Arthur stood outside in the meadow as he waited for his friend, or maybe enemy was a better word, to arrive.

He seen the always late Frenchman that he was waiting for arrive; he prepared for the same excuse: a pretty lady had been around, and it would have been shameful to let her wander around lost.

Though, Francis did look rather flushed today like he had been trying to arrive on time.

"Am I too late, Mon petit lapin?" Francis asked, worriedly.

"Yes." He grumbled to the Francis.

"Non, I got you a gift too." France pouted, and curiousity got the best of Arthur; he had to know what the gift was.

"What did you get me?" Arthur did his best to sound annoyed, but it didn't seem to convince Francis, who had a growing smile on his face.

Francis leaned forward to open up England's closed hands, and bring them close to his body.

He carefully placed what felt like flowers in Arthur's hands, but he didn't have time to check if they had been, because Francis had closed the gap between them with his lips.

England let out a gasp when he felt the warm contact on him; the young country had never been kissed before.

He had only ever spent time around France, and his, own, older brothers.

Arthur pulled back from the kiss, a little breathless with a nice shade of red covering his face.

"I gave you two gifts." France smirked in a matter that he probably thought made him look attractive, but to Arthur the other young boy still looked like a girl.

"What do you mean two gifts, Frog? I only have your bloody roses in my hand!" Arthur snapped; it made him feel less like a fool to be fighting with the other nation.

"I gave you my first kiss." France confessed; his young face held a blush which was unusual for the French nation to have at all.

"It was awful, and you took mine too! I can't believe that I let a bloody frog do that to me!" Arthur shrieked, having reverted back to lying about it; it was easier for him than admitting that he had liked the kiss.

Francis frowned; he seemed to be hurt at those words which worried the Brit.

What if France didn't visit again?

He was the only real friend that Arthur had; his older brothers didn't count, because they were always pushing him around for him being the youngest.

Francis did visit again and again, but England tried to hide the pleasure that such simple visits had brought him with pretend annoyance.

Neither one of them did however forget the kiss, not even when they had grown up, and had had much more kisses than the sloppy first kiss that they had shared so long ago.