First times for everything today, this is my first FRUK fic, my first two fics uploaded in one day and so on. I wrote this to Lady Gaga's Bad Romance and A Million Ways To Be Cruel by OK Go. I don't own Hetalia.

England knew France was like a rose, soft skin, alluring eyes, and silky hair.

France knew England was like a rose, small and delicate looking, yet surprisingly resilient.

Both loved roses, neither would admit the real reason they kept roses in their gardens.

England's excuse was that he kept roses, Tudor roses that is, for patriotic reasons.

France insisted that he kept the flowers because roses were the symbol of passionate love.

Prussia was the only person who knew the real reason they kept roses apart from the two in question, how did he know?

Prussia had found out by accident.

A body was pushed almost violently against the wall by another. Not a word was said, but the air was filled with the sound of soft mewls and groans. Blue eyes came to rest in front of tired half-closed green ones. A smile tugged the short-haired one's mouth, quickly mirrored by the long-haired one. Hands grasped at clothing, searching comfort, and found it. Smirking he pushed the taller away from himself, earning a puzzled look, he sighed and looked down, by the time he looked up a terribly pitying look had replaced the puzzled one. His fist balled itself, the muscles in his arm drew themselves back, but it was him, and him alone that slammed the fist into the others face. "putain, ca va pas dans la tête?"

The smaller strode out, tears welling in his eyes, he hated being looked at like that, the other had had it coming. His lover wiped his hand across his mouth, coming back with blood on it, the smaller had badly split his lip. "merde" he cursed to himself, he needed help, but he was a terrible liar, who could help him that wouldn't betray his secrets. Only one person came to his mind, someone that most people wouldn't have thought of in a million years.

Prussia found himself opening the front door in an ultimate state of unawsomness, he hadn't even had time to brush his hair yet that day, even if it was after four in the afternoon, loosing his country had made his internal clock go screwy he assured himself, it wasn't the fact he'd gone drinking on his own in an uncool fashion after being kicked out of the meeting for no longer being a nation. It took the albino ex-nation a moment to figure out why a bleeding France was on his doorstep, the lover (not a fighter), had got into some trouble with someone.

Sitting France down he asked him gently "What's going on Kamerad, who did this to you?"

France shook his head "It's my fault Prusse, I know he doesn't accept pity, but I couldn't help showing how I felt."

Prussia raised an eyebrow "What did you do, try to chat up Switzerland or something?"

France couldn't help but laugh hollowly "Worse, Prusse, worse. I'm in love with England."

The awesome nation had just chosen to take a swig of beer he'd found on the table, needless to say, it went down the wrong way rather quickly. France continued, "He's like a rose, passionate and rare; but he's only like that very rarely, even when we're alone."

Prussia just nodded quietly and fixed up his friends wounds.

It was much later that night, after France had gone to sleep on his sofa, that Prussia ventured back out to the pub. The first thing he noticed upon arrival there was a certain English gentleman, hunched over his beer. Prussia slid in beside him and ordered one of the same as England. The small nation noticed him after about five minutes and muttered "I hate France sometimes. He's a bloody bastard when he wants to be."

Prussia thought the best course of action was to not look at the other, but to shrug non-committally instead. So England continued rambling more to himself, the Germanic nation realised that to anyone else. "He's terrible, but I love him, he's beautiful, like a rose..." And with that England collapsed into an alcohol induced sleep. Prussia couldn't help but remember France's words earlier, it seemed both nations, thought each other to be roses...

Translations

putain, ca va pas dans la tete?- Hell, what's wrong in your head? (french)

merde- shit (french)

kamerad- comrade (german)

Prusse- Prussia (french)

TBC? I found it quite amusing that the flower of England is a rose, and France is obsessed with roses.

Done, I don't usually do two oneshots in a day, so beloved readers, feel blessed that this damned Christmas spirit has got me as well.