Second omake featuring some FrUk. Damn, I felt so inspired by this couple, I wrote the chapter more quicly than the usual. Or was it because I was writing in class? (School was boring today anyway, and I have good grades =D). For a while I was kind of stuck for the Chapter 4 and this one because of a writer's block, but it seems it's all gone now! I'm glad...

Hope you'll enjoy. I'm still not used to write this kind of stuff n_n"

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Omake 2 :

A Trade in Silver wear

After desperately dodging plates and tea, Francis had successfully approached Arthur to grab his wrists, making sure no threatening object would be thrown. Soft blue eyes stared down at fierce green ones.

"What?!" The English anthro-hare spat.

"You look quite beautiful, as usual, yet…" He trailed off, brushing some hay off the other's head with his free hand. "Perfect."

He smiled then, his smile somewhat vicious. Arthur's hard glare was inevitably followed by a furious blush. His whole expression and body language was screaming I hate you! at the Frenchman, but this one could not help but smile at him fondly. Not that he actually liked the smug bastard anyway, but…

It seemed Arthur was about to say something harsh after internally fiddling with words, however he had no time to do so.

The tea party's existence melted slowly, like paint flowing off a blank wall, leaving its place to what it had earlier been, as time jammed for the umpteenth time. Then it was the same as a tape being rewound. Next thing the tea party hosts knew, things were as an hour ago. There was no more trace of the Italians' passage, Canada was merely sleeping and had no sign of having passed away due to tea overdose, roughly ingested I must add, though he would remember it if he ever woke up - England was sitting a cup of tea in his hand, half way in the gesture of sipping, while France was staying put, legs crossed under the table, seeming thoughtful, arms crossed as well.

"…Again?" Arthur stated.

"Oui, it seems it happens every hour, to be exact." The French hatter continued to stare blankly in front of him, still in deep thought.

"Trapped at four o'clock forever. A British man would not mind, yet in this world, as British I can be, I'm no more than half of a man."

"It's plain annoying, you mean. May I be a man, there's no difference."

"That's because you're French!" Arthur spat it as if the simple meaning was an insult. "Though I must admit… this is troublesome."

Indeed, it had been since the instant they found themselves in this peculiar world, it all begun this way. The location's time lapsed from four o'clock to five, then it started all over gain in the same way, it's content the only difference with the memories it left.

Eventually, Arthur broke the silence.

"I'm out of tea." He glance at the other expectedly, though Francis only shifted slightly.

"It seems one of the teapots is missing."

"Yes, certainly." The English hare stated after checking. "Wasn't it the one he had left?"

"I'm afraid it was unavoidable."

"…Could you be ever so kind and hand over one of the full teapots?"

At that very sentence France abruptly turned his head to face England, making his oversized hat nearly fall.

"Je veux couteaux, fourchettes et cuillères."

"I beg your pardon?!"

"Dieu, Arthur, are you getting old. Is it your memory that is fading or are you deaf? I asked for knives, forks and spoons."

"I bloody understood what you said - to my great regret that is - you git! But what's this with the ridiculous demand?"

"The transaction."

Arthur posed for a bit, wondering if it was really what the other was demanding.

"…You want to trade tea for silver wear?"

"Your silver wear, mon cher."

England was speechless at first, utterly confused. Then again, when did he ever understand the frog? He resigned, grabbing the knives, spoons and forks set for the seat next to him. Unfortunately, France swiftly stopped him.

"Non, non, Angleterre, I want the silver wear you used."

"But…" Surely he wasn't serious.

"Do you actually want that tea so much?"

The French mad hatter had said this as a threat, and England did not other than take it as one, completely. He hastily handed over the silver wear he had used (as for that, they both knew he had used it, though none of them could recall it exactly), snatching the teapot's handle he was given afterwards. Absolutely puzzling, this was absolutely puzzling. Pouring himself some tea, then sipping it quietly, he pondered upon the matter till finally realizing. If he had felt irritated over Francis' little game, he was now infuriated. The English hare turned to glare at the France, who, fork in mouth, confirmed Arthur's fear.

Furthermore the fucking frog has the most innocent and surprised look in the entire world.

"Oh, very subtle." He spat.

Francis winked, grinning.

"It tastes just like you."

Arthur blushed furiously, for the second or third time, Francis wasn't sure, but did he feel delighted about it. So many moments like this very instant, although tremendously rare, made him almost forget he hated England. A tad more and he might forget that fact completely. That blush fit him so well.

"Give it back you brainless pervert!!"

"Then give me back the tea you swallowed!"

"That's impossible!!"

"Then same here!"

To weight his argument, France ran his tongue on the shiny silver fork, saliva making it gleam. Though the motion of the tongue was obsessing, Arthur couldn't take his eyes off Francis' beautiful, hypnotizing, blue eyes. And England definitely did not just think that.

Words were pointless at that point, as a result eyes communicated for their owners. Arthur certainly did not enjoy what he could read in the French's, and was very afraid of what the previous could read in his. Denial here is a very interesting fact, which often drives one apart what he really wants deep down but is too ashamed to admit. Unluckily, denial frequently makes one hidden desire quite more obvious. Was it just a teasing dialogue and a teasing French pervert, trying to reach the heart of an aggressive English pervert in the closet. Uncertainty was heavy as one knew what he wanted and the other didn't know what to believe inside of him.

Then Francis got up in a swift motion and grabbed Arthur by the collar, the situation resembling what might have been in another time line.

"Now, where were we before?" He said softly, his gaze not having detached a single second from the other's.

Arthur didn't answer. He didn't have the time. And even if he ever did, he simply would have nothing to say, at lost for words and insults. Yet Francis knew better and had immediately pulled him into a gentle kiss, which hardened fast enough when both of them were a little bit more at ease. A moan escaped Arthur's throat and he could feel the Frenchman grinning against his lips.

But then existence melted once more, as time jammed for the umpteenth time plus one. England was sitting a cup of tea in his hand, half way in the gesture of sipping, while France was staying put, legs crossed under the table, seeming thoughtful, arms crossed as well. They turned at each other at the same time, one's scowl deep, the other's grin wide.

"Would you care to start from when we were interrupted, Angleterre?"

"Shut up." Arthur said, not objecting however when the other stood up to come more closely as earlier. "You'll pay for this…"

Francis glanced at Arthur interrogatively, when England grabbed his collar and started kissing him hard. Parting slightly for a second, he added:

"…In another time line."

Hope everything was understandable.

Okay, so I'd like to say a special thanks to XbehindtheseaX (Lissa) for suggesting me to put this fanfic in the regular stories (it was in the crossover stories at first.)

Second special thanks would be for KuroiWing who has been reviewing since the very first chapter, which I really appreciate.

Gah, you people make me so happy.

*yawns* I'm so tired. Oh well, hope you enjoyed this chapter. Next one should be... interesting to write.