Hi! So I know I've been inactive for a while and that is still going to be the case, save for these random moments when I have ideas and free time to write. I hope you will be patient as I will give you what I can XD

For now, I hope you enjoy this!

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia

Chapter 1

A pale morning light peered through the gaps in the blinds, creating horizontal lines that fell upon a sleeping figure in his bed. His blonde hair caught the sun beams, creating the illusion of golden locks framing his handsome, peaceful features. A sudden, abrupt knock on the trailer door shattered his slumber though, and the man dragged his cerulean eyes open in annoyance, perturbed by the disturbance.

"Francis, are you awake yet?" a voice called through the door, familiarly British and familiarly unwelcome. Francis groaned and closed his eyes again, shifting under the covers to regain his previously comfortable position, but the knocking continued.

"Francis! Get your lazy ass up!" This time the command was followed by a jingle of keys and then the sound of the front door unlocking. Francis buried his face in the pillow, hating his daily wake-up call from the Englishman.

It wasn't long before he sensed the man entering his room, and it was confirmed when a gentle but firm hand slapped the back of his head. "Oi! We have a schedule to keep, you know – "

Francis growled. "Oui, oui. I'm up…." His voice was laced with a French accent thick from sleep, but he raised his head to see a man with fierce green eyes and unruly blonde hair frowning at him with monstrous eyebrows.

"It's about time, you lazy frog." The man who had so rudely disturbed his slumber was Arthur Kirkland, a grumpy, strict Englishman who harassed Francis daily.

Well, I suppose that's what I pay him to do.

"Get up and make sure you eat something before rehearsal." Arthur was ruthless, but being Francis' agent meant it was his responsibility to get Francis everywhere on time. The Frenchman was useless at it himself. Arthur set a cup of coffee on the bedside table as he always did, having been up an hour before to plunge himself into various calls and paperwork to maintain Francis' career.

Francis was a world-famous singer, with the voice of an angel – when he wasn't too lazy to use it. Arthur had been his agent for two years, and it was remarkable, considering Francis was one of the most difficult people to be an agent for. He never listened, he was too headstrong and he only ever thought about immediate events without considering the long-term consequences. Which meant Arthur had to counter that and do that kind of thinking for him. It was exhausting work, but Arthur wouldn't have it any other way.

Francis finally heaved himself out of bed, trudging to the bathroom to shower while Arthur called to make sure the rehearsal was still happening. Once that was done, the Englishman tidied up the clothes Francis had left on the floor. That wasn't part of his job description, but Arthur didn't really mind it. Francis eventually reappeared after selecting some tight jeans and a wine-red shirt, as he always made sure to look devilishly handsome no matter what.

That is one thing he's good at, at least.

XxX

After more nagging from Arthur, Francis was finally taken to the rehearsal. It was the day before his tour of Europe, and Arthur wanted to make sure he was completely prepared for it. Francis was a pain in the ass, but once he got up on that stage and began singing, Arthur would forgive him anything. Being able to hear Francis sing was what made Arthur's job worth it, as Arthur was secretly Francis' most loyal supporter. He had every album Francis had ever released, and often played them while doing his paperwork, but he kept that to himself. If Francis knew, he would probably take the piss out of him for it.

Now, Francis was up on the stage, revitalised after his shower and morning coffee, and now he sang his heart out as if for a full audience, even though the seats were empty. Arthur watched him from backstage with a small smile. Francis was one of those artists who sounded just as good live as they did on their records, and his voice washed over Arthur, soothing his previous stress and making Arthur feel relaxed again.

Yes, this was definitely worth it.

Arthur had worked with Francis for long enough to know all his talents and his flaws. He knew that Francis was a perfectionist and his own worst enemy, and that if he didn't like what he was singing he would stop the whole thing and start again. He would never release an album unless he was satisfied with every track, and he never listened to his own music. Arthur smiled again to himself as he watched Francis suddenly stop singing and ask to start again, and he felt he knew the Frenchman better than anyone in the world, including his millions of fans. He knew that after rehearsal, Francis would keep practicing on his own for about an hour, and then he would tease Arthur about taking him out to dinner. Arthur would often take him out to dinner after rehearsals and would always have to endure Francis' teasing that it was a date.

