Hetalia doesn't belong to me.
This was originally a Rp with my friend Gina. I have edited this chapter to hopefully cured it of it's mistakes. The french was improved by Croc'Sushi and i'm glad That she pointed things out that i never though of.
Italics-French
()- French translation.
Tough Love
It was an another cold and calm winter night in the streets of London. Most people were asleep in there beds, however that didn't seem to apply to the blond man walking out of the the cities capital building. His face flushed upon meeting the brisk winter air. The Brit pulled his coat tighter around himself as he carried the files to his home down the street. He had left his car at home earlier that day, but regretted it at the moment.
As he walked past the many faces on the streets, Arthur Kirkland, had only one person on his mind. A certain blond to be exact. Many countries thought that the englishman had a crush on his former charge, America. This was not true. England only saw the boy as just that.
A boy.
As much as Arthur loved Alfred, he wasn't the blond that had driven him to a school girl crush. No, that would be a rather perverted rival of his. That's right, poor little Iggy had a crush on Francis, the country of France. However, overtime when Arthur was ready to admit his feelings, the frenchman would do something to upset him. Thus causing him to retaliate in a harsh manner. Arthur of course regretted his remarks soon after, but he would never admit that. So instead he watch his love when the other wasn't looking. England was so lost in his thoughts that he was unaware of the person standing directly in front of his door step, when he arrived.
"Bon soir, Arthur." Was the statement that brought England from his daze.
Blinking his eyes in surprise Arthur looked up to meet a familiar blue.
"F-France!? What on earth are you doing here this late?" Arthur stuttered.
"I was waiting on your return." France said as he gave a small smile.
"What do you mean by waiting?"
"I have been sitting here since the meeting let out three hours ago." France explained.
"What!? Are you trying to do catch your death, you git?"
"I just wanted to come in and visit. Is that so wrong?" France smirked slightly as he say England shift a bit.
"When It comes to you, yes! Now move so I may enter my house." England stated as he pushed past the other and unlocked his door. He stepped in side and headed for the kitchen as he heard footsteps follow him in and shut the door behind the two.
"Since you decided to come in un invited, would you like some tea?" Arthur asked as he gathered the ingredients for is own.
"Non, I am alright." Was the answer he received as his guest removed his coat and scarf.
Arthur focused on making his tea, rather than Frenchmen that was making himself comfortable on the couch. Once he finished he sat on the opposite couch as France. France looked amused at the brit's action.
"Qu'est ce qui ne va pas? Viens t'asseoir à côté de moi England." Francis said as he patted the spot next to him. (what's wrong? Come sit next to me England.)
"I wouldn't come to you even If my life depended on it."
"Ohononon, But how would I know that?" France smirked giving small wink in the other's direction.
England forced a look of disgust on his face, to prevent himself from blushing at the other's comment.
"You are such a bloody creeper. I wish you would just leave and let me be."
"Don't be so timid, Angleterre."
"I'm not timid! I just don't like when you get all perverted like." England protested.
"You're not timid, but you certainly are rouge." France said as he leaned over the table that was between the two and gently traced the others cheek.
"Don't touch me with your hands! They are ice cold. Not to mention I don't know where they have been." Arthur yelled as he shuddered and leaned away from his touch.
"Mes mains sont froides, and your visage is rouge. You poor timid thing you." (My hand are cold, and you face is red.)
"You just said i wasn't timid! You make positively no sense" Arthur reprehended as he tried to will away the blush on his cheeks.
"Do they have sarcasm in your country?" Francis asked chuckling softly as he sat back on the couch.
"How would I know? People are always telling me to get that stick out my are." Arthur puffed in slight annoyance.
"And le remplacer with...?" (and replace it with?)
"Argh! you such a pervert. Maybe you should just go home." England pointed out as he glared at his comment.
"Non! Laisse moi rester un peu... s'il te plaît?" France pleaded. (No! just let me stay … Please?)
England couldn't refuse his love when he pleaded like that, but he wasn't going to do this with out something in return.
"Alright, but ...one one condition."
"State your terms."
"I want….you to makemebiscuits." Arthur stated, speaking the last part really fast, looking down into his tea.
"Je suis désolé, what was that? Say it lentement." France said smirking putting a hand to his ear* (I'm sorry, what was that? Say it slowly.)
England sighed and played with his remaining tea in his cup, as he repeated his conduction."I want you to make me biscuits, like you did when we were younger. I wanna see why everyone loves your cooking, instead of my own."
Francis considered this... and nodded. "Bien sûr mon petit Iggy, je vais préparer quelques uns de mes fameux biscuits pour toi."(Sure my little iggy, I shall bake you some of my biscuits.)
A/N: Biscuits in england are always call cookies. but thats what they are.
England looked up with a small gleam in his eyes an stared at France.
"Really?"
He nodded and stood from the couch as he walked into the kitchen.
"Yes, really."
England Followed behind and peaked around the corner to watch his older blond gathered the needed ingredients and preheated the oven as he looked over to Arthur.
"Je vous vois there." (i see you there.)
England coughed in embarrassment, not having expected to be seen, before moving and sitting on the counter next to the others work space.
"Would you talk like normal please?"
"Why would I speak english when I have the most beautiful language there is?" France asked as he pulled out a none stick pan.
"Because I would rather you not speak it" England answered as he watched.
"Peut-être que c'est mieux comme ça..." France muttered as he mixed the things together and placed them in the oven. (perhaps that is better)
England pouted slightly at the stubbornness France gave.
