A/N: I'm consider making this hard core yaoi. I've already written most of it, but the question is if I keep this one rated T and make the other one a connected one-shot or if I bump this one's rating to M and make it a lemon. Please contact me on your opinions via PM, review or Email at (). Thank you. Also, send love to my co-author HalfDemonZahara. 3 Oh, and yes, you are Prussia-worthy awesome if you understand all the sex jokes in this chapter.

Chapter Four

"What are those?" The British Empire said accusingly as Francis popped a cherry into his mouth. He had handed the bowl over to the kingdom as best he could, still wrapped up in his own quilt. By this point they were both draped in a blanket of some description and the bowl of cherries and strawberries was sitting between them. Each time Francis had taken one in his mouth, Arthur noticed that he played with one part before removing from his mouth.

"It's a cherry, Angleterre," said Francis, taking out another stem which had been tied into a knot. He smiled, almost fondly at Arthur. "Don't tell me you've never tried one,"

"Er, no, I..." Arthur had no response, so, with Francis looking at him, he popped a cherry into his mouth.

"Be careful as to not eat the stem, Angleterre," Francis couldn't help but to chuckle upon seeing the other nation nearly gag.

"Why, what the bloody Hell?" Arthur coughed, ungracefully pulling the stem from his mouth. He stared at the thing in horror, not sure how something so sweet could be attached to something so sour. Remembering where he was, Arthur decided that had had very little dignity left and decided that, for once, he wouldn't care about his British pride. "What the bloody Hell do you do with them, then?"

Francis smiled warmly, very amused at Arthur's expression. He shifted in the blanket, positioning it a little higher on his shoulders so that he could take another cherry. He rested the fruit on his bottom lip and glanced a sideways look at the kingdom. "If you can tie the cherry's stem in a knot with your tongue, then it is said you are a good kisser," He chuckled then, deliberately slowly, placed the cherry in his mouth. After a minute, completely aware of Arthur's eyes on him, he stuck out his tongue with a tied cherry stem atop it. "Not every body can do it, of course,"

A new fire light the emerald eyes, one hotter than the fire. With new determination, Arthur grabbed another cherry and began to devour it. He ate it hurriedly, swallowing hard so that he could fondle the stem. When, after a few minutes, he produced the stem, it was very bent and almost broken in a couple of places. Arthur swore at it, making Francis chuckle as he furiously took another cherry. This time, Arthur produced a stem with a loose tie in the center, which he quickly pulled tight with his teeth and sucked on it a little to dry it before holding it victoriously to Francis.

"I could do better," Francis said, not helping but to wink at Arthur. "But they don't make cherry stems long enough,"

There was a silence in which Arthur had nothing to say back. He briefly wondered how many times he'd said those lines, how many women he'd laid with on the very fur. He blushed a little at the thought of Francis' bare skin touching his own, and couldn't help but to see Francis slowly devouring another cherry. "I don't see why something so sweet, a cherry, would be hiding behind something so long."

The republic shifted again, then made sure that the blanket ends were covering the front side of his hips. Luckily, the other nation seemed oblivious to the innuendo he'd just made. Maybe this was what he'd always liked about Arthur: even if he understood half the jokes he made, he certainly didn't care who heard them. Either way, Francis liked it.

"So," Arthur said after a little while. "What are those ones, then?" he asked, gesturing lazily too the bowl with his hand before slipping it back under the warm cover.

Francis smiled again, having Arthur just brightened up the evening again with his innocence. "These are strawberries, Angleterre. You can eat, them, too, just not the green part."

"Why?" And there was that innocent, sweet tone again, like a melody to Francis' ears.

"Those are the leaves. Here," Francis said, taking one and pulling the leaves carefully off the end. "They're rather bitter, but now you can have the whole thing,"

Arthur just stared dumbly as Francis held the end of the fruit out to him, as if expecting him to take it out of his fingers with his mouth. Arthur shoved away the foul thought, then finally reached out, plucked the strawberry with his fingers and put it in its own mouth. After chewing and slowly swallowing, savoring the taste, he said, "I like those better than cherries,"

Francis couldn't help but to smile a little. He finally chuckled warmly and pushed the bowl a little closer to Arthur saying simply, "You may have as many as you like, love."

Arthur ignored the comment and hastily took another strawberry, remembering to hold the leaves back while he ate it, then took every sweet bite very slowly. He was so glad for the savory feel of the juice slipped down his throat and continued to eat slowly. The nation was careful in his pace, reminding himself of the word strawberry over and over again as so he would remember to get some for himself later. Arthur cast a glance at the window, hoping that it would stop soon in case he forgot the word. "Francis?"

"Qua?" He blinked, not expecting to be addressed so suddenly.

The kingdom held up the leaves from the strawberry he'd just eaten with an almost frightened gaze. "Do I have to tie these in a knot, too?"

Francis almost laughed. "No, no, Angleterre," he said, gaining control of his snickers. He cast Arthur a little sideways glance. "I can already tell that you're a good kisser,"

Arthur just shrugged and reached for another. Francis couldn't help but to feel a little rejected.

"I know I'm going to sound like a pig," said Francis a little while after staring into the fire. "But I've still got the munchies."

Arthur blinked, looking at him curiously. "You're right. You do sound like a pig," he chuckled after a second. "But I'm a little hungry, too."

