my poor laptop is finally allowing fanfiction to work properly again so i am uploading my stuff from other sites :D [iv also stopped being lazy x3] i ADORE anything with iggy as a uke -shamelessly ukes him out to any seme- but in this fic a warning to usuk fans-sliiiight america bashing [becuase it is just too fun~]
if i owned hetalia it wouldnt only be listed under humor ;D [i swear it should be under shonen-ai!]
dedicated to lauren-yes, i CAN turn one comment about incest into a whole para x3
L'amour imposteur
"Mon cher! It has been too long non?"
"Not bloody long enough you git!"
"Petit Chou, a pleasure to hear your voice as always."
Francis smiled to himself. What better way to spend a Saturday morning then pestering his favourite Englishman? He could practically feel the other's glare through the phone-though in really it was more of a pout on his adorable little face-and almost shivered with pleasure. Nothing made him feel more alive then the hostile Brit, and having his complete attention was a treat he often sought. While he had a slight reputation of the sexual nature, l'Angleterre had always remained a constant in his mind and heart. Their history as interwoven as it was, how could they not harbour such strong feelings for each other?
Getting Arthur to agree with this theory was another matter-but Francis had always loved the thrill of the chase, had he not?
"What do you want frog?"
"Blunt as always, can I not simply wish to speak to mon amour?" Francis smirked while twirling a fine curl of golden hair around his finger, enjoying the flustered spluttering.
"I am not now, nor ever been, your 'amour'."
"Denial does not suit you Arthur. How could you resist moi? Especially-"…
Did Arthur just giggle?
"E-especially considering-" There it was again! Now Francis had known England a long time; had been with him through the best and worst of their lives. But never had he heard such a noise from Arthur, nothing so-so undeniably cute!
"… l'Angleterre?"
"Give me just a moment, I'm on the phone right now! You're such an attention whore."
Francis could only blink at the phone in his hand. Was Arthur speaking fondly? Surely not! He'd only used that affectionate tone when he'd been raising colonies, and god only knows how long ago that had been!
"Is someone there l'Angleterre?" Another giggle.
"Get your filthy paws off my chest you cheeky rascal- I'm sorry Francis, what were you saying?"
Oh hell no.
Francis had already hung up and grabbed his coat while dashing for the door. How dare someone else think they could touch Arthur? He'd been waiting much too long, put in too many torturous hours and held back too long for some newcomer to simply whisk his l'Angleterre away! How dare that thief!
Francis had stormed his way onto the Eurostar, his fellow countrymen flinching away from the normally flamboyant and flirtatious mans deathly glare. The countryside could not fly by fast enough as he fumed in his seat, thankfully he had woken early to pester Arthur so would now have an entire day to convince him away from that l'amour imposteur. His glare faltered as he slouched back into the chair, hand cupping his lightly stubbled chin despondently. What if America had finally made a move? The rising super power of a nation had been carrying a torch, literally at times Francis remembered with a murderous grumble, for the smaller nation for some time now. Of course, oblivious and emotionally awkward as he was, Arthur seemed to not notice his former younger brother's intentions toward him.
"Talk about incest. And they call me a creep." Ignoring the horrified look from an old woman across the isle, Francis sighed. He used to insist upon being called grande frère, big brother, so he supposed he wasn't much better. Relations between nations often changed with age, so there wouldn't really be any incest between them. Perking up at this he almost immediately deflated, realising this would make it ok for Alfred to be with Arthur too.
The sky had barely changed in colour as the train passed through the other side of the tunnel, surprisingly void of clouds and grey. A rare pleasant day in England to contrast with Francis's darkened mood. His lament continued as the trees and fields began to thin into houses, towns and then cities.
What did l'Amérique have that he didnt anyway? Besides a terrible sense in fashion, loud and un-charming personality and barely enough tact to fill a tea spoon. Not to mention his failure to ever know the mood; that boy wouldn't understand 'not interested' if it was imprinted across his thick skull. Preferably with something heavy and metal.
Mood improved by the inner mind torture of America, Francis flew off the train and into the nearest cab. After barking Arthur's address he settled back in his seat.
They had been getting along so much better recently! While the number of fights had hardly settled down, the amount of real venom behind the insults had completely depleted. Even Arthur, the stubborn and prideful nation that he is, could not deny their unbridled chemistry and how easily conversation flowed between them. Francis had learnt that time had to be invested in order to earn Arthur's trust and companionship; his proposal years ago had been too abrupt and forceful. Antonio and Gilbert laughed at how long ago it had been since he'd last gotten laid, but he was unwilling to ruin what he was building with England.
It was barely 10 o'clock when Francis burst out of the car, throwing money at the driver without a backward glance. Grabbing the spare key hidden under the welcome mat, how unoriginal and adorably predictable, he was through the front door and into the living room in mere seconds.
"L'Angleterre?"
Just as he was about to panic further and storm to the bedroom to preserve Arthur's innocence-how very out of character he had become! The way one changes for l'amour- he heard a quiet giggle from the back garden. With barely a thought he was once again moving, thrusting the door open to spot Arthur.
Who was sprawled lazily on his back upon a swing seat, bathing in the late morning sun. His normally scowling face was completely relaxed with the faintest of smiles gracing his soft pink lips. But his eyes were what captivated Francis in that moment. The pools of striking emerald lit up with an unearthly light, glowing brightly with joy and happiness that reminded Francis of their younger days; before the stress of wars and betrayal had begun.
"Francis?"
The Frenchman's gaze was drawn away from Arthur's to a pair of blue eyes, glaring at the one that had interrupted his happy padding at Arthur's chest.
