It was an usual Saturday morning when Arthur decided to roll out of bed, at least he thought so. He rolled on his other side and grumbled; something was off. Forest green eyes were slowly revealed when Arthur lifted his eye lids. As soon as they were open, he screamed silently and fell out of bed.
"Frog! What the hell are you doing here?" he yelled at the other. The French man grumbled and slowly sat up. "Mon dieu.. pour quoi est-ce que tu es très fort?" Arthur heard the other grumble in tired French. Arthur stood up and glared at the other.
That was a morning what Arthur believed to be a 'one-time'-thing. Unknown to him, it happened again and again and without realizing, he got used to it. But one morning was different from all the others; when he woke up, he felt safe and warm in the other arms.
A few mornings later from that special morning, he woke up again in his same routine: grumbling, turning around and looking into Francis' face, but this time, Francis wasn't there.
'Maybe he is making breakfast' Arthur thought to calm himself a bit. He stood up and got dressed. Later in the kitchen, he didn't see any fresh made breakfast or similar. He frowned and shrugged, thinking the other was in the bathroom. He put some bacons and eggs into the frying pan and walked to the bathroom, looking for Francis. Arthur noticed something, why was he looking for that prick anyway? Something inside him screamed because you love him, but he ignored it which was for the better when he walked into the guest room.
"Francis! What are you doing with… with Canada?" he yelled at the man whose head was pressed into the nether regions of said nation.
"Uh… Bonjour Arthur..?" Francis said sheepishly. Canada turned red and sank into the cushions, trying to hide from the situation.
A silence formed between the three nations. Arthur was the first one to break it.
"Get out… both of you and don't you dare to turn back or come close to me again," he whispered, something within him completely breaking.