It's just business
Note: Hey, I'm new to the FrUK fanfics (writing them anyway) but they are my absolute favorite Hetalia pair, always have been~! So I decided, why not write a story on them? I swear I'll try to keep them as in character as possible (human names used). I hope you like it ;p
Warning: Rated MA. Knowing France, there is sure to be sex. A bit of alcohol and drug use here and there too. Not a lot of violence, though both France and England can be quite jealous. And England is a verbally abusive drunk -.-; Actually knowing this couple, there is going to be heavy verbal abuse, drunk or otherwise. Good luck ^.^v
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia T.T
A/N: Sorry about the way France speaks -.-; Also, remember that they were closer and France was kinder when they were younger.
Ages: Francis → 21 / Arthur → 18
"French/Flashback or mix of both
Prologue
"Angleterre? Je vous aime ma chérie."(England* I love you my darling) A 15 year old Francis smiled spinning the younger boy into his arms.
"Git. You know I don't understand what you're saying." Arthur blushed, looking away as he huffed in embarrassment. Course he understood, but his British pride prevented him from admitting that little detail. Plus it didn't help that he was still mad at Francis for early. "Bloody frog."
Francis grinned wide and pinched both flush cheeks. "S'il vous plaît, cher, (Please dear) I won't be gone long, it'z juzt for a few weeks at most." Francis begged as Arthur shook off his touch. His arms tightened their grip.
"Get your bloody hands off me. I'm no poof." Arthur snapped, stalking off.
"Attendre (wait)!" Francis called out, running after him. "Why are you so against thiz Arthur?" he asked, standing in front of the 12 year old, forcing him to stop.
"I already said-" Arthur looked up and glared.
"Non." Francis shook his head, eyes hardening. "Ze trip. It'z not ze first time and yet you zeem to be more upzet zan uzual." The tall male crossed his arms and eyed the other, perplexed.
"Of course I'd get upset you oaf! For christsakes I-" Arthur froze then shut his mouth hard. He swallowed his rant, moving past Francis silently, refusing to say anymore.
"You what Angleterre?" Francis asked softly, re-wrapping his arms around the dirty-blonde's waist, but this time from behind.
Arthur felt his cheek dampen and blinked in surprise. His fingers went up and traced his face as more of the salty liquid spilled from his eyes. Eyes widening in alarm, Francis froze. Then he rested his face lightly against the top of the shorter boy's head and breathed in deep. "Oh Arthur. Are you zinking of what maman said? You know zat would never happen. I could never leave you forever." He cooed, kissing the soft strands of hair resting against his lips.
"Yeah well, we'll see in a few years when you get more popular and have to move away permanently." Arthur scowled, but relaxed into Francis' arms nonetheless. The Frenchmen sighed at the lack of faith in his English friend.
"If I ever do leave - huich I zdill zink is absurde - zen I will alwayz come back for my Angleterre." Francis chuckled softly, ruffling the boys hair.
"Bullocks" Arthur scoffed, but a small smile graced his lips.
"Hmm... you zink so eh?" Francis smiled cheshirely. Arthur swallowed lightly and started to back up a little. This side of Francis only came out on three occasions. When he's drunk, horny, or feeling evil. Which when it came to Arthur, was generally out of the last two.
You see, Francis had long ago come out of the closet and admitted to the family he was gay. He said so when he was Arthur's age. Arthur hated gays at the time so he didn't talk to his childhood best friend for a long period of time. Over which he realised he missed having Francis in his life and ended up trying to ignore his... gayness... in order to become friends again. However, that only made the two, who were already prone to fighting, argue even more often. But they were still inseparable. Which explained Arthur's distress at the prospect of Francis leaving for any given period of time. Even when Francis confessed to loving him for years, Arthur didn't break their friendship. He couldn't. It was too long and too strong. And in the end, on the day before everything fell apart, Arthur found out he was in love with Francis. It was the day of his departure to France.
~ Time skip ~
"Arthur." Soft lips pressed roughly against his own as two lean arms wrapped tight around him, lifting him up to his toes. Arthur gasped lightly, unintentionally allowing Francis' tongue to dive in through his lips. Letting out a muffled start, Arthur struggled a bit before eventually relaxing into the kiss, getting swept up in the passion and fierceness of it all. Somehow Francis had gotten Arthur on the bed, their jackets shrugged off.
A small moan left his lips as Francis kissed a path down his neck. Eyes fully closed now, Arthur focused on nothing but the feel of Francis' lips roaming his skin and hands parting away his clothing. "Fr-Francis-" Arthur choked on yet another moan when he felt a nip at his collar bone. Breath hitching, Arthur grabbed hold of his shirt with one hand, tugging him closer as the other hand ended up winding through the silky locks of the Frenchmen's golden tresses. "Unh..."
"Vous êtes en train de tuer moi, l'amour. (you are killing me, love)" Francis groaned, his English was lost in his desires, the French words laced with heat. Arthur didn't understand what was happening, only that it felt good. Francis was making him feel really, really good.
Skilled hands popped the buttons of his shirt with ease, caressing the newly unveiled skin as he went. Francis used to take advantage of his closeness to Arthur, stripping him every chance he could since they were young. However, this was the first time Francis had the pleasure of sliding his mouth across the perfect surface. "Mon dieu tu es superbe. Vous êtes magnifique. (My God you look beautiful. You're magnificent)" Francis groaned, leaning back in order to take a proper view of his handy work.
Arthur's bow tie was thrown on the floor, his shirt fully unbuttoned and pulled down his it was half way off his arms. His face was flushed and his green eyes had turned to a dark forest shade, drooping lightly. His lips were puckered and swollen, saliva still coating their surface. His pants were unbuttoned, belt on the floor beneath the bed.
'Je peux mourir heureux maintenant. (I can die happy now)' The Frenchmen thought with a content sigh. Till those emerald eyes looked his way with an expression almost pleading for him to continue. 'On zecan thought, I can wait until after thiz.' he decided before diving back into the awaiting Brit's arms.
They didn't go all the way that night, Francis was still worried about Arthur's age when it comes to experiencing sex. Instead they had lay in bed, kissing and touching until a half hour before Francis had to leave for his flight. The next day, Arthur's dad told him he'd never see his best friend again.
Look guys, I kinda started this because I liked the idea, but I'm still sorting this out, so I dunno if I'm continuing or not. Hopefully I am. I just hope you liked it :)