"Un chat!"
The now scowling Brit sat up, dislodging the long haired blond cat from his chest and into his lap where it began gently nuzzling against his neck. The feline, a large though certainly not overweight creature, kept its powder blue eyes locked on Francis as Arthur brushed his fingers through the long golden locks. He could swear it was smirking at him.
France flashed to the swing to pull his Angleterre to his chest, ignoring the spluttering Brit and the yowl of discontent from the cat now squished between the country's chests.
His heart was barely slowing from the increased pace it had suffered all morning when small hands gently grasped his shoulders, pushing the Frenchman far enough away to see each others face. His scowl remained but his eyes softened with a worry he could barely voice. Francis only chuckled breathily before leaning to claim his amour's lips in a long awaited and anticipated kiss.
Or he would have, if the damned cat hadn't chosen that moment to sink its teeth into his arm.
"Stop whining frog, it's barely bleeding." Arthur grumbled while wrapping France's 'war wound'. The smirking creature was now purring in an obviously taunting manner, perched happily around Arthur's neck much like a fine fur scarf. If Francis could get his hands on it perhaps that's what it would become.
"I don't know what you're doing here anyway frog, bursting into my home all in a tizzy. Uninvited I might add," he continued as he finished and moved to put the first aid kit away.
"What is that thing around your neck doing here cher?" Francis finally grouched with distaste. Immediately he was confronted by venomous eyes.
"He is not a 'thing', he is Coeur. And it's none of your business!" France blinked. Heart? l'Angleterre had named this feline devil Heart? In French no less!
Obviously sensing Francis's shock Arthur coloured slightly.
"Um, well… I was going to name him Grenouille but it was a bit of a mouthful-"
"You were going to name your cat Frog?" This day was not going well for Francis and seemed to grow stranger every moment. Arthur's face intensified in colour, Coeur licking one of his flaming cheeks in comfort.
"Ah, well he. He. Well he reminds me of you," the stunned silent Frenchman seemed to further fluster Arthur who began speaking faster, "you see, he'll only accept the best quality cat food, cheeky little sod, I'm sure I'm spending more time and money on him then myself! He spends an excessive amount of time grooming himself. He's such an attention magnet- the little bugger makes it hard to concentrate on work. If I give anything else attention he just starts whining. I care about the silly, needy ratbag even though really he should be annoying me. He can flirt his way out of a paper bag-don't laugh I swear I've seen him do it!" Arthur was almost in embarrassed tears by the time Francis had stood to press the smaller nation against himself, chuckling into the fur around Arthur's neck-wary of claws and teeth this time. Mortified, Arthur gave in and wrapped his own thin arms around the Frenchman's waist and buried his face in the lean chest.
"You think that much about me mon amour?" A high pitched, embarrassed whine was his only answer. Coeur detangled himself from the nations and jumped to the floor. He turned to eye Francis for a moment before stalking off with a flick of his fluffy tail.
"…I think I just earned your cat's blessings Angleterre." Arthur pulled back to glare-pout- up at the taller man.
"For what, might I ask?"
Francis smiled and cupped the red stained porcelain cheeks, fluttering his eyes shut before brushing his lips against the others. Small hands clenched the material on his back before gliding up to stroke through his long, blond locks.
"Why did you come over anyway Francis? N-not that I mind terribly. Oh, but it's not like I wanted to see you or anything frog!" Francis continued to draw lazy circles against the smaller nation's back, who lay comfortably against his chest as they rocked gently on the swing sweat. Coeur lay close to their side, close enough for Arthur to gently stroke his fur but far enough that Francis didn't have to fear his face's safety.
"When I heard you giggling on the phone, I assumed l'Amérique was keeping you company." His arms tightened slightly as he remembered the ordeal his mind had put him through on his journey over.
"America?" Arthur snorted, "Why would him making me giggle make you storm over like a bat out of hell?" Francis gave a self suffering sigh before nuzzling his amour's hair.
"Besides, the lad was over yesterday. Worked himself up into a state- kept insisting he had something important to tell me. Apparently I'm very lucky about something, won the lottery or something similar," he felt Francis tense beneath him but continued, "I never got to find out why. Coeur simply wouldn't behave. You think you had it bad? I could barely keep him off America for a second; the lad had to leave before he was too badly injured. I can't imagine why he acted that way, besides Alfred being loud."
Francis shared a glance with the cat, who had obviously recognised who they were talking about and raised his hackles. Stroking his amour's hair with one hand and Coeur's with the other, Francis smirked. Maybe this cat wasn't so bad after all.
translations:
L'amour/amour-love
mon amour-my love
petit chou-little cabbage [its a french term of endearment...dont ask =.=]
l'Angleterre-England [if you didnt know that you arent a real hetalia fan! xD]
moi-me
l'amour imposteur- love impostor [xD sounded like summit he'd say~]
l'Amérique-america
un chat-a cat
cher-dear
coeur-heart
Grenouille-frog [teehee]
ah about the ending, its meant to imply america was gonna confess [which is why iggy is so 'lucky' ect] but appaently only in my mind was that clear D:
does anyone else get the double meaning in this? carrying a torch? literally? you know? eh? ...ignore me! -wonders back to pervy fail corner-
why is it as soon as i decide to write a fruck, all the french i SHOULD have remembered for my tests and GCSE's comes flooding back?...i guess my brain finds fanfics more important x3 [speaking of i just fond out i ACTUALLY passed it! my mom was so surprised xD she expected me to flat out fail :P]
possibly review? D: