I'm sorry everyone who tried to read this previously and was thrown error in their face, my stories happen to do this alot when first submitted and published without myself standing there to keep an eye on them so please if you know how these happen I would be grateful to know. Each story with these errors will be fixed as soon as possible and thank you for putting up with these difficulties. Thank you
Francis sat down in his car seat and sighed. He was relived that the meeting was finally over with. It had left him in a exhausted and sour mood. Not only did the meeting end in a large fight between some nations it had also left France in total shock and, quite frankly, embarrassment.
Arthur, the personification of England, had managed to cook something delicious. Plus, it was better then his dish.
England always managed to burn his food or make it into a disgusting blob of... Whatever it was. He could even burn water, besides if it was for his tea. Tea was the only thing he could make that wasn't utterly gross. The tables have turned though, and faster then expected.
Something wasn't right. Someone that hasn't been able to cook in years (centuries even) cooked something! Francis couldn't get over it! The change was to quick, to sudden. It was impossible to learn in a snap of your fingers. One thing was for sure, Francis wasn't going to let this slide. No one beats him at cooking the finest cuisine, especially not England.
He turned on his car and drove out of the parking lot. He wasn't going home though, he was going to England's house.
France parked his car a block away from Arthur's house so there would be so suspicion of him being there. Francis looked through the windows of Arthur's home to make sure the Brit wasn't home. After confirming that England was nowhere to be seen he made his way towards the back door and picked the lock to the door. He has done this to many times that it could be considered unhealthy. After successfully unlocked the door, he crept his way towards the kitchen. He started going through cabinets and cupboards, trying find Arthur's secret to cooking.
"It has to be somewhere..." He mumbled to himself while looking through a drawer.
Exhausted after an entire day of impressing people England took refuge in his car and turned the key sighing in relief and a joyful grin covering his face from cheek to cheek " it finally worked, I don't even know what to say it actually worked after years of embarrassment and bullying " he hissed to himself still clearly annoyed and skeptical of its reality " maybe I could even improve myself everywhere else! Like dressing better than Francis! Drinking more than Germany and still being able to hold meetings"
Ideas racing in his mind he briefly forgot that he was ready to go home " Ah yes! " He snapped back remembering as he felt the stinging cold of London outside his car. Driving away he looked into his rear mirror when flashed by some headlights he caught sight of his venom coloured eyes and grinned. Smiling at his brilliant eyes that usually earn him compliments there was a flash of a glowing substance within his iris leaving him panicked with a harsh break to the car feeling his face for reassurance it was still there.
Taking a few moments he calmed down and figured sleep was the antidote for his vision considering the late time and made route back home through the fastest shortcut.
Reaching his home several minutes later he failed to notice the Frenchman's disgusting convertible on the way home from yawning and rubbing his tired eyes, he couldn't have gotten home at a better time as he threw the car door open and slumped himself to his front door almost forgetting to lock his car door until it hooked loudly as he left it's area limit " fine fine quit nagging me" the Britishman mumbled to the car as though he was cooing a baby to sleep and locks the car.
The Frenchman quickly started to panic after hearing the Brit's car turn into its driveway.
"Merde merde merde! Where do I hide?!" Muttered in a panicked voice. He knew he wouldn't be able to hide in the cabinets since he's obviously to big. He looked around the first floor trying to find a place to stay hidden.
Arthur opened the front door and danced in a dizzy fashion to the livingroom without the flick of a lightswitch and flopped down onto the soft carpet floor like a plank of wood, he was exhausted more than ever and found sleeping on the carpet to manage for the time being.
Instantly falling asleep on the floor snoring, fully clothed and damp from the awful weather outside he was no doubt going to wake up with a sore back, fever or worse.
Francis couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief. Arthur was too exhausted from the meeting to even remotely notice that Frenchman was in home. Although he couldn't help but to feel sorry for the Brit.
The question of Arthur being so tired was a mystery, but there was no doubt that the Brit would be terribly sick. Francis ha to chose between doing what most people would do to their enemy and the right thing to do. Leave him or at least help him into his room. France thought about it for a moment and eventually decided help out the unconscious Brit. He could possibly get something in return for the generous act.
The Frenchman picked up Arthur bridal style and started carrying the Brit up to his room. The damp clothes made it harder for France to carry him, but there wasn't much he could do about it at the moment. He would have to wait t'ill he was in Arthur's room to undress him.
Undress... Arthur. Francis suddenly realized that he would probably have to put Arthur into pyjamas or some other form of clothing. Francis's face became a bright red as his imagination started to. Get the best of him. Lord curse his perverted mind.
Snoring all the way through the journey Arthur curled into the new warmth " huh? Wha...are you taking me home?" clearly too sleepy to see clearly and just begins mumbling and grinning " could you read me a story and tuck me into Bed?" yawning with his eyes tightly clenched shut and occasionally rubbing them
'Curses! Why must he act so innocent when he's half asleep!' Francis thought, wanting to slap himself for thinking such profanities. He finally made it to Arthur's room and managed to clear some of the dirty thoughts out of his mind. The room wasn't anything special. It had a dresser, closet, bed and a nightstand along with a couple other things. He laid Arthur down on his bed and started to look for pyjamas or something that the Brit could wear to bed. After looking through the variety of horrid clothing he decided to pick out a simple dark green t-shirt along why some grey sweatpants. It wasn't something Francis would ever wear but he knew that Arthur wouldn't mind wearing ugly clothes.
