(Ally's Notes: hey guys, what's up? Fellow Americans: please tell me who wins the Super Bowl? I don't have cable... Oh and I do love playing Francis. When I play him, I don't have to hold back my flirts! I did this one back when I used accents in the writing so all the 's's and replaced with 'z's enjoy! )
Stranger: England sighed as he stared at the extreme amount of snow outside his window. There was no way he could make it to the store, not even for- Arthur felt his heart sink - tea. Precious tea he was very much out of at the moment.
You: Hopefully the fairies wouldn't tell about him being there. Francis was indeed in England, but he wasn't there to torture him... Today... He was here to well... Win his heart. But the problem with that was: one, England hated him. Two, he couldn't work up the nerve. Him! The country of love couldn't work up the nerve to confess his love to his enemy! He had brought a box of England's tea and put it on the doorstep. He put a note with it; 'your secret admirer' ; and rang the doorbell. He then Hightailed it to the nearest bush.
Stranger: England turned from his window as he heard his doorbell ring. "Who in the bloody hell could that be?" he wondered. It was blizzarding outside, whoever was there must have desperately needed to see him. Sighing, he opened the door to find nothing but a blast of cold air. Looking down, however, he saw a box of... No. England stooped down, cradling the box. could it be? Yes, it was! TEA! Beautiful, wonderful tea sent from God! Actually, as England saw the note, it wasn't from God. It was from... a secret admirer?
You: Oh how happy he looked! France would cherish that look for a while... But if he knew who it really was from, he would most likely freak out and throw it away... He watched sadly from his bush as England looked at his note.
Stranger: England forgot all about the cold as he sat there pondering. A secret admirer? Of him? Who could it possibly be from? He mentally went down the list of people he actually talked to. America was a definite no, or at least he hoped so because there were so many things wrong with America having a "crush" on him. France was a- England blinked. Well, France was on the same continent at least, but there was no way. France hated his guts. And not in the way England hated France's guts but deep down inside he quite liked his company and wouldn't mind kissing him- "You are sooo crushing on him!" one of England's faires giggled. "No, I'm bloody not!" he yelled back. Shaking his head, he started to head back inside.
You: England was crushing on someone? It was probably America.. Those two have been hanging out more and more often at meetings. Francis rewrapped the scarf around his neck and shivered slightly. It was deathly cold out here, but he didn't want to leave yet. Not until he was sure that Arthur was nice and warm inside. He thought about the only people he could trust to keep this secret. First of all, little Mattie always loved his attention and promised not to tell a soul. And then he had /those/ two. Gilbert and Antonio. He made them swear up and down. And they did, which was good. God it was cold out. He blew Into his hands and rubbed together before peaking his head over the bushes again.
Stranger: England was about to go warm himself up when he heard a rustling in the bushes. Mildly concerned, he looked over. His fairy friends had noticed too, and one flew over to the bush. Giggling, she called, "Nothing here, just a snow bunny!" England nodded, feeling that something was off but ignoring it in favor of finally getting a nice cup of tea. Waiting until the nation was back inside, the fairy (whose name was Molly, if anyone cared) looked over at France smugly. "Alright, you owe me for that. Now, brush yourself off and confess your love to England before you get frostbite," she demanded, crossing her arms.
You: "What?! No!" He whispered loudly. "He'll kill moi!" France said with a frown. When England was out of sight of the window, he got up and did indeed brush himself off. He headed for the gate. He was done here and he wasn't going to listen to any fairy that he kept pretending he couldn't see.
Stranger: "Oh, hell no! You are not going to just walk away at the most perfect opportunity you'll ever get!" Molly practically screeched, pulling on France's cape. "First of all, you just brought him tea, which he was out of! Did you see his face? Second of all, if you weren't a blind, narcissistic fool you could figure out that he doesn't hate or want to kill you! Quite the opposite, in fact. Now go and confess and don't take no for an answer." Molly finally stopped ranting, taking a deep breath and looking at France expectantly.
You: "How long have you known him?" France asked as he opened the gate quietly. It creaked much to his displeasure. He closed it behind him slowly which only made the creaks longer. He gritted his teeth before replacing the lock. He quickly hurried away and tried to blend in with the snow. "I've known him for thouzandz of yearz. I know pure and utter dizguzt when I zee it."
Stranger: Molly rolled her eyes. Suddenly, she snapped her fingers. "Ha! I've got it! Wait here, bastard." Looking at France's rather depressed face, she added, "Seriously, stay here. If you move I'll tell England everything. And I've been with him since he was born. I know England just as much, and dare I say, a whole lot better than you. Deal with it." Flying up to England's room, she squeezed through the crack in her window and flew to a very much locked treasure chest. Using her amazing magic to open it, she rummaged through the paper and random objects until she found the piece of paper she was looking for. Triumphantly flying back to France, she handed it to him proudly. "Read it and weep with joy, Francy-pants."
You: "Half off at the local yarn ztore." France said flatly before raising an eyebrow at her. "And you wanted me to zee thiz why?" He asked in confusion.
Stranger: "Flip it over, smart one." Molly settled at the top of France's hair as she said that, noticing that it really was quite soft. "The guy's been beating himself up over you for years. I imagine you've been doing the same thing. Gosh, this could've been solved so much earlier if you guys weren't such wimps."
You: He sighed and did as he was told, walking away from the house as he did. As he read the short note, a pinkish color came to his pale cheeks, making them warm. "He...?" He stopped dead in his tracks and flipped the paper over again and again, making sure it wasn't just a trick of the eye.
Stranger: "Yeah, that's right you little motherfricker. Now get your stupid French self over to England's house and confess your undying love."
You: "But I... It wouldn't be..." He flipped it over again and read the date of the sale. "Thiz... Waz nearly five hundred yearz ago! He couldn't ztill feel the zame way..." Francis shook his head and took another step foreword.
Stranger: Molly looked at with complete exasperation. "I swear to God if you make me get a more recent love poem of his I'll kill you with... my magic! I just got that one because it was my own personal favorite. There are more but you are never going to see them until you ring the freaking doorbell! By the way, aren't you freezing to death?"
You: "I am, that'z why I want to get back to my hotel." He said with a frown. But apparently England liked him! But... What if this fairy was just setting him up? She herself said she had magic. She could be doing this just to what him get humiliated! And he didn't want that... "Fine." He said as he turned around and began to walk back towards England's house.
Stranger: "YES!" Molly shouted. "I won't have to put up with his stupid moping and pining anymore! That is, if you confess correctly. Which you better do." As they neared England's door, Molly stopped France. "Hold on, let me go first." Swooping in through her fairy door, Molly called, "Hey, England? Are you, um, dressed and stuff?" A confused Brit looked at her from the doorway of the living room. "...Yes?" Molly smiled. "Great! Good job on, uh... that. I'm gonna go warm up by the fire now."
You: And with the fairy gone, so was his confidence. He was already shaking from the cold. Adding the fact of having no idea what he was going to say made it all the worst. It took him all of five minuets to finally knock on the door, and all his strength not to run and hide.
Stranger: Hearing the knock, England got even more confused. Could it be his secret admirer again? Either way, the person had to be freezing. Opening the door, England almost fainted when he saw France of all people, on his doorstep.
You: He jumped as the door opened, his heart skipping a beat as he saw England. "Bonjour Angeleterre." He just had to play it cool. Be normal. "May I come in?" He asked before biting his lip slightly. He had stuffed the poem into his pocket, crumbled up and in a ball... But out of sight.
Stranger: England blinked back at his kind-of-friend-kind-of-enemy-but-dear-God-he-wanted-to-be-more in surprise. "O-oh, of course! You must be freezing. Here, let me make you some tea. Fireplace is over there which I'm sure you know, but, well... I'll go make tea, then. Already said that, didn't I?" Engand took a breath, willing himself to calm down. It was just France.
You: He was acting rather nervous. Was it because he came over unannounced? He gave him his usual flirty half smile before stepping in. "Thank you." He mused as he inwardly analyzed every reaction Arthur was giving. He took a step into the house and instantly felt warmer.
Stranger: "Um, no problem, Frog. I am rather curious why you're here, though. How did you even make it through that snowstorm?" Arthur asked from the kitchen while he carefully stirred the tea. The action was calming for him, and he managed to shake off whatever odd sensation he had been feeling. He was usually able to hide his feelings completely; it must have been the unexpected visit that threw him off.
You: That was a little more normal. The nickname made it easy to fall back into the old groove. "Easily, I walked." He said with a smirk before he removed his scarf and coat, placing them on the rack. He walked over to the living room and spotted Molly. He was tempted to shove her into the fire while no one was looking but... He had to pretend he couldn't see them. Keep up the ruse. He sat on the love seat that was directly in front of the fire.
Stranger: Arthur came back into the living room and handed France his tea, making sure their fingers didn't touch in the process. Although he was incredibly tempted to join France on the couch, he refrained, sitting in his favorite armchair instead. "You must have really needed to see me then. You're not in trouble, are you?" England tried to sound as unconcerned as possible. While looking nonchalant, England happened to notice his spitfire fairy, Molly, looking at him with a glare. He raised an eyebrow at her, but she simply shook her head. "Don't mind me," she mouthed.
You: "Non, nothing of the zort." He said before sipping the tea. It was surprisingly good! For all the food he was terrible at making, he really knew how to make splendid tea. Francis paid no heed to Molly, simply keeping his gaze on England. "You made thiz tea zuprizinly well... I hope it will be enough to lazt you though the ztorm." He said causally.
Stranger: England looked over at France in surprise. "Actually, its funny that you mention it. I was out of tea, and then some just randomly appeared on my doorstep. I certainly owe that person one. They really had perfect timing."
You: "Oh really?" He asked as he recalled the countless hours he had spent asking people where his favorite tea shop was. He set his cup down on the end table before looking back to him. "Who waz thiz hero? Do you have any clue?" He asked didn't want to give it away yet.
