Almost Christmas
Rating: T
Couples: Francis/Arthur, a little hint of America/Japan and Cuba/Canada.
Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN OR PROFIT FROM HETALIA, THIS IS PURELY FANMADE FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES. ANY REFERENCES TO LYRICS ARE MADE WITH RECAPITULATION IN MIND.
Genre: Romance/Drama/ Humor
xXx
"BLOODY FUCKING- GARGH!"
"Welcome home~!"
Arthur hopped into the kitchen with a look that could give children nightmares, his hand holding onto his knee. Francis had to snicker, because he had warned the Brit that leaving his trunk of clothes near the doorway would have disastrous results. The younger nation had, at that time, gone on about how he was not stupid enough to walk into something big enough that he could clearly see it. Now he bet he was cursing the day he put it there, and trying to find a way to blame it on the Frenchman.
"You could have moved it!" He growled to prove France's point, hobbling over to the chair so he could pull up his pant leg and see the damage. Francis just rolled his eyes, wiped his hands on the towel by the sink and walked over.
"Oui…" He hummed, though he wasn't actually agreeing with him. He knelt down and looked at the soon-to-be bruise and gently grazed his thumb over the light swelling. "Glace…"
He murmured to himself as he walked over to the fridge and opened the freezer compartment. He found the bag of ice cubes they had used at their last house party and tossed a few into a bag, then wrapped a dish towel around it. He threw it over to where England was sitting and watched as he scowled but placed the item obediently on his knee.
Francis leaned against the counter as the Englishman glanced over at the chair, and then back at his knee, then back again. Finally the bushy-browed man tried to lean over to grab the piece of furniture so he could put his leg up. Finding his attempts amusing but probably more dangerous than anything, he finally leaned forward and assisted him in his plight. He pushed the chair over and watched as Arthur put his leg up only to drop the bag of ice.
Now he couldn't help but laugh, especially when the other man didn't even reach for the bag, he just let his forehead fall to the table in surrender. Francis was still chuckling when he bent down, picked up the ice, and gently rested it on the tender joint.
Much to his nature, the other man didn't even thank him. Instead he propped his elbow up on the table and leaned his cheek into his palm. "What a blood horrid day."
"Non." Francis disagreed, sitting down in the spot across from Arthur. "Alfred and Mathieu are coming. C'est genial." He watched as Arthur pulled at his tie and ran a hand through his hair tiredly. He didn't seem in the mood to entertain guests, but they had been planning this for quite some time. Francis had wanted to have a nice get-together before the holidays since they wouldn't be able to spend it together. It was probably one of the only times they would all be able to clear up their schedules and see each other since the economic struggle had settled down.
"Stop speaking frog to me." He groaned, rubbing his forehead as if to ward off an oncoming headache. "And who are you expecting?" He asked suddenly, frowning at Francis and starting to take off his watch. "Because I am thinking of the loud brat I raised and the passive-aggressive doormat you raised." He leaned his head back against the chair and closed his eyes, probably trying to let the tension seep out of his body. "Those two, every time they see each other Alfred ends up crying… It's irritating."
The nation of love gave the island an unimpressed look, not appreciating the description of their quasi-extended-family-children-things. Though he had to admit, Alfred had been rather touchy lately, and Mathieu hadn't exactly been picking on him, but he was probably taking every personal interaction as time to remind the American about how he wasn't exactly the best neighbor. Their latest spat had been about the war and how the 'hero' had pressured him into extending his stay. It wasn't even a fight either, it was one of those hidden-behind-nice-words below-the-belt comments that the bi-lingual nation was so well known for. It wouldn't hit his brother until later, and then it would slowly eat away at him until he came crying to England.
"Arthur, honestly, you're being tres moyen."
"Francis, honestly, I don't want to deal with them."
Francis crossed his arms across the table and regarded him critically. "Can you deal with me?"
He rolled his eyes and fixed the other nation with a similar unimpressed stare. "That's not what I meant. You're making this into a fight. I am just tired, I had a long week and the train ride here didn't help."
The Frenchman stood up and grabbed a cup he had used for a drink earlier; as he walked by the sink he dropped it in the water. He then turned towards the younger country, whom was starting to look a little less frustrated and a lot more apologetic. This had been his excuse for the past few weeks and as much as Francis understood it sometimes he wanted to shake the other man and remind him that they were all having bad work days. Sometimes he wanted to remind the other person that the whole world didn't stop when he was angry, and other people had these feelings too.
Neither of them spoke for a moment, and then Francis walked over to the fridge and busied himself with making supper.
"Did you want any help?"
He peeked out of the fridge and stared pointedly at the knee that was currently out of commission as if to ask how England thought he was going to. He also wanted to point out that offering to help with something he was perpetually bad at would not make the Frenchman any less pissed off with him and he knew it. Arthur just sighed and crossed his arms, looking off into nothing. They volleyed the irritation back and forth like pro tennis players now. Sometimes Francis was felt like that was what their whole relationship was based off of now.
Go figure, they could last wars but they couldn't last empty wallets.
The loud knock was the only warning they got before the front door was thrown open and Alfred's loud voice filled into their void of silence. Arthur went to get up but then fell back against the chair heavily with a hiss of pain. Francis frowned when he looked at the clock and noticed that the other nation was at least three hours earlier than he said he'd be. He was also starting to notice that there was a soft voice accompanying the louder one, had the two of them actually come together on the same plane and were talking happily like this?
He ventured into the front room and stood taken aback.