Not that I would wholly object to that…

Finally, the rehearsal ended and the band packed up, but as predicted, Francis stayed on the stage. Arthur always pretended to go and do paperwork at this point, but he would always secretly listen to Francis instead, because he sounded even better on his own. He didn't need music; his voice was a melody all of its own. Arthur was content to listen to the Frenchman forever, but then his phone went off and he sighed, going further backstage to answer it. As much as he loved hearing Francis sing, he had to be his agent before his fan.

It was a business call about the tour, confirming times and accommodation for Francis and the tour crew: Arthur always booked the best hotels for Francis, and they would usually have adjoining rooms so that Francis could call on him for anything. Their first stop was to be in Berlin, and then they would make various other stops at different European cities before ending the tour in Paris, so that Francis could stay at home for a few days. Francis had a huge mansion of a home in Paris, but he was hardly ever there due to all his tours and concerts. But Arthur tried to fit in time for Francis to stay home as much as he could, as he knew that Francis appreciated it.

As Arthur hung up, having finalised the accommodation in Berlin, he felt an overly friendly hand pat his ass, and he only rolled his eyes as Francis chuckled, standing behind him.

"Shall we go to dinner now, cher?" Francis asked, flashing Arthur a grin that Arthur used to hate but had grown to love.

"Yes, if you're ready to." Arthur replied, ignoring the nickname as Francis had called him that since he had met him. He didn't blush at the grin or the hand on his ass, as he had learned to conceal his embarrassment. Then again, he didn't object to that, either. Instead he grabbed his coat and walked Francis out of the building, greeted by a limousine and a bodyguard. Arthur remembered the days when Francis was just starting out and he hadn't needed all this security. But in two years he had come a long way, and now he had to have a bodyguard with him in public, even though he objected to it. Francis got in the car, and Arthur slid in beside him, getting out his phone to make another call while Francis looked out of the tinted window. While Arthur was waiting for the person on the other end of the line to pick up, he allowed his gaze to drift over Francis, taking in his handsome features discreetly, before returning his attention to the now available caller.

Francis sighed, watching buildings fly past as they drove to the restaurant, before having a change of heart.

"Why don't we have takeout instead?" he glanced at Arthur, who paused in his conversation and held the phone to his chest.

"I thought you didn't like takeout?" he raised an eyebrow in query, as this was out of character for the Frenchman, but he only shrugged in response. So Arthur sighed and told the driver to go back to the trailer instead, before resuming his call. Francis smiled slightly, before looking out of the window again. Sometimes being out so much got to him, and today he didn't feel like eating out. Today he just wanted a quiet evening in, without cameras flashing through the windows or waitresses fussing over him.

They arrived back at the trailer, as Francis, Arthur and the tour crew were temporarily staying in trailers before flying out to Berlin tomorrow. Arthur had ordered takeout from the limousine and now they waited in Francis' trailer for it to arrive. Francis stood, pouring himself a glass of wine.

"Wine, cher?" he asked innocently, though he knew the answer would be 'no'. Arthur hardly ever drank alcohol, especially when he was working – which was all the time. But Francis always tried to persuade him to have a glass of wine every now and then anyway.

"No, thank you." Arthur was already looking through paperwork, which made Francis purse his lips slightly. It was nice that Arthur always made the effort to share dinner with him, but he was nearly always on his phone or doing paperwork while he ate. Although Francis knew it was for his benefit, he couldn't remember the last time he and Arthur had had a proper conversation that wasn't staggered by delayed responses from Arthur, because he was doing work simultaneously. Francis just nodded and sipped his own wine, before sitting on the sofa and turning on the television, only to instantly grimace when he saw news of his own tour. Arthur glanced over, watching him curiously.

"Why is it that you cannot stand your own success?" he asked, a smirk gracing his features teasingly.

Francis only sighed. "I like singing, I just don't like all the media that surrounds my career."

