Procrastination of the heart
They were, to say the absolute least, a very odd couple. I took they them over 100 years to find out they had had any semblance of love for the other and even longer to voice their feeling. How they actually got around to saying the Je t'aime's and I love you's would depend on who you asked.
If you asked Francis he would say that Arthur gently cupped his cheeks before meeting the Frenchmen's lips in a chaste kiss. With a little "hon, hon, hon" and a "Mon Angleterre is very romantic, non?"
On the other hand if you asked Arthur he would say something along the lines of " With that damn frog over me, crying and yelling out his Je t'aime's I didn't have much of a choice than to kiss the bloody git just to get him to shut up, did I?"
However if you asked anybody else from Ivan to Peter, they would all say one thing "I haven't the slightest clue how the hell they did it, but the idiots almost missed the chance to say it at all. I mean how stupid were they not to notice the others feeling? They were almost a step away from outright proposing to each other."
Now none of these are lies exactly but then again none of them tell the whole story, but this is the story from start to finish.
It was WWII or specifically the Blitz. Every night there were bombs and this night did not disappoint. Arthur was at his breaking point however, but that didn't stop him from going out and try to put out fires and helping those caught above ground and out of the shelter of bunkers. Francis was with him, he'd been with him since he saved him from that clusterfuck at Dunkirk. It made his heart to see his beloved Angleterre suffer so much, but Arthur had his heart dead set on helping his people no matter what the cost, and Francis was going to make sure he didn't die trying.
A bomb went off.
This sound wasn't new but then again it was never this many all at once either. Tonight was May 10, 1941 a day to later be recognized by historians to be one of the worst nights of the war. All that Arthur knew was that he was falling.
"when did I get on ground?" he thought beginning to go numb from the pain. "Is...that the frog?...why is he...running...so slow...the ground...is that...blood? Is that...my blood?"
Francis was not running slowly at all, he was at a full sprint towards the Englishman, sliding on his knees, which is a very hard and painful thing to do on the cobble stone alleys of England; he pulled over the Emerald-eyed man so he could see the wound.
It was bleeding, slowly but steadily over the ground, his petit lapin's eyes were going dim. Losing the spark that made him so beautiful, that first attracted the Sapphire-eyed man to the Brit. He was dying; Francis was not in a million years going to let that happen. He pressed his hands over the wound try to stop the bleeding. It wasn't helping though the life still bleeding out of the shorter man.
"Angleterre; Arthur listen to me! Don't die on me!" tears beginning to come to his eyes. "You can't die on me I still...I still need to...to tell you I love you!" The Brit's eyes a considerable amount registering the Frenchman's words.
By this point Francis was letting the tears openly fall, crying out Je t'aime and begging the nation not to die. By this point Arthur had well and truly registered his words. He loved him, Francis loved him. Arthur loved him. I took over a century for this to happen, but did it have to happen just as he was dying?
Coughing up blood he managed to say "Damn it frog, did you have to tell me just as I'm dying?" he raised his hand up to older man's cheek bring him down and placing a chaste kiss on the lips. "I love you...you git." And that was it Arthur the country of England collapsed.
5 weeks later
He was still sleeping, with his older brothers pacing around and his sister sitting shaking her leg up and down, quite clearly showing how nervous she was. She was South Ireland; the brothers were North Ireland, Scotland, and Wales. Despite all of their constant bickering, Arthur was still their little brother, and they cared deeply for him, not that they would ever tell him that when he was awake of course.
The rest of the Allies stopped by too, but soon they all had to go back to fight the war.
Then there was Francis he stayed all night and day he stayed by the Brit's side, along with Arthur's family. They were against letting a "Frenchie" stay near their little brother, but as soon as they saw how determined Francis was to stay they let him stay.
However this day was different because the reason everyone in that room was tense woke up. Arthur Kirkland woke up. The second he woke up he found a Frenchman hanging around his neck, yelling "Je t'aime Arthur, don't every scare me like that again you hear!" pulling back holding the Englishman at arms length. "Promise me Arthur Kirkland don't you ever dare die on me."
Arthur of course had just woken up and had no idea what the hell he was going on about, but since a seemingly psychotic Frenchman had him by the shoulder it seemed best to promise whatever the hell he was being asked to promise.
"Calm down Francis, I'm perfectly fine, love" Using that term of endearment, gave Francis, in his mind, enough right to learn foreword and capture the younger's lips. Snaking his arms around Arthur's back he pulled him closer, bringing the emerald-eyed man almost into his lap. Arthur allowed his hands to come up and get them stuck in the Frenchman's long, silky hair. The Brit licked the other's bottom lip begging for entrance, a request that the other happily obliged, after a brief battle for dominance they took to exploring every inch of the others mouth.
Francis managed to pull the Brit in closer to him, deepening the kiss even further, bringing forth a moan from the other man. Finally they had to break the kiss off leave both of them gasping for air.
Leaving Arthur's family staring directly at both of them.
South Ireland had already whipped out her phone and began to talk to Hungary rapidly, the older brothers on the other hand, strange since she was on the Axis, but no one quite bothered to ask.
"WHAT THE FUCK!" roared Scotland pulling the Frenchman off the bed and pushing him against the wall "ARE YOU DOING TO MY LITTLE BROTHER!" Wales and North Ireland standing directly behind him, if looks could kill Francis would have been killed by the equivalent of a nuclear explosion 10 times over by now.
Francis shrugged and said "I love your little brother, what about it?"
Frog's are surprisingly aerodynamic when being thrown out of third floor windows.
Hah, first real attempt at FrUK constructive criticism is the only thing that will be taken, asshole comments will be returned.