There was absolutely no question as to the schematics of France and England's relationship. They loathed each other which such passion that they could not live without each other. Constantly together in history, there was scarcely a time in which they were not involved with each other.
And for the record, England hated it. He hated this unbreakable, undesirable bond with a deep passion. It physically made him wretch to think of that stupid wine-bastard, that idiotic lecher, that gorgeous, charming, irresistible twat.
Arthur Kirkland groaned and slammed his head firmly against the desk at which he sat. "No. No. NO." he murmured, repeatedly knocking his head against the dark wood. Despite all his best efforts to suppress or purge any attraction inclined towards Francis Bonnefoy that he may have had, his feelings always remained. There were some days that he could barely work, he was so distracted by the thought of the beautiful man who lived to annoy him. Even talking to him with an even, gruff tone was an ordeal, and he had already inadvertently memorized the scent of the cologne the Frenchman wore. "Bollocks. I don't love him. I'm not attracted to him. I hate him. I want him dead." He muttered what had become a daily mantra under his breath, knowing that the words were empty. His head hit the desk one more time before he smelled the cologne. "Shit…"
Before he even had time to turn around, or stand up and run, two arms had covered his own on the desk, and silky blonde hair was brushing his cheek.
"Bonjour, L'Angleterre~!" A deep voice that was, at the same time, oddly effeminate, crooned into Arthur's ear. The English gentleman almost failed to suppress a gasp and shiver, and kept an aloof demeanor with great difficulty.
"What the hell do you want now, Francis? I'm busy." He pretended to attempt shuffling through an untouched pile of papers and looked at the nation of romance out of the corner of his eye. He furrowed his impressive eyebrows at seeing a playful smirk on France's lips.
"Precisely, Arthur~," Francis said, rolling the "r" in his name in a way that made him visibly twitch. It did not help that he was speaking right into his ear. "I love to interrupt anything important you are doing. I revel in your irritation." The Frenchman's lips brushed Arthur's ear, at which he inclined his head quickly away.
"Oh, that's so mature of you, Francis, really. Stupid frog." Arthur scoffed, still distractedly shuffling through the papers. Francis sighed and, not showing any signs of letting go, rested his chin on England's shoulder. Arthur could feel Gorges du Tarns rubbing against his skin through his shirt, and again barely suppressed a shiver.
"By the way, Angleterre," Francis sounded thoughtful, which was rare, considering his personality. "What was that you were saying when I came in?" England's eyes widened, and he began to be very nervous. He guessed that he hadn't heard exactly when Francis had entered, so it might have been while he was still muttering his denial.
"What does it matter to you? It was probably nothing, something to do with what I was reading, perhaps." Arthur coolly deflected the comment, reaching for another stack of papers to shuffle. His wrist was caught by France, resulting in a sharp intake of breath.
"Ah-ah-ah, Arthur. I know you were saying something more… intriguing… than that." Francis' smirk widened, and England felt his face begin to flush. "What was that about NOT being attracted to someone?" England opened his mouth to protest his asking when he already knew what he said, when the older nation interrupted. "Were you talking about Amerique?"
"Absolutely not!" England huffed, feeling scandalized. Francis frowned slightly.
"Japan?" Arthur rolled his eyes.
"No. Now will you…"
"Was it Mathieu?" England blinked, confused.
"…Who?"
"Canada. And evidently not." Francis brought his lips close to Arthur's ear again. "C'est moi, mon cher?" England's flush became fully visible now, and he attempted to shrug off the Frenchman.
"This is ridiculous. You can't just waltz into my office and interrogate me about…. AH!" Francis had kissed England's neck rather roughly, and he squirmed in discomfort. "F-F-Francis…" The blue-eyed nation smirked against the skin of his neck and sighed.
"Oh, mon petit lapin, you are so adorable. You cannot just tell me these things; I have to take them from you." He brought England's hand to his mouth and sucked his index finger, grazing his teeth against it.
"What do you think you're doing?! I demand that you stop!" Arthur violently pulled his hand out of France's grasp and stood up, slapping France across the face. Francis was not the least bit deterred by this action, however.
"Ah, Angleterre slaps like a woman." He teased, briefly touching his stinging cheek and smoothing his hair behind his ear. Arthur spluttered in shock at the comment and glared at Francis.
"I'm leaving!" he snapped, blushing like mad and feeling ashamed of his immediate reaction. He opened the door to leave, but it was shut again by Francis' arm reaching over his shoulder. He found himself trapped against the door, hearing the soft click of the lock as Francis' eyes took on an almost evil gleam.
"You are not. Not until you tell me." Francis purred into Arthur's ear. He whimpered at their sudden close proximity, dignity forgotten.
"Wh-What…?" he barely managed to gasp. France gently grabbed his chin, smiling.
"Admit that you love me."
"PARDON?!" Arthur found his voice again, his face burning. France frowned in determination and bit Arthur's neck firmly. "A-Ahh~!" Arthur's head hit the door as he cursed himself for not suppressing such an embarrassing sound. He could feel Francis speaking as his bites and kisses moved lower and lower.
"Ah, mon Dieu, Arthur, you smell merveillux…" The Frenchman moaned, and Arthur shivered. Francis brought his head up and pressed his lips against his. He was so surprised by how gently Francis was going about this that he did not attempt to stop him. He cautiously wrapped his arms around the older nation's shoulders, and Francis broke the kiss, eliciting another whimper. He pressed his forehead to England's and stared deeply and seriously into his eyes.
"Arthur, I love you. I've loved you since we were just small children, and I love you now. I annoy you, I make you angry with me, only so that I can see you as often as possible. I only act the way I do to get your attention, to make you jealous. When I see you talking and laughing with other people, I want them to disappear. I want to be the only one who can do that for you. That is how much I love you." He murmured, stroking the green-eyed nation's cheek with his hand. "Now I will ask you once more, Angleterre. Do you love me?" he breathed, eyes half-lidded and face modestly flushed. Arthur swallowed his pride and for the first time in his life admitted his true feelings.
"I've known you for hundreds of years. You irritate me, you upset me, you make me want to kill you, but more often than that, you make me want to tell you that you're the only one I ever think about, the only one I've ever wanted to be with so badly… F-Francis, I… love you too, you git." There were now tears of embarrassment, of relief, and of joy running down England's face, and even Francis felt the pricks of tears begin at the corners of his eyes, as he kissed Arthur as passionately as he possibly could.
An unbreakable bond? Perhaps, thought England as he ran his hands through Francis' hair. But undesirable? He could desire nothing more than for his friend, his enemy, and his love, to be in his arms right now.
Wow, terrible ending is terrible. I'll, uh, fix it later. ;;; A-Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this! It's the first fan fiction I plan on permanently posting! 8D So excited! Please review, I'd be really thankful for it!