Five Worst Things
x x x x x x x x
Arthur Kirkland stormed inside his home that day with the full intention of getting wonderfully wasted and then passing out on his couch. Of course, this was not very possible when he stormed in only to find a certain Frenchman waiting for him; he growled and cursed to himself, throwing his jacket lazily onto the rack and dropping his suitcase at the door.
"Ah, Angleterre~ You are home! And just in time, too, I had finished dinner but moments before you walked through the door," Francis chirped, disgustingly chipper, in Arthur's opinion. Francis peeked out from the kitchen and he gave a cheeky grin, opening his mouth to say something.
"I swear to God, if you make some clever comment about my bloody eyebrows, I will claw your eyes out, Francis."
"I wasn't going to say anything!" Francis protested with a pout, and Arthur narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Francis cleared his throat, because they both knew very well that was exactly what he'd been thinking, but he didn't bother trying to hide that any more than he had. "What I was going to say was that you looked like you had a bad day at work."
Arthur grumbled and sat in a chair at the kitchen table, muttering, "Well, thank you, Captain Obvious. Can we just forget about it?"
"I read recently that if you write down all of the bad things down in your day, it helps you get over them," Francis went on, as if Arthur's insults fell on deaf ears. He wouldn't be surprised, anyway. "Why don't you try that? Here, a notepad - oui, Arthur, really, I'm being serious, so you can stop giving me that look - and a pen. Now write down the bad things that happened."
The Englishman stared at Francis for a long time, and then reluctantly began writing things down; he muttered them crossly to himself under his breath, but otherwise was silent. And when he finished, he dropped the pen on the table and looked at Francis. The French moved over, wrapping his arms around Arthur from behind and resting his head on his shoulder.
"Now say read your list out loud," Francis instructed. Arthur sighed in frustration.
"Francis, this is stupid."
"Non, Angeleterre. What is stupid is you cannot share."
"Is that what this is about?"
"A little bit, yes! You have such trouble sharing your feelings, mon cher, that I have trouble trying to help you."
"I can share! Look here." Arthur picked up the list and coughed. Francis nestled his face into Arthur's neck and waited expectantly. The Englishman cleared his throat again, and then began reading.
"The five worst things that happened to me while I was on my way to work."
...
"One."
Sweet, peaceful, dreamless sleep. Arthur rolled over on his side and smiled while he slept. He had been so tired the night before; staying up late, catching up on paperwork he needed for work, and then that damn Frenchman was suddenly "in the mood" at three o'clock in the stupid morning...
"Angleterre? Arthur, wake up."
"Shut up, I'm sleeping."
"I can see that," Francis said dryly. "But it is a quarter to nine, and you usually leave for work at a quarter after eight..."
Shit.
"What?" Arthur shouted, leaping out of bed and fumbling around blindly for his clothes. "Why the fuck didn't you wake me up? I'm going to be late and then I'm going to get fired - okay, just calm down, Arthur, we'll tell the boss the power went out and stopped the alarm clock-"
"Non, it did not shut off. You broke it during our love making."
"Yes, thank you, Francis, for reminding me!"
...
"Two."
"Okay, I'm done dressing," Arthur exclaimed, fixing his tie. Francis was standing off to the side, a robe draped over his body, and clearly trying to hold in his fit of giggles. Arthur looked over and glared at him, furious. "What?" he practically seethed.
"Votre pantalon, mon cher,(1)" he replied in with a snort. "They are inside out."
"Fuck!"
...
"Three."
Once his pant situation was fixed, Arthur hurried downstairs and grabbed his suitcase, making his way out to the car. He slid into the front seat, feeling a bit of relief; he was on his way! He would be fine! Everything would work out!
If he could find his keys.
"Francis!" He shouted from the car, opening the door again. "Where the bloody Hell are my car keys?"
Francis poked his head out. "Hm? Oh, I let Alfred borrow them."
"Why would Alfred need my- he didn't even take the car, you idiot!"
Francis regarded the situation with a rather nonchalant, "I didn't bother asking."
...
"Four."
"Francis? Francis. I want you to focus."
"I am focused, mon cher. It is you who cannot seem to focus."
"Shut up. Where's my wallet?"
"Hmmm, well... I last had it a few nights back..."
"And? And?"
"When I went gambling."
"You went gambling?"
"Ah ah, Angleterre! It is not so bad! Before I lost your wallet in a bet I took all of the money out of it, so all we really lost was the wallet itself!"
Arthur was currently trying his hardest not to strangle the Frenchman in front of him. "Did you stop to think my ID would be in there?"
Francis said he hadn't, and, "Who needs an ID anyway? Certainly not people who didn't have keys to their cars."
...
"And that's all," Arthur finished, clearing his throat heartily and shoving the notepad face down on the table.
"Qu'est-ce(2)? All of your problems start with me!" Francis exclaimed. Arthur regarded him wryly.
"I know. You seem to be the source of my trouble."
"Ah, his words! They wound me! Look, I am bleeding all over the place now."
Arthur rolled his eyes, twisting his pen between his fingers. After a few moments, Francis leaned forward and kissed the Englishman's cheek. "You forgot one," he said. "You only told me four. What about the fifth one?"
"W-What? Oh, it's uh, it's nothing. Just forget it it."
"Non!" Francis protested. "I wish to see. Read it willingly or I will read it."
Arthur mumbled out what the paper said, earning a smack from the Frenchman.
"Ow! Bloody Hell, Francis you don't have to-"
"Read it already, mon cher."
"Alright, alright! I wrote that the fifth worst thing that happened to me on my way to work today was... Was forgetting to tell you that... That I love you."
Francis paused, and then looked impossibly pleased. He captured Arthur's lips with his own for a moment, and then said, "Oh, Arthur. I love you too."
x x x x x x x x
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
orz; I don't know what to even say after writing this. Hope you guys like FrUk love fluff? Yes? I searched writing prompts for an idea, and it came up with "write the ten worst things that could happen to you on your way to work", but I was obvs too lazy to do five and did ten instead.
Hope you guys like!
(1) "Your pants, my darling." Or something like that. If it's wrong, damn Google Translate!
(2) "What?"
Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. I only wish I did. =C