-This is actually the firs fanfic I've written so I hope it's not too terrible. I wrote this for ReconditeVillain's Competition ( art/Competition-and-kiriban-349178124) and it goes along with her work of the same title... Though honestly the story doesn't have much to do with the work. I was going to make it closer fitting to the artwork, but for some reason things just didn't turn out that way. Owell, anyway... Enjoy!-

The cool breeze brushed past his face again as the Frenchman continued the lonely walk through the woods. The grass was still a lush green but as he looked up into the canopy provided by the trees he began to see hints of autumn already showing. A single auburn leaf glided lazily through the air, landing promptly on the path before him. Picking it up, the Frenchman's face slowly revealed a smile as his thoughts drifted to a time before this when he had walked that very same path with the one he loved most dearly…

"You're kidding right? There is no way your getting me to go down that path! I mean, look at how much the sun has already set! I don't mind taking a little longer walking if it means I can have the protection of the Swiss guards everywhere! Come on Francis, lets just take the normal route," the Brit said in a whiny voice resembling that of a child's.

"Really Angleterre, you are extremely irritable today! Trust me. I looked up the route multiple times and not only does it look like it will save us a good thirty minutes going to the meeting place, but it also appears to be very safe. Plus, don't you want to see the beauty of the forests in Switzerland?" Francis grabs the whining man's hand a pulled him towards the quiet path only visible if one was looking for it.

"Hey! I can walk without your help you know!" Arthur exclaimed, falling out of his previous whiny tone and into a more irritated one. "Jeesh, at times you can be as clingy as Alfred! Do you know that?" The Brit was already annoyed at the fact that he was late. Let alone the fact that he ran into the bloody Frenchman, who was also running, as he put it, "fashionably late."

Francis just smiled to himself as he saw Arthur stomp ahead of him angrily. "Well, are you coming or not?" Arthur called back to him with an impatient voice. Francis jogged lightly over to the Brit and they continued walking along the dusty path further into the lush green shrubbery that surrounded them.

Unaware to both the nations, however, dark clouds were quickly approaching from the east over the vast Swiss mountains. Rumbles rolled softly from the sky as the storm made its way to the lush forest they had just entered.

"Shit! I told you it was a bad idea to take this way! Have any other great plans you bloody git?!" Arthur yelled angrily over the ripping sounds of thunder.

The storm had come on suddenly, much too fast for either man to realize until it was already upon them. Sheets of cold rain poured from the heavens on them and their clothes were soaked within minutes. The Frenchman hurriedly scanned the forest, quickly laying his eyes on a small cottage that appeared to be vacant. Grabbing the Brit's hand, despite his loud protests, Francis led them both to the safety of the empty cottage, closing the door firmly behind them.

"Ahh, that was a close one, no? Luckily this shelter was here for us." The Frenchman had returned to his usual relaxed manner, winking at the Brit as he spoke.

"If you think I am doing anything with you, you might as well..."

Arthur's words faded away as Francis went over to the fireplace, searching for matches and wood. He ducked his head into a small closet beside the fireplace and found what he was looking for. Taking his time to light a fire, he began humming to himself softly the anthem of his nation. Once the fire was going strong he took off his soaked suit jacket and shirt, remaining partially dressed as to not fright the British man, hanging them near the fire to dry. Then he proceeded to yet another closet nearby to search for blankets. Smiling when he found one rather large one, he walked over to Arthur, who was still rambling endless complaints, and taped him lightly on the shoulder.

"Angleterre, you clothes are rather drenched, no? Why don't we share this blanket as we wait for them to dry by the fire?"

The Frenchman meant nothing too terrible by his words, but Arthur's reaction was that of aghast horror. "How... How dare you even think of me getting naked with you and waiting for clothes to dry! I'd rather go to war with that bloody American again than share a blanket with you! It's your fault that we're in this mess in the first place!" The Brit pushed Francis away and sat in the farthest point possible away from the blazing fire.

His feelings hurt, Francis retuned to the fire and wrapped the blanket around him, trying to appear as if he didn't care. This was far from the truth though, and deep down the pain he felt was bubbling up into tears that he successfully pushed back. He laughed pitifully at himself. It was shameful for such a nation as him to cry over another. So why were the tears so hard to push down?

It was cold in the corner and his wet clothes did not make it any better. Arthur would never admit it, but he actually did want to be with the Frenchman. Despite the many wars they had gone through over the years, he actually didn't hate Francis as much as he let on. In fact, he felt as if because of their many conflicts, he wanted to be with Francis even more...

Arthur sighed loudly at these thoughts and glanced over at the fire. That's when he saw it. A single crystal of water hit the ground the moment he turned his head towards Francis. Arthur did not understand what came over him in that very moment. Perhaps it was the feeling that he was not alone in his anguish. Or perhaps it was the pure longing to be with someone that he had been trying to squelch for so long. Whatever it was, it drew him from his place in the corner and over to the Frenchman, who was attentively gazing into the fire about to brush away the single tear that was forming in his eye.

A firm hand gripped his and before he knew what was happening the lips brushed against the bubble of water in his eye. Drawing back quickly, Francis looked confusingly into the face of the Brit, who was now leaning over him. "I'm sorry..." the Brit began to say but Francis wouldn't let him finish, pulling him down into a firm embrace.

"Shhh... Silly Angleterre." The tears were falling freely now from both the Frenchman and the British man. Arthur returned the embrace, falling to his knees and the two shared a passionate kiss...

Epilogue

The Frenchman still caught up in his daydream was looking up at the sunset-colored canopy of the forest instead of forward, as one would presume he should have been. He was quite surprised when he ran head-on into the Brit, who also appeared to be daydreaming.

"Ahh! Francis, what are you doing here? I... I mean the meeting is over now you bloody git, and you never showed up! You might as well go back to your own home now." Arthur said in a flustered voice, startled by their sudden confrontation.

Looking to his watch the Frenchman saw that he was indeed very late for the meeting. Shrugging it off he presumed he had lost track of time, caught up in his memories while he was walking. Of coarse, he would never let Arthur know that.

"Non non non, Angleterre, you see, I am late for the very purpose of meeting you." Francis said smoothly with a devious smile on his face. "For someone who swore to never take this path again, you are quite faltering in your..."

The Frenchman didn't finish for the Brit had already locked him in the sweet embrace of a kiss as the sun slowly went down over the Swiss mountains in the background.

End.