"Well, perhaps you should have thought of that before you became a professional singer." Arthur stated, but it came out sounding harsher than he had intended it, and Francis looked down slightly. Arthur was right. Arthur was always right. But Francis wasn't good at anything else, and he had to make a living somehow. He turned off the television again swiftly, before going to his bedroom to change into something more casual. Arthur had returned to his work, barely noticing that the Frenchman had left the room, but he was interrupted by the arrival of their food, and he paid the delivery guy, before calling Francis to eat.

Francis had hoped that by eating in the trailer, they could have more of a conversation, but Arthur continued to do work while eating, not even acknowledging Francis' presence as he was concentrating on the paperwork, occasionally asking him questions.

"How would you feel about flying to France a day later than we originally said? That way we wouldn't have to rush to catch our flight – "

"Oui, whatever." Francis replied shortly, picking at his food and twirling it with his fork, but he hadn't touched it otherwise. This made Arthur raise an eyebrow at him.

"What's wrong? Are you not hungry?" Francis met his gaze for a moment before putting his plate down.

"Non. Excusez-moi." Arthur blinked as Francis abandoned his food, getting to his feet and going to his bedroom instead, but he didn't think much of it, again focusing on the mountain of paperwork he had to do.

XxX

The Englishman continued working for a few hours, before he heard the faint twang of guitar strings and Francis' soft, murmuring voice. Arthur paused, amazed that Francis was practicing yet again, when he was already perfect. He got up, creeping towards the bedroom and listening through the door, but he blinked as he didn't recognise the song. It sounded beautiful, but Francis was singing so quietly that Arthur couldn't distinguish the words.

Maybe he is being quiet so he won't disturb me, Arthur thought, but he desperately wanted to hear the unfamiliar melody. He knew all of Francis' songs, and he even helped to write some of them, but this one was entirely new to him. He suddenly felt slightly upset at this, as Francis had always been desperate to perform his new songs to Arthur, but this was one he was actively concealing from Arthur. He knocked on the door softly, but the song stopped abruptly as he opened the door.

Francis looked up at him in surprise, his old acoustic guitar still resting on his lap, but he had halted his playing instantly. "Oui?"

Arthur smiled a little. "What were you playing just then?"

"Nothing." Francis answered shortly, and again Arthur felt a pang of sadness, or possibly even jealousy. Maybe someone else had helped Francis with this one.

"It sounded nice – "

"You could hear it?" Francis sounded almost panicked at the fact Arthur may have heard the song.

"Well, I heard the tune…I couldn't quite make out the words though. Are you going to record it?" Arthur did not miss the relief that flickered across Francis' features, before he shook his head, putting his guitar back in its case.

"Non, it's just a stupid little thing I made up."

Arthur paused at this, noticing that Francis had been behaving somewhat peculiarly recently. He wasn't as flirtatious as usual, and instead he was more reserved and defensive. But Arthur just smiled, sitting beside him on the bed.

"What's the matter? Are you nervous about the tour?" Francis blinked, meeting his gaze, but he was afraid to tell him the truth so he just nodded.

"Oui, I suppose. I always get nervous."

"You'll be alright. Your tours are always amazing, you know that." Arthur patted Francis' shoulder slightly awkwardly, before standing. "Well, anyway, I have work to finish before our flight tomorrow. Remember, you have to get up early this time. No pratting about."

Francis just nodded, and the absence of a witty response made Arthur narrow his eyes slightly in confusion, but he just said goodnight and went back to his own trailer to continue his work.

Once Arthur had left, Francis ran a hand through his hair. He thought he was hiding it well, but Arthur knew something was different. The truth was, that lately Francis had been needing Arthur's attention more, and he got upset when Arthur was always working. He felt the need to impress him and make him proud, but Arthur never offered any praise. Francis couldn't put a label on it, but he cared for Arthur deeply, and he knew that Arthur did not feel the same way, and it hurt him. He sighed, looking at his little notebook which contained the song lyrics he had written. It was a song about Arthur, although that wasn't explicitly mentioned, but Francis was terrified that Arthur would find out. He tucked the notebook in his guitar case, before pouring himself another glass of wine, hoping it would calm him down. Francis was unaware, though, of just how deeply he had fallen for Arthur.

A/N: Please let me know how you found this by reviewing, as constructive feedback is welcomed!

If you want me to continue this please let me know~