"Hey! Hope yah don't mind, totally invited Kiku. Haven't been able to come to this side of the planet in a while and he said he'd meet me here." He dropped his bags in an unceremonious lump. "Besides, I can talk to Kiku when you and England get all disgustingly flirty on each other. HEY OLD MAN, YOU COMING TO GREET ME OR IS YOUR BACK GIVING OUT ON YOU FINALLY?"
Now Francis didn't mind Kiku, in fact, he really did adore the lithe Asian. It was simply the fact that the loud powerhouse had gone and brought someone else to a family-of-sorts gathering. Kiku apologized profusely, and when Alfred yelled for the Brit France couldn't help but smile at the old comment. Kiku sighed and muttered something about being way older than England-san and he really shouldn't talk like that to the man who raised him, but it went unheard between the hollering match.
"I HURT MY KNEE YOU UNGRATEFUL GIT!"
"HAHA! YOU LOSING YOUR SIGHT IN YOUR SENILE AGE AND WALKED INTO SOMETHING?"
"SOD OFF! IT WAS AN ACCIDENT!"
"LOSING YOU SIGHT DUE TO AGE ISN'T AN ACCIDENT, ITS INEVIDABLE!"
With the door still wide open Canada poked his head in and waved. Francis sighed in relief, walked over to the opening and hugged the younger nation gratefully.
"Glad to see he's still the same old loudmouth." Matthew murmured into the hug.
"Mathieu, please try to be nice to Alfred for this weekend?" The older nation took a step back and put his hands on his protégé's shoulders, finally able to look behind him and see someone leaning against the building. His smile froze and he looked down at the youngest with eyes that said explain please.
"I heard Al was bringing Kiku so I brought Miguel." He leaned over Francis and gave the petite man a small wave hello, which he returned with a small bow. The only thing the bearded nation could think of was how 'bloody horrid' this weekend was going to be.
Maybe Arthur had been on to something.
America had already made his way into the kitchen to see the man he had been yelling at, and Kiku was left standing in the doorway waiting for the other nation to come back or for Francis to invite him further into the home. France took a step into the house and gestured for Matthew to come in as well.
"He won't come in until he knows he isn't intruding." Hurriedly whispered the soft-spoken man, "it's alright, isn't it?"
A million things popped into the Frenchman's head at that point. A few of them involved asking Matthew when he thought Miguel and Alfred would ever be able to get along. The next was him asking if just because Alfred ate fifty-thousand hamburgers, Matthew had to as well. He pressed his lips into a firm line and looked out the door at the Cuban waiting patiently with a cigar in hand, trying not to seem like he was freezing in the cooler weather than what he was used to. He had to admit, he felt better about this boyfriend at least feeling sheepish about coming for a family supper. Then again, Alfred probably hadn't even caught onto that.
It appeared that Kiku had now, and was looking very uncomfortable. "I can leave if you'd like. I wasn't sure…"
"No, no. MIGUEL GET IN HERE." He said the first to Kiku in a calmer tone, and then the second to the Spanish nation. He was having a freaking world meeting in his home, and pretty soon it was going to turn out exactly like the old ones. Fighting between him and Arthur included.
Taking his yell as an invitation, the Cuban snuffed out his cigar and casually sauntered into the home. He shook Francis' hand and thanked him for letting him stay awkwardly, which caused Kiku to jump in and thank him as well. For a moment all the sensible people stood there with nothing to say, until the bundle of loudness came back in and asked Kiku what was taking him so long, and to come say hi to England. He stopped mid turn around when his eyes landed on the only brown nation in the room.
"The HELL are you doing here?" He yelled, pointing at Miguel with fury clear in his eyes. Sometimes Francis wondered if Matthew was friends with Cuba because he knew it would piss off his brother. Somehow, he didn't doubt it.
"I was invited." The laid-back tropic shrugged, as if he didn't give a damn if the other was there. He knew that his nonchalance probably irritated the United States representative more than if he was to yell back. Proving you were the bigger man around America only served to antagonize him even more. "What's your problem, amigo?"
"Don't you amigo me!" He snapped, and completely ignored Kiku when he told him to calm down. "You were so not invited. You aren't welcome here."
"I invited him." Snapped Canada in irritation, taking a step in front to Cuba as if to defend him. "He's my friend, and you invited Japan so don't even start."
"Everyone likes Kiku." Alfred hissed back.
"Children." Francis clapped his hands. "You can each bring a friend, Alfred you don't get to pick who Mathieu talks to, just as I am sure he can't choose yours. Now, go throw your things upstairs and someone who actually knows how to cook can help me make supper."
He shooed them up the stairs, and then walked into the kitchen feeling the headache that Arthur had been exhibiting earlier.
"They brought their boyfriends." He explained to the very confused Englishman, walking over to the ingredients he had taken out and deciding he probably needed more than he thought. He was too tired to be mad about the whole thing, and he had the odd feeling he'd be playing the mediator for the whole weekend. This was going to need some serious time out with Antonio and Gilbert to compensate. He'd gladly listen to Tony coo about Romano over what he was about to endure.
"Great." Arthur threw the ice on the table and got up; he hobbled over to the cabinet above the fridge and pulled himself out some scotch. "I need a drink."
"Pour me one too." Francis groaned as the yelling started up again above them.
They both laughed, and clinked their glasses together before slamming back the hard liquor.
Francis gave a small cough, his voice thick from the burn. "We are going to finish that whole damn bottle by the end of tonight."
"Agreed."
Francis leaned in and gave the other nation a gentle kiss on the cheek. "Here's to the start of the holidays."
Arthur looked away to hide his light blush and muttered his reply. "Yeah, here's to us, too."
xXx
AN: To some this may be a repost (if you follow me or are on the LJ community I am a part of) other than that, Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays everyone! Here's a little fluff coming at you.