"I'm serious! Why take advantage of a simple request that I ask of you?"
"Would you prefer I find another way to take advantage of you?" France suggested.
"Just make me my food,git." England replied turning away growing tired off the particular argument.
France looked quite puzzled that England hadn't yelled at him in return. "They're baking, aren't you the impatient one."
"But of course! I am british. oh wait i just insulted myself."
"You said it, pas moi." (not me)
"Shh, we all make mistakes"
"Except for moi." France commented as he checked on the cookies* (me)
"You do too!" Arthur asked looking over at the oven. "Are they done?"
"Of course I don't."France said as he pulls out the cookies."Doucement, they're hot." (careful)
"Lies and no they are as cold as ice." England stated rolling his eyes and glancing at the freshly cooked treats.
"Très bien, I'll eat them myself." (fine)
"No! you will share! After all this is my condition that your still here"
France smiled and held a cookie to England lips, causing the younger to blush a light pink and pul back. The younger off the two pulled one of the cooking tin and took a small bite.
"You're a decent cook … I guess."
"Juste décent? I am a bon chef, et tu ne devrais pas parler."
"What do you mean?" Arthur asked frowning and his eyebrows knitting together.
"Talking Iggy. You shouldn't be talking." Francis grinned taking a cookie for himself.
"Why ever not? I am a fantastic cook!"
"Fantastique cook my arse." France stated as he rolled his eyes biting into the cookie.
"You're such a moron." England stated throwing a cookie at him, chewing on his own.
France caught the flying treat in his mouth causing Arthur to stop for a moment, before laughing as France ate said cookie.
"Impressive, non?" (not)
"Yes, you can catch like a puppy." England chuckled.
"Well, I am good on all fours…" France reminded.
England frowned a bit mumbling into his cookie. "i know…."
"Ohonhonhon, is Angleterre jealous that he has not witnessed the fabulous me?" Francis teased.
"What In heaven's name would make you think that? I never what to see such a horrendous thing.
"Oh, but you don't have too. Instead you could be apart of it." Francis pointed out
"Why would I do that? Where as you prefer to shag every living thing, I prefer the intimate touch of true love."
"Joli." (lovely)
England looked confused at France's reply.
"You are a fool."
"I take that as a compliment.'"
"Take it as you will."
France looked at his watch for a moment before looking up to see England holding out a cookie to him. Giving a questionable look to the other, not sure what he wanted.
"Feed me. This also part of the condition" Arthur stated as he made a rather bold move.
"Bien sûr Iggy." France said taking it to the other and placing on his lips. (of course)
England rolled his eyes and ate his cookie. "That's not what I meant you know?"
"Oh? And what did you mean Angleterre?"
"Oh nothing my good sir." England said jumping off the counter with a plate of cookies.
"Pas si vite." France said following behind. (fast.)
"Yes rapid." England chuckled as he walked in to his living room.
France grabbed England's arm and pulled him into a hug flushed from the warm bodily contact and struggled as best he could with a plate full of sweets.
"Let go of me!"
"Pourquoi?" Francis laughed as he let go, but not before giving the brit's ass a firm squeeze. (why.)
England was bright red from the sudden grope as sat upon his couch looking at the other with a false glare.
"And to think I was gonna sit in your lap as we finshed off theses cookies and listened to music, like I did in our childhood."
"If I sit on my hands, would you sit on my lap?" France questioned loving the small references to the better days, when the two got along better.
England gave him a questionable look before nodding and eating another treat. Francis smiled and sat on his hands like promised, before Arthur crawled into it. After a few moments offsetting in akward Arthur offered him a biscuit.
"Here "
"Je suis... sitting on my hands. Feed me?" (I am)
England was about to feed it to him, but decide to try it a different way instead. Placing the cookie in his lips he offered the cookie towards France. Francis was taken aback at the sudden move, however there were no complaints as he ate the treat and kissing the bruit a bit. Arthur blushed and crawled out of francis lap and directed his attention to the TV.
"I … did nothing." Was Arthur's next words.
"No, Bien sûr que non." (No of course not.)
"Speak the queen's english for gods sake!"
"l'anglais de la Reine, I have the most beautiful language." (something the lines of, fuck the queen's english.)
England groaned slightly. "Yea, but it's irritating since you can speak english and certain things I can't understand"
Francis had turned away from the englishman at this point, as he mumbled in french."Ça ne serait pas la première fois que tu ne comprendrais pas quelque chose..." (That wouldn't be the first thing you didn't understand.)
"France! Please for the love of god! Just tell me what your saying!" England yelled.
"I said that wouldn't be the first thing you don't understand!" France shout back.
England blinked in frustration as he looked at the other. "Well of course not when your speaking another language!"
"That's not what I meant! Merde, it doesn't matter." (damn it)
England at this point was angry that France wasn't making sense so in reaction he gripped his collar on his shirt forcing Francis to look at him.
"Tell me! What the hell i'm not understanding then!"
Before England had any time to react at all, Francis had grabbed the younger nation towards him. Their lips met in a bruising kiss as England remained shocked at Francis. After a minute or so Francis bushed Arthur away with a pained and angry expression.
Moi! You dont understand moi. (me)
Francis glared at the brit in Anger before turning and stomping off towards a room in the house. Leaving arthur to himself.
England watched as France stormed off, his hand reaching up to brush over his swollen red lips. The only thing running through his mind was a single thought.
"I don't understand…. Francis?"
OoOoOoOo
R&R hope this story catchs your interests. I shall post soon.