((I'm halfway through writing a million smut scenes, so I wrote something fluffy. It's Valentine's Day, that's my excuse))

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"Angleterre, you look stressed~ Are you okay, cher?"

Arthur folded up his suit jacket, profusely ignoring the smirking blonde he was sharing a room with, and his stupid innuendos. He could feel the Frenchman's smug smile without even having to look, and it irritated him to no end. It was just his luck he'd been stuck in a room with the biggest pervert on the planet. Said Frenchman chuckled, and Arthur heard him stand up.

"Angleterre, would you like me to cook us a fancy dinner?"

"Fat chance, frog. I'm going drinking."

Arthur turned, still refusing to look at Francis, and stalked out of the room. He heard that damn obnoxious laugh echoing in his ears as he hopped down the stairs, nearly tripping over on the way. His driven mind had only one goal; escape the blonde, and his intrusive thoughts about him.

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"And he just keeps provoking me!"

Yao stared down at his drink, wishing he'd had something stronger so then he wouldn't have to deal with Arthur's complaints about Francis. Yong Soo was sitting next to them, although he wasn't drinking; the bartender was unsure why a sixteen-year old was in a bar and none of them could be bothered to explain it to the baffled-looking young man, the Korean least of all. Yao slammed his forehead on the counter as Arthur ordered yet another drink. "No more," he mumbled into the furnished wood. Clearly it didn't hear his prayer, because the British man just kept talking, although it was more slurring at this point.

"I kicked his ass once before, and I'll do it again!"

Yong Soo was looking at the front of his shirt strangely; but it wasn't new to the old Chinese man, it usually meant the Korean was planning a groping attempt. However, he didn't make any move. Usually he'd wait until they were alone so he could do whatever he wanted.

"I mean, he keeps suggesting all these disgusting things, and I hate it! I'm the United Bloody Kingdom, he should have more respect!"

"Aniki, do you suppose England is in denial, and he actually likes Francey, da zee?"

"I ...don't really care, aru."

"Do you really think so?"

Yong Soo nodded vigorously at the Brit, wrapping his arms around Yao as he did. The older man didn't react, far too used to his rough treatment by now to really care about it. Arthur looked puzzled, like only a man drunk off his head could. "So...what you're saying is..." he started, trailing off. "You want to claim him, da zee," the Korean finished for the Brit, squeezing Yao's chest lightly. The brunette flinched away, an irritated expression on his face. "Not now, Yong Soo," he hissed at the younger. "Later?" came the quip.

He sighed. "When I finish my drink, maybe, aru."

Yong Soo reached past him and downed the drink. "Maybe means yes in Korea!" he chirped, grabbing Yao's wrist and pulling him along. "Where did Arthur go?" the Chinese man asked absently.

"To claim France for Korea, da zee~"

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Francis was typing away on his laptop when he heard the door creak open. Assuming it was Gilbert, he called out to the figure in the shadows. "Gil, mon cher, the beer is in the fridge." There was no reply, which disturbed him a little. Dark blue eyes flickered to the light switch on the wall and back to the swaying shadow. Then it clicked.

"Angleterre?"

He closed the laptop, sitting it on the bedside table, before he made his way over to Arthur. Immediately unfocused green eyes settled on him. "...frog," he said, the word slurring quite a bit. Francis frowned. "Angleterre, how many drinks did you have?" Without warning, the shorter blonde fell forward, and the Frenchman barely had time to catch him. The limp body in his arms was warm, and he lifted Arthur up and onto the bed. He looked down at the Brit, puzzled at the small smile on the other's face. There was no tension, no grumpiness...it was alluring.

Before Francis could help himself, he was leaning down to press his lips against the others. Arthur was so soft, so warm- he closed his eyes in pure bliss as he drew back, a smile drifting across his face lazily.

"Frooooog~ Come back..."

He looked incredulously down at the Brit, who was reaching sleepily for him. "Sleep with me," came the request as the sleeve of his shirt was caught by pale fingers and tugged. "You're drunk, Angleterre," Francis said reluctantly. Arthur giggled.

"No, silly frog, not like that~ I'm tired~"

Francis let the Brit pull him down on the bed next to him. Then Arthur shifted closer, tangling their legs together and resting his head on the taller blonde's chest. Francis paused for a moment, caught between complaining at the lack of sex and jumping with joy. Then he wrapped an arm around the Brit's waist and breathed in the clear, clean scent of the other.

"Mm...frog, you're nice and warm, for...a wanker..."

Francis smiled. "Je t'aime, mon Angleterre."

"...what...?"

"Good night, Arthur."

"Mkay...night..."

It didn't matter if he remembered it in the morning, Francis mused.

It was still worth it, so worth it.

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((My reason for this is I'm tired, and I daydream when I'm tired. My daydream wasn't FrUk...but...meh.))