A/N: Another USUK fic! ^^ The idea had been drifting around for a while before finally being written out~ XD My gf and I were talking about it before summer started (I'm her semeAmerica and she's my ukeEngland), but I'm posting this only now! Oh, and it is several minutes past 1 AM over here in good ol' 'Merica. c: I am feeling unnaturally pleasant for some odd reason, but I'm not going to say I don't like it. XDDD At least I'm not irritable, amirite? vUv Anywhoooo!
This is kind of a boring chapter, but I had it finished-So I thought I should post it! Oh, and have a grumpy Iggy =3=
Rated T for now, but it'll turn M later~ 8D
Also, I'm trying a new line spacing style! ^^ Tell me how it turns out!
It's actually really hard for me to use their human names, ahah X'D But it makes more sense if they're human-Point it out for me, please, if you spot that there're any mistakes that I missed! ;A;
Arthur Kirkland = England/Britain
Peter Kirkland = Sealand
Francis Bonnefoy = France
Alfred F. Jones = America (He doesn't appear in this chapter at all, but I'll have him here just for reference XD)
Arthur didn't know whether to be irritated or relieved when he heard a French accent sing his name.
Peter set his video game on pause, eyes wide and a huge grin stretched across his features. "Francis!" He almost screeched, dropping everything and swinging open his bedroom door to find the Frenchman there waiting.
The man just giggled, eagerly lifting him and hoisting him onto his hip. "Peter! I haven't seen you in so long!" He exclaimed, the sheer happiness in his voice enough to make Arthur groan. The Brit grumbled, lifting from his seat on the floor and tossing his controller down.
"Frog," He began, crossing his arms and offering the other man a deep scowl. Arthur gave him a once-over, taking note of the man's clothes. A plain white T-shirt, as well as what looked like beach shorts. "What brings you here, at this time? You usually come at a later hour," The green-eyed cocked a thick brow.
Just laughing heartily, the older gave him a twinkling gaze. "What, has little Peter not told you yet? School is over! Summer is here!" He took the chance to pinch the boy's cheek, just chortling at the light-hearted protest. Francis looked back to the Brit, smiling wide.
"Oh, yeah! Sorry, Arthur, I haven't told you yet!" Peter apologized, but he looked like he didn't really care.
Arthur just scoffed, rolling his eyes incredulously. "Of course you haven't," He deadpanned, gaze lidded dangerously. "But you wouldn't come just to tell me that, Francis. What, pray tell, are you here for?"
Francis's clear blue eyes flickered. He tilted his head towards a shoulder, brows suggesting an offended frown.
"Geez, you don't have to be so sensitive," He complained. "I wanted to take little Peter to that new community center pool! Won't that be fun, Peter?" Exaggerated excitement bubbled in the Frenchman's voice as he looked to the boy in his arms. As if on cue, his sparkling blue eyes widened and he whipped around eagerly to his brother.
"Oh, please, please, please, Arthur! Can I go, please?" He begged, brows high and hands clasping together in an almost comically cliché fashion.
Arthur showed but a moment of shock, soon to give way to a disapproving expression. "Say, who do you think you are to barge in and demand to take my brother away to some public place that I've never been myself? God, you must think I'm one hell of a bloody idiot. Besides, Peter's not even ready to go. He doesn't have any pool clothes prepared yet." He pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes shutting tight as he breathed out exasperatedly.
Francis's frown deepened slightly. "Well, then he should go prepare, no?" He stole a kiss from Peter's cheek, subsequently setting the other onto the floor and letting him rush back into his room.
Arthur choked on his own shock, pulling away just in time before Peter practically ran him over.
"H-hey, I never said—" He grimaced when he saw that the boy was starting to sift through his drawers, searching for his pool shorts. The older Brit faltered, just before letting out a defeated sigh. He stepped up to the Frenchman, glaring darkly. "Listen here, you git. The only reason I'm letting you take Peter is because otherwise, I'd be forced to play more of his bloody video game. Understood? And don't you try anything stupid while I'm gone, frog. You know he's only twelve," He hissed between grit teeth, leaning close as if in a challenge.
If Francis was intimidated at all, he didn't show it. Instead, he chuckled good-naturedly, ruffling the man's already messy blond hair. "Of course! You know, I never said you couldn't come with us," The blue-eyed winked. "I hear they got some new lifeguards…maybe you'll find someone!"
"As if I'd come with you so willingly," The Englishman scowled, backing away and scooting to the side of the doorframe to let Peter pass. He tried to ignore Francis's last statement, rather looking to his younger brother. "Make sure to call me when you want to get back home, alright? Francis has a phone with him, so I'll pick you up."
"Oh, no, that is already worked out! I'll drive him back for you, so you don't have to worry about a thing!" The Frenchman chuckled, kneeling to look the boy in the eye. He got a giggle and an eager nod, and he promptly started looking at Peter's choice in clothing. "Wow, those are good shorts! Shark-patterned, eh? Now, give Uncle Francis a big kiss and say bye to Arthur!"
"H-hold on, how long will you be gone?" The Brit stammered, stumbling forward a few steps.
The other man smiled. "I was thinking the whole day, but—"
"Oh, no. I won't let you do that," Arthur huffed.
"But, Arthur—" The boy started to protest.
"No, Peter. You can't stay that long away. You just had breakfast a little while ago, and you need your meals." The Brit scowled. Peter just pouted, instead looking to Francis.
"Well, then I'll take him until lunchtime." The Frenchman stated, as if in a conclusion.
"That's a good few hours away. How's ten minutes?"
