CHAPTER 10! Whoa double digits ! Freaky ! Ok confesion time ... I am not really sure if I like all of this chapter. Bits yes, all ... anyways ! After this im posting another story yay!

Translations:

Mon dieu: (french) My god! (Think OMG)

Le poisson: (french) the fish!

C'est Merveilleux: (french) This is marvelous

Petite Angleterre: (french) Little England

Je t'aime:(french) I love you

Te amo:(spanish) I love you

Ich liebe dich:(german) I love you

Ti amo:(italian) I love you

Jetaimeaussi:(super rushed english-ified french) I love you too

Hej:(swedish) hello - i think this is right , but im not sure.

And there we go :D have funzzzz

Arthur lazily opened his eyes and glanced over at the green glow on his bedside table.

His digital clock said it was 4:26 am, but to him the moment felt timeless. Wrapped in the warmth of Francis' arms the world seemed to stop, and nothing really mattered anymore. Laying down under the covers with Francis made him feel like … like he belonged. Gazing up at his lover he relished in the contentment radiating from the sleeping Frenchman. Asleep he looks so peaceful, so relaxed, so … beautiful.

Deep in sleep the French born man rested peacefully on his down pillow , a small smile on his face and his hair spread around him. Arthur reached up to gently brush away a stray strand that had fallen between their faces. He still remembered when these golden tresses had been his greatest object of envy. Of coarse it never really had been just the hair he had wanted. His feelings had always been directed more towards the whole package.

Without realizing it Arthur moved his hand from Francis' hair to trace the sleeping man's face, starting with his nose then moving on to his mouth. He wondered what had caused the perfectly symmetrical lips to fix themselves into that grin. He quickly withdrew his finger when he caught himself hoping he had put the smile on the blonde man's face. It's not just the sex anymore. Leaning his head forward he kissed the cheek Francis wasn't laying on. After he had settled himself back onto his pillow, the Brit closed his eyes and let out and exasperated huff.

"Arthur you bloody fool. You've gone and fallen in love."

"Bloody. Fuck. No!"

"Arthur such language is not becoming of a gentleman like yourself."

"Kiss my ass you surrender monkey !"

Letting out a loud groan Francis set his coffee down onto the table and resisted the urge to slam his head off the wooden surface. Arthur had been like this all morning.

"You are going to need new clothes."

Sneering at the Frenchman, Arthur practically spit venom with his words.

"I refuse to let you shop for maternity clothes with me!"

"We have been arguing for over two hours now!"

"And I'll keep arguing for the next six months if I have to !"

And that is when Francis' forereach met it's new friend, Mr. Kitchen table. The latest tantrum had started that morning shortly after Arthur had woken up. Following his morning shower Arthur had attempted to get dressed, only to find that none of his slacks fit. This immediately put the Brit in a fowl mood, along with the twenty minute search for pants that fit. In the end the only pants Arthur had that fit over his stomach was a pair, most likely from the 70's, Francis liked to call "The porno sweats." Yeah they were that bad. Needless to say this had taken Arthur's mood from fowl to horrendous.

But now as the Brit screamed at him Francis figured that his five minute laughing fit hadn't helped. Well what is a man supposed to do when he walks into his bedroom to find a man yelling at a pair of pants? He sounded like Ludwig on drill day. Lifting his head slowly from the table Francis glared at the Brit.

"Mon dieu ! Would you stop your yelling ! You are driving me insane!"

"Well I jolly well hope so!"

"Just listen to me Arthur! In another week or two not even your porn star pants are going to fit-"

"I will kick you in the balls!"

"-so unless you plan on running around naked-"

"I will cut all your hair off!"

"-you're going to need clothes, and seeing as I'm the only one in the house who knows how to dress-"

"THE DAY I LET A FROG DRESS ME IS THE DAY I JOIN MOTHER BLEEDING RUSSIA!"

"You know speaking of Russia, I met this lovely up and coming designer in Moscow. I wonder if Vlad would come to London if I sent Louis' jet-"

Francis was going to finish his sentence until he was interrupted by Arthur slapping him in the face with a piece of buttered toast.

"Hahaha take that frog!"

With his pride slightly wounded Francis wiped his face and stood up. Now eye to eye with his vicious assailant Francis gave up.

"Ok that's it. Nap time."

Calmly reaching forward Francis threw Arthur over his shoulder and walked out of the kitchen, towards the stairs.

"Put me down!"

"Non."

"Put me down NOW!"

"Non."

Greatly enraged at being treated like a sack, Arthur began to beat his fists against the Frenchman's back.

"I am not a child to be carted off to naptime!"

"Well you sure throw temper tantrums like one."

"You take that back wanker!"

"Chéri, Lovino throws less of a fit when Antonio tries to get in the bath with him."

"Well that's because Lovino is a whor-OH! Francis did you feel that!"

All of Arthur attacks abruptly came to a stop, and he laid on Francis' shoulder silently.

"Feel what petit ami?"

"Quick put me down on the step!"

When he was situated on one of the stairs Arthur clutched his stomach and started breathing in deep breaths. Instantly Francis' mind jumped to the worst possible conclusion.

"Le poisson ! Arthur are you ok! Do you need to get to the hospital now! Arthur tell me what's wrong!"

Instead of answering the Brit grabbed Francis by the wrists and pressed both his hands against his stomach.

"Could you shut it for a bit Francis!"

"Yeah sure…why exactly are yo-OH!"

"Did you feel it!"

"Oui the bébé it kicked!"

"Yes it did."

"C'est merveilleux!"

With a huge grin on his face Francis looked up at his lover, his joy skyrocketing until they caught each others gazes. To his surprise there was a steady stream of tears running down the Brit's face.

