Intertwined

Deep inside, Francis thinks that agreeing to play Truth or Dare with Antonio and Gilbert is one of the most idiotic things he have ever done. None of these would have happened if he was on his wits. Despite how flaunting he usually is, Francis does not like to be the centre of attention among hundreds of people. Especially when the eyes of hundreds of people are affixed on him. This is the way that he is like, although many may think that he is shameless, on some rare occasions, he would be suddenly shy.

In order to attend the World meeting, the "bad friends" gathered in Madrid. It is now the 21st century, when wars became rare and peace dominates Europe. No longer do they have to cross swords on a battlefield. Former allies or belligerents join together and drink like any other ordinary person. But do keep in mind that one of them is no longer a nation.

"Let's play truth or dare!" Antonio yells under the influence of alcohol. As a Latin nation, he has long learnt to deal with alcohol.

"My pleasure." Francis smiled serenely.

"What's to be afraid of for someone as awesome as me." Gilbert is never deprived of confidence.

The mouth of the bottle points at Antonio.

"Truth."

"What was your first impression of Francis?" Gilbert regrets his merciful question but he knows that there is no going back.

"Well…At first an angelic girl, but later I found out that it is just a façade. Indeed, these are Antonio's real thoughts.

"Quoi*? As a child, I had always been an angel." Francis pouted as a token of his discontent.

The mouth now points to Gilbert.

"Dare." Perhaps it is because that Gilbert does not have to carry the burden of an entire country, he has less to worry about compared with his two friends.

"I dare you to shout, 'I am the most awesome!' right now, right here." Francis also regrets his choice.

The mouth points at Gilbert once again.

"Me again? You surely are a lucky one, Fran. When it's your turn, I'll show you no mercy," Francis does not like the look in Gilbert's eyes. "Truth!"

"What's the colour of your underwear?" asked Antonio.

"Mein Gott*, Antonio. You must have spent too much time with Fran, you are now as perverted as he is." He stared at Gilbert with despise, "Mine is white." He answered coldly.

Francis failed to escape the inevitable fate this time.

"Dare."

As Antonio whispered into Gilbert's ears, the look of disapproval on Francis's face becomes increasingly evident.

"Fran, we dare you to perform the striptease." Francis gaped. "We know about your enthusiasm in nakedness, but this is not what we want. You should do an actual performance in a club."

"Right, I know some people in Madrid, you could do it tomorrow." Francis have always known about Antonio's impressive talent for playing dumb. The Spaniard's seemingly charming smile always gives him the creeps.

Francis is currently forced to stand on the stage in cheap perform clothes. Most of the audience are male, and their glances unsettles Francis. You may find this incredibly odd, if Francis thinks that walking around naked is an expression of beauty, why would he be embarrassed now? The difference is that he was naked as he chose to be, besides, it's not like he's naked everyday, he only does that occasionally. Now, he's compelled to perform the striptease by his friends. According to Francis, it is far more embarrassing to be partly dressed than to be fully naked.

While what Francis is wearing is just some cheap performing costume, the fact that he is wearing it, however, makes them look like haute couture. This man certainly has a passion for fashion, but even without all the Hermes and Givenchy, Francis is still a heartthrob. His physique isn't as skinny as Arthur's, nor as burly as Ludwig's, it could be described as just right. His waist forms an enticing line, his buttocks are tight and rather luring.

It took some time for Francis to realise that he is in the worst-case scenario: The person that he least wants to meet is sitting amongst the audience; his peridot-like eyes and bushy eyebrows are characteristics that one could never mistaken. Luckily, Francis is wearing a Venetian mask, and he even sacrificed his Gorges du Tarn for today. Maybe that rosbif won't recognise him, apparently, this is nothing more than Francis's own wishful thinking.

Of course, Arthur was also invited to the World Summit as Great Britain. Recently, he's been having serious issues with Alistair due to the Brexit. (They were never on good terms) Arthur sees the necessity to patch things up with his brother, as he surely doesn't want Scotland voting for independence again. Hence, he brought his brother to a night club, Arthur is smart enough to know that this is much more fruitful than having high-level official meetings. Alistair's discontent with Arthur had persisted for almost a millennium, still, he knows that he should also do something to fix this.

The blonde man on stage reminds Arthur of his neighbour across the channel. This guy's hair really look like him, thought Arthur. He is rather fond of his silky blonde locks (he would never admit it) Since he was a child, he has always wondered why does his hair look so smooth and so shiny, just like rays of sunshine.

"Don't you think his hair looks like someone?" uttered Alistair. Even Alistair knows? He had been his ally for centuries, and he is only his century long enemy. Arthur tries to ignore the bitterness that emerges in his heart. "No, it's not because of that wine bastard."

The night club owner gestures Francis, cueing him to take off his mask. Obviously, Francis is deeply reluctant, but after seeing Antonio and Gilbert's facial expressions, he is sure that he has no choice but to obey. Francis's face is attractive enough to astonish all the audiences and lead to discussions down stage.

Arthur is sure that the man on stage is no one else but Francis Bonnefoy, despite the unlikeliness of this happening. Arthur rubs his eyes. Yes, that is him, his "sweet" enemy. Apart from him, who else has these violet eyes, who else could be as attention-grabbing as he is?

"Is he new here? Is he a model?" A man talks about the attractive blond on stage with his companion.

Francis unbuttons his shirt, leaving only a pair of leather tights on himself. Francis strives to recall the striptease that he watched in the past, shaking his hips along the rhythm of the music. Being the country of love, he could easily catch the eyes of everyone.

"Tu es mannequin*?" The man asks Francis.

"Non." Francis is surprised to hear the man speak French, although for Francis, what he said was just a mediocre pick-up line. "How did you know?"

"It's too obvious. You're just so French."

Subsequently, the man holds a hundred-euro bill in his hand, pats his laps, apparently signaling Francis to do a lap dance.

At this moment, Francis feels somebody grabbing his hand, which scared him. He finally realises that the man holding his hand is Arthur Kirkland, or The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland.

"Excuse me, sir. He is mine." He speaks with a thick British accent.

Immediately, the Englishman leaves a gentle kiss on the Frenchman's cheek. This sequence of events has left Francis, who is often poised and mature, in a fraught. Arthur grabs his arms and guides him off the stage front.

"Don't be mistaken, I didn't do this for you. I just don't want you to embarrass me. You are annoying, but you are still my neighbour, people will judge me from you."

"I embarrass you? I didn't say that your rosbif and Stargazey pie embarrass me!" Francis is really enraged.

"How dare you insult my traditions!" Arthur is just as agitated.

"That is enough! Everybody knows about you two using fights as a way of flirting." Alistair has been long annoyed by these two, one of them his younger brother, another his old ally.

"What?" "Quoi?" The two spoke at the exact same time.

"You are so annoying, John Bull." Francis says provocatively.

"Toi aussi*, Marianne." Arthur smiles mischievously, while kissing his tender lips. He even skillfully pokes his tongue into Francis's mouth.

Although his ravaging kiss leaves Francis short of oxygen, Francis have not forgotten to step on his leather shoes as an expression of protest.

*Quoi: what

*Mein gott: My god

*Gorges du Tarn is Francis's stubble

*Tu es Mannequin: Are you a model?

*Toi aussi: you too