Meant to be
When Arthur woke up in the morning, the sun had already risen and was shining through the half closed curtains. His bed was warm and cosy and next to him, he could feel a familiar body.
He turned around to look at the sleeping face beside him that was framed by long blond messily spread locks. Arthur's lips curved into a small smile upon seeing the other man sleeping so peacefully.
It was a nice morning. There was no trace of a hangover or pain in his backside and Arthur sighed contentedly. Had someone told him earlier that it would come to this, he would not have believed it, because his relationship with Francis had never been a simple one.
Ever since he could remember, he and Francis had been very close. Though their time together was mostly filled with fighting and attempts to either kill or conquer each other. Even as they grew up and their tempers cooled down a little, they still were not able to get along on a daily basis. Objecting each other in meetings and fighting about useless things like food or fashion, they barely managed to enjoy a civil moment together.
First Arthur didn't understand why Francis' attitude upset him so much. Later he had to admit, that it was, because he was in love with him. Maybe he would have confessed his feelings... that is, if Francis hadn't been the insufferable git that he was.
He walked around, his usual flirtatious self, staying here and there, not taking anyone serious. Looking much too good to be allowed in his ridiculous French clothes and constantly talking about l'amour, which he claimed to have special expertise in.
To his own embarrassment, Arthur had caught himself much too often staring at Francis when the other wouldn't notice. The sight of his dearest enemy calmed him down, because he knew that the other had gone through as much in the past as himself, and that their joint history had created a bond between them no one else could understand.
What made Arthur really upset was the fact that Francis never seemed to take him serious. One time he would whisper some obscene French confessions of love in his ear and try to grab Arthur's butt, the next time he would hang around Antonio with his hands all over the Spaniard and their faces much too close for Arthur to accept something like this.
After such a display he often tried to pick a fight with Francis to remind him of the fact that he, Arthur Kirkland, was still there and to wipe the stupid grin out of the Frenchman's face.
There were also times, when Arthur was too drunk and too desperate to withstand Francis' charms and ended up in bed with him which he deeply regretted the mornings after, because every time he woke up alone in a messy bed with a severe hangover and pain all over his body.
Francis had stayed not even once and when they met at the next meeting, both of them fell back to their usual routine, too proud to mention anything about their drunken escapades.
Sometimes he asked himself, why he didn't just give up and try to bestow his affections on a more worthy candidate. In such moments Arthur had to admit that he was a lonely person who liked to build walls around him and that Francis was the only person whom he had gotten used to throughout the centuries.
He hated it, when Francis talked about l'amour, because he was sure that the Frenchman had not the slightest idea about true love.
Even before Arthur knew that he had fallen for Francis, he had thought about his own definition of love which was, he had to admit, an overly romantic one. For him, love meant trust and understanding. He wanted someone whom he could open up to and who would accept him with all his faults and past mistakes. Someone, who would understand him without words and with whom he could spend quiet days. They would drink tea or go for walks while holding hands and they would live in a happy little world on their own where no one would ever interfere.
And Arthur knew that he was much too scared to offer his love to Francis, who would go and cheat on him with the next best nation. Arthur didn't want his heart broken, so he simply kept quiet and fought back on every possible occasion.
However things didn't stay like that.
It was at a regular meeting in London, when Arthur noticed, what he had somehow managed to overlook for such a long time.
Francis had been his usual self, starting his day with making passes at Arthur, who almost emptied his tea onto the obnoxious frog's head and by midday they had already managed to get into a severe fight over something, none of them could remember later that day. For their own safety, the others had placed them in seats as far away from each other as possible and Arthur occupied himself by sending nasty glances over to Francis who was whispering and laughing with Gilbert and Antonio at the opposite end of the table.
During the meeting they disagreed on several matters earning some sighs here and there, and Arthur was glad when it was finally time to leave.
All this felt like a never ending game, especially when Francis and his so-called best friends got up and Francis shared some good-bye kisses with Antonio while Gilbert managed to avoid his, but still gave him a brotherly hug.
Arthur looked away as he didn't want to see how others cared about Francis while he himself had to spend his time all alone. After Alfred had declared himself independent, Arthur felt even worse and more alone then ever, not even wanting to open up to anyone around him.
The other nations left, so did Antonio and Gilbert, and Francis was the only one to stay behind. He always stayed behind after meetings, as if he wanted to take advantage of every single minute that he could use to pester Arthur. Most of the time Arthur simply tried to ignore him. He was tired and frustrated and didn't want to deal with the Frenchman any longer then necessary, especially when said Frenchman always started babbling nonsense about the weather and other random things. Usually Arthur simply left without looking back, because all he wanted was to escape the man whom he tried to resist for such a long time.
With a scowl on his face Arthur started stuffing his papers into his briefcase, trying not to look up at Francis. He could feel him coming closer and prepared himself for the usual stream of nonsense. His expectations were met, when Francis started to talk about today's meeting and how it had been pretty exhausting on all of them and how the weather was bad and…
"Cut it out, frog", Arthur barked slamming his briefcase on the table, still looking away from the Frenchman, "if you have something to say, than say it. But stop bothering me with this kind of nonsense!" He picked up his briefcase, ready to leave the meeting room.
"Uhm… wait", he heard Francis' voice behind him and something in his tone made him stop. "Well, as I said…", he made a short pause as if to decide on the right words, "…the weather is bad and I received notice that my ship to France will not take off until tomorrow evening."
"So what?", was Arthur's harsh response, "Is it a problem for you that you'll have to stay one more day on British soil?" He didn't want to say the last part, but something about this situation was upsetting him greatly and all he wanted was to end this as soon as possible.
