"Ah America?" France peeked into the guest room, "You kinda of left your clothes on the bathroom floor… again. Can you please pick z'em up for me?" I blew a bubble with my gum before slinging my arm over the side of the couch.
"Yeah sure dude, just after I finish this level," I chomped on my gum, making the Frenchman flinch, "What's for dinner anyway?" Francis crossed his arms, biting his lip to control himself from breaking. He probably didn't know I could see his every movement but with the screen I was able to watch his reflection.
"Oh just some simple French cuisine, you probably don't need to know each name. After all food is food, oui?" he gave a polite smile. I gave a grin and nodded as I craned my neck to look at him, now he was talking my language!
"Yeah! I guess you're right," I turned back to the TV, "Thanks again for letting me stay here though. I know Iggy usually lets me at his house but he's gone for some sort of meeting." Due to some horrid weather my house's floors had been soaked through. So now the whole place was being floored and I had unfortunately been stuck with nowhere to stay. Out of the kindness in his heart Francis thought it would be a good idea to let me stay and then we would like bond or something.
HA!
The old guy still freaked me out a lot. I mean when I was little he was creepy… but now I actually comprehended WHY he was all creepy. Usually I kept my distance to not aggravate him, but desperate times called for desperate measures. How did Canada manage to be with this guy so much anyway?
That wasn't my business though. Even if people assumed I was oblivious, I could read the atmosphere most of the times. I just enjoyed acting like I didn't notice so they would lower their guard. It was an awesome tactic if I did say so myself. I honestly think that I could be one of the smartest countries in the world! I am more advanced after all. What else was there to compete with really?
France gave a little wave before turning and leaving. I groaned as I got slaughtered by some of the monsters. Did you know that if you are trying to talk AND play videogames it could be a lot harder? Yup, it is. I at least know I'm a horrible multitasker.
I don't really remember how long I tried to continue to beat that stupid level. Eventually, France telling me to pick my laundry up had disappeared from my thoughts. I mean I already have a terrible memory, how did he expect me to really remember? Next time I'll write it down on a sticky note or set a reminder with my phone. That would at least tell me to get off my ass and remember what I had promised to do.
Oh well, in the back of my mind I told myself I would just do it after dinner. Francis wouldn't really mind, would he? I heard him knock on the doorway to the living room and I could just see him smiling. "Dinner is all done Alfred. Why don't you shut that thing off and go wash your hands, hmm?"
"Dude I'm not three…" I grumbled and got to my feet, "Don't be such am England." At that I barely caught his eye twitch, which is exactly what I had really hoped for. If there was one thing that really got the Frenchman pissed off it was being compared to Mr. Sixbrows himself. Not that I really could say he had no right. They hated each other as much as a cat hated a dog. Or a cat hating a mouse. Why were cats so hateful?
But that was beside the point. If I even mention Arthur's name he would start to slowly boil to where his face might even turn red. One time it turned purple and blue, then white because he fainted. Now that was good entertainment. He clenched his jaw and huffed, spinning around so he could go back to the kitchen. "I will not let you eat if your 'ands are filthy! It's unsanitary and all around disgusting! Why don't you seem to get z'at? I find it absolutely revolting!"
I rolled my eyes and stuffed my hands into my pocket. "Don't worry! I plan on washing them! I just don't like it when you order me around like a little kid! I am nineteen, I can figure out when I need to clean my hands before a meal. Like I want to eat when there's shit on there."
"Please use a different word z'an z'at," France said immediately, "I don't appreciate you using vulgar language in my house." That made me want to laugh after hearing him curse so many times at a certain Brit.
"What if I cuss in French?" I asked with a grin on my face. He gave me a death glare and I backed off and went to the bathroom as quickly as I could manage. Geez he could scare the crap out of me at times. But like he would really do anything to me, he was too much of a pussy.
Right?
I washed my hands for about three minutes, I really did like the feel of the warm water running through my fingers. After I had finally finished I went back to the dinning room and saw the food already plated. "Whoa! Nice job Francey Pants! It looks awesome! You sure have some real talent! Maybe I could hire you as my cook!" I joked, sitting down at the end of the table. He set his own drink down and smiled at me.
"Z'ank you, but I don't want to be for 'ire just yet. Maybe when I lose my 'ouse and 'ave noz'ing better to do wiz' my time I'll z'ink about it." He sat down and sighed, looking exhausted. "Did you ever pick your cloz'es off of the floor like I asked earlier?"
I gulped down a bit of who knows what I was eating and that's when it really hit me on what I had forgotten to do. "Oh that? Sorry dude that level was really tough," I cut another piece, "I'll get it after dinner."
"You were supposed to do it z'irty minutes ago!" Francis snapped, sitting straight up, "'ow 'ard is it to bend over, pick the cloz'ing item in question up, and z'en put it in your suitcase! Go do it now!" I sighed and set my utensils down, getting to my feet.