He walked back over to the bed where Arthur was resting. He was trying his best to keep his lip from quivering up to a smile. He sat Arthur up and striped off the brit's current shirt and quickly replaced it with the clean one. Now he had one more obstacle to face. Taking off Arthur's pants. It shouldn't be a problem to take off Arthur's pants but it was. They were enemies! Rivals! He shouldn't be taking off Arthur's pants! His hand shook slightly as his hand made its way towards the pant button.
"Tu peut le faire (You can do this)" he told himself "You've taken off someone's pants before you can do it again"
" Francis... Stop hesitating I feel all Yucky" Arthur moaned actually awake enough to know some of the situation happening and didn't seem to care " get me dressed and read me a story" he yawned once more and closed his eyes
Francis froze for a moment hearing his name. He was surprised that he wasn't strangled at the sight not yelled at. He relaxed after confirming that Arthur seemed harmless at the moment. He took off the British man's pants but left his boxers on (although it was tempting to take those off too). He slipped on the sweatpants with minimal effort. It was easier then taking off soaking wet pants.
" thanks...now read me a story if your going to invade my house and snoop around, you can atleast look after me if your going to stay here " resting under the covers now he bundles up in a fetal position shivering and clearly cold " can you cuddle up with me...I'm cold and you used to do it with me as kids "
Francis cheeks turned bright pink. Arthur never EVER showed the Frenchman any affection. Francis would always try to show some sort of affection to the English man once and a while but never got any in return, instead he got a slap in the face. Francis seemed a little hesitant and nervous even (not that he'd ever admit it) before lying in bed with the shivering Brit.
"D'accord. But don't choke me when you suddenly feel embarrassed about it" he mumbled, feeling a little sleepy himself.
Laughing he shook his sleepy head lightly and cuddled into the Frenchman ignoring his stinky perfume " im too tired to slap you, I'm too tired to even ask why your here and punish you for it, God sake I even let you undress me so I think your safe" trying to get more comfortable he wriggles around and stops when he uncovers several spell books and throws them on the ground not realising that's the evidence Francis had been seeking the entire time.
Francis wondered what was the object Arthur had thrown but couldn't investigate due to his current situation. He decided to let it be for the moment and wrapped his arm around Arthur.
'I'll go see what it is when he falls asleep' he thought to himself, not realizing that he was falling asleep as well.
Half asleep and drifting off to a deep slumber Arthur mumbles proudly " Hey maybe I'll make you breakfast in the morning this time afterall my food is well liked from what I've seen " gloating for once he fell asleep with a smile knowing no one was mocking his cooking behind his back and telling him off for even trying.
Francis let out a little scoff "ouias ouias. Ont verra.. (Yeah yeah... We'll see)" he said before drifting to sleep.
In the following morning in London the sun had risen and the rain had visited Britain three times already ( it is Britain afterall) and Arthur was already up earlier than usual straightening his tie for his new tweed suit " Francis you need to get up honestly it's like your living all day in bed, get up and dressed before I leave" walking to the Frenchman's side he leaves a silver tray containing hot chocolate and pastries that he knew the Frenchman would see as curtsey from the Brit " now get up I'm leaving for work soon and don't make me remind you that you were an uninvited guest here" throwing his matching tweed jacket on he leaves.
The room was squeaky clean compared to the night previous and even the books and clothes he threw on the floor were folded and neatly stacked, the evidence was also stored in a convenient little pile for the Frenchman to ponder at later. " Fine if your going to be had way let yourself out just don't mess up my house" coming back in to take his phone.
Francis grumbled as he sat up. His hair was messy and he was still wearing clothes from the previous day. He yawned as he rubbed the tiredness out of his eyes. "Bon matin Angleterre (Good morning England)" he said with sleep still lingering in his mind. "Where are you going?"
" I have a meeting with my boss of course so I got up nice and early so I could look good and clean the room" looking once more in the mirror he smiles at his clean appearance and walks to Francis' side " ill see you later just let yourself out and I made breakfast already so don't touch my kitchen or that convertible outside is going to get a makeover " leaning down and kissing Francis on the cheek the Brit smirks with a flash of green glowing from his sinister looking eyes " bye see you later" walks out of the room.
France held in a scream and covered his hands over his mouth. Were England's eyes glowing? He asked himself that question several times, watching England walk out of the room in a prideful manner. He knew this couldn't be normal, it could only be one thing.
Magic.
Arthur used magic. Francis figured it all out. Arthur castes a spell to enable him to cook well. Francis would reveal this to the other nations and Arthur will be left in total despair.
It was perfect! Fool proof plan to bust England. On the other hand... Did England just kiss him on the cheek!
Thank you for reading and I must remind in all of my stories that I do not own Hetalia nor do I own any of their fabulous characters ( wish I did ) So please no suing me.
Kirklands.