AN: I am alive! I have in no way abandoned this challenge in case anyone was wondering, I just have a lot going on and this was a really hard prompt for me. It's just fluffy FrUK, where France and England sneak out of a World Meeting, only to find a certain nation doesn't cope well in the heat of a Spanish summer. R&R if you want, since I'd love feedback because I don't think this is my best work D: If the ending seems a bit rushed, its because I have a load I should be doing but wanted to get this out in celebration of FrUK Day~

Middle

Francis drummed his fingertips on the table, blowing a stray piece of blond hair out of his face. He daydreamed, the deep drone of Germany's voice forming a sort of background noise. He sighed, his eyelids drooping slightly. He could quite happily fall asleep right now.

A hand slid into his view. He stared at it, watching it pull away and reveal a folded piece of paper. With a confused expression, he reached out, opening it. In loopy, slightly messy handwriting, was a note addressed to him:

'Frog. I can see you falling asleep. How about we just skip this meeting and go somewhere else?
- England'

Francis smirked, glancing over to the Brit who was acting oblivious. He turned the paper over, writing a quick reply before sliding it across to him.

'I'd love to, but we're right in the middle of it. Won't we get told off or something?
~ France'

Francis could feel Arthur roll his eyes in response. He waited; this note was longer than the previous one. When it was placed in front of him, he paused for a few seconds, before peeking down at it. Somehow, no one had noticed their very obvious note passing. This was a miracle, seeing as hardly any nations were even paying attention to Germany.

'Since when did you care about following Germany's rules? Here's the plan. I'll excuse myself for the bathroom in a few minutes. Wait ten minutes, then you do the same. Meet me in the foyer, beside the water fountain. Okay? Good.
-England."

Francis didn't respond to the note, only nodded. He knew Arthur would be watching him out of the corner of his eye, just to see if he would respond. So, he waited. His mind drifted elsewhere, the afternoon sun streaming through the windows. Some of the nations that lived in colder areas shifted uncomfortably, the Spanish summer's heat surrounding them. Francis was used to this, seeing as he was neighbours with Spain and had this sort of weather himself. He chuckled softly, catching sight of Arthur squirming. The Englishman's idea of summer was the Spaniard's version of spring.

Exactly five minutes passed, and Arthur stood up. Heads snapped towards him, and he politely excused himself as the nations resumed their previous positions. Francis noticed that the Brit had taken his bag with him, assuming that they would not be returning once they sneaked out. The reason why he was so apprehensive is because he'd done this before; he and Spain had sneaked out to meet Prussia. Germany, of course, yelled at them and issued them the punishment of clearing up the meeting room after the conference was over. Surprisingly, it got very messy, especially round a certain northern Italian's seat. He picked up his pen, absentmindedly doodling around his notes. After his required ten minutes, he slipped his pen into his bag, his hand underneath the strap. He silently stood, indicating that he also needed the bathroom.

Quietly slipping out of the room, he closed the door behind him. His footsteps were quick as the adrenaline pumped through him. He made his way through the hall, spotting a blond head leaning on the wall next to the water fountain. He made his way over, his shoes clicking against the polished floor. He grinned excitedly, poking Arthur's face once they were close enough.

"Took you long enough- and don't poke me!" Was the reply, Arthur swatting at his hand. He scowled, already in a bad mood thanks to the heat. The Englishman stood, turning towards the doors and quickly leaving the building, Francis trailing behind him. As soon as they left the building, they were hit with bright sunlight. Arthur screwed his face up, squinting as he looked at the ground. He huffed, immediately regretting choosing to wear a dark blue suit that day. Francis, on the other hand, seemed to not even notice the sun, skipping down the steps with ease. Arthur followed, before dragging him across the street, hiding from the sun's glare under the shadow of some trees.

"Arthur, mon cher, the 'otel's the other way. I'm guessing you want to get out of the sun-" Francis' voice called out to him, patronisingly caring. Arthur whirled around, glaring.

"I do not! I'm fine, okay!" His pale face was flushed, and his hair was beginning to get sticky with sweat. He panted for a second, before balling his fists up and stomping in the direction of the hotel. "Fine. But not because you suggested it! Just because I want some bloody air conditioning."

Ten minutes later, they were settled in Arthur's hotel suite. Francis had invited the Englishman to his, but Arthur didn't trust him, and wanted the comfort of his own room. Francis obeyed, not wanting to test his heat induced bad mood. The French nation looked around from his place on the sofa, hearing Arthur fidgeting behind him. He appeared to be debating whether or not taking his suit jacket off would be a sign of weakness. To make him feel better, Francis slid his own off, draping it over the back of his chair. He unbuttoned a third button on his shirt, rolling the sleeves up to his elbows. He lifted his hips, digging in his pockets for a silk hair ribbon. He stood, tilting his head back to scoop his hair into a high ponytail. He froze, aware of eyes watching him. He turned, smirking at the uncomfortable Brit.

