"What the bloody Hell is taking that git so long?" Arthur pulls on his long sleeve shirt, sweater, hoodie, coat, and another coat. He opens the door and goes to the house. He sees Nantucket through the window to the Living room. He wipes the frost and peers through. He gasps and his eyes widen. Alfred and Ivan are making out on the couch. Arthur steps back, "What the bloody Hell? I thought he hated him!" England grumbles, "Well, no point in waiting for him to finish. Might as well head back." He gets back into the car.
There is a rustle of blankets in the back seat and England jumps. He takes out his police club and smacks the lump of blankets, "Ah zut! Ce que la baise? Tu es foutou!" France emerges from the blankets while rubbing the lump on his head, "Why did you do that?"
England's nerves calm down, "What the bloody hell, France? You wanker, what are you doing in my car?"
France smirks, "I was hitching a ride. I thought you were going to your house to sex Alfred up, but apparently not."
England glares at him. He points outside, "Get out, France."
France gasps, "Ah bon? Pourquoi? I'll freeze out there!"
England smirks, "Serves you right, trying to catch me do something sexy."
France whimpers, "Arthur, you're so cruel to me! Tu casses mon cœur!" France lays a hand on his forehead in dramatic suffering.
England pops a vein, "Fine. I'll bring you out of the storm. I'll drop you off at Germany's."
France's face twists, "L'Allemagne? Non s'il te plait! Anything but that!"
England starts the car, "you're staying back there, also. I don't want to be seen with a horny bastard like you."
France sighs, "D'accord. But you're evil to me, Angleterre."
England rolls his eyes and drives off through the white blizzard.