"Yeah, yeah don't blow a gasket old man," I turned to leave, "You really are being such an England right now. Only he would fuss over little things like that and throw a tantrum. Maybe you guys are more alike then I thought." I thought that this would maybe throw him a curveball, make him really mad and then let me just do it after dinner. Unfortunately he was the one who sent me spinning.
"Well maybe me being like him is a good z'ing!" he yelled, standing as well. I whipped around and stared at him. Who was this man and what the hell did he do to France?
"Wait what did you just say?" I stuttered, still processing. He glared at me and put his hands on his hips.
"You 'ave perfectly good ears America! You know what I said and I 'ate repeating myself! If acting like z'at bastard, minus z'e spoiling, keeps you in line z'en so be it!" I blinked a few times like a deer in highlights.
"Hey you were criticizing me for cursing!" I gave a triumphant smirk, "Now you're not only a Brit, but a hypocritical Brit. Good for you, maybe you deserve a metal of some kind? Something that says, 'I am now a know-all jack ass'! I think it fits you, right?" His blue eyes lit up with some sort of angry fire. "Whatever," I turned to go to the bathroom, "I'll pick the damn clothes up for you. Or should I call them 'cloz'es'?"
"Alfred Foster Jones!" he suddenly yelled, making me freeze in my spot. Was his seriously using my human name? And not just my human name, my FULL human name. No one ever did that unless they were really pissed off at me. "Come back 'ere!"
I looked back and he was standing away from the table, pointing to the spot in front of him. I had been in this situation WAY too many times as a kid with England to not see where this was really going. "You told me to pick my stuff up-"
"And now I am telling you to get over 'ere!" he interrupted me, glowering at me, "NOW!" Geez what the hell was going on?! This wasn't the Francis I remembered. Slowly, hands still in my pockets, I made my way back to him. I was easily a few inches taller but still seeing his expression sent a chill down my spine.
"I'm over here… what do you want?" I grumbled, staring down at my feet so I didn't have to meet his gaze any longer.
"Look at me," he ordered sharply, "I want you to actually look me in the eye!" I flinched before bringing my head up. "You are in my 'ouse, correct? Z'at means you are a guest. I 'ave rules in my 'ome just as you probably do as well. I expect you to respect z'ose rules!"
"Dude I was going to pick the clothes up!" I huffed, "I was just on a level earlier so it slipped my mind. I'll do it right now even if that 'pleases' you." I guess I really didn't comprehend that I was messing with an angry Frenchman. Maybe it was my stubborn teenage brain yelling at me to be as obnoxious and difficult as possible.
Man I never do learn.
The Frenchman's face turned red and he actually grabbed my ear. "Don't talk to me like that!"
"OW!" I tried to slap his hand away, "Let me go! Dude you're going to rip my ear off if you keep tugging on it!" Usually in this position I would have easily been able to just flip him across the room. But all of a sudden it was like I was inside my child body. I forgot about strength and even how I was obviously bigger than him.
France practically dragged me over to the couch in the living room, even with me still trying to kick at him. "What the hell are you doing?! What's your problem?! I say one thing and you act like I murdered someone!"
"Shut up!" he sat down and yanked me over his lap. Oh fuck no. I squirmed as he pinned my right arm to my back and pinned my legs down with one of his own. Was he seriously going to do this?! I mean at 19 only one person really spanked me and that was England when I either pissed him off or did something really stupid. Still that didn't just give a right to everyone else to do it!
"Get your hands off of me!" I yelled, trying to sound somewhat tough. Unfortunately it came out shaky and fear tinted it. Great job hero. He lifted my sweatshirt up so he could tug down my jeans.
"Ever since you got 'ere you've been nothing but trouble! I let you stay at my house but you completely disrespect me!" he paused and took my boxers down as well, "I could have left you there to rot."
"I would have gone to Japan's!" I snapped stubbornly but was cut off by a small slap to my bare backside. It wasn't an actually smack, just a warning one really intended to shut me up.
"Alfred," human name again, "I z'ink you should be a little more grateful! Would you 'ave acted like z'is if you 'ad been staying over at Angleterre's 'ouse?" I didn't answer, we both already knew what I would say if telling the truth. If Arthur had told me to pick my clothes up off the bathroom floor then I probably would have paused the game and gone to do it immediately. It was because of my somewhat respect (fear) of him. Not to mention I once made a mess of his guest room and it ended me up in a very similar situation.
France seemed satisfied I was done with all the backtalk and rested his hand on my butt, making me flinch. "Well now z'at you're going to cooperate I guess we can start. Don't even deny you don't deserve z'is or z'at it's unfair, you need a serious attitude change if you want to continue to stay 'ere. So shall we get z'is over wiz'? Z'e more you squirm z'e longer it will last," he added.
I gave a huff, sucking all my breath in and tensing up. I could handle a few smacks from a skinny weak guy like Francis, right? He rose his hand above his head as I squeezed my eyes shut before there was a loud, SMACK.