"Can I 'elp you?" He held in a laugh, watching Arthur attempt to pretend he wasn't watching the other.
"No." With that, he grabbed the remote for the air conditioning, turning it up full volume. He frowned, standing in front of the vent, sighing contentedly when the cool air washed over him. Slowly, he slid his blazer off, revealing his once crisp white shirt, now sticking to his skin with sweat. He hesitated, before sliding off his tie, draping his clothing over a chair.

"Frog."
"Oui?"
"Go in the kitchen and don't come out until I call you."
With confusion, Francis obeyed, leaning against the counter. His gaze wandered, out the window, where he watched the people go about their business. The streets were emptying, the afternoon sun too much for the public. He exhaled slowly, untucking his shirt in an attempt to cool himself more.

Footsteps sounded behind him, and he turned, to face a more appropriately dressed English nation. He smiled slightly, noting how the other appeared to be both cooler and in a better mood. Arthur's grey t-shirt suited him perfectly, and Francis found himself admiring the Brit, his eyes roving over the pale skin and small form of the other, which he had memorised. Even before this 'sort of relationship' that they had, he had always found a sort of beauty in Arthur. He didn't realise how long he had been staring until a blushing male poked his face, muttering for him to stop. Francis took his hand, pulling him closer to wrap his arms around Arthur's slim waist in a gentle hug.

Arthur squirmed, gently patting his arm. "Francis... It's too hot..." He pulled away, guilty. "Sorry, but... I can't..." He shrugged, still feeling sticky and like he was drowning in the humid heat. Francis nodded, turning back to the window quickly. Arthur grinned, noticing that Francis' usually perfect hair had frizzed out, leaving his normally sleek ponytail resembling a fox's tail. He reached up, combing his fingers through it, only to realise he was making it worse. He pulled one end of the purple ribbon, letting his hair fall free. Francis pouted, turning back to him.

"Stop. It'll frizz..." His hand nervously pushed it back, grimacing.
"Too late. It already has." Arthur chuckled, his fingers running over the soft strands, ignoring the protests of the other. Francis, as a way to get the other to leave his hair alone, placed his hands on Arthur's waist. He lifted him up, gently placing him on his shoulder. Laughing at the yells of shock and the insults spewing from the other's lips, he carried him to the living room, lying Arthur down on the sofa. He stole the ribbon back, re-tying his puffy hair out. With a sigh, he realised it probably wouldn't return to normal until that evening, only for the same thing to happen the next day. He sat next to Arthur's head, stroking his choppy hair. He glanced at the clock, checking the time.

"Angleterre, why don't you sleep? It's what everyone that lives 'ere does at this time, since it's too 'ot." His blue eyes met Arthur's forest green ones, concern showing through. Arthur glanced up, considering it. He sighed, running a hand over his eyes.
"Alright. But won't you be bored?" Francis shook his head, smiling. He could amuse himself for an hour or two. He could even do that paperwork that was due yesterday, since he'd only put off doing it if he didn't do it now. He leant over, gently kissing Arthur's cheek. He stood up, patting his shoulder. Arthur rolled onto his side, closing his eyes as Francis quietly walked to the table, pulling his paperwork and a pen from his suitcase.

Two hours later, Arthur stretched, yawning. He glanced around, noting how it was cooler and the sun wasn't pounding its way through the windows. Sitting up, he looked for Francis, spotting him at the table, piles of paper around him. He laughed once, thinking to himself that Francis really should wear his glasses more often. Of course, the vain Frenchman only wore them for completing paperwork, thinking they made him look old and boring. Arthur, on the other hand, secretly loved how the black frames highlighted his azure eyes, also drawing attention to his angular cheekbones.

Francis' gaze left the forms he was filling in about farming, hearing the soft chuckle. He smiled, sliding his glasses off. He rubbed his eyes tiredly, placing them on the table. "Morning~" He purred, shooting Arthur a flirty smile. He pushed the chair back, reaching his hands towards the Englishman. Arthur slowly stood, shuffling over to Francis. Francis' fingers tangled with his, and he reached up to gently kiss his lips. Arthur blushed, the skin across his nose and cheeks tinged pink. With a smile, Francis pulled him onto his lap, cuddling him. He tried not to hold him too much, just resting a hand on his hip, for fear of overheating him again. Arthur's hand nervously curled round Francis' waist, his forehead leaning on his shoulder.

"I'm considering skipping tomorrow's meeting, too. I got far more work done than if I 'ad just sat there~" Arthur smiled in amusement, shrugging.
"I would, but I don't feel like receiving Germany's wrath. We should say we both fainted from heat stroke or got lost in the toilet or something."
"Lost in the toilet?"
"It could happen."
"Right..."

Francis shook his head, laughing gently at Arthur's excuses. Obviously he'd have to teach him the art of working his way out of punishments.