England had not woken his husbands. A simply scrying was nothing to worry about-right? And the twins basically let him into their minds via the front door… Like they had wanted him to know?
Right now, it was too much for England to process. And he was still on his honeymoon… technically. They had found a country that wouldn't damn them to hell for getting married, gotten married and then shipped off to Prussia's cute little micro nation. Awesome micro nation, sorry.
And hey, who didn't enjoy consummating their marriage? Prussia had resisted bottoming for all of ten minutes and then shut up after that. Not an intelligible word passed his lips. After flying to Denmark, the Dane bottomed and they broke three beds to boot. Now they were in England, Mathias and Gilbert literally in Britain most of the time. The Brit, for his part, had given up protesting and just let them wander downstairs naked, pull down him boxers and wish him good morning by fucking him into the counter; or just caved in when one of them pulled the short blonde into his lap and onto a hard-on he hadn't previously noticed.
He glanced down at the two tall countries on his lap. He had loved and lost both, only to make them his now. With a sudden feeling of conviction, he promised he wouldn't let them go ever again. The rings on his fingers said as much-one silver, one gold. Denmark's were the same, on opposite ring fingers, and both of Prussia's were gold. And by silver, England meant a silver-alloy, and by gold, he meant honestly gotten gold. Being Vikings and pirates in the past had some very definite perks.
Denmark shifted in his slumber, rolling on his side, head pressing against Britain's thigh as he turned to face the tea-loving country. His blue eyes opened for a second, and he blinked lazily, smiling brilliantly up at Arthur.
"Good morning Artie." The Dane yawned and stretched, hand sliding under England's thigh and curling around until Denmark was hugging his husband's pale leg.
"It's the middle of the afternoon you twit." Britain smiled, despite the insults he used. He continued petting Denmark's head, playing with the crazy strands of hair.
"Keseseseseseseses! You're going to make lunch then, ja?" Prussia had been awoken by their talk and flipped onto his belly, doing the same as Denmark, arms wrapped around England's left leg. The two of them were staring up at him and Arthur could feel their hands meet under his knees, pale fingers interlocking under the muscle behind his knee-cap, holding hands just out of sight.
"I have a meeting today with Germany and I have to leave in…" He looked up, checked a large clock in roman numerals. "Four hours, and you lazy wankers want me to make lunch? Hmmm… let me see…no." He raised his enormous eyebrows as the two tall men made pouty faces. "After that, I have a meeting with Sweden, and I'm sure to die the-"Britain didn't get to finish the sentence.
He didn't recollect exactly when Denmark had unwrapped his arms, or when Prussia's hands had come to rest on his thighs, but he did know that the Dane's tongue was in his mouth and Prussia's cool hands were snaking all along his torso, tracing scars gently. Arthur clutched the couch, and then found himself holding them, a white-knuckled hand around Prussia's toned arm, and arm around Denmark's waist.
England sighed as the two pulled away, Denmark kissing his cheek with a grin and down his neck before flopping down on the couch beside him, Prussia chuckling and stealing a kiss before doing the same. All of their cheeks retained a slightly pink tint, Mathias and Gilbert looking so self-satisfied Arthur punched their arms lightly.
When he got up, he got his ass smacked in return as he reluctantly went to make lunch.