously, "it's unlike you to turn down pretty people."
Francis didn't miss the sad tone in Arthur's voice, or the way his hand moved up to touch his eyebrows unconsciously.
"You're cute Arthur" Francis untangled his hand from the Brit's hair, instead stroking one of Arthur's eyebrows, "and you are very pretty,"
"you don't tell guys they're pretty" Arthur corrected him, sounding pleased.
"Why not?" Francis questioned, shifting closer,
"W-Well, you just don't..." Arthur realised how close his and Francis' faces were suddenly. Everything in his head was screaming for him to hit Francis back, but something somewhere else made him angle his head when Francis' hand wrapped round the back of his head pulling him forwards to close the gap between them.
At first their kiss was slow and gentle, then Francis gave Arthur's lower lip a small nip. When the English nation moaned, he slipped his tongue inside the other's mouth.
Francis was forcing him back down on the sofa, letting them separate only slightly every now and then for breath- usually leaving them connected with a thin trail of saliva.
Francis was afraid that if he stopped for too long then Arthur might come to his senses and push him back.
He moved his mouth down to Arthur's neck, licking and sucking at the pale skin.
They were interrupted when the doorbell rang.
Francis pulled back, cursing his idea of ordering pizza.
Arthur's lips were swollen and red with a slightly darker bruise where Francis had nipped him, the hicky on his neck was already beginning to show. He lay on the sofa panting for air, while Francis hurried towards the door to pay for the pizza.
"Hot date?" The delivery man asked when he saw Francis,
"Huh?" Glancing down at him self, Francis saw that somehow Arthur had managed to undo his top shirt buttons without him noticing.
He paid for the pizza, returning to the sitting room where Arthur was now sitting up, looking dazed.
They ate their pizzas in silence, neither of them mentioning what had just happened. Then they went to their separate bedrooms and tried to work out what the hell they'd just done.