"Cocotte what's wrong?"

"Nothing-sniff-I've just got something in my-sniff-eye."

But even as he said this he burst into full blown wails.

"Oh everything's wrong Francis! I'm too fat to fit in my pants, every five minutes I have a ridiculous mood swing, I'm yelling at you for no reason ! Not to mention I think I'm growing milk glands ! Boobs Francis ! Boobs! I thought I was a man, not a pubescent teenage girl! I'm not even sure what to be sure of nowadays!"

In and effort to stop the crying Francis pulled Arthur onto his lap. Cradling the man as he rocked back and forth, he did his best to console him.

"Shh-shh-shh petite angleterre. Everything is fine. Be sure of me."

Reaching a hand up to wipe away tears, Francis continued on.

"I'm always going to be here. And it would take nothing short of a … of a giant fire breathing dragon to stop me. And even then that wouldn't be able to pry me away from you."

With his tears reigned in again, Arthur responded to the Frenchman.

"What about a hotel suite with two Ukrainian women?"

Francis couldn't help but laugh at that.

"Non, not even that. For what are vast tracks of land compared to my love for you?"

"Francis?"

"Arthur how many times, and in how many languages do I have to say it before you get it?"

"I - I don't know…"

"That's it I'm going to say it one more time."

"Franci-"

"I love you. Je t'aime. Te amo. Ich liebe dich. Ti amo. Do I have to keep going?"

Letting go of the Briton, Francis just stared off into space.

"A-are you serious Francis?"

"Dead serious. I love you more then anything Arthur."

This time it was Arthur who seized the other in his arms.

"Je t…anmmm"

"Arthur?"

"Je ….."

"Sweetie I can't understand you."

"… Jetaimeaussi! There I don't want to say it again!"

Roaring with laughter Francis affectionately kissed the Brit on the lips.

"I suppose that's the closest I'll ever get with you non?"

It had been an extremely long day for Dr. Scott Brown, and he had a feeling it was about to get worse. Pacing across his office Scott looked down at the ultrasound images in his hand. He had been analyzing them for the last hour just to make sure his speculation was right. Plopping down in his chair he tossed the file onto his desk.

"Explaining this is not going to be fun."

Times like these really made him question his choice of work. When he had started work in the maternity ward he had thought that he could handle pregnant women. But then life (and the Government) had thrown Arthur at him. The Brit only seemed to have two moods. Normal cranky and French overload induced horribly cranky. Unfortunately for Scott this meant that before each appointment he had to spend 30 minutes hiding all his potentially dangerous objects. His nurses thought he was crazy when he asked them to keep his Q-tips in their desks, but he was pretty sure that the murder of France in his examination room would cause some international issues.

Scott's problems weren't just Arthur's fault thought, The French nation had proved to be more then a handful to deal with. There were no words to describe the Frenchman, he was far to … individual to be characterized correctly. Over the last two months Scott had learned the true meaning of innuendo and several other things in French he had never wanted to know. Together the pair had become his worst nightmare, quite literally. His wife had threatened to kick him out on to the couch if he woke up screaming "Get you hands off my ass you bloody frog!" one more time.

Looking back at the file on his desk, Dr. Brown shuddered a bit.

"If I call them France will be a giant crater by morning."

Leaning onto his desk Scott ran his hands through his hair. Letting out a sigh he reached for the phone on his desk. Gathering all his courage he dialed the number of the Kirkland residence. Making sure to note the time (just incase the police used him as a witness in the murder investigation) he pressed the call button.

"For Queen and country."

*Ring*Ring*Ring*

He heard the phone ringing, but the last thing Berwald wanted to do at 11:00pm was answer it. Rolling over in bed he stared at the small man next to him.

"T'no co'ld y' ?"

"No."

"Pl'se."

"No."

*Ring*Ring*Ring*

Sighing the Swede reached for the phone. One night of sleep is all I ask for. One night! After a couple seconds of blind searching he finally clasped his hand around the phone.

"Hej."

"Bonjour mon ami! I have the best of news!"

"Fr'ncis?"

"Of coarse it is me! Who else would call at this time of night?"

"… M'thi's?"

"Antonio? Since when does our favorite Dane call you late and night?"

"Fr'ncis 'm n't-"

"Antonio news!"

"Fr'ncis-"

"Toni!"

"Fr'ncis!"

"TWINS!"

"Wh't …?"

"Twins Toni! Twins! Cheré Angleterre is pregnant with twins!"

"W'll isn't that … n'ce?"

"Toni ... you sound a bit odd."

Berwald couldn't help but slap his forehead.

"Y'u id'ot ! 'm n't Sp'in!"

"Mon dieu !Berwald!"

"Y's! Wh't t'pped y' 'ff? Th' 'ccent?"

"Oh ! Je suis désolé! I must have hit the wrong number when I speed dialed Antonio!"

"Wh' am I 'n y'r sp'd di'l?"

"I … don't know .. .well I should call the real Antonio before Arthur finished shredding my clothes and comes after me with the scissors!"

"Sc'ssors?"

"Ouais. It's what he does when he can't drink. Luv ya bye!"

The tell tale buzz of a finished call rang in Berwald's ear as he took a moment to figure out what had just happened. With no logical explanation in sight he threw the phone across the room, just in case Francis called back. Very confused and very scared Berwald attempted to go back to sleep.

"I hate your friends Berwald."

"Th're n't m' fri'nds!"

Ok the end of that chapter :D Sorry if Berwald is hard to understand ... you can blame ... me and Swedish accents.

Anyways thanks for reading and I would love some reveiws :D