Hey guys! Sorry for the long update. It seems that I've been apologizing an awful lot considering that I can't write anymore with my substitute muse. He's not really a helpful person. Anywho, I bring to you, the fourth chapter! Enjoy!
.:|Silver|:.
Having the UK brothers and one perverted Frenchman in the same place was not a good idea. Something was just bound to happen. And that something would probably be awkward, embarrassing and would make the kind of story you don't want to tell your kids about when you're older in fear that they try to disown you or get chagrined on your behalf. And if one of the brothers was in an enchanted kilt then that was trouble just waiting to happen. But, the said brothers and said Frenchman, were pretty used to these situations and had decided to gang up on Arthur. After all, he was the one wearing the kilt.
"Ohononononon! Come on, chou, let me lick zat beautiful face of yours!"
"Bloody hell! That was disgusting, frog! Stay well away from me, or so help me I will kick your arse all-"
"Now, now, don't threaten the guest," cooed Gavyn from his spot on the sofa. He was watching the two blonds argue with interest. Arthur whipped his scathing glare on his brother and was about to snap out something rather nasty when Faolan interrupted.
"And don't talk like that about our little Artie like that. Makes me want to throw up. I know he's a fine bit of stuff, but just don't talk about him like that in front of us."
Arthur grumbled, annoyed that his brothers weren't saving him from this torture.
"Hump off," growled the Englishman, looking a bit shocked after he used the Irish term. Ireland, on the other hand, was looking quite proud. The moment was ruined by Francis raising an eyebrow, looking greatly amused and slightly perverted.
"'ump off, you say? Excellent. Mais, I 'ave to admit, I did not zink you would say zat to me in front of your brozers," said France with a perverted grin. Arthur's face took on a look of horror as he turned red at what he had just said.
"I'm scarlet for you," chimed Ireland, looking slightly amused and pitying. England's eyes narrowed and he turned to glare ferociously at the blue-eyed blond in the room.
"Francis, make one more perverted comment and I will not hesitate to rip your bloody balls out and shove them up your bleedin'-" Whatever graphic description he had been about to provide was once again interrupted. This time by the Scottish nation.
He raised an eyebrow at the youngest brother and gave him a slightly amused yet disdainful look.
"Arthur, 'e's our guest. Dinnae insult him on my watch."
England was practically seething. He glowered at everyone and stood up, stalking over to the kitchen and mumbling something about tea. Allistor looked after him with a smirk and then turned to the others.
"Any ideas to rile him up?" he asked lowly. Ireland and Wales grinned too, adopting thoughtful looks as they mused. France smirked faintly.
"You all really do annoy little Angleterre. I always zhought 'e exaggerated about your family weeks."
"Oh, we've twisted hay lots of times," dismissed Ireland, glancing towards the kitchen as he thought of what to do. Scotland snorted.
"We've gotten intae more than a wee stooshie."
"A bit of a job," agreed Wales. There was a short silence as everyone thought of ideas. England chose that moment to re-enter, looking around at all the nations suspiciously.
"I'm very worried that its been so quiet. What are you all planning?" he asked, eyes narrowed and gaze flickering between all the familiar green eyes and the lone blue pair. France smirked.
"Nozing, cher. You suspect razer easily. I am wounded you would even zink zat I would be planning somezing."
"You always plan something, frog. And usually its against me. I have this strange feeling you're all planning together."
"Then you should be afraid, shouldn't you?" asked Gavyn with an evil looking grin. Arthur shuddered slightly and set teacups down, along with a plate of biscuits before exiting the room.
"If you're planning something, then I'm calling reinforcements!"
The Irishman cursed, setting his tea down and glaring at the doorway.
"If he calls my sister, I swear I will bloody kill him slowly and painfully," he growled. The Frenchman was more than confused.
"I zhought she 'ated 'im."
"Oh she does. But when she gets to help him against us she's all up for it."
There was a short silence as everyone strained their ears to hear what was going on. There was a respective silence in the living room. And then…
"Kyle, get your arse here. And bring your weapons."
The family in the kitchen gawked at each other for a second before Ireland gave a groan.
"Fecking hell! I didn't bring anything with me! Its all your fault, Allistor. Now that Aussie brat is going to come here too."
"He wouldnae dare…"
"And bring some milk on your way home. I think we ran out."
"Aw feck."
Wales grinned.
"I got my spell books," he sing-songed. The other two brothers grinned and rushed away with the Welshman, preparing for the battle that was sure to pursue. Arthur was grinning in the living room, whispering away a battle plan. Francis looked around the house in confusion.
"Well, zis is definitely intéressant."
England came back into the kitchen, a smirk on his face as he took his seat, lifting his teacup up to his lips, glancing at Francis and smirking even more.
"I suggest you leave before we start. You're more than welcome to stay, though. But if you do, then you're either with me or against me," he said sipping his tea. Francis swallowed. The look England had given him didn't seem to be very pleasant.
"Let the games begin."
"And may ze odds be ever in your favor."
"Honestly? The Hunger Games?"
"Couldn't 'elp it, cher."
So, what do you think? Good? Bad? Okay? Please review!
.:|Silver|:.