Stranger: England almost laughed. Almost. So that's who it was. France really didn't have a very good poker face, and tended to hold out his zzzs when he was nervous. However, something struck England as he thought about it. Why would France even do something like that? And why would he add 'secret admirer'? A spark of hope rushed through England at the thought that maybe, possibly, France felt the same way, but he pushed it down. France was probably just messing with him. Well, he might as well play too. "Oh, well, he had incredibly ugly handwriting, so I was thinking it might be America."
You: Francis had to hold back his displeasure. He knew it... The fairy was teasing him. England liked America. There was a terrible pain in his chest but he held firm and actually managed to smirk. "You think America haz a cruzh on you?" He asked maybe a little too quickly.
Stranger: England looked over at France in surprise. Where did that come from? "No, of course not. I was just insulting the handwriting..." The very idea of America liking him was terrifying. Also, France had sounded a bit... jealous? No, of course he wouldn't be jealous. He didn't think of England that way. Sighing, England figured he might as well end the charade. It was getting too confusing. "France, I know it was you."
You: "What makez you think it waz me?" He asked with a frown. He was onto him and it was that stupid fairy's fault. Francis pulled at the cuff on his sleeve nervously. No. He had to be as confident as ever. "Maybe for a pretty Madame I would deliver zome rozez myzelf, but not for you." He could feel the sting in his own words. He could feel the fairy's glare on him, but he ignored it and bit the inside if his cheek as punishment for saying such words. This was no way to win his heart... Why did he always do this?!
Stranger: England blinked. Maybe he had been mistaken, and France was simply acting strange for no reason. God, this was embarrassing. "I-It wasn't? You were acting like you always did when you lied or were nervous, so I assumed you had been playing a joke on me. Ah, well, if it wasn't you, I guess it was America. He better have been doing this as a joke, too, I think I might throw up otherwise." England shuddered.
You: Could he really be fooled this easily? Francis felt a little guilty for flat out lying to his face. There was a silence in the room. He wanted to say something, but didn't know what to say. "Okay, it waz me..." He said with a shrug, not meeting his eyes.
Stranger: Sighing with a bit of relief, England looked over at France. " Oh, right then. Um... thanks? Very funny joke, by the way, the whole "secret admirer" thing. Scared me half to death." England laughed awkwardly, standing up to retrieve a book in order to remove some of the tension.
You: "I never zaid I waz joking." He said with a frown. Francis watched him walk towards the bookcase. He was slightly pleading for him to take it well.
Stranger: England stopped in his tracks. Whirling around, he glared at the blonde on the loveseat. "It's not funny anymore, France... Don't toy with other people's emotions." He muttered the last part under his breath, feeling his heart squeeze in that painful way. Feeling something settle in his hair, he looked up to see Molly with an out of character look of sympathy on her face. She turned to glare at France, but he didn't notice, instead looking blankly back at his bookcase.
You: Francis frowned before getting up and walking towards him. He grabbed him by the shoulders and went to meet eyes. "Arthur." He said with not even a hint of a joking smile on his face. "I love you." He watched him for a second longer before kissing him.
Stranger: Push away. Push away! England's inner voice screamed, but France was kissing him and it was what he had waited for for centuries and he wasn't about to let this go. If it was a one time thing, so be it. At least he'd get to feel this once. Circling his arms around France's neck, England continued to kiss back. On a separate note, a very smug Molly was flittering out of the room, feeling very successful.
You: It was better then he had imagined. This beautiful kiss... Francis brought his arms around his waist as he pulled him closer. He was seriously hoping this wouldn't be their last. The French man was starting to like that fairy...
Stranger: Needing breath and deciding that he could live with what he had gotten, England broke away. "I'm sorry," he muttered. "I know I'm just a passing phase to you, but... You aren't to me. I, um... I've loved you for a bloody long time. Sorry."
You: "You think-" he gave him a frown. "I've alwayz loved you Arthur." He said as he lifted his chin up with a hand. Francis then fished into his pocket and found the poem. He took it out of it's crumpled state and showed it to him. "And I believe the same is true for you."
Stranger: "A-Always?" stammered England, carefully taking the paper from France's hand. "But- You hate me." Glancing at the poem, England handed it back quickly. "I know what I wrote, thanks. I- How long have you had it?"
You: "Oui, you 'hate' me az well." France said with a smirk. "Zeemz you can't alwayz truzt the look on people'z facez." He laid a hand on his cheek. "And to think I could read everyone but you..." He gave him a small kiss on the forehead. "And az far az the poem goez, I only got it recently."
Stranger: Arthur smiled in spite of himself. "Oh, well, you can keep it. I guess we've both been a bit blind all these years." He tentatively wrapped his arms back around France, hugging him close. The feeling of being safe and warm shot through him, and he was reminded of days long forgotten, where he was just a child and France was a teenager, back before he felt the need to completely hate the other nation, and would allow himself to be taken care of every now and then.