"No, I was simply thinking… you might let me stay at your place. Just for the night.", Arthur had not expected this kind of answer. Finally he turned his head, his blood almost boiling in his veins.
"Do you even understand, what you're asking, you bloody pervert?", he shouted giving in to his anger, "Just because it's that time of the day for you and there isn't anyone else around, you think it's fine to invite yourself into my bed just like that?"
Francis had to take a step backwards to avoid Arthur's briefcase witch was swung violently in his direction.
"Non, non!", he tried to object, raising his arms in a protective way, "Really… It's not like that! I really can't go home now!"
"Then fucking get yourself a room somewhere", Arthur retorted, not wanting to spend any more thoughts on this matter. His outburst was followed by silence on Francis' part.
"That would be lonely", Francis finally said in a barely audible voice. Arthur let his briefcase sink and stared at the other man. Francis never talked about loneliness. He barely talked about anything unpleasant at all.
"Then… why didn't you ask Antonio?", he spluttered in return and turned away his gaze, "I happen to know that he is staying in London for the night and I bet he would have gladly shared his room with you…!"
"Lovino is waiting there for him", was the calm response, "You know, the one he's in love with…"
No, Arthur didn't know. He had suspected something like that but never expected it to be true as he was sure that Antonio and Francis had… well, had something going on between them.
"Then… then… Gilbert?", he tried desperately.
"Gone with his brother to Germany", said Francis and looked directly at Arthur.
This time Arthur didn't look away when their gazes met and he noticed with astonishment that Francis was neither laughing, nor leering at him. His face was blank and Arthur could not but see the same loneliness in his eyes that he felt himself. He had thought that France, as a nation on the continent, would have more friends than an isolated island nation, but apparently everyone else had already found their special ones so the two of them were left alone once again.
Arthur could understand this too well. Both of them had spent a major part of their lives chasing after each other, leaving everything else aside just to end up as two lonely nations, not able to live neither with nor without each other.
Arthur sighed. The whole thing didn't seem real. It was too sudden and still... he felt as if things started to shift into place. He never had seen Francis in a bad mood during the recent decades. He had always been cheerful even when they had to deal with serious matters. He seemed to be friends with everyone, and still, he always stayed back after meetings, trying to talk to Arthur… who had never bothered to properly listen to him.
"Fine…", he mumbled, "One night."
Then, without any further explanation he turned around and left the room hearing Francis' hurried steps behind him.
He was not sure how the two of them managed to spend that evening without fighting. Francis had offered to make dinner and even though Arthur had always been very suspicious of French food, he had to admit, that it came out delicious. He enjoyed watching Francis calmly work in his kitchen and it reminded him of long forgotten days, when they had peacefully played together as children. The thought that he was the only one to whiteness this lovely sight made him smile secretly behind Francis' back.
During dinner, Francis entertained him with some really weird stories about his two best friends and Arthur couldn't but laugh while still trying to hide his face behind a napkin.
Later, when Arthur took out his embroidery, he had to toss a pillow at Francis who couldn't hold back a knowing grin.
It was the first evening for ages that they had spent together. Safe for those times when they had gone out drinking, but that had never left pleasant memories, because the only thing Arthur could remember from those were the painful mornings.
Sitting like this, being perfectly friendly, was something completely different and Arthur hadn't thought that they were even capable of doing something like that. But nonetheless he liked it. And he felt that Francis did too. No matter how many people he tried to woo with his unserious advances, he simply liked to have their praising eyes upon him but he also liked to know that somebody was waiting for him, loving him underneath that fancy façade.
When the night came, Arthur vehemently objected to letting Francis even close to his bedroom, because it he didn't feel like one evening of peaceful coexistence was guarantee enough for the Frenchman not to start anything weird. For that, he knew him too well.
Against his resolution however, Arthur never made it to his bedroom himself. He had tried to postpone his retreat to the cold empty room as far as possible but ended up falling asleep on the sofa next to Francis.
When he finally woke up the next morning, feeling a warm body next to him and looking into Francis' sleeping face, he knew that this was real.
It took Arthur some time to finally realise that Francis' definition of l'amour wasn't that different from what Arthur himself expected from love. He simply had his own way to deal with it.
They still fought during the meetings because Francis had too much fun tormenting Arthur in his usual perverted way and because Arthur was still too bad when it came to public displays of affection.
They still objected each other's ideas during political arguments because they had always done so and always would do, not fearing for their reputation in front of each other.
Francis still liked to be the centre of attention with his good looks and fancy clothes and he still hung around Gilbert and Antonio, but after the meetings he would stay behind as usual and when he and Arthur would be sure that they were alone, they would share affectionate kisses either to say good-bye or to announce the start of an evening or even week-end spent together at either one's apartment.
When Arthur thought about it now, he wondered why this had taken them so long. They hadn't even changed much. They still pissed each other off on each possible occasion, but they had also learnt that Francis would always come back to Arthur and would treasure him above anyone else and that Arthur would always welcome Francis back with a scowl on his face but also wide open arms and a cup of tea.
For Arthur, Francis had become a person whom he could trust, who understood him perfectly and who made him feel loved and special. A person whom he shared a secret with, while everyone else, outside of their little private world, still thought that their constant bickering might end in some kind of nasty disaster.
In return, Arthur tried to give as much love back to Francis as he could. This was not always easy and often enough ended in embarrassing arguments, because Arthur was too shy to say certain things out loud. But he tried nonetheless, hoping that one day Francis would manage to tear down any remainders of the walls Arthur had built around himself for such a long time.
Whenever their schedules would allow, they would meet up and spend many days together doing nothing in particular and falling asleep together every night, just to wake up in each other's arms, feeling that neither of them was alone.