"l'Angleterre?" France said.
"What?" England asked, turning to the taller blonde. Right now they were at France's, England laying down on France's couch, drinking tea while France had some wine, seating down were England's feet were.
"I, ah… Why did you come over again?" France asked. England knew that was not what he was going to say.
England shrugged. "What? I can't come over your house, Frog?" England smirked. France laughed.
"Ohonhonhon…. Non, non." You don't visit me that often, smiling…Not since you began seeing him. France thought. England kicked France's side. France winced.
"Bloody frog…I…I…just need some…time away from America." Francis nodded, looking at his friend...enemy…friendemy. So beautiful…Pourquoi l'Amérique? Pourquoi lui? Ce qui est si spécial au sujet de lui? France sighed. Pourquoi pas moi? Je l'aime.
"Did he do something wrong, Arthur?" France asked.
"Wha-What? N-no…I…Uh…" France gave him a look. "Well, kinda. I don't know. Our relationship…at the moment..is…" England sighed. "Rocky, I guess. But I can't live without him."
France smirked but his heart was breaking on the inside. "If he does something wrong, I can- and will- hit him right in the mouth. Le pow!" England glared at him but then smiled.
"Thanks Francis, but I don't think you need to." France frowned.
"Ah, but England I think I do…you know he lies to you. Every week you come to me crying, complaining about Alfred. You know he cheats on you. He's with a different person every night, Arthur!"
England glared, though his anger was not directed at France. "Thank you for the tea, Francis, but I think I should go now." England got up and put his empty tea cup on the coffee table. "Bye Francis."
"Bye Arthur." France said sadly.
Two days later, France was at England's after breaking in his house though the window. Though, at first, England protested, he finally shrugged it off. They were on England's couch, watching the game show, 'Are you smarter than a 10 year old?'
"I know this! Its-"France was about to say.
"I hope you know! You been alive for centuries and these questions are for 10 year olds!" \
"Don't be so grumpy. Dieu l'Angleterre-"
Suddenly England phone rang.
"'Ello?" England asked, ignoring France sticking his tongue out like a child. "Ah, 'ello Alfr-" England. "D-don't act like that!" France could hear Alfred yell at Arthur though the phone.
"Hang it up, Arthur." France whispered. England ignored him and started to cry. France got up and grabbed the phone from England, must to the Brit's protest. France pushed the 'off' button and threw the phone on the floor.
"Why would you-?"
"Arthur, its Friday night. Come on, relax. Let's go out." England looked like he was going to fight him but decided against it.
"S-sure, let's go."
France smiled and grabbed England's hand, dragging him out the door. "Let's go to that bar that we went to during WWII? Remember, mon ami?"
"Y-yes, yes! But is it still there?"
"Yes, of course!"
An hour later they were at the bar, France a little tipsy and England was full out drunk, his head on France's lap, using three stools for his legs and torso.
"I'veeeeee…been dreaming of a niiiiight out for soooooo long now! Hic! Thranks…Franc-hic-is…" England slurred.
France laughed. "No problem, Angleterre. I know you are drunk because you would never thank me sober." France laughed again and hesitantly started to stroke England's hair. After a minute, England fell asleep. France sighed. "Let's get you home, mon amour."
France picked England up and threw his arm around England's waist and England's arm around his shoulder. France threw some money on the bar counter. "Merci, mon cher monsieur." France said to the bartender. The man nodded his head.
Once France drove England home, he tried to wake him up but England was out cold. France opened the unlocked door and carried England to his bed, and tucked him in. France sat next to the sleeping Brit and stroked England's hair softly, a small smile on his face. "Je t'aime, Arthur. Good night." France kissed England's forehead. France got up and headed out the bedroom, walking to his car. He didn't see England smile in his sleep.
A week later France was asleep, when he awoke from his phone ringing. "Bonjour?" France said.
"F-Fr-France?" A voice sobbed on the other end of the phone.
"Angleterre?" France asked.
"H-hey…I, uh…" England cried again.
"England, ce qui est faux?"
"I-I...A-America…he…I…we broke up." There was a paused.
"I'll come right over." France said. There was another pause.
"Thank you, Francis."England hung up. France changed his shirt and pants and headed out to England's.
Once he got there, he paused at the door. France, for the first time, knocked on England's door. England opened the door with a small smile and red eyes from crying.
"For the first time, I want you to just come in. So, of course, you being you, you knock."
France smiled and hugged England. "Désolé Angleterre…" England stiffened but hugged him back.
"Sorry for what?" England asked, starting to cry again.
"Everything. For America, for me and just all the pain you've been though." France kissed England's forehead. England let go with a smile.
"T-thanks, France." England grabbed France's hand and dragged him to his couch. "Talk to me…please."
France saw how heartbroken England was. "You know," France said, sitting down. "What you guys had was never love." England looked shocked.
"W-w-what? Why would you say that, you git?"