HOLYFUCKINGMOTHEROFGOD
I just about shouted that at the top of my lungs at the first one. Okay, scratch everything I had said about France being a weakling. He could hit fucking hard! I only let out a small high pitched squeak to his amusement. Before I really processed the pain of that one, more blows rained down. "Goddammit! What the hell man?!"
"I took care of Canada," he said dryly, hitting my right cheek hard, "You boz' played togez'er a lot. Do you really z'ink I 'aven't dished out spankings before? I 'ave punished z'e great British Empire 'imself!" That was definitely a shock. Wait until I told the Brit I knew that France had spanked him before. He paused before continued to hit my ass, the skin starting to turn pink already. "I've punished you as well a few times."
As I struggled to break free, I did remember a time when me and Canada had decided to change places. Somehow we had both managed to get into trouble at the opposite houses and that led to us being caught. Neither of us had sat comfortably after all of that. But that still didn't mean I had to just let Francis do this to me!
"Come on dude!" I tried kicking but he had me pinned surprisingly well, "Aren't you overreacting?! I can just pick the clothes up and we won't even have to deal with this problem!" He scowled and hit my tender under curves, making me let out a yelp.
"Z'is isn't just about z'e cloz'es! It's about your attitude, your disrespect, your brattiness, and I don't even need to continue!" he slapped my thigh when I continued to try to kick, "Cut z'at out! I said if you keep squirming z'is will only last longer." I let out an "ow" and huffed.
"I swear dude the moment you let me up I'm gonna rip your dick off," I grumbled, completely serious actually. All he did was take a brush that had coincidentally been resting on the side table next to the couch and land it hard on both of my cheeks with a loud CRACK. My back arched and I shrieked, completely taken by surprise.
Francis continued landing the hair brush on my reddening backside over and over again. "You 'ave a very bouncy butt Alfred," he commented matter-of-factly, "Now are you ready to apologize?"
I groaned, tears slipping out from my eyes and down my face. "I-I'm sorry…" I mumbled, my voice barely above a whisper.
CRACK.
"I can't 'ear you," he said dryly, "Do you mind speaking up for me?" I cried out and my fist clenched, my arm growing cramped from being pinned down for so long.
"I said I'm sorry!" I repeated, almost shouting.
"Well can you tell me what you are sorry for?" he asked, his voice growing softer and back to the France I was used to. This left me relieved with the fact that he was finally bringing my punishment to a close.
"For being stubborn… cursing… talking back… not cleaning up for myself…" I paused and thought over my list, sniffling. When being posed with having to recite what I had done to deserve a spanking I had some difficulty remembering everything. "And… not being grateful of your hospitality?" I added for good measure.
He rubbed the flat side of the brush against my burning skin, making me hiss in pain. "Well I z'ink you are truly sorry. Just to make sure you never do any of z'at again I'll give you five last swats."
"FIVE?!" I yelled, eyes widening and my neck twisting so I could look at him. Five more freaking smacks with that damn brush?! No way would I accept that! But it didn't seem like he was really caring if I liked that idea or not.
"Ten it is z'en," he held the brush high before slapping it down were it hit both of my now crimson cheeks, "Start counting!"
I burst into tears, but started to what I was told. "O-one! Two! AH! T-threefour! F-fi- ow! Five!" I bit my lip and tightened up a bit in an attempt to lessen the pain, "Six! Seven! E-eight! Nine! AH! TEN!"
I screamed the last one and broke into a fit of sobs. Sure in the back of my mind I was humiliated of being broke down like that, but I just couldn't handle it anymore. My tears were already soaking through the material of the couch as I wailed. France didn't pull my boxers or pants up, just rubbed my back comfortingly. I guess I didn't mind, my ass stung something horrible already.
After a few minutes my sobs returned to sniffles and only a few stray tears were coming down my face. He slowly and carefully pulled my boxers up first. After that he stood me up to help me pull my pants up as well. I flinched, face almost as red as my backside, in embarrassment. "Did you really have to spank me dude? I'm a teenager…"
"Z'at was acting like a toddler," he concluded for me, "I don't tolerate z'at kind of behavior in my 'ome. Trust me America," at least he was using my country name, "I like spankings just as much as you do. Whez'er I'm giving z'em or receiving z'em it 'urts. Now… 'ow about you go pick your cloz'es up and we can finish dinner, oui?" I gave a small nod, wiping my nose on my sleeve out of habit.
"T-thank you… and uh could you maybe not tell England what happened?" my face flushed further, "I-I really don't want him to be coming after me and beating my ass."
"Stop cursing," he said at first, standing up, "And if you 'elp around z'e 'ouse wiz' no arguments I just might z'ink about it." He gave me a grin as I groaned, like he was really going to let me off like that.
"Fine I'll do what I'm told…" I muttered, glaring at the floor. He patted my head like a child and skipped off to the kitchen. Well I might as well get started on the rest of my chores he had assigned me. Sweeping the kitchen and dining room, vacuuming the hall, making my bed, washing my dirty clothes, cleaning the bathroom I had been using, and dusting the guest room.
Silence didn't come cheap after all.
~The End~