Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia
FrUK
Bloody hell, it's raining again.
England sipped his tea calmly while mentally rolling his eyes at his typical English weather.
For as long as he could remember, it had never snowed on Christmas Day. The last few years, it had ended up snowing in February, if sleet and slush could even be called 'snow'. Sometimes the weather just skipped snowing all together and just continued to rain all year indifferently. Honestly, no wonder people always associated rain with England.
But it's hardly my fault.
Just once, it would be nice to see it snowing at Christmas. It doesn't even have to be Christmas Day – Christmas Eve would be fine too.
He gazed out of the window and scowled at the rain he saw lashing against the glass panes. Why couldn't we have at least some variety of weather in this country?!
It's too cold in the winter, too hot in the summer, too muddy in autumn, and everyone's complaining about bloody hay-fever in spring! Then again, only true Englishmen complain.
He sighed and took another sip of his tea.
Knock. Knock.
England looked up, surprised. It was ten o'clock on Christmas Eve, and someone was knocking on his door?
"Bloody carol-singers have no respect for privacy…" He grumbled, putting his tea down and shuffling his way over to the door.
He unlocked the door and flung it open angrily. "Do you have any idea what time – "
"Bonjour mon amour!" Sparkly blue eyes, perfect blonde hair, that winning smile.
"What the hell do you want, frog?" The brit asked, his huge eyebrows furrowing as he scowled at the unwanted guest. Unwanted? Well, it was France, but even England didn't really wanted to be alone at Christmas.
"Oh come now, cheri, no one should be alone at Christmas! Not even you, Angleterre!" France grinned, before feigning a shiver.
"Brrr, it's so cold and wet out here, may I come in, mon cher?" He asked innocently.
Arthur sighed. "Only if you stop calling me those names, you git." He growled, standing aside to let the Frenchman into his home.
France laughed as he drifted past him, and England caught the scent of some French cologne – probably some designer crap he wears to impress ladies. Wait…why was he wearing it to see me?!
"Has anyone ever told you, you are such a hypocrite, mon Angleterre?" He laughed again, taking off his coat and hanging it over England's coat. God, he hated it when France just waltzed in, acting like he lived here. And….that is a very clingy shirt he's wearing….
N-Not that I was looking! Shut up!
"Has anyone ever told you you're a bloody wanker?" England retorted sourly.
"Oui, one person in particular has told me that many times." He grinned again, leaning closer to place a quick kiss on England's cheek before moving away to sit on the sofa. England blushed, and glared at France, turning away to put France's coat on the proper coat hook – which is what they're there for, you bloody frog.
France let out an exaggerated sigh, causing England to turn back to him.
"What?" He asked sourly, scowling at him.
"Well, I thought the English were hospitable, but you haven't even offered me a drink yet, mon cher." France said, a smile playing on his lips.
England snorted slightly. "I am hospitable, to wanted guests." He replied, sitting opposite him.
"If I am unwanted, then why did you invite moi into your house in the first place, hm~?" He asked, smirking at the blush he got as England glared at him even more.
When England didn't answer him, France continued.
"Maybe you wanted some company after all, mon cher?" He grinned again, earning another snort from Arthur.
"Of course not. I'm perfectly happy on my own, thank you very much." England said in a matter-of-fact tone.
"Of course you are." France agreed sarcastically. He stood up and walked past England to his kitchen.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" The Englishman stormed after the Frenchman, who was already looking through his cupboards.
"Well, mon cher…" He straightened up again. "If you're not going to get me a drink, I thought I may as well just get one myself." He smiled as he found what he was looking for – a rare French wine he had given Arthur for Christmas. He knew Arthur wouldn't drink it without him…actually Arthur didn't drink anything other than tea unless he was with France.
"Shall we?" France asked, that winning smile playing on his lips again. Without waiting for an answer, he put two glasses on the counter and filled them with a generous amount of the rich, red wine.
England sighed, not even bothering to object, and went to sit back down on his sofa.
The frog knows his way around well enough, I may as well leave him to it.
England leaned back on the sofa and sighed. He wasn't going to get any peace this Christmas, he could tell already.
He heard the faint clink of France placing the Brit's glass on the table in front of him, and looked up to see France taking a sip of his own wine, before sitting down next to Arthur. France casually placed his arm on the part of the sofa behind England. Noticing this, Arthur purposely leaned forward to pick up his glass. After taking a dainty sip, he stayed sitting straight and not leaning back against the sofa again.
He wouldn't give France that satisfaction.
France sensed England's stubborn refusal to simply relax with him, and slowly placed his wine glass on the table. England looked at hi curiously, but wasn't prepared when France took the Brit's wine glass out of his hand, placing that on the table as well.
"What do you think you're doing, frog?" He asked. France only smirked at him in response, putting a finger to England's lips.
"Shh, mon Angleterre." He whispered into Arthur's ear. "Just relax, oui?"
He removed his finger from England's lips, replacing them with his own. England sighed into the kiss, trying to seem disapproving but apparently failing, as France smiled into the kiss and pulled him closer.
England frowned, but didn't resist as France trailed his hands down England's chest hungrily. Arthur entwined his hands in France's long, wavy hair, and when they pulled back, he freed his hands, using them to grab the Frenchman's shirt, pulling him in for another kiss.
Once they had a need for air once more, both countries were breathing heavily, and France smirked at England's blush.
"Joyeux Noel, Angleterre…" He whispered into the Englishman's ear once more.
England didn't reply, but allowed France to see a small smile as their lips met again.
Nope, no peace whatsoever….but was that such a bad thing?
A/N: Yeah...not as good but...it's still FrUK y'know? hehe :P please review!