Rated: PG
Language: English
Categories: Humour/General
Title: Boyfriend
Summary: "Mon dieu, Arthur, do you know what time it is?" 'That's why I'm here!' Hints of both England/America -and- France/America. Yay?
Author's Note: This is officially the first Hetalia fic I've written where there's any form of a conversation between the characters, and even in the few bits they do speak, I feel as if they're relatively out of character. Particularly France...And I know nothing of the French language. Like, literally. My knowledge of it is very, very limited, and so I used IMTranslator to change some English lines into French for him. If it's not accurate, I'm sorry~ Also, I apologize for this being a relatively short story as well. I'm working my way up though, at least. PG for Arthur's slightly foul mouth. Another story done for the meme, for which I'm now precisely half-way through; the theme was, obviously, Ashlee Simpson's "Boyfriend."
Boyfriend
"Open up you soddin' pervert!" growled Arthur as he pounded on the door of the beautiful French villa.
A shuffling of feet on the other side of the door was the response he got, and their owner's voice gave a sleepy yawn.
Hearing this only fueled the green-eyed Englishman's fire, and he pounded on the door again, harder this time, as he shouted, "Open this bloody door or I'll break the thing down!"
A slightly indignant huff sounded from the home's resident, and then the door swung open with a mixture of sleep-induced sluggishness and annoyance. Standing there, looking a bit ruffled and sleep-worn due to the time of day, or more accurately, night, was Francis. Upon seeing the angry form of the Englishman upon his doorstep, the blonde stared at him through bleary eyes. "Mon dieu, Art'ur, do you know what time eet eez?" muttered France, accent obvious and thick through his sleepy state.
"Yes, I know what the hell time it is! That's why I'm here!"
The befuddled blonde gave a disgruntled groan and leaned heavily on the doorframe, staring hard at Arthur. After a few moments of this, he said, "Wha- eez eet a matter of life or death? Otherwise I might make eet one."
"You bleedin' prick, I know you have something to do with why America's not home where he should be; you always do! Let me in - I'm dragging his gitfaced arse back!"
Letting his head fall forward slightly, Francis' eyes narrowed and his brows furrowed a bit. When at last he had all of the underlying accusations accounted for, he rolled his eyes. "Ahh, vous tes un cretin."
Flabbergasted, England spluttered, "Wha- what did you just say, Bonnefoy?!"
France pulled his robe tighter about himself as he stood upright, seeming at least a bit more awake now. "I've only just gotten back from a very long, very boring meeting, mon capitaine. I don't have time for him to be here, much less the energy to deal with him, non? And now I'm going back to bed, and pretending this encounter didn't happen." He turned to go back inside and, with his hand upon the doorknob, added, "You might check with Japan or Russia to the whereabouts of your ange."
With this, he retreated inside and closed the door, leaving behind a red-faced England.
~*~
For those wondering what he's supposed to have said, in order:
"My God, Arthur. . ."
"Ahh, you are a moron."
". . .My captain."
". . .No?"
". . .Angel."