Francis listened patiently as Arthur let out a string of furious curses- he noted with a vague sense of admiration that he'd come up with new cusses specifically for this situation- as he leant against his car bonnet. He himself was angry, but far less motivated to display it by shouting expletives in a crowded car park.
"Finished?" he asked mildly as Arthur stopped cursing and kicked the car's tyre.
"Yes, thanks," Arthur replied, closing his eyes and making an obvious effort to lower his blood pressure. "Actually, no I'm not, I'm going to fucking kill him."
The 'him' in question was none other than one Alfred F. Jones, representative and embodiment of the United States of America. And currently classed by Arthur as a 'self-shagging tosser'.
Despite how irritating Alfred was on a regular bases, it would seem to most that this was a title that was a little undeserved.
However, today Alfred had gone beyond the borders of Usual Irritation and Idiocy, and waltzed cockily into the land of Potentially Fatal Aggravation.
There he had arrived at the beginning of today's World Meeting, where he had decided to one of the oldest tricks in the book by attaching a bucket of water to the top of the door, set to topple when someone opened it. That someone was Arthur Kirkland. Watching a hysterically laughing Alfred as he shivered in sopping wet clothes was all that Arthur needed to decide he was going to murder the American.
It took slightly more to get Francis to this point- had it been Arthur doing the pranking he would have been on the opportunity to dye his hair green instantly, but with any other nation he was less inclined to start a war- but it was still only a grand total of two simultaneous pranks. Somehow, in the space between Francis standing up and walking to the front of the room to speak, Alfred had managed to glue down every single item the Frenchman had brought with him to the meeting and put onto the table. The second part of the prank was that he'd coated everything with a reddish-coloured substance that smelt like strawberries and was slightly wet (Apparently it was Kool Aid, which neither Arthur nor Francis had heard of before). Francis sat down and attempted to pick up a pen, then scrabbled to try and get it off for a good five minutes before realising it was colouring his hands red as he did so. When he stood up, he found that exactly the same thing had been covering the seat of his chair.
The rest of the day had followed the same trend; flour planted on the top of ceiling fans, laxatives in their food, cling film covering toilet seats (he also swapped the 'men' and 'women' signs on the restroom doors, but that got every nation rather than only Francs and Arthur, and they conceded that it was very funny to watch Ludwig run from an enraged Belarus wielding Elizaveta's frying pan).
And now they had come outside to find their cars, which had been parked next to each other, had been picked up and turned sideways to cover both spaces. Leaving them jammed between the cars both sides and entirely impossible to manoeuvre out to drive home.
This leads us back to the situation at hand; Francis sitting and Arthur standing by their cars, wondering exactly what they were going to do next.
Both were silent for a good few minutes before Arthur spoke up.
"We could prank him."
Francis considered this. "Together?"
"Yes- you always get better pranks when more people are doing it. One person can tell him something, and the other backs it up when he asks," Arthur replied, prepared to dismiss his rivalry with France for the cause of more immediate vengeance.
"For that to work, it would have to be something concerning the other person," Francis added, "So that Amérique will definitely check with them."
"What would shock him though? It has to be something bloody fantastic to make up for this..."
"Something that would shock him more than us working to...gether." Francis said slowly, looking thoughtful. Raising an eyebrow, Arthur looked at him as if to say, 'what?'
Lips stretching into a smile that was just perverted enough to make Arthur worry about what was going to come next, Francis took Arthur's hand and pulled him out of the car park, explaining his idea as he went.
The next day Francis was back in the meeting room, unusually quiet. His hands had not strayed from the table in front of him for the entire fifteen minutes he had been there so far; a record. The nations around him were already giving him funny looks, but in true oblivious style Alfred managed to crash straight into the room and completely miss them. The nation glanced around the room before spotting Francis and grinning like an imbecile.
"Hey Francis," he said loudly, dropping into the empty seat next to him. "Are you hands the right colour yet?"
Francis smiled slightly in a show of good humour and raised his hands to reveal their usual colour. "After extensive washing, they are."
Still grinning like a madman, Alfred nodded and looked about before realising where he was sitting. "Wait, where's Artie? This is his seat."
The smile slid of Francis' face and he looked at the table in the most obvious way he could manage. "I'm sure I have no idea," he said, injecting a sizeable amount of guilt into his tone. Alfred might be dense, but hopefully even he could read the lie coming off Francis in waves.
For a moment he merely looked confused. "You don't sound very sure," he said doubtfully. From across the table, Francis noted some of the watching nation's slight confusion at his behaviour. Most of them knew perfectly well that he was a superb actor, and that if he wanted something to be concealed he was fully capable of doing so. He hoped that they would remain confused enough to not spoil his trick.
"Well..." he said slowly, turning his eyes back to Alfred in what he hoped was a suitably unsure way. "I am not sure if I should tell you, mon ami."
