I don't own Hetalia or the characters involved. Thank you for reading, leave a review if you want.

Split Tea and Hungry Kisses

There stood the bane of Arthur Kirkland's existence.

Dashingly refined, sharply dressed.

Francis Bonnefoy.

Spring blue irises pouring into him, sleek slightly curled honey tresses, a mild fragrance of some cologne. Awkwardly shifting from foot to foot at Arthur's doorstep. Guilt spread on his face, a lost look in his eyes.

Arthur was trying to shake the on setting feeling of pity. Trying to convince himself that he was still furious at the Frenchmen.

"B-Bonj-jour… i… um w-wanted to apologise?" Francis stuttered. Arthur raised his overly large eyebrows.

"You don't sound too sure." He replied. Now the feeling of pity really was setting in. The normally proud man looked so… awkward. It would've normally been funny.

They maintained eye contact for a few seconds longer before the clicking of Arthur's kettle sounded rather loudly. The Englishmen jumped at the abrupt sound. He glanced behind him, sighing as turned. Well, might as well get this over with. They had to discuss this anyway and Arthur was itching to give Francis a piece of his mind. How dare he say that then just up and leave like that?

"Do you want some tea?"

Of course not, both of them thought.

I hate tea Arthur, you know that. Francis thought but accepted nonetheless, following Arthur inside to the kitchen. He needed to apologise to him. There are words that need to be said but Francis doesn't have them to say. But he knows England needs this, needs an explanation before he tells him to leave. Before England warns him to keep his distance, tells him how disgusting and wrong he is. How Francis dare think of him like that. But he couldn't help himself, he had to tell him. It was worse keeping it locked up.

And now here they are silently sitting in Arthur's living room. They were sipping at hot tea, avoiding eye contact and shifting anxiously.

Arthur didn't even really want to even look at Francis never mind invite him in for tea. God, this is awkward. Sitting in a room with Francis was torture; Arthur didn't quite understand his feelings towards the man. Casting his mind back he thought of the event that started this whole awkwardness between them. The day that made England doubt his feelings towards France.

Francis told Arthur he loved him. Simple as that. But those words turned his world upside down.

He didn't try to kiss him or anything but he was in shock for several days after. That's when Arthur started noticing things about France. Small things, like the way he tied his hair back, his smell of his cologne, the way his lips quirked when he tried to stifle a laugh. Just small things.

He wondered if France was in love with him or just curious of how he would react. France was notorious for sleeping around and Arthur didn't think he could handle France using him like that. Being tossed away after he had his way with him. France didn't love, he had sex. With Arthur he would be no different. But with him sitting there, he wondered if that price was worth paying. Just to have the memory of his skin slipping against his, just to kiss him, to feel his laboured breath and know you were the cause. Just once.

Just one night with him. To feel his hands on his skin, his lips, that rough pleasure.
To be kissed by France… Arthur wondered if it was worth the treatment afterwards. Would it be worth Francis ignoring him? He shouldn't care this much…

Just to be close to him.

Francis was studying the wheat haired male across from him. His brilliant green eyes seemed far away, and in that moment he was beautiful. With his delicate features and tiny smile laced into his usually scowling face. Even though England usually had miserable weather, the sky had opened up for the afternoon sun. The warm light skimmed across the living room and along Arthurs face, basking him with a warm honey glow. He looked more like a carefully sculpted marble statue than a man, too perfect for words. Francis opened his mouth to speak.

"Arthur-" He was cut off with Arthur jumping out of his skin, the suddenness of his voice startling him.

Arthur jumped a little, effectively spilling his cup of tea right down himself. He hissed as the scalding liquid ran down his sweater, soaking through to his skin. Francis sprung up to retrieve a towel, apologising all the while.

"Ah, Shit. Francis, I'm fine. No really, I'm fine." Arthur said. Trying to convince Francis that he didn't need to dote on him, he was not a child. But Francis was already dabbing his chest, asking if he was alright.

And just like that, Arthur couldn't breathe. His gaze was fixed on Francis's face, who was attentively trying to clean up his soaked chest. Arthur could feel his hot breath lingering on his face as Francis leaned over him, fluttering over his lips. He felt his heart beat pick up, he was almost sure that Francis could hear it through his chest. However, Francis seemed to be concentrating intently on a stain around Arthur's main chest area, which was making him quite flustered. Francis was rubbing quite forcefully and the friction was quite…delicious. He could feel his face heating up.

Francis was trying to get the stain out of Arthur's sweater when he noticed that the Englishman was blushing quite profusely and avoiding eye contact. He was trying to figure out what was making him so flustered, he dared to hope that it was because he was so close to him.

"Why are you blushing?" Francis whispered. It was like he didn't want to break the silence between them. They seemed to have a private bubble in that moment in time. And even if they were kind of fighting right now they were somehow closer in the moment than they had been in a long time.

Francis's soft whisper didn't help England's growing problem. And he wondered just how long Francis was going to continue cleaning him. I mean he was an adult, he didn't need to be coddled.

"…Angleterre… I need to…" Francis started but cut off. Arthur furrowed his brow.

"What?"

Francis reached up, and started to wipe his collarbone. Arthur's breath hitched in his throat. If he continues to be like this, he won't be able to function properly.

"You have tea here as well, may I?" Francis asked.

"Um.. s-sure." Stupid, you don't want him to touch you? Could've fooled me, Arthur chided himself.

Francis leaned over tentatively and lightly kissed Arthur's jaw. Working his way slowly towards Arthur's lips. Arthur dared not move and Francis couldn't seem to get enough air. Arthur didn't think that Francis had the balls to actually go through with his little experiment. His meant nothing to him, and neither would this kiss.

But when Francis actually leaned over and kissed Arthur both were surprised by the wave of heat that washed over them. Arthur moaned instantly to his dismay, and this only gave Francis more confidence. The kiss was soft and sweet, but lasted a long time. Neither seemed to want to give in. Francis pushed Arthur more into the couch as he sat himself in his lap. Smirking against his lips as he felt Arthur's growing need through his trousers. Their kiss progressed into something needier after that. Lips smacking against each other. Subtle biting and nipping of lips turned into a competition of who could get the most gasps and groans from the other. Both being competitive to the point that they kissed until they couldn't breathe, stopped, then started again.

They kissed until their lips were numb and bruised, until all they could do was gasp into each other's mouths and stare into each other's eyes. The sun was setting in the sky and they both soaked up the sight of each other highlighted in the fading sunlight. Arthur had his hands tangled in Francis hair, gripping into him for dear life. And Francis was having a very hard time trying not to smile.

"So… does this mean you love me back?" he asked hopefully. Arthur blushed scarlet.

"… I don't know yet. In the meantime… kiss me?" Arthur said shyly.

Francis couldn't be happier to oblige.

Thank you for reading.