Francis couldn't help but to smile, relieved. He could tell, now that he looked, that the British Empire was starving. He should have known better. His food might have been much tastier, but his portions were quite smaller than most of the other nations' meals. Arthur was Alfred's elder brother, and Francis should have guessed how much the nation ate just by what his little brother did. He did raise Alfred, after all. Francis couldn't help but to feel a little guilty now that he realized this.

"I'll get something," Francis said as he stood, letting the blanket fall off of him. With this, the nation quickly wandered into the kitchen. He sighed once in, seeing that Arthur was not following. Francis couldn't help but to put a hand on his chest, wondering when the last time his heart was beating this fast, when he'd been so nervous.

As he went about looking for something light (and nonalcoholic) for the pair of either eat or drink, Francis sighed and began to sort out his thoughts. He knew that he had liked Arthur for a long time, but between them both being young male nations and the unlikelihood that the British Empire would return his admiration was slim, Francis had lost hope. Besides, it had been a silly jest, hadn't it?

Well forgetting what he was doing, Francis slipped quietly out of the kitchen and into his room. He couldn't bare his jeans much longer anyway, so quickly changed into his usual pajamas, cleaning up a bit as he remembered he had company. He slipped on long, soft pants over his boxers and slipped on his house coat, tying it closed around his waist as to cover his bare chest. Once he was more comfortable, he returned to the kitchen without Arthur even glancing in his direction. What a nice task, Francis thought, and finally opened up the freezer.

"Francis," Arthur said, just as the other nation was leaving the kitchen. "Oh... I figured you weren't coming back,"

The republic blinked, a little confused as he came and sat down next to the other. "No, no. I just went to change into more comfortable clothes. You can help yourself to my clothes, if you like."

Arthur twitched and looked at Francis, wondering just how much he was wearing. "No, thank you. Ah, awesome!" he proclaimed as the republic handed him a Popsicle.

"You know what these are, right, mon cher?" Francis said, purposefully stuck the whole thing in his mouth and running his tongue up and down it. Of course, to his disappointment, Arthur was oblivious.

Arthur blinked slowly, a little offended. "My little brother is America, you know. Alfred?" At this point he nation slipped the very tip into his mouth, sticking his tongue out a little so that the icy treat could rest on it. Saying around it with little difficulty, he added, "I really hope I know what a Popsicle is,"

Francis had nothing to say, and could only stare at Arthur. By this time the kingdom had returned his gaze peacefully to the fire, but the republic's gaze was locked on the way the Popsicle turned and slowly melted. A few times it dripped onto Arthur's hand or fingers, but he simply ignored the fact and ran the skin briefly across his tongue before quickly returning to the icy treat. Little by little, Arthur took more and more of the Popsicle into his mouth at a time.

The republic wanted to reach out, wanted to snatch the treat away and put Arthur's mouth someplace else, but quickly thought better of it. Damn him, Francis couldn't help but to think to himself. He's doing it on purpose! That's not fair! It did not take them at all very long to finish the melting treats, but once he had Arthur stuck as much as the stick as possible in his mouth and began to suck off whatever juice had been left on it. He was completely unaware of what he was doing to Francis, who immediately rose and started going to the kitchen again.

Arthur blinked, hoping that he hadn't offended the republic. Sure, they'd fought a lot in the past, but that was all behind them now, right? He shifted awkwardly, hearing Francis opening a pantry door. He stood and, after a moment, finally found the way to Francis' room. He realized that it was connected to practically every other room via one hall, so it was always easy to find. (Of course, it was Francis' house. The bed had to be easy to find.) He slipped in, sighing with relief when he didn't see anybody. He quietly began to raid Francis' drawers, surprised to see most of them empty, before opening the closet. He finally found a shelf for pajama bottoms and took a pair for himself, changing quickly as he could. He then took the clothes he had been wearing, glad to be out of them, and folded them neatly before placing them atop an empty dresser top for France to clean later.

Francis was still in the kitchen when Arthur slipped back onto the rug. He paused and was about to slip the quilt back over his shoulders when he sighed and stood up again, wondering what had been taking Francis so long. "Francis?"

"Angleterre," the nation said as he noticed the kingdom. He smiled broadly, liking the sight of the other's bare chest and middle. "Ah, glad you changed. I want you to be comfortable." He paused, then grabbed a bag of something, and began to lead the Brit back towards the large fireplace. "I'm actually a little surprised that you haven't asked me where I got the clothes you wore before,"

Arthur shifted his weight, having completely forgotten about whatever was in Francis' hand. "Er... Actually, I was a little afraid of what the answer might be,"

"What?" Francis blinked with a chuckle. "Am I not allowed to like punk rock? Besides, I did need something to wear to the concert. And no, before you think that, I didn't just go to pick up girls."

The kingdom blinked a little, not completely believing him. As he slid back into his place he smiled warmly and finally said, "Sure, Francis. I'm going to pretend like I believe you,"

"Believe what you want," Francis said, relaxing as he, too, slid his own blanket and brought out the bag. He opened it with a crinkle of the wrapping and withdrew a fluffy white puff. "I just know that I'm going to have to show you how to roast marsh-mellows now,"

A/N: Ah, Francis and your oral fixation. Really, would you be surprised? He is French, after all. Kinda weird that I wrote most of this chapter while watching Wolf's Rain, which is very depressing and probably my favorite anime. Anyway, I will most likely up the rating on this one up to an M rating and, if I do, the next chapter will be lemon, I believe. ;D