"Of course you should!" was the enthusiastic response. Francis shook his head, and then paused.
"Perhaps you could be trusted..." he said tantalizingly.
Alfred nodded hastily, eyes shining with childish anticipation.
"Venez avec moi," Francis said decisively, getting to his feet and ignoring the interested looks his fellow nations were giving him. Alfred bounded up behind him and Francis suppressed a smirk as he let them both out of the room.
"So, what's up with Artie?" Alfred said immediately, as soon as he'd closed the door.
"Well... This is very difficult to explain," Francis replied slowly, internally quivering with anticipation. Here came the first stage of the prank. "I suppose that you should first know that Arthur and I... we have been dating for a while now."
The silence was very impressive. Francis imagined that he could hear the other nations trying to hear what they were saying behind the door; at least he knew that they couldn't, or there would no doubt be a good deal of screaming going on.
"You what?" Alfred finally managed, very eloquently. "You and Artie?" he looked as though he'd just been slapped with a wet fish.
"Yes," Francis replied, mentally congratulating himself on his ability to keep a straight face as he watched Alfred open and close his mouth.
"A-and that's why he's not here?" Alfred stuttered out, still looking as though his brain was having a huge problem getting over Francis' statement.
"No, not exactly. You see..." Francis trailed off. "Are you sure you want to know? You might be a little... surprised."
Alfred spread his hands out in front of him with an expression of disbelief. "Dude, after that I don't think anything you can say will surprise me."
Francis could not hold back a smile now. "Alright... Arthur's not here because he was sick this morning."
"That's your big-"
"This morning, Alfred."
A blank, uncomprehending look.
"He has nausées matinales, Alfred. Morning sickness."
Alfred's eyes practically fell out, before they rolled up into his head and he fell to the floor in a dead faint.
After a few seconds silence, Francis knelt down and poked the unconscious American with one elegant finger.
"He's out?"
Francis grinned as he turned to look over his shoulder at Arthur, the latter making his way down the corridor from where he'd been listening around the corner.
"Like a light, Angleterre," he replied with no small amount of satisfaction.
Arthur grinned in response, prodding Alfred with his foot. "Idiot... And I still don't get why I have to be the girl, Frog."
"It's far more convincing," Francis replied assuredly, getting to his feet and standing next to the younger blonde. After a moments consideration he slipped behind Arthur and, without giving him chance to move away, quickly wrapped his arms around the smaller nation's waist.
"Get off!" Arthur protested instantly, trying to push his way out of Francis' arms.
"Ah, Arthur, I've just told dear Alfred we were dating~ We must make the lie convincing, non?"
He knew Arthur well enough to guess that he had gone red, but to Francis' satisfaction he stopped struggling.
"Fine, but that's the only reason! Don't get any ideas, Frog..."
"I wouldn't dream of it~"
When Alfred woke up a little while later, it was to an empty corridor.
"Wah? Francis?" he said confusedly, sitting up and rubbing his head.
"No, it's Matthew," a soft voice corrected him as his brother appeared at his side.
"Where'd you come from?"
Matthew rolled his eyes and decided not to dignify that with a response, pulling Alfred to his feet.
"Are you alright?" he asked concernedly. "The meeting's stopped for lunch, we came outside and you were just on the floor."
"I'm fine..." Alfred said, trying to remember exactly what had prompted his fainting spell. He had been talking to Francis and...
"Oh my God, Mattie, Iggy's pregnant!"
Matthew's eyebrows rose with disbelief. "Alfred, don't be ridiculous."
"I'm not being ridiculous! Francis told me! He said he has been going out with Art for ages!"
A small part of Matthew's brain made an unheard complaint about how quickly Alfred changed between nicknames, while the rest of him tried to decide how he could stop his brother smoking whatever it was that he was on.
"Okay, even if we go with the idea that Francis and Arthur are dating, it's impossible for Arthur to be pregnant," Matthew felt his face flush slightly even as he spoke.
"You go ask him then, I'm telling the truth," Alfred protested.
Matthew shook his head, but decided to humour his brother. "Fine, okay, let's go find them."
Thirty seconds later found them in the room being used as a sort of kitchen-cafeteria, looking around from the doorway.
Blanching, Alfred moved to hide behind his brother. "Arthur's over there; you go talk to him!" With that, he shoved Matthew in the direction of the English nation and raced back out of the room.
Shaking his head and trying not to think about how this was probably going to be the most embarrassing thing he would ever have to do in his very long life, Matthew walked up to the unaware Brit who was absently sipping a cup of tea.
"Um, Arthur?" he asked jumping when Arthur immediately turned to look at him, unused to immediate acknowledgement from the rest of the nations.
"Oh, there you are," Arthur said, before closing his mouth quickly and taking another drink of his tea. "What can I do for you?"