France smiled a small smile. "Angleterre, I am the nation of love- and I have known you almost the longest then everyone- I know these things. Trust me." France looked hesitantly at England. "Avec moi que nous pourrions être dans l'amour. Je t'aime, en Angleterre. Je ne serai jamais te faire pleurer, et je vais toujours vous embrasser bonsoir ... hehe, je sais que vous ne parlez pas français, mais j'avais besoin de le dire." France let out a sigh, not knowing that England DID speak French.
"Thank you France." England slowly went towards France and kissed his cheek before resting his head on France's shoulder. France, though shocked, smiled and kissed the top of England's head.
"I'll make you forget every bad thing he did. But first you need to tell me what happened, oui?"
England sighed. "I…I came to see him…and I knew he was cheating on me…everyone knew. But, I went to his house and there, on the couch, he was kissing Kiku! Japan! He's one of my friends!" England began crying again and held on to France tighter. France put an arm around England.
"Shh…shh…Don't cry England. He thought he wouldn't get caught, and he was stupid enough not to be careful. You are too good for him."
England smiled. "Even though we bicker 90% of the time, you are always there for me. Thank you."
"Pas de problème, l'Angleterre…Want to go out and go somewhere or stay here? I know a concert we can go too."
"I...what concert?"
France smiled and got up, bringing England with him by his hand. "Ah, mon ami, you have to see to find out, non?"
England smirked. "Fine, Frog, let's go."
France drove him and England to the concert, which was a rock concert. The band was one England loved and France couldn't care less about. But England liked it and he was hurting, so France faked a smile and watched as England bobbed his head to the beat.
Later, France and England were driving to England's house. Once they got there, France opened England's door for him-must to England's protest, "I'm not a girl! Don't open doors for me, you bloody frog!"- And walked into the living room.
"Feeling better, mon cher?" France asked, putting his arms around England. England, who was a little drunk since there were beers at the concert, didn't push away, but instead leaned against France's shoulder.
"B…better. Thanks- hic- Frannncey-pants." England turned his head so he faced England. "I..I.." England paused and leaned towards France. Their lips touched with a spark and passion. France moved his right hand to tangle in England's hair and his left hand around England's waist. England put both arms around France's neck. Half of France, the perverted one and the one that longed to be loved by England, purred in pleasure while the other half, the one that cared for England and didn't want to hurt him, stopped.
"Why did…Why the bloody Hell did you do that?" England asked angrily. France sighed and let go of England.
"I'm…England…ma chère Angleterre…I… I love you, Arthur." France turned away so he couldn't look England in the eye. "I love you, but you just broke up with Amérique and your drunk. I'll…I'll…adieu." France kissed England's forehead and walked out the door, his heart breaking.
ONE WEEK LATER
France lay in his bed, replaying his kiss with England in his head. "England…" he whispered. Suddenly France heard a knock on his doors. France quickly got up and straightened his clothes. "Je viens!" he called, walking to the door. "Bonj-" France stopped. At the door was an awkward England.
"I, uh, 'ello, Francis." England greeted, half-heartedly waving his hand. France just stared.
"I-what? England…what are you doing here?"
England's face turned red and scratched his neck. "What, no 'Bonjare England' or whatever you say?" England glared.
France glared back, but with humor. "Pardon. Bonjour, England. Would you like to come in?" England cleared his throat.
"Yes." France opened the door so England could walk in.
"Pourquoi êtes vous ici?" France asked.
"You should now...git."
Ah. That. "Ah, oui…le baiser."
"Yes. That…kiss, and what you said, uh, after that."
What did I say? I kissed him, said sorry and then….oh.
"Désolé, l'Angleterre…"
"Did you mean it?"
"Mean what?"
"You know what, you wanker!" France avoided England's eyes.
"Oui… Oui, je l'ai fait. Je ne t'aime ma chérie. Since as long as I remember."
"Why…why didn't you tell me earlier?" England gasped, turning red.
"I…I know you do not feel the same…and then…I was going to tell you, anyway…but you were with America, were you not?"
England shook his head then smirked and walked towards France, stroking Francis's face.
"But I'm not now, am I?" France froze, but his heart grew warming. "And you are really stupid, you know? You are the Country of Love, right? Then you should know that I…" England paused and leaned toward France like he did a week ago, only more careful. "I like you, Francis." England whispered, his lips almost touching France's. "I like you a lot. That thing with America was…nothing." England kissed France slow and special. France smiled into the kiss and held England close to him.
"Oh, mon Angleterre..." France purred. England pulled and twisted his fingers in France's hair. France trailed his hand from England's neck to down his shirt. England shuddered in pleasure.
When they finally broke apart, France, out of breath, leaned his forehead against England's. "Je t'aime beaucoup, mon Angleterre." France whispered. "And now your mine." France grinned wickedly. England smirked.
"Arse."