Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I do not own Hetalia. You don't know how many nights I have agonised over this. It belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya.

When it came to romantic relationships, Arthur didn't have much of a history. He preferred things with no attachments, though that didn't mean no sex. Why deprive himself of something when he only sought self-preservation?

Arthur was all for casual sex. Casual sex meant no thinking of the future which meant his heart was clear of heartbreak. It wasn't that he'd never fallen in love before, because he had, many times, and too many of those times he'd either had to watch the human he'd love die or been abandoned by a fellow nation. Love was too much of an open-ended notion, anyway. It was much better to keep himself out of harms way by resisting the terribly human feeling then being honest with himself and pursuing a relationship with someone. After all, they weren't human in the first place, were they?

"Eugh, Francis, get out of my bed already! You stink of sex, and not in the good way!"

"But mon cher, you 'ave never let me stay the night before! I must relish in this, it is a milestone in our relationship!"

"What relationship?" Arthur merely growled, pushing the Frenchman over so he lay on the very edge of the double bed. "Oh look at what you've done! I'm going to have to clean the sheets now."

Rolling onto his back, Francis snagged Arthur around the waist so the smaller nation fell atop him. "Mon petit lapin, we both know you would have cleaned them anyway," he purred, pulling the Brit down for a kiss before letting him go. After a moments pause, he added, "We could 'ave a relationship though, you know."

Arthur, who had since rolled off Francis and was lying face down, snapped his head up to look at the other. His breath hitched and his hands fisted in the sheets tightly. "What," he croaked, his throat tightening in panic, "what did you say?"

Francis turned onto his side and fixed Arthur with a serious look. "I said: we could 'ave a relationship, you know."

"No," Arthur snapped quickly, burying his head back into the pillows. "No, no, no, no, no! We couldn't, you don't understand Francis, I-"

"Oh, I understand, Angleterre," Francis barked harshly, making the English nation flinch. "I understand. You're too cowardly to let yourself love and be loved by someone because you 'ave been hurt in the past! I understand, we all do! But look at Italy and Germany; Italy, who betrayed Germany in the war and yet still manages to have a healthy relationship with him! Spain in an economic crisis manages to be with Romano, Belgium and the Netherlands, Sweden and Finland, zut alors, the whole of Europe for mercy's sake! It's not as if you are the only one who's ever been hurt. Do not pity yourself when others have been through worse. Stop being so afraid and have some of that British courage you are famous for! Couldn't you at least try to love me?"

Arthur lay there in silence, not saying a word but contemplating what Francis had said. There was nothing he could say though, nothing he could say without giving himself away. He didn't move, keeping his head buried in the pillows.

But then, Francis had always known him better than anyway. Arthur heard a gasp and felt the other shift to cup his cheek and turn his head so they were actually looking at one another. The Frenchman gently cupped Arthur's face, wiping the lingering tears away. He whispered, "Oh. I see. So you already love someone then?"

Arthur merely nodded.

"Who is it?"

Arthur sighed. "Who do you think?"

"Alfred."

A reluctant nod was the only answer Francis got.