"What? Non, non, non. That's too little time."
"What do you suggest, then?"
"3 hours?"
"No. Half an hour at most."
"And 2 hours?"
"Of course not."
"One hour?"
"Half-hour."
"Forty minutes?"
They continued on until they finally decided that a single hour was good enough.
Arthur peeked through the window blinds, watching as the French-model red car pulled out of the driveway, and in the direction of the city. He sighed briefly, leaving it to collapse onto the nearest armchair.
To be honest, that was more of a daily occurrence than anything. Francis was a classmate of his in high school, and now they visited each other's houses from time to time. Well, actually, the Frenchman visited him. Arthur didn't particularly like going to see the man, even though he had a nice house.
Either way, they were closer friends than they would like to admit. Francis would always make jokes about how Arthur secretly loved him, even though the Englishman really would kill him at the first chance he found.
Nowadays, Francis would go apply for various jobs, and usually get fired after a week's time; whereas the Brit would attend online college. Arthur's older brothers had long found jobs and married, and his single mother was already in a retirement home. He was left to take care of Peter, his younger brother, alone in his house.
But more than anything, he felt like a single father. Arthur was definitely a good few years older than his sibling—23 years to 12. That was quite literally an eleven-year difference.
His entire family was born and raised in southern England, and it was all he'd ever known. Francis was, of course, from France. He'd come over to Britain when he was just twenty-two years old or so, and he met Arthur a few weeks after moving. Now 26, he'd been living in the Isles for four years—however, all his relatives spoke only French, and he refused to speak English whenever possible, so he still had a strong accent.
Arthur smacked his lips, glittering emerald eyes skimming over the designs on the ceiling. Unconsciously, his gaze fell to a window, and he sighed. Even though it was a relative miracle in the typically soggy and grim England, the weatherman claimed that the next two weeks would be rain-free—and looking outside confirmed it. The sky was bright, and clear of clouds.
It was a good day to go to the pool, he would admit to that. However, he was never one to get wet. All his friends would joke that he was just an old cat, and probably couldn't swim. Little did they know…He could swim quite well, thanks very much, and he wasn't obsessed with getting sopping wet every day of the summer, Arthur thought with a sneer.
Really, he just couldn't understand why everyone else was so insistent on doing things in the summer. Unlike some persons he knew, he had studying to do. Schedules and rules were prized in Arthur's eyes. They kept everything clean, pristine, and free of chaos. They practically ran the world. If one had control of his life, he believed, everything was within reach.
But he was done with his studies that day. Usually, he would continue, and do extra practice—but right then, he longed to read one of his books. And so, that was what he did. Arthur picked up an old favorite, and quickly set on the first page.
He probably would've finished it in that single afternoon, too, if it hadn't been for Peter practically kicking the door down.
Arthur started, breath hitching and stiffening when his younger brother bust through the doorframe. The boy was still dripping wet, and water drops were scattering everywhere. A beach towel was loosely draped over his shoulders, and his blond hair was slicked down, pressed to his scalp. The child's laughter instantly bubbled through his house, followed by deeper, French giggles. The older man stepped through the door, still toweling his long blond locks.
"That was the most fun I've had in months!" Peter exclaimed, giving evidence of exhaustion by the near-inaudible wheeze in his breath. "You should've been there, Arthur!"
"And get just as wet as you?" He grumbled, bookmarking his page and setting the book down. "There's hardly a good reason for me to do so. Look at yourself, you're a mess. And the cleaning lady just came by a while ago—you're getting everything wet, dear me!" He stood up abruptly, snatching the towel off the boy to attempt to dry him better.
"You don't have to be such a killjoy, Arthur," Peter complained good-naturedly, a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth. "This is just like you. Really, though, you should've gone with us!"
"Maybe next time?" Francis suggested, tilting his head and smiling innocently.
The Brit pursed his lips. "As if. Come along, Peter. Get yourself cleaned up, won't you?" He led his brother back to his room, eyeing the Frenchman. Francis's clothes clung to his body, signaling that he, too, had gotten wet.
"Say, didn't your car get wet? Won't that cause damage?" Arthur wondered, brows furrowing.
Francis just laughed, shaking his head.
"Oh, no, it's alright. The seats were made for that sort of thing, so there's no problem," He explained, blue eyes sparkling happily.
"…I see," Arthur responded flatly, unable to share the man's constant enthusiasm. "Well, thanks for taking Peter. Good afternoon and goodbye." He wasted no time in slamming the door in the Frenchman's face.
The Brit chuckled to himself, letting himself walk away from the doorframe. But no sooner had he left the mat did he hear calls from his younger brother, beckoning for him to finish their video game.
Arthur couldn't help a small groan, though he didn't protest further after picking up where they left off.
He never imagined that it would become a pattern—Francis coming in to take Peter, leaving for an hour to the pool, and bringing him back. However, the three of them quickly accustomed to the schedule. Everyone was happy with it, and there was no harm done. Francis and Peter would have fun, and Arthur got much-deserved time to himself.
And it would've continued that way—until after the fourth day, when his traitorous little brother and the bloody idiotic Frenchman finally found a way to drag him along.
A/N: I warned you it'd be boring v3v This was more of a 'setup' chapter than anything-Stuff actually starts happening in the next ones! ^^ If I were reading this, I'd probably skim over this chapter; so I'm not going to blame you if you did XDDD
I also mentioned earlier that I was trying a new line spacing style~ Is this easier to read? Is it clearer? ;^;
Call me out on any mistakes, okay? c:
Review, please! :D