Three years later, early May of 1944
Germany sat at his desk, scowling at a large stack of papers. He had been stationed in this godforsaken country for three years, and hated every second unless he was on the front lines. France was an absolute idiot who couldn't follow orders to save his life and had a tendency to "Strike when ze mood strikes moi!". In his opinion France was more trouble than he was worth, and it was a miracle that he had survived all these centuries. Unfortunately his boss thought that France was valuable, so Germany had been residing in his Parisian mansion ever since with the man himself. Knocking was heard on the wooden door, as well as a very distinct laugh. "Ohhhh Germany! Honhonhon open up ze door!" Speak of the devil and the devil shall arrive. Germany hastily threw a sheet over his desk, hiding the classified documents from unwanted eyes.
"Vell don't just stand zhere come in! I don't have all day!" He barked, folding his hands on his desk. The door flew open and France skipped in, completely nude. "Vhat zhe hell France!" Germany yelled, face turning beet red as he noticed the other blonde's state of dress, or rather, undress. France shut the door with the heel of his foot and stood in the middle of the room, placing his hands on his hips but making no attempt to cover himself up.
"Oh mon amiiiiiii." He rolled his eyes, stretching out the i. "Zis iz my 'ouse, I can walk around 'owever I please. Besides, don't my legs look absolutely magnifique? I shaved zem, wanna feel?" he offered, swinging a leg up on the desk. Germany flushed an even deeper red if possible and pushed his chair away, shoving the sheet covering his desk to the French nation at the same time.
"Nein jou dummkopf I don't vant to feel jour legs! Use zhis to cover jourself up, i'd rather not see zhat today." he ordered, covering his eyes with his hands. France scoffed but took the sheet, tying a loose toga with practiced ease. While Germany's eyes were covered he grabbed a couple papers that looked important, hiding them in the folds of the fabric.
"I 'ave shielded my beauty from your eyes you can look now." Germany uncovered his eyes, scowling at the Frenchman's antics.
"Now vhat did jou come here for?" Germany asked, glaring at the other European. Francis scratched at his stubble for a minute, trying to remember for what purpose he had come here other than to annoy the German.
"Oh oui I would like some paints, s'il vous-plaît." Francis requested, smiling widely to show off a set of blindingly white teeth.
"Und vhy vould I give jou paints? Ve are in a var, in case jou forgot."
"Parce que, ah 'ow do I say zis… I will make your life a living 'ell if you don't." France smirked, batting his eyelashes innocently. He struck a provocative pose and blew a kiss to the German, laughing as he flounced out of the room. Germany groaned and slammed his head into the desk as soon as the flirtatious Frenchman had left, not minding the pain. The sooner the Axis won the war the better, and he could finally get out of the goddamn country along with its equally annoying personification.
Francis walked down the mansion into his private wing, taking off his sheet as he went, folding it over his arm with the papers still concealed in it. He blew a kiss at the guards lining the entrance to his section, smirking as they avoided eye contact and looked aside. Francis Bonnefoy was no idiot, and knew that if he walked around like this, which he had no problem with, they were less likely to ask what he was doing in their haste to get out of there. As soon as he was in his room he put on a camouflaged uniform, tying his hair up haphazardly and stuffing it into a black cap. The nation sat down at his desk, hidden in a secret soundproof office and took out the papers, grinning when he saw what was written on them. They were maps of the Atlantic wall, each squadron of tanks and bunkers marked with a neat x, telling the Frenchman valuable information. Of course he knew where each bunker was on his own land, but knowing where the others were was useful. He noticed where the defenses were thickest on his own land, and noted the distance between England and himself. After copying the map down to the last detail he whistled for his little bird, Pierre, to fly it to England. After the bird was on its way, finding Arthur no matter where he was, France sat back in his chair and thought of his love.
England and France truly loved each other, despite fighting half the time. They had an interesting relationship, with the nations England and France fighting since they knew the other existed, but Arthur Kirkland and Francis Bonnefoy holding a deep love in their hearts. He picked up his private rotary phone and dialed the number of the base he knew England was stationed in, thanks to a fellow member of the French resistance.
His nails tapped against the hardwood of his desk, eyes firmly trained on a picture of him and England tacked onto a mirror that was hanging on the wall in front of him.
"You have reached base Mint Bunny, please state your purpose and the code for this base." A tired sounding voice laced with a horrendous accent droned, nothing like England's own sophisticated East Anglian.
"Bonjour, I would like to speak to Arthur Kirkland, s'il vous-plaît." France spoke firmly, studying the map again.
"Listen mate he's in a meeting and you haven't stated your purpose. I need the code or no can do." The voice snapped. "I also need your name."
"My name iz of no concern to you." Francis stated cooly, patience wearing down fast. Did this idiot not understand that making this call was incredibly dangerous, and he could not stay around for idle chit chat. "Put me on ze phone with Arthur Kirkland now." Francis could hear the scraping of a chair in the background, and the man's frustrated growl.
"Listen here Frenchie, Kirkland's in a meeting, and I can't let you talk to him unless you say who you are. Got that, asshat?"
"And you listen 'ere, rosbif. I 'ave crucial information zat 'e needs to know, and I can tell you for a fact zat 'e needs to know eet. Just tell 'im zat ze Frog wants to talk to ze Black Sheep."
"Jesus christ man you've gone insane, i'm not going to deal with this, i'll just hang up- Hello sir!" The phone fell with an audible clang, and France could hear the click of boots, as well as what was going on on the other side.
"What the bloody hell is going on here Johnson?" A familiar, irritated voice asked, and France almost sobbed with relief.
"An insane man got hold of the phone sir, he was blabbing something about Frog wants to talk to the Black Sheep-"
"A WHAT NOW? Give me that phone now!" France heard England shriek, as well as the sounds of a minor scuffle.
"Bonjour mon cher! Comment ça va?" France chirped, almost crying at hearing his love's voice after so long, but needing to disguise it. "I have wonderful news!"
"You bloody frog you know I can't speak French." Arthur grumbled, rolling his eyes.
"Arthur every word I say may be recorded. I have critical information and I know you speak French, I taught you myself. Swallow your pride for once." Francis hissed, speaking so low he could barely hear himself, even with his enhanced hearing. One of the perks of being a nation.
"Ok but just once. This better be good." Arthur snapped, kicking the other man out of his desk so he could sit there, twirling the phone cord in his fingers, jade green eyes squeezed shut.
"So you know the unwelcome visitor who has been staying in my house for the past couple years?"
"Yeah?"
"Well he's gotten a bit antsy and decided to build a wall around my house. I don't think he likes you that much. But there's a loose board in the wall. Here i've sent Pierre to show you a picture, it's quite pretty."
There was a tapping on the window and a small white bird flew into the room, depositing the papers on the desk and promptly flying away. Arthur scanned the map, eyes growing wider with each marking he saw.
"Francis you're a genius. Calais?"
"No but we can always throw a little surprise party for Luddy. The wall is also very thick there, so be carefull. Have you heard of how pretty Normandy is at this time of the year? June is beautiful there. New moon, sparkling over the waves of the beaches, ah now that is a sight. Talk to you later my love, it's time for me to scream about paints. Pierre might visit more often, so keep your window open. Au revoir et je t'aime."
"Je t'aime aussi." the line went blank and the personification of England placed the phone down, shaking his head. He knew that Francis hid under an airheaded blonde act, but getting such valuable information was priceless. God, how he loved that man.