Title: Tangled Web
Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
Pairing/s: FrUk, AmeriCanada, UsUk, Franada Rating: PG-16 + [because of language] and some other things rating may change in future chapters
Summary: Birthdays can be painful too especially when its a very touchy event for some people. Chapter one centers mostly on the discreet relationship between two certain nations. In which one is aware of his feelings towards this man yet at the same time sad and frustrated on how his feelings have a slim chance of being returned.[I still suck at summaries]
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A/N: I promise this'll be a a short multi-chaptered story! Really! ;A; Then after this I'll wrap up the second chapter of [Hollow] *swears on Busby's chair* Writer's block a hard thing to handle really. This can also be found in the hetalia LJ community
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It was raining again and this was a very common phenomenon for a certain British gentleman and normally he wouldn't give a hoot about it. However, today the Briton was grumpier, more sullen than usual. Twice he had snapped at Francis, who was doing his usual everyday antics at his house, in a not-so usual manner which sort-of nearly sent the Frenchman to tears. "Well someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed, that's for sure." Francis mumbled as Arthur handed him a cup of Earl Grey in apology."Sod up, you arse!" the Brit snapped making the blonde Frenchman wince a bit at the words being fired in a sudden manner. The Briton blushed a bit and let out a tired sigh before sitting down in his favorite arm chair with an extremely sullen look. "I apologize for my rash behavior today Francis." he said politely, trying to bring back his manners as proper English gentleman should. Clasping his fingers together and placing his chin on top of them as if deep in thought, his elbows propped on the arm rests of his chair making him look like they were having a business proposition, he continued, "But I'm quite sure you have a clear idea on why I'm acting up like this."
It took about a minute for the Frenchman to realize what the Englishman was trying to say to him and as he finally grasped the thought, a smug look washed over Francis face that somehow irritated Arthur the more. "Aaaah... so I see Angleterre. So I see indeed." he said as he smirked over the rim of his tea cup before taking a silent sip out of the porcelain china. Arthur frowned a bit on how the Frenchman smirked at his plight. It was like Francis was making his feelings into a joke... just like e treats his everyday habits and mannerisms. The Brit curbed the urge to actually knock the living daylights out of the smug-looking Frenchman...pirate-style of course but luckily for Francis [and he should thank his lucky stars indeed] he shook the thought away.
The Englishman looked over at the telly, which was on the whole day, just in time to see some CNN field reporter babbling about how wonderful was this year's floats and preparations for a this certain event and that alone compelled the Brit to grab the remote control and mash its plastic buttons to change the channel to BBC. Unfortunately for him, the said channel was summarizing the same report in which made the Brit slam his fist on the coffee table. "Bloody hell...?! I don't get why that git of an event is such a big deal?" the haggared blonde ranted in an aggravated manner. As the Brit ranted some more, Francis silently observed the Brit with bright blue eyes over the rim of his cup.
Arthur was... let's say an interesting piece of specimen to the expert eyes of the Frenchman. Never in his entire life would he ever dream to...
'Argh...what am I thinking? It's impossible for me to grab his attention." he frowned inwardly but his eyes did not dither from obeserving the Brit. Call him mad but he loved on how messy the boy- no scratch that- man's hair looked. He momentarily closed his eyes while feinging a nod as if agreeing with the rant the Englishman was doing. He just had to remember that Arthur was not the little boy he knew. Sure, he somehow acts childish and would often hide those in a serious, cold and professional demeanor brought about from centuries of hardships and experience. Francis knew better but somehow once his little boy, always his little boy. And he was 100% sure Arthur thinks he same way towards a certain hamburger-crazed idiot.
His train of thoughts as the telly was finally silenced with a click of a button and presumed that the Englishman had run out of foul words to spit out. How ungentlemanly for Arthur, Francis thought to himself once more as a laugh erupted from his lips. Placing the cup on its saucer and placing it down on the table with a soft clunck of china against varnished wood the Frenchman looked at the fuming Briton with an amused look. "Now, now Angleterre, let's not foul mouth that little ray of sunshine behind his back. It's ungentlemanly."
