Arthur stood in the corner of the ballroom, leaning his back against the wall. Roderich had decided to host an old-style ball where all of the nations, states, cities and such were invited.
It wasn't that Arthur didn't like dancing or the music, he really did, but he was all alone. He had grown used to that people normally didn't notice him, but in every other party Francis had at least greeted him. Now, the French nation was surrounded by a group of females, every one of them smiling and blushing, apparently enchanted by the Frenchman's charm.
Arthur wouldn't admit it, but he could understand the women very well; Francis did look ungodly handsome in those clothes. The theme of the ball was rococo and the Frenchman wore a light blue suit from that era. The Brit could remember how he had admired Francis' good looks back then, and now he looked even better; the coat matched his eyes, the frills of the shirt didn't make him look girly, only more handsome. His hair was tied back on a loose ponytail, a few golden locks framing that smiling face.
Too late the Englishman noticed that he was staring and deep red blush spread across his cheeks and neck. He wouldn't have noticed otherwise, but he found himself gazing directly at the Frenchman's cerulean eyes, and he knew that he had been caught.
Arthur turned his head away, lowering it so he was looking at the floor.
"And next; Viennese Waltz." Roderich's clear voice stopped the ripple of conversation and couples moved to the dance floor, the single ones just waiting someone to ask them to dance.
The Brit was surprised as there was suddenly a pair of black shoes where he had been staring at. Lifting his gaze, he met those shiny and beautiful eyes he so easily got lost into.
"Would you give me the honor of dancing with you~?" Francis asked, offering his hand with the most handsome smile on his already so gorgeous face.
"A-And why would I, you bloody twat?" the Englishman questioned, his arms crossed and those bushes he called eyebrows furrowed. He maybe had a huge crush on the French (though he wouldn't ever admit that), but that didn't mean he would be easy.
Francis chuckled airily, gently taking Arthur's hand into his own, larger one.
"Come on, mon cher, just this one dance?"
Arthur huffed a bit, attempting to make it seem like he wasn't enjoying the situation.
"Fine then, but it's just one dance. And don't even try any of those stupid perverted tricks, you frog," he said, allowing the Frenchman to pull him to the dance floor.
Soon a hand was placed on his waist and he moved his own to Francis' shoulder, surprisingly deciding not to say anything about the fact that Francis was leading. After all, it would just be one dance, so what did it matter?
As the music started, Arthur noticed something; Francis was an amazing dancer. He wasn't too bad himself, but the way Francis moved… It was like he was created to dance.
Francis' every step was timed perfectly and he led Arthur across the floor so easily, his coat flowing as they danced. He spun Arthur around gently, then leading him to the other direction, making everything seem so easy and beautiful.
Arthur wasn't the only one who noticed how good dancer Francis was. A couple after couple, everyone else left the dance floor, just watching as the Frenchman led the blushing Brit with experience and skillfulness.
"Francis… Everyone is staring…," Arthur whispered, just staring at Francis' eyes, hoping that he wouldn't make a mistake. He surprised even himself by that he hadn't done anything wrong yet, though that was probably all thanks to Francis; it was very easy to just follow his lead.
"Of course they are, mon cher; you are so beautiful," Francis whispered back, the fondness and pure love in his eyes telling Arthur that he wasn't saying the compliment just to get into the Brit's pants, but because he meant it.
"S-Shut it…," Arthur mumbled quietly, the blush on his cheeks only deepening.
Francis laughed softly, spinning Arthur around a few more times, until the music stopped.
For a moment, the room was completely silent. Roderich sat with his fingers still on the keys of the piano, not daring to move. Every other nation, state and city was still staring at the couple in the middle of the dance floor with their eyes wide in awe and surprise.
And the centers of attention, Francis and Arthur, were doing something that Arthur hadn't ever even dared to dream about to do in front of everyone else; Francis had slid his arms around Arthur's slim waist, and the Brit's arms were around the Frenchman's neck. There were almost foolish smiles in their lips, though that couldn't be seen, since the Englishman's lips were captured by Francis into the most loving and tender kiss.
Slowly the others seemed to get away from their trance and they started to applause, causing the couple in the middle to giggle.
"Je t'aime, mon petite lapin," Francis murmured into the kiss, pulling Arthur closer.
"I love you too, wanker. But next time when you are planning on getting everyone's attention to us, tell me first so I can at least try not to blush," Arthur muttered, hitting Francis' shoulder slightly as the French chuckled at him.