Arthur was chewing on his neck. He didn't know why he kept doing this to himself. Every day they would get more and more hostile, and every night they would get… closer? Arguments boiled over into passionate (and violent) clashes of teeth and flesh. It was not making love, there was no way anyone could call it that. It was fucking. They would bite and suck and shove and the argument would be forgotten and never resolved. And with each little issue left unresolved, their encounters got rougher.

Arthur grabbed a fistful of Francis's hair and yanked to get better access to the Frenchman's smooth neck. Francis hissed in a mixture of pain and pleasure and raked his nails down England's back.

"You were wrong, Rosbif." Arthur snarled and yanked Francis down into a bruising kiss, clacking their teeth together painfully and biting down hard on Francis' lower lip before forcing his tongue into the moaning Francis' warm wet mouth.

They couldn't keep doing this. Every encounter got more violent, and eventually someone was going to get hurt. Francis could feel a something stirring in his stomach, a bizarre clenching.

Francis shoved Arthur away violently. He could see Arthur's confused face. He may have not been submissive per say, but it was an aggressive move for the blonde.

Then Francis bolted out of the room, leaving a very confuse England behind. He threw himself down in front of the chamber pot and emptied the contents of his stomach. Ugh.

"Oh bloody hell, Drunk again France? Well that explains your stupid comments earlier."

Francis groaned as his hair fell into his face and he vomited again, the ends of the golden locks getting ruined with regurgitated shellfish and baguettes. He didn't need this. The bastard could at least hold his hair!

"Non. Je n'ai bu pas de vin, connard!"

Arthur snorted. "I assume that means "Yes, I am a stupid blonde who doesn't know my own tolerance."

Francis gathered a bit of spit in his mouth and tried to use it to help rinse out the worst of the residue as the heaves eased. "I haven't drunk anything today, you asshole. You threw my bottle of Muscadet into the wall!" France hissed. God, he was sick and England was still being a bastard. "Come hold my hair."

Arthur snorted. "You wish. If you haven't been drinking then your sick, and hell if I'm risking catching it." Arthur spun on his heel. "I see you later."

Francis watched in amazement as the snooty Brit just strolled out of the room, leaving France kneeling on the floor with vomit soaked hair.

British gentleman his ass.

***

That night had been then end of their violent little tryst. Francis couldn't say whether or not he was glad for it. With the lack of exercise, his abdomen seemed to be growing. It seemed there was no food he could eat (when he could eat) that would trim him down, no amount of walking or running or other more sordid things that could get him back to his normal svelte self.

It was troublesome. To his knowledge, there wasn't much going on that would explain this bulge, the sudden cravings for ratatouille at two in the morning and the waves of sickness that plagued him.

A sharp sting pierced his arm and he turned his head to see the blood flowing into the silver basin underneath.

He looked up at the royal physician, "You are sure this is safe?"

"Humm?" the man looked up. A scraggle of white hair had fallen out of his ponytail, "Yes, yes, of course monsieur! Why, I have had to do this on the king himself several times! Always works! Just the trick, it is."

Francis sighed.

"Yes this will make whatever little demon's in there get a -runnin'!" France ran his hands nervously over the bump.

*thrum*

Francis frowned as he felt a shove against his hand. Something pushing him from the inside. Something alive. Something moving.

"Oh, mon dieu! Jesus, sa mere Marie! Aidez-moi!"

The physician jumped back. "What? What is it?"

But Francis was already gone, wrapping his arm the best he could with the gauze he had snatched off the table.

He had to go find Antonio!

***

"Wait, wait, Francis- Slow down! I can't understand you!"

"Il-ya un demon dans ma stomache!"

"Un demonio?!"

"OUI! UN DEMON! DANS MOI!"

***

Ah Drama. Anyway here is the next chapter. It would have been up sooner but Deinde had it sitting on her computer and kept forgetting to send it out.

Sorry.