Author's Note: This is my first ever FrUk fics. So a little warning now, 1. my French might be a bit off I use Google Translate for all my translation needs and 2. Seeing as how it's my first fics focusing on these two it might take a while for to be able to keep them both in character. A little gentle criticism would be appreciated. No Flames please, I don't respond well to that sort of thing. That's really all I needed to say, so please enjoy my little contribution to the Valentine's Day season.

Disclaimer: Hetalia and all it's characters belong to Hidekaz Himaruya.

It was a bright sunny day in London as Arthur Kirkland wandered around the garden in his backyard; sprinkling flowers, veggies, and fruit plants every now and then as he hummed happily to the song playing on his I-Pod. He smiled as the song picked up and it reminded him of the fact that this band would be having a concert in London quite soon. A concert he be damned not to see.

He sighed at the thought of meeting the band and looked down at his handiwork growing beautifully before him.

"Looks like the floral fairies did a splendid job helping you roses bloom beautifully this year," the Brit stated as he chuckled, and lifted a fully bloomed red rose up for inspection. Not a single blemish, or bruise to be found on it's soft petals.

'These red roses are so lovely, they remind me so much of Francis...' he thought to himself with a blush, getting lost in the romance of it all, when his the reality of his thoughts came rushing back to him.

"What the bloody hell am I thinking of him for?!" He grumbled to himself, rolling his sleeves up quickly, as he walked away towards his strawberry patch. "He's just a dumb frog, that I shouldn't even give the time of day!" He said with a scoff as he kneeled on the ground, began sorting the fruits on the plant and picking the ripened ones gently.

As he steadily worked away he immersed himself deeper into his music. Blocking out the world to were it was just him and his garden. If he hadn't done this he would have heard a tune being whistled behind him.

The source of the whistling rounding his fence and coming closer to him turned out to be France. The blond watched the Brit on his knees work away as he just stopped whistling and smiled deviously.

He set down a bottle of wine that he had been carrying and went up behind the man. His perverted mind coming up with many ways to get the others attention but finally settling on something simple and innocent.

He simply reached his hand out and ran a finger down the other's back. He made sure that the other could feel it as it traveled from his shoulders down to the small of his back.

The Brit instantly turned around in surprise and a steady stream of colorful British curses came flowing forth. "You bloody fucking frog!"

"I'm sorry for surprising you, Arthur." France said putting his hands up in defense. "I merely wished to gain your attention." He said we a laugh.

"You have it now!" Britain grumbled looking red in the face. "Just what the bloody hell are you doing here anyways?" He asked annoyed as he wiped some dirt off his left arm with a corner of the green garden apron.

"Didn't you receive my voice mail?" France inquired watching the movements the Brit's right hand made. "I said I was joining you for dinner...I even brought my finest red rose wine to share." He said walking back over to the cushioned chair he had set the wine bottle on and held it up.

"Voicemail?" Britain repeated confused as he fished his cell phone from his pocket. "I don't recall getting a call from you." he started saying as he looked at the screen. "Oh...So I did." He said as he saw a missed call from 'The Frog' and rubbed the back of his head sheepishly as walked over to the Frenchman.

"I'm sorry..." He said patting Francis' shoulder with his left hand without thinking. "I must not have heard it."

"Hmm, what's this?" France said taking ahold of Britain's arm gently and glancing at the colorful drawing adorning Britain's forearm. "1773 to 1783...Isn't this the...?" He wondered aloud, tracing the dates with his index finger tenderly.

Suddenly Britain yanked his arm from France's grip roughly.

"The beginning and ending dates of the Independence War between Alfred and I yes!" Britain said snippily as he began to pull the sleeve back down.

"It's very nice." France said grabbing Britain's wrist to stop him so he could look at the rest of the tattoo. "Very well done and so symbolic..." He said quietly looking at the attention to detail on the twin flintlocks that were crossed.

"It's just a stupid mistake." Britain said pulling his wrist away again and finished covering his forearm as he walked away over to the water spigot next to the back door. "A mistake full of regret..." he whispered softly so only he was able to hear his words as he felt the pain of the memories, Of loosing and fighting with the bratty teenager he had raised and come to love as a stubborn child.

