Alright, soooo. First thing's first. I KNOW Iggy doesn't wear glasses, but I think he looks hot in them, so, please pretend, or just don't read, but that's the only explanation I have for this shitty one-shot. OTL

I sighed and got up from my seat in the hotel room, knowing grabbing my glasses from the World Conference room will be extremely quick. I made my way down the few floors and down a few corridors before arriving at the conference room and opening the door, finding Antonio conversing with Francis, with Lovino standing behind him, glaring at the floor. I heard Spain say his goodbyes to Francis and left with Lovino shouting at him for grabbing his hand and calling him a "damn tomato fucking whore". I walked over to my seat and looked around for my glasses, not finding them. A finger soon tapped my shoulder and I turned, only to find the Frenchman in my face.

"Bonjour, mon cher~ are you looking for these?" He smiled at me, showing me my glasses. I grabbed for them, but he pulled his hand away.

"Give them back, frog." I uttered, annoyed.

He cocked his head to the side. "So mean," He murmured. "Why do you not like me so?"

I glared up at him. "Uh, maybe because you're always trying to get me in your bloody bed."

He paused and thought for a moment before smiling slyly. "And am I any closer to reaching that goal?"

I blushed slightly. "N-no! Of course not!"

He sighed and looked me dead in the eyes. "What if I told you je t'ame...? Got down on one knee..." He bent down, "and pulled out a ring…?" He pulled out a ring box and opened it, showing me a gold band. I blushed furiously and wanted to say yes, but refused, mentally kicking myself for such thoughts.
"Oh god… N-no, Francis! Never would I do that!" I squeezed my eyes shut tightly and balled my hands into fists.
I heard nothing from him for a minute. "...Please, Arthur Kirkland? Will you marry me?" His voice was pleading, velvety soft at the same time. I opened my eyes again and he was looking down at his feet. "No, Francis! …I might if you had other intentions than sleeping with me, and if you were female, but that's not the case!"
He looked up at me and pressed the heel of his hand between his eyes. "Mon Dieu. The day I confess my love for you and ask for your hand in marriage, you refuse me and accuse me of lewd things..."

Now I felt bad… I lied, when I said all that, I meant none of it, I was actually very attracted to Francis… and I refused him, and now he's acting all depressing.

I scrambled for words for a moment. "Francis... I... Just… You're n-not… what I want... I suppose…" I pushed through my lips.

He looked up at me, pulling his hands away. "'I suppose'? What do you mean by that, dear Angleterre?" He stood.

"Uh… N-nothing!" I moved, making my way around him and towards the door, still facing him, not quite trusting my back to him, as if he'd catch me by the collar, pull me to the table and bend me over the surface and fuck me hard enough that countries would hear me across Europe.

"Please tell me Arthur? You don't need to be shy…" He moved closer and I took a hesitant step back.

"No, I said it's nothing, Francis!" I turned for the door, tears threatening to spill over the rim of my eyes, though I had no idea why I would be crying.

Arthur..." He murmured. I heard him take a step. I grabbed the doorknob, but didn't open the door.

"Francis... I…" I began quietly.

"Wait Arthur..." I turned my head to the side to look at him shyly.

His face was tinted with a soft pink blush as he spoke, staring at me very seriously. "You know… I do love you… and I do want to marry you. And not for political reasons…"

I stood there and thought for a second, contemplating if I should just admit it or not. "I... I was kind of... hoping… for that..." slipped out of my mouth, and I blushed furiously, I hadn't meant to say that at all.

He smiled slightly and tilted his head to the side. "You're so cute, Arthur... Will you please stay the night with me?" He paused. "I won't do anything if you don't want me to…"

I felt more heat come up to my cheeks, and I looked down, unable to hide the smile forming on my lips. "I-I... Er... S-sure..." I murmured softly, though I didn't make a move, and Francis stepped forward, wrapping his arms around me.

"I'm happy now, Angleterre." He murmured and I buried my face into the nook of his neck, breathing in the scent of wine and roses.

"...I-I'm sorry... for fighting with you, F-Francis..." was the little apology that pushed through my lips, and I felt something against my hair, which I figured was his lips.

"And I'm sorry for my part in the American Revolution..." Francis muttered, and I glanced up at him warily. "Forgive me?" he pled quietly, his azure eyes glassy as he looked down at me.

My mind was plagued of the images I received from the apology, and I shivered a little, remembering how badly my little America had hurt me during that time. "N-no..." I stuttered, averting my eyes. "I never blamed you for that..."

Francis smiled. "Dieu merci..." He sighed and took my glasses, which I had forgotten about in my raging refusal, and slipped them onto my face. "I love you, Arthur." He leaned down and brushed his nose against mine.

I blushed a bit at the Eskimo kiss and a little smile pulled at my lips. "I-I... I love you too... Francis…" I paused and hesitated, but finally pushed the words through my lips. "...I do..."

Francis pulled his face away and I watched his face brighten like Alfred's did when I bought him a pony before his cowboy phase. "You will?"

I nodded ever so slightly, feeling my face begin to burn up, and, before I could say anything, I was hoisted up into the air, Francis' burying his face into my lower chest, and before I lost my balance, my legs locked around his waist, and my shaky arms wrapping around his neck. "Francis…!" I yelped, but was only answered by his ever-so-French-sounding laughter and being carried out of the room and down the hall to Francis' room.