This was so not happening.

No, Arthur Kirkland, the respectable Englishman was definitely not standing outside of a certain Frenchman's house in a skirt way too short, especially not in Autumn. Really, that git would have to pay for letting him get hypothermia! In fact, he could hear said git sniggering from his hiding place in the nearby bushes.

This is why he should've never agreed to play Dare Or Dare, which is pretty much Truth Or Dare, but you can only pick dares. Yes, with the help of a little alcohol, he had decided to partake in the foolish game and had been dared to show up at someone's house dressed up in an embarrassing outfit, preferably a slutty Halloween costume. Arthur wasn't even going to ask where Al had found one so quickly.

Of course he had refused to do this, but only after he'd realized how dangerously short his skirt was, and after Alfred had gotten a picture of him. Blackmail. He didn't doubt for a second that he would do something so diabolical. It had pretty much knocked all the drunkenness out of him as well.

So he knocked on the door. What time was it? Two in the morning? Maybe Francis wouldn't even answer.

Bloody hell. He answered.

He was half asleep until he got a good look at his visitor. He stifled laughter. "I thought Christmas wasn't for another month and a half. Why is my present so early?" Arthur cleared his throat. "Good ni-er, morning, France. Were you sleeping well?" "I was but clearly I was missing out on a hell of a view." As he said that, his eyes drifted over to the Brit's rear, I mean, your ass seriously had to be a board to not be noticeable in something like that. He shuffled nervously and tried to pull down the skirt. "I'll be going now..." "Leaving so soon?" He grabbed Arthur's hand and pulled him in before he even had a chance to answer.

He wouldn't admit that he was glad to be inside, just to escape the cold fall air. "France, I would really like to be on my way..." He was really too embarrassed to stay there any longer. The other man had gone into the kitchen.

Francis' TV was on, glowing dimly. He'd fallen asleep in front of it. It was playing some show Arthur was too distracted to care about. He took the blanket that was hanging off of the couch and covered himself up. It would be a lot better if he was less exposed.

Or so he thought until Francis returned holding a cup of tea and cuddled up under the blanket with him. He instantly felt far too warm. "I figured you must be cold, oui? Maybe you should stay here for a while." Francis suggested. "I-I'll be fine, I'm sure!" "Do I want to know why you are here like this anyways? My timing must be really off lately, I thought Halloween was almost two weeks ago!" "It was..." "Feeling frisky then?" "France!" He chuckled. "It happens, you know." "No! Of course not!"

"Alright, care to tell me why?" Arthur blew some air into his cheeks. Things couldn't get any worse anyways. "America was probably going to blackmail me if I didn't." Francis scoffed. "Why didn't you say so? You can leave then." "Really?" "Of course not! I want to see how much redder you can get!" "You bloody frog!" "Drink the tea, Angleterre, it's getting cold." He wanted to say that he didn't want it, but he did, he wanted to relax. Some tea would be good for his nerves. He drank it in silence as Francis put his head on his shoulder, drifting back off to sleep. He shook his shoulder trying to get him to move. It didn't work.

Francis hadn't minded the company. He was sleeping better like this anyways. Arthur had shown up at his place doing weirder and dumber things before. Rarely so sober, though. That surprised him a little. Hell, he admitted that he had caused a lot of those things too. He always told Arthur to remove the stick from his ass and try doing something fun for once. He had gotten him to dress up as a Playboy bunny once, another time he had him dressed up as a cute little fairy. He smiled to himself. He had really gotten a good laugh out of his companion.

Arthur sighed. This night was exhausting. He wanted some rest.

Aw, fuck it. He'd save his anger and regret for the morning when he had the energy.

Alfred left a while later when he realized that Arthur wasn't coming back out any time soon. However, after deciding that he had enough blackmail material, he forwarded the picture to everyone on his contacts.

There would be a lot of anger in the morning.

A/N: I'm hella sick, okay? Cut me some slack.