He shut the garden hose off with a few twists, put his gloves in the apron's pockets and hung up his apron by the door with a sigh.

"So, you said something about dinner Frog face." He said suddenly back to his usual fiery attitude. "What exactly do you have planned?" He said with a genuine smile in France's direction, he truly didn't hate the blue-eyed Frenchman's company as much as he said he did.

"Oh..." France breathed, a bit taken aback by the sudden mood change. "Well, let's see what you have my little Britain." France cooed. Recovering his ability to be witty quite quickly, as he walked past the green-eyed Brit, and into the rather spacious kitchen. He ran his hand over the marbled surface of the island counter top as he made his way to the refrigerator. He pulled it open and peered inside at its contents. To his relief there was plenty of ingredients to put together a rather exquisite French meal.

"This is perfect," he exclaimed and began taking the things he would need out. Arthur eyed him curiously as he watched the French annoyance do as he pleased.

"What's perfect," he questioned, stepping closer to his kitchen island as the ingredients were piled onto it.

The French blond closed the fridge and smoothly brushed up against England's side as he replied. "These ingredients will do to make a fine French meal! I was a little worried that I'd find nothing of use, seeing how your cooking is always...horrible." Francis tried to be tactful but he just couldn't think of any better word.

"You wanker how dare you insult my cooking!" Britain yelled crossing his arms annoyed. "At least I don't cook things like frog's legs and snails." He Grumbled turning his back to the blue-eyed Frenchman who had begun working with the ingredients he had.

"No, but you do cook things that could kill a horse with a single bite, mon ami." France said chopping up pieces of lettuce. "And my Escargot is yummy." He said with an adorable pout.

Francis's pout turned into a smile as he watched the irritated Englishmen look away from him and sulk. He chuckled a little and turned on the stove to place a pan on it. He worked gracefully and quickly as he took the ingredients he had to make dinner. Cutting the firm Salmon, slicing lemons, mixing up a salad with French pride, and steaming up a nice rice dish to act as a side for everything.

He took up his promised bottle of the night and popped it open and poured just a little wine onto the fish before turning on the heat, slapping a lid on it and checked all of the other food items.

Once everything was set he shut off the stove and turned around to look at the seemingly shocked yet more angry British nation with a smile on his face. "Dinner is ready to be served!"

Arthur just grumbled something under his breath and gave a soft glare towards the Frenchmen before they both sat down at the elegant dinning table and started on their wine and meal.

Once dinner had gotten finished, the two blondes had moved into the sitting room to talk, with France bringing the wine bottle and glasses with along as well and Britain flopping drunkenly onto the small couch.

"That dinner..." Britain spoke his voice slurring, his accent much thicker than usual and a deep flush covering his cheeks. "Was just wooonderful!" He said stretching the arm holding the wine glass out in front of the Frenchman sitting next to him. "More please..." He said losing his balance and tipping over onto France's side before bursting into a fit of laughter.

"Why thank you mon ami." France said with a chuckle as he admired the green-eyed gentleman's cheerful laughter and the way his nose crinkled cutely with the wide smile.

"But I'm sorry, I believe you had too much already." He said holding up the half empty bottle to show Britain, before he began to recork it.

"Oh, come now, one more drink won't hurt me." Britain said with light chuckle as he wobbled a bit leaning forward in an attempt to grab the bottle.

"Non!" France retorted pulling his arm further away. "You can barely sit up, i really don't think more wine is what you need." He said his tone changing to sound more genuinely concerned as he tried to gently push Britain's arm back down.

"I'm fine!" Britain yelled shoving his arm back against the other blonde's grip. "Now give me the bloody bottle!" He shouted using all his strength in a forceful lunge at the Frenchman, knocking them both onto the hard-wood floors with a loud thud.

The two blondes were now lying on the dark cherry wood floor, Britain was now astride the surprised Frenchman, legs on either side of France's hips, his chest and arms flat against the other blondes chest. Suddenly France sat up a bit with a wince.

"Mon dieu, Arthur!" he said with a pained groan as he rubbed the back of his head. "That really hurt..." he started talking annoyed but let his thoughts trail off when he noticed a bit of exposed skin on Britain's side that had a red and blue ink drawing of something.

'Another tattoo?' France wondered amused as he used his hand to run up Britain's side and move the loose shirt up a bit,suddenly Britain moaned gently and pushed his hips up against the Frenchman's gentle touch in an instinctive response, causing France to stop his hand motions in surprise.

"Arthur?" he questioned cautiously, looking back up to see the Brit's piercing dark green eyes, they were glazed over in lust and seemed to scream out longing for the blue-eyed males touch.

Arthur blushed heavily and bit his lip as he moved his hips upwards, deliberately this time, and moving his face a few inches away from Francis'.

Through the drunken haze of his mind he could feel his longing spread more and surface.

"Francis...please...touch me more." he said taking the Frenchman's hand and placing it back on the bare skin of his side gently. "Pleease." He whined wantonly before pressing his lips desperately against France's in a passionate kiss.

France's eyes widened in shock and raised his other arm hesitantly, before placing it tenderly on Britain's other hip.

This is the moment he waited for so long, almost as long as he'd known the gentlemanly British nation. He wanted this so badly, but Arthur was only doing this because he was drunk, wasn't he?

'What do I do?' he wondered as the green-eyed blonde started to nibble on his bottom lip asking for entrance. 'It won't hurt if I kiss him back...' France thought to himself parting his lips gently for the other blonde with a gentle intake of breath.

Britain urgently shoved his tongue into the blue eyed Frenchman's mouth with a deep satisfied sigh, eager to deepen the kiss he let one hand slowly but surely tangle into the blonde silky hair, undoing the blue hair tie that held together France's small ponytail and let the soft locks fall down onto his shoulders.

"Mmmnnh." France moaned as he felt the other blondes hands massaging his scalp gently and closed his eyes letting his heightened senses pick up the subtle earthy scent of the garden soil and fragrant roses still lingering on Britain's body.

He was beginning to really enjoy the kiss when suddenly, Britain parted from their kiss, breathing hard as he wiped a bit of saliva from his bottom lip quickly.

"Oh...Francis.." Britain whispered gruffly as he tried to speak and catch his breath all at once. "That...that just.." He said planting gentle kisses on the blue-eyed male's neck every once in a while.

"Prenez votre temps, ma cher." France chuckled gently tracing his hands down both of Britain's sides tenderly. "Just tell me what it is you want." he said leaning into Britain planting a kiss to his ear.

"All right." Britain said sitting back up with a smirk as he pulled the white shirt over his head and tossing it aside to reveal quite a few tattoos on his body.

"Would you look at that." France chuckled to himself, when suddenly Britain grabbed his light blue pullover, pulled it off quickly and tossed it aside before grabbing the white t-shirt underneath and doing the same.

"Take your pants off." Britain said seriously making France glance up at him confused.

"what?" France asked a little nervously.

"And your boxers." Britain said nonchalantly as he ignored France's question to focus on running his right hand over the blonde chest hair on the Frenchman's torso.

"Excusez-moi?" France said again confused, this time grabbing Britain's right hand firmly to stop him.

"You asked me to tell you what I want." Britain said pulling the arm that had France's hand on it up to his mouth with a smirk. "Well..." He said kissing the other blonde's hand gently.

"I want you to make love to me." Britain whispered seductively as he ground his hips into France's slowly.

France gasped at the feeling of Britain's clothed erection rubbing against his own hardening member with heavy, enticing friction.

TO BE CONTINUED...

Author's Note: Hope you enjoy my little tribute to all the FrUk supporters out there. Please Read and Review and be on the look out for the next chapter.

Translation:

French:

Mon dieu - My god!

Mon ami - my friend.

Non - No.

Prenez votre temps, ma cher - Take your time, my dear.

Excusez-moi - Excuse me?