'You cannot be serious?' Arthur stood at his window and looked out onto the sidewalk in front of his home. There sat the French man's car, and at his front door stood the man himself. Francis had called the Briton no less than 50 times in the last week, all of which he ignored. At the meeting last Friday Arthur had nearly been pushed over the edge by that stupid idiot and he was still in no mood to deal with him, in fact he never was.
"Arthur! I know you're in there, please open the door cher!" Arthur fumed. 'I swear, if he knocks on that door any harder he'll bust it down!'
"Mon cher, Please!"
"Bloody hell." He mumbled as he finally decided that he wasn't going to go away any time soon. He moved to open the door, eager to just be rid of him.
"For Fuck's sake Francis what do you want!" He stared at Francis who was momentarily taken aback by the harshness of the shorter man's greeting, but quickly composed himself again.
"What has gotten into you, Angleterre?" Arthur looked at him with an expression of either annoyance or confusion...or both, Francis wasn't sure.
"What do you mean?"
"You haven't answered a single one of my calls, or texts, or anything!"
"Yes, and?" It was now the French man's turn to be annoyed. "Look frog, if all you wanted was to make sure I was alive I can assure you that I am, now if you don't mind..." He began shutting the door.
"Wait, Arthur!" He stuck his foot out to catch the door. The British man glared at him. "Yes?" His words were like ice. "Are...you not going to ask me in?"
Arthur scoffed. "No, why would I?"
"Aren't you supposed to be a gentleman?" And then Francis smirked as he clearly caught the younger man from the side. His glare deepened but he stepped aside, cursing under his breath all the while. Francis walked in and set on the couch and motioned for the other to join him. "Why wouldn't you answer me?" Arthur sat down on the other end, as far from the frog as possible. "Because I had no reason to." Well that was blunt.
"No reason? Not even to here my sweet voice?"
"Not even." Francis then put on a pout.
"You wound me."
"Hmph." Silence settled over them for a few minuets as Francis only stared at the Brit, making him feel uncomfortable. "Do you mind?"
"No."
"Stupid Frog." A second later Francis was scooting closer.
"Hey, what are you doing?"
Closer
"Frog?
Closer
"What the hell?! Get the fuck off of me!" The French man had Arthur pinned to the couch.
"Francis! Get off-" He was cut off by lips on his own, aggressive, passionate, wanting. Then they were gone.
"Angleterre," He started firmly. "Don't you ever ignore me like that again." Arthur stared up at the other blonde in bewilderment. Francis leaned in and kissed him again, this time more tender, caring and gentle. "You had me worried sick." Realization then dawned on Arthur's face and he chuckled a bit, confusing the French man again. He reached up and pulled him down for yet another kiss.
"I'm sorry you stupid paranoid git."
And on the street outside The British man's home is where the Frenchman's car stayed that night.