Still rather back-footed from being recognised so promptly, Matthew said nothing for a moment as he found himself unwillingly looking towards Arthur's stomach.
"Right, well, um," he stuttered for a moment, quickly looking back to Arthur's green eyes. "Someone said this really weird thing earlier..."
Arthur looked at him curiously. "Oh?"
"Yeah... It's really funny, but someone told me that you're... pregnant."
Arthur went bright red and for a second Matthew was reassured, certain this reaction pre-empted lots of violence upon the nation spreading this rumour and he was pleased that he'd chosen not to give Alfred's name for this very reason. Then he realised that Arthur was smiling, ever so slightly.
"Did Francis tell you that? I don't suppose it can be kept a secret forever..."
Matthew froze.
"We did want to tell you sooner, but as we hadn't ever said that we were dating it sort of got out of hand-"
"It's true?"
"Of course. Why would we make something like that up?"
"Oh. God. Right. Um. Congratulations?" Matthew offered, looking absolutely traumatised.
"Thank you," Arthur replied seriously. "I'm surprised you've taken this so well."
"What's been taken well?" Francis asked as he appeared next to Arthur, one hand sliding round his waist.
"I need to be somewhere, sorry," Matthew panicked, backing up and crashing into a confused Seychelles. "Sorry- bye!" He practically ran from the room.
"Mattie!" Alfred pounced him in the door way. "What did he say?"
"You were right!"
"Haha, told you!" Alfred said triumphantly before he realised the implications of this. "Holy shit."
Matthew nodded his agreement. A thought occurred to him. "Do you think his brothers know?"
"Well duh, Mattie."
It took a moment, but Matthew realised how Alfred had interpreted his question and he resisted the urge to hit his forehead.
"No, not us, Scotland, Wales and Ireland."
Alfred considered this for a moment. "Maybe they don't; they don't like Arthur or France do they?"
Nodding, Matthew lapsed back into silence. After a few minutes, Alfred spoke again. "What about the Commonwealth?"
"And la Francophon-,"Matthew tried to add but was cut off by Alfred throwing one hand in the air and beaming, apparently recovered from his ordeal .
"We need to tell them!"
-
Francis watched the blonde nation go with a frown.
"What was that about?"
"Alfred came to check if you were telling the truth," Arthur said gleefully, shooting Francis a triumphant smile.
"Alfred?" That did not seem right... Francis considered the door that the nation had just left through, trying to understand what was wrong with the picture he was presented with. He brushed it off after a few moments thought and turned to grin back at Arthur, a grin that only broadened when he realised that the younger nation hadn't moved out of his reach as soon as Alfred had gone.
"Are you getting used to the idea, Arthur?" he asked teasingly, pulling Arthur closer towards him as way of explanation.
"Ye- No, you stupid Frog! Get lost!"
Francis ignored him and sneaked a kiss onto his cheek, sniggering as he ducked a blow to the head.
-
Another day passed and, as cliché the saying goes it is none the less true, Francis thought to himself, it is quiet; too quiet. He looked around as he entered the building the meeting was being hosted in with suspicious eyes, quickly attracting the attention of Arthur. Francis had forgotten how very observant he could be, when it was nothing to do with emotions.
"What's wrong?" he asked, his tone not quite a whisper, but definitely softer than usual.
"It's quiet?"
Arthur smiled slightly, finding the clichéd words amusing, but the expression faded as he cocked his head and listened.
"Yes, actually..." he replied, casting a well-practiced eye around the long corridor, taking in the tasteful decor and trying to identify anything at all out of place.
Stepping forward cautiously- feeling slightly foolish- Francis made it down to the first corner of the room without anything happening.
"It's safe, then?" Arthur replied, tone teasing as he followed. "God, how paranoid are we?"
Francis laughed, more than happy to ignore the unusual silence. Navigating the corridors to find the meeting room, neither of them talked for a while, Francis because he was wondering how Alfred would behave today and Arthur because he was suddenly struck with the desire not to argue with the French nation and he reasoned the best way to do that was by not provoking a discussion.
However, both nations loved the sound of their own voices and neither was capable of keeping quiet for long (unless situation really called for it). And it seemed that Arthur had something he felt he needed to clarify.
"Frog?"
Francis glanced over and raised an eyebrow at the sight of Arthur intentionally avoiding his gaze by staring at the floor, flushed slightly red.
"Don't think it'll happen again you know. Last night."
Grinning broadly, Francis replied, "You know you enjoyed it, Angleterre."
Arthur went distinctly redder, realising what the sentence had sounded like. "Shut up, you git. I mean don't think you're allowed back to my house again. It's only because of what you said, it's not convincing if we go home separately if we're supposed to going out with each other. Don't you dare follow me home again."
Though he thought that if Arthur had really not wanted Francis to tag along he was more than capable of coming up with a different strategy to keep up the facade, Francis chose not to comment, instead smiling.