As the words had just come out of his mouth, Francis had to swiftly duck to avoid the flying teapot that was supposed to his him square on the face, which resulted for it [the teapot] to crash into tiny, tea-soaked pieces on the wall and on the carpet. "S-sacré bleu! That almost hit me Angleterre!" Francis exclaimed, a bit scared in how the tsundere was acting up right now, inwardly feeling bad in how he's making the whole situation worse by the passing second. Another random object, that seemed to be the bust of Shakespeare but the Frenchman couldn't tell because on how fast it whizzed past by him and smashed neatly against the wall to join the pieces of china that littered the once-neat carpeted floor of the Brit's parlor. "Get the bloody hell out of her Francis!"
"But-!" as the Frenchman tried to argue, he was cut short but a holler coming from the hysterical Briton.
"GET OUT!"
Francis' face fell into a serious one at that last bit of their pointless conversation. He looked with sad blue eyes over at the blonde, who finally sunk down into his knees on the carpeted floor, his eyes brimming with unwanted tears although he was aware of this. As much as would love to deny that child's existence with all his might, heart and soul, the very thing he could see right about everywhere would always remind him in every way possible.
Both the good and the bad.
"Ha...ha...hah... the hell? Little ray of sunshine?" he mumbled stupidly, staring at the carpet with an insane face, "Since when did that obese git ever became a ray of sunshine?!"
"Because he's the only one able to bring out that rare smile in you." Francis replied in a sad yet honest manner, a very rare thing to happen, as he knelt down before the Brit to place an affectionate pat on the nation's head. "Your smile. You smile honestly whenever you're with him, despite the fact that you two would always fight."
'Wouldn't that be the same as me and Angleterre?' he thought to himself but silently shook his thoughts away as he continued on what he was supposed to say, "...and that's something I cannot seem to get out from you, Angleterre." The Brit looked up at the French bastard, a surprised look on his face despite the fact that he was looking extremely stupid on how red and puffy his eyes were or how flushed his cheeks are right now. A sniffle managed to sneak out of Arthur, even though he tried his best to hinder its escape, as he began to retort in a stubborn manner as always, "You wine-bastard..." but this time in a soft tone.
The Frenchman could only manage another haughty smirk and somehow he did the most obvious ting anyone would do but to the Englishman it was something of an unthinkable act. As he felt the brush of the Frenchman's expert lips against his, Arthur, in his defense was quick to hit Francis across the cheek with such ferocity, his own flaring up in an excellent shade of red that would bring Antonio's tomatoes to shame. "You----! GET THE BLOODY HELL OUT!"
Francis' face was cauht in between hurt and hilarity, but deeply more on hurt and hilarity was only a facade, a hand gently rubbing the swelling flesh on his cheekbone. Wow that's going to leave a mark. "Dear lord Angleterre! That hurt my glorious face!"
"To hell with you and you shite of a face!" the Englishman spat as he landed another slap on the Frenchman's other cheek, to match the one he inflicted earlier. Somehow, the action relieved the Brit from his frustration and...hurt him at the same time.
Backtrack on that one, he was feeling hurt on hitting the perverted frog? What's going on with him?!
"Waaaahhh! That hurts mon amour!"
The next thing Francis knew, he was booted out [literally, a boot up on his arse] of the Englishman's apartment landing on the concret sidewalk his ass high up on the air and face neatly squashed on the hard cement and asphalt. "And stay out!" came a snarl from the door which in turn swung close, almost out of its hinges. The blonde French got up with a sigh and daintily brushed the dust off of his tailored suit. "Really... every 4th of July he's like this." he mumbled, rubbing the back of his head. Then again he was wrong, sure the Brit has tantrums every year at the same date but this year Arthur was more aggressive and frustrated especially the fact that he took the kiss rather harshly. "Oh well... I think I've goofed off enough!" he exclaimed, easily sliding back to usual attitude as he walked towards the nearest taxi stop.
However, he paused to look back at the sullen looking building of which the Englishman called his 'home' and seem to mutter to himself, "Someday Angleterre. Someday." as a taxi suddenly pulled into a stop infront of him. Taking one last look at the building, Francis got in and was driven off to the airport. He couldn't be absent from a very important gathering right now. Going back to the sullen looking building, a certain Brit was looking out of his window, tear-stricken as he watched the taxi drive off. This year...yes this year he will absolutely not show up at all.
It just... hurt too much.
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Ffff- Read and review please!