"I wouldn't dream it. I'd much rather have you invite me~"
They were a few meters away from the wooden door that opened onto the meeting room, and were far too caught up in themselves to notice it quickly slam closed and a hasty whisper being uttered on the other side. By the time they were next to it, everything was back to near silence.
"Aw, mon cœur, you know that you love me really~"
"Get lost you wanker!" Arthur snapped, trying to stop himself from blushing and throttle Francis at the same time. It was made so very difficult by Francis dancing out of his reach.
"Not even denying it~" Francis practically sung, gravitating back towards Arthur and catching both of his hands. He walked back into the door to send it swinging open, pulling Arthur with him, and then releasing one arm to spin round and face into the room.
The both of them were almost physically knocked back by the explosion of noise. Every nation was staring at them, to their immense confusion, half of the younger nations that they'd had a hand in raising- together or separately- were open mouthed and looking dimly pleased, Elizaveta and Kiku had appeared right next to them and was asking rapid incoherent questions, and Alfred was standing on the table, practically crowing with excitement.
"What on earth is going on?" Arthur shouted, shocked voice cutting through the din with the strength of an empire.
"Congratulations!" somebody screamed and everything started to make an awful kind of sense.
"...For what?" Arthur said slowly.
There was an awkward pause that showed just how much difficulty most of the world was having with the information they thought was fact.
"For your baby!" Feliciano enthusiastically pushed his way through the gawping nations, flinging himself a Francis- who only just managed to catch him- and hugging him tightly, before jumping at Arthur with similar vigour. The green-eyed nation groaned.
"Oh God."
"Nobody believed me!" Alfred had jumped off the table and hauled the Italian away, before darting back to make sure nobody else claimed their attention.
"I said that Francis told me that you were together and everyone said there wasn't any chance that would happen, and then Mattie told them and suddenly everybody decided it was the truth."
Francis chuckled nervously, yanking Arthur's hand- which he hadn't let go of- to pull him away from Alfred. He didn't much fancy having to explain to the two nation's bosses why the embodiment of America was being chalk outline on the pavement.
"Well, you see Amérique-"
"And then we called your brothers, Iggy, and-"
"You did WHAT?"
"And they seriously flipped, so you might want to be careful by the way Francis because they really treat Iggy like he's a girl-"
"Alfred!" Francis interrupted quickly, recognising- though it did not take a genius- that the situation was rapidly getting out of hand.
"Yeah?"
Francis gave him a wan smile and tried to make sure that everyone else was paying attention; they were, which wasn't all that comforting.
"You know the day before yesterday? When you were pranking Arthur and myself... repeatedly?"
"Haha! Yeah, I know..."
"Well, the whole pregnancy story... that was revenge for it. A return prank."
Silence. "You're kidding."
"Non."
"Arthur's not really pregnant?"
"Non."
"Oh."
There was an even longer silence, broken by Elizaveta who pushed the stupefied- for the third time in two days- Alfred out of the way, brandishing a camera.
"Does that mean you aren't dating either?"
"Unfortunately no."
"Francis!" Arthur had snapped out of glaring at Alfred long enough to tune into that comment.
Elizaveta let out a sigh of disappointment causing Austria, who had been valiantly attempting to act as though he was not paying attention, to let out a quiet, world-weary groan.
Francis gave Arthur a long suffering look, which appeared to confuse the English nation, and then turned to the rest of the room.
"If anyone's still confused, they can ask mon petit Mathieu who I think knows what's going on better than I do." Canada went red, having been hoping that they'd have forgotten him by now.
"I think I'll try and get a head start on your mad brothers," Francis muttered to Arthur, who was still looking at him oddly. "What?"
"What do you mean 'unfortunately'?"
Neither of them noticed Elizaveta immediately still, relying on the renewed uproar from the rest of the nations as they tried to remember exactly who 'Mathieu' was.
"It's your language, Angleterre, what do you think it means?" Francis replied, wondering exactly what was prompting this.
"I know what it means then, git, I mean why did you say it."
"Because it's unfortunate."
This appeared to complete loose Arthur, and Francis started to turn towards the door, only for the shorter nation to skirt round him and keep his gaze.
"Only unfortunate that you didn't tell me, you stupid Frog," Arthur said, looking far to cross for the situation but Francis could see the uncertainty hiding in his eyes. For a moment, he considered telling Arthur that he'd told him a million and one times in the past week, but he didn't think that Arthur would ever really get the sincerity-
Arthur tilted his head up and quickly leant forward, catching his long time enemy's lips in a brief kiss. Both managed to miss the still watching Elizaveta's squeak as Francis stopped Arthur from immediately trying to run, dragging him back to kiss him again.
The door slammed open.
"Oh shit, they actually came," Alfred yelped, diving behind the table as Arthur's elder brothers crashed into the room.
"Merde."