Okay, enough tension. Here's some FrUK, because I just couldn't take it anymore. XD

Warning: Lemon, FrUK (like legit smut), innuendo, mention of rape, comfort sex (somewhat), uke!England, fluff.

Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN HETALIA. I have fun manipulating their characters, though

Maybe

Francis couldn't remember being so excited for anything in his life. He turned on the water and hooked the hose into the tub. He breathed in the steam with a sigh. "Ah, hot water. I've missed you."

If he had a choice between a quick rinse in the shower or a long soak in the tub (which he did, since the others said they would take theirs tomorrow with it being so late), Francis would choose the latter. Not only because all the grime he had collected would never completely wash off with just a shower, but because now that Francis had been presented with the opportunity of a bath, he was immediately met with the memories of the rape and how he had never properly washed off afterward. He tried not to think about it often. After all, he had only been raped on one occasion (however by multiple men), and after hearing Red's report of how all the women had been forced into sexual service by the Organization (and no doubt many young girls and boys), Francis felt ashamed at the thought of even mentioning what had happened to him. That and it struck a blow at his control, what he always thought he had in situations pertaining to sex. He had won some back, sure, but his confidence was still lacking greatly compared to his old self.

He decided that busying himself with undressing would take his mind off the subject. While the tub filled, Francis piled his clothes on the floor. In normal circumstances he would take better care of his garments, but they had been through enough hell for their stay on the floor to have little to no effect on them.

The water was certainly hot, just below scalding, but Francis wouldn't have minded if it was boiling as long as it did its job. It took him a while to get all the way in, but when he did he just sat there for a moment, taking in the water enveloping him like a blanket and the steam making his head feel thick and dizzy. He closed his eyes and rested his head back against the tub. God, he could just live in here…

"Don't fall asleep, now."

The voice made Francis jump and snap his head up to see Arthur standing there with a bundle of clothes tucked under one arm, watching him. "Wouldn't want to see you drown in a tub after coming all this way."

Francis smiled in relief, his heart still fluttering from the scare. They were all too on edge of late. "Well, I don't know, cher. I just might. But there is a way to keep that from happening."

"Oh?"

Francis's smile stretched into a leer. "You could keep me awake." He moved a little to the side in the tub, the water sloshing as he did so, beckoning to Arthur. "Join me. It feels heavenly."

Arthur set his clothes down (he had packed his own, but they had been too thin to wear earlier during their trek through the snow) and began to remove the ones he was wearing. "I'm sure it does, if the choking steam isn't evidence enough."

Arthur could feel Francis's eyes on him the whole time he was undressing, which was nothing he wasn't used to or didn't expect. What he didn't expect was how stimulating it would be. He decided to get in before certain parts of him began to respond.

Compared to the cold they'd faced for weeks on end, the bath was nigh on boiling. Couple that with Arthur's delicate skin, and it was almost unbearable. Almost, Arthur thought as he sank in.

As soon as their skin touched, Arthur felt like he could finally relax. "God, you weren't wrong."

Francis smiled. "Am I ever?"

Arthur gave him a withering look before leaning his head back and closing his eyes. After a minute or so of quiet, Francis said, "We should probably wash."

Arthur exhaled in a gust. "Frankly, I don't think I'll be able to convince myself to move."

"You don't have to. I could wash you."

Arthur lifted one lid to eye him critically. "You'd like that, wouldn't you, wanker?"

"Why wouldn't I?" Francis replied with his signature charming smile. He hadn't sported it in so long his face hurt just to recreate it.

Arthur pulled himself into a seated position before rising to his knees and swinging one leg over Francis's lap, where shortly after he settled himself. He lazily drew his arms up around Francis's neck, leaning down to press their lips together. Surprised, but far from displeased, Francis wrapped his arms around Arthur's waist and reciprocated in kind.

"Hmm, careful now, cher," Francis scolded after ending the kiss. "Someone might walk in and catch us."

"Well, that would certainly be impossible," Arthur replied cheekily, nipping Francis's earlobe. "Considering I locked the door on my way in."

Francis couldn't keep a smirk from stretching across his face at that. "Ah, so you planned this?"

Arthur sat back and cocked his head, eyes going to the ceiling in ponderous thought before meeting Francis's gaze again. "More like you presented the opportunity. Besides, it isn't as if we'll have the privacy anywhere else in this bunker."

Francis ran his hands up Arthur's curving back, realizing how much he'd missed the feel of the Briton's skin. "You would be surprised how discreet I can be."

"As tempting as that offer sounds, I'd rather not take my chances," Arthur said firmly before curling his fingers in Francis's hair and continuing with his lips down his neck. "I fear we'd scar poor Alfred. You remember as well as I do that time he walked in on us when he was younger…"

Francis sighed and said, "Hm, oui, and you quit right in the middle of it to go out and explain it to him—which you barely did, as I came to understand a little later on."

Arthur huffed, pulling back and shaking his head in obvious distaste. "Yes, yes, I already know you wasted no time in sullying him after I left him to his own devices. I don't need to hear anymore than that, or all we'll be doing is washing ourselves."

"Oh?" Francis prompted, trailing a hand beneath the water and around Arthur's hip to run his fingers up the Briton's softened shaft. "You're having trouble? While that does not surprise me, I will be glad to help." And he curled his hand around Arthur's cock.

Arthur buried his nose in the crook of Francis's neck, nails digging into the man's shoulders. "Sod," he half groaned.

Francis knew that asking now would irritate Arthur, but he had to know in order to continue. "How are your hands?"

As he predicted, Arthur gave an annoyed sigh. "Fine, for Christ's sake. But I'll forget about them all the sooner if you'd fuck me."

Francis stopped what he was doing, shocked, until Arthur sat back, impatient. "What?" the Brit insisted.

"You have just asked me to fuck you, oui?" Francis ventured, heart starting to pound at just the thought.

Arthur glanced away. "Er, well, I figured I already had my turn playing top, so it would only be fair if I, you know." His face slowly reddened as he spoke until it was bright with his embarrassment. The truth was, he had been thinking about this day ever since that time in the tent when he thought Francis meant to top him. At first, he'd been relieved that it never played out that way, but afterward he felt a bit guilty. Francis had been raped, and Arthur didn't want to bring back memories of that experience further by continuing to top him. Despite only having done so once since it all started (their sex life had been quite dead for a while, as ironic as it sounded with Francis being the other half of the relationship) and knowing that with time Francis would heal from the physical and mental scars left over, he knew he needed to let Francis take control, if only on this one occasion. What Arthur wouldn't admit to himself was that he'd always had a lingering curiosity about how it would feel to be taken by Francis, if any of the rumors could attest.

Francis was happier than he had been since the Uprising began. He knew this was a big step for Arthur to take, and the fact that he was taking it for Francis reaffirmed the Frenchman's love for him. He lifted his hands to Arthur's face, turning it so that they met eyes. "Thank you, mon chéri."

Arthur's eyes darted away and he flushed another shade darker, if that was even possible. "W-we haven't even started yet, you twit…"

Francis took that as permission to start administering to Arthur again. The Briton groaned and rested his forehead on Francis's shoulder, arms tightening around the Frenchman as his cock was stroked by deft fingers. He hadn't gotten off in so long he was achingly hard within half a minute and was forced to tell Francis to stop or it might end too soon.

Francis laughed as he removed his hand. "Do not be ashamed, amour. You would not be the first to come early by my hand."

Arthur nipped harshly at Francis's neck. "You're really pushing your chances, frog."

Francis only hummed in response and slid his hands down to Arthur's ass, taking handfuls of flesh from each cheek.

"Unh," Arthur grunted, forgetting how arousing touch could be back there. He shifted a bit to distract from the embarrassing sound that had escaped him and trailed encouraging kisses down Francis's neck. He could feel Francis's smile against his cheek as fingers made their way to the cleft of his ass.

Francis took his sweet time teasing Arthur, rubbing his fingers in the sensitive cavern before venturing deeper to press at his hole. Francis, by this point, was beside himself. He couldn't believe that it took the end of the world for him to be in such a position with Arthur.

Arthur moaned louder than he would have preferred and pushed himself back into the teasing fingers. When Francis stopped, Arthur shifted. "Don't tell me your sex drive is gone, frog."

Francis sighed. "Amour, look at me."

Arthur returned the heavy breath, impatient, and drew back to do as he was told (all for Francis's well-being, mind you). He was flushed and panting, but his annoyance won out his embarrassment. "What? Not good enough for you?"

"No," Francis replied, giving the catty Brit a peck on the lips. "It's perfect. But… are you sure you want this?"

Arthur stared, gaping, for a moment, before he snapped, "You've been molesting me for years on end and now when I'm offering myself to you willingly, you're hesitant?"

Francis blinked, realizing how stupid it sounded, but he continued nonetheless, "I just don't want to cause you harm, cher. I don't know if you're ready."

Arthur stared for a few more seconds until he had the sense to shut his mouth and snatch up Francis's hand, taking hold of a slender finger and directing it to his hole. "Harm? You know well I'm not a virgin."

Francis moved his hand out of Arthur's grip. "I know… but are you ready for this?"

Arthur huffed before coming to a realization. He met Francis's eyes and said, "I think that's a question you're asking yourself, love."

Francis's eyes went wide at that and quickly darted away, hand retracting to rest on Arthur's hip, fingers curling in self doubt. Was he ready for this? He scoffed inwardly. What a question to ask himself. He thrived on encounters like this (especially since it was with Arthur), and now when he finally had someone he'd wanted for hundreds of years in his grasp, actually compliant, his brain had to go and make things complicated.

He knew why. He didn't like returning to his rape, but for some reason Arthur sitting in his lap forced him to relive it somewhat. He could squash the images, he found, but he could never banish the scars. It seemed stupid for Francis of all people to be compromised over something that was… that was… well, what was it to him, exactly? He tried to come up with an answer, but then he realized that he was starting to shake. Francis became angry at himself—frustrated. Arthur was right there, so close after so long, and now Francis couldn't do what he wanted because of what those men had done to him. It made him feel weak and helpless, like a cripple. He didn't feel like himself anymore. This apprehension he possessed was not like him. Hell, he wasn't sure if he still was him.

Arthur was alarmed when he felt Francis trembling beneath him. "Francis?" He took the man's hand in his and laced their fingers together. "Francis, there's nothing wrong—"

"Mais, there is," Francis insisted, unnerved by how feathery his voice sounded. He shook his head and lowered it, grateful for the hair spilling over his ashamed face. A pity he couldn't hide his crying as well.

Arthur didn't know how to approach a situation like this, especially when it involved Francis. But his body moved without his control, hands going to either side of Francis's face and tipping the man's head back up. Arthur's heart sank. He had seen Francis cry before, but this… it was self-torture.

I shouldn't have come in, Arthur thought. I should have known he wouldn't be able to take this. It's too soon.

"Francis," Arthur began softly, not wanting to set the man off further. Francis was currently trying to regain some composure, but his flushed face and swimming eyes remained unchanged. Arthur wiped the tears that escaped with his thumbs. "We don't have to do this now. We can wait."

That only made Francis distress more. "No, cher, we can't. We might die soon. I… I don't want to be the reason why we never got to do this if we are killed."

Arthur took a deep breath, though he inwardly agreed with Francis, he couldn't just let the man continue to blame himself as a result of an event that had been beyond his control. "Francis, this is not your fault. Tell me you know that." When Francis didn't do anything but sniff, Arthur urged, "Tell me, Francis."

"It's… it's not m-my fault," Francis conceded, though Arthur could tell by his enduring tears that Francis himself did not truly believe the words he'd said.

"It isn't your fault," Arthur insisted, kissing Francis's forehead. "And not doing this won't make me angry."

"But I want to do this," Francis said, sniffling.

"Then we can," Arthur replied, brushing back Francis's hair from his face. "I love you, Francis, and no matter what happens, I'm here. I know I can't ask you to forget. There are some things none of us can forget. But I'm willing to help you through whatever is troubling you." He swallowed mentioning the reason behind Francis's breakdown. "Just… just watch me." Arthur felt uncomfortable just saying it, but he knew this was something that might work. "Keep your eyes open and on me, okay?"

Francis gave one last sniff and allowed Arthur to place his hands back on the Briton's ass. "D-d'accord."

Arthur nodded in encouragement, slowly easing Francis's fingers into his crease. "Easy now, ah…"

Francis didn't know at first what Arthur's intentions were regarding his desire for Francis to watch him, but when he witnessed Arthur bite his lip in obvious pleasure Francis had an idea why. He longed to see more of Arthur, to have the man fill his mind's eye instead of the horrible images and feelings that were lurking inside. Spurned, he dug his fingers in deeper, once again finding Arthur's hole and pressing at it.

Arthur wanted to hide his face and swallow the aroused little noises he made every time even one of Francis's fingers so much as ghosted over his skin, but the way Francis was obediently holding Arthur's gaze, how those eyes seemed to drink in Arthur's every reaction, ensnared the Briton. Arthur's confidence was waning, but just knowing Francis was regaining his own was enough for him to endure. So, when Francis breached Arthur's insides with a gentle fingertip, the latter did not hide. This was, after all, for Francis.

I want you back, Arthur thought as the finger plunged deeper, and he let out a hiss at how uncomfortable it felt to have something up there after so long. God, what have they done to you, Francis? What happened to all of your pervy comments? Why does your smile never reach your eyes? Don't let them change who you are, dirty frog. I will not lose you as well. He scoffed mentally at thinking such cheesy absurdities, but he found that he did not feel ashamed, that every word of his musings were rooted deeply in his subconscious as genuine concerns. He was never more aware of how much he loved Francis than now, and it came as a surprise. But it was a happy surprise.

Francis wormed another finger into Arthur's ass and then began to thrust both softly. Arthur's face scrunched up a bit at the discomfort he felt, eyes squinted shut for a moment before Francis was once again met with hooded green irises and parted pink lips. He immediately concluded that it was a sight he would never tire of.

The sting in Arthur's ass was something that would have bothered him before his hands had been burned and various other events had damaged his body. But he didn't have to experience it long, he was shocked to find. "A-ah, God!" Arthur's fingers dug into Francis's shoulders and his back curved inward like a cat's. After getting his voice in check, Arthur searched Francis's gaze with surprise. "How in the bloody hell did you do that?" No one had been able to locate his prostate so quickly, not even Arthur himself (which, saying it that way, seemed pretty pathetic).

Francis smirked. "You are asking me that, cher?"

Arthur snorted but was too relieved to see Francis back to his old tricks to remark. Instead, he rocked his hips to the slow rhythm Francis had set with his fingers, a moan working up from his throat every time his sweet spot was touched. It felt so good to be on the receiving end, Arthur had to admit, even if they were just in the stretching phase. Considering the length of time that had passed between Arthur being in such a position and now, a little pain was only predictable. It was also predictable that the initial penetration would hurt, but Francis's teasing fingers made him forget about that.

As much as Francis would have loved to keep going so that he could see Arthur squirm, he decided that the man didn't deserve to be teased for so long, especially since their bodies were so weak from devoting so much energy just to survive. He extracted his fingers and directed them to wrap around his own cock, relieved to feel that he didn't need to waste further time getting himself prepared (or that he, thankfully, hadn't gone soft with his little meltdown). He seized those panting lips that had in turn been visually teasing him, working them apart and convincing Arthur's wall of teeth to allow him to explore. Arthur conceded and moaned at the thrill of heat that rolled through his body, warm fingers that spread out under his skin. That alone could have been enough, but when Arthur felt Francis's cock stir against his ass, he ended the kiss.

"Do it," Arthur all but ordered, though it was hard to discern the sternness of it for the Brit's heavy breath and pleading expression. "Please, Francis."

As much as it aroused Francis to hear Arthur begging for him, he knew very well that going too far too fast could hurt the both of them, and that was the last thing he wanted and they needed. He fixed Arthur with a concerned stare and said, "You are ready?"

Arthur smiled, and fuck, had Francis missed that smile. "As ready as you are, love."

And Francis was ready. He kept telling himself that as he lined himself up with Arthur's stretched entrance. All the other times he'd slept with Arthur since their relationship began he had been in a submissive position (mostly for Arthur's sake), before and after his rape, but this would truly be his chance to reassert control and regain the dominance he'd lost. How could he not take the opportunity when for two straight months his life had been dictated by a horde of homicidal maniacs?

"Ngh." Arthur winced, nails leaving crescent-shaped marks on Francis's slick skin.

"Are you okay?" Francis asked, guilty that they were doing this in the bath where proper lubricant would be washed away by the water.

"Y-yeah," Arthur assured, composing himself at Francis's voiced concern, but he could tell by the Frenchman's easing minitrations that he did not believe him. "I'm fine," Arthur insisted, startled that Francis's cock felt so big in him when only half had managed to breach him. Wow, it really had been a long time…

"Unf," Arthur grunted when Francis was seated all the way inside. To help stem his discomfort, Francis took up Arthur's depraved cock and set to stroking it. Arthur groaned and buried his nose in Francis's neck, distracting himself by tasting the skin he found there. Francis slid all the way inside.

"Mmm." Arthur was tight and soft inside, sapping all of Francis's endurance to the point he thought he might come too early, and Arthur's teasing did not help him. He shifted his hips a bit, silently urging Arthur to move. He wished he were in a position to administer completely to Arthur himself so that the Brit wasn't the only one burning much-needed energy, but he knew Arthur would have it no other way. If Arthur was bottoming he was bottoming from the top, and Francis didn't need to be told to acknowledge that, knowing Arthur so well.

Arthur got the hint and banished his sluggishness caused by the bathwater to do his bit. Resting his forehead on Francis's warm, familiar shoulder, he began to ride the man he'd sworn he would never sleep with for centuries. The irony was lost on him as he was finally able to glean some pleasure from the cock in his ass. He lifted his head to rest it against Francis's shoulder, his moans reverberating in his lover's ear and sending a shudder through the other man's body. Francis guided Arthur by his hips, and soon they had set a pace that had them both voicing their pleasure. Fuck, Arthur had forgotten how good it felt to be fucked.

When Francis felt Arthur growing restless against him, he decided to quicken their activities. At this, he received an appreciative groan of, "Oh, G-God, Francis," and Arthur crashed their lips together in a desperate attempt to silence any other passionate outbursts. But Francis knew what Arthur was playing at. He hadn't associated with Arthur for hundreds of years and been oblivious to the man's every tendency. Francis pulled his lips away, receiving a whine from Arthur that was promptly cut off, urging Arthur's back erect so he could have proper access to the man's front.

"Arthur, you do not have to hide anything from me," Francis told his lover between kissing a line down Arthur's neck to his collarbone. "Je veux écouter ton voix."

Arthur hated the fact that the gruffly-spoken French made him shiver, but that could just be Francis trailing the tip of his tongue around one of his nipples. "Y-you're such a fucking fro—fuck."

Francis had latched onto the nub with his teeth and gently tugged, sending Arthur into fits of unsuppressed moans, his hips nearly pistoning. By the time Francis took the whole thing into his mouth, suckling, Arthur was pulling at his hair until he got Francis's attention and rattled out, "Francis, fuck, touch me, please, my cock… touch my cock, please." Arthur felt he had never wanted anything more in his entire life than to get off right then with Francis's cock up his ass.

Francis couldn't ignore such a sweet beg, and his hand plunged down into the water, now sloshing around them, to wrap around Arthur, pumping him in the hurried rhythm of their lovemaking.

"Francis—shit, oh God," Arthur groaned throwing his head back and allowing Francis to discover and ravage new expanses of skin. Arthur clutched Francis to him, suddenly seized with a fear of losing him. He was moving to such an extent that he knew his body would ache afterward, and he knew from the start that his ass would be sore, but all that mattered was the release he'd been needing for so long.

Francis made his way up Arthur's neck to his ear, brushing his lips over the shell of it, breathing a warm, "Je t'aime," before trailing up his jaw, swallowing Arthur's persisting moans in breathless kisses. Arthur reciprocated to the best of his abilities, but Francis's cock moving in him and assaulting his previously dormant prostate proved extremely distracting, and he allowed himself to be plundered without complaint.

Francis squeezing his cock with every strike of his sweet spot got him off in the end. Arthur became so in need of air that he was forced to part with Francis's insistent lips and rest his forehead against the other's, shuddering and twitching and clutching in orgasm, biting his tongue to silence himself in case others heard. Francis's hand did not still on him, milking him completely and then some, not wholly stopping until he himself had come with a quivering breath and a few French swears.

It took longer than usual for Arthur to fully recover, a span of about two minutes during which all that could be heard was labored breathing and rippling water. The feel of Francis's cum in his ass shouldn't feel nice, Arthur told himself, but his satisfaction won out over his usual emotions. He opened his eyes to see Francis's blue ones staring at him, observing him. Arthur wanted to scoff, but he could only smile, and a laugh somehow slipped out.

That made Francis smile as well. "Something is funny?"

Arthur shook his head and lifted himself off of Francis's cock, feeling already empty without him, moving his cramped legs over so that he was sitting between Francis's and leaning back against him. He let his head rest on the man's chest, growing drowsy with the rhythmic rise and fall of his ribcage and the warmth of the bath. "Nothing. I just never thought I'd do that."

Francis shrugged, a smug look taking over his face. "It was bound to happen sometime, amour."

Arthur rolled his eyes, but his smile didn't fade. He was glad that the Frenchman didn't see it. He was sure it was pretty inane. Although that could just be from the intense orgasm he just had. "There's the frog I know."

Eventually, they decided it best to wash themselves. They were too tired to participate in anymore activities apart from occasionally touching each other as they worked the soap into their skin or scooped water over their heads. Arthur's hands were relieved by the water, it having cooled significantly. They did not speak to each other, relishing the time they had together, the silence too precious to break. All that could be said had been, and by the time they finished they had settled back into their previous position, with Arthur leaning onto Francis from between the man's legs with Francis's arms around his waist.

They sat in the water for five minutes more, not caring if the bath was cold or dirty, just enjoying each others' presence. Arthur vaguely wondered how Alfred's face would look if he happened to walk in on them now instead of when they were engaged in hate sex (it had only continued to second base, really). The idea made him snicker, feeling giddier than usual, and he woke Francis from a doze.

"We should probably get out," the Frenchman suggested.

"Definitely," Arthur agreed, using Francis's legs to propel himself up. "They'll know what we did in here, no doubt, judging from how long your bath took and the fact that we're both missing simultaneously." Try as he might, he couldn't keep a smirk from pulling at his lips.

Francis returned the expression, placing his hands on the side of the tub to help himself stand as Arthur stepped out. "You are the one who started it."

Arthur snorted, snatching up a towel and drying off his hair. "Like you didn't want it, dirty wanker." The words were snappish, but the smirk remained.

Francis got out of the tub and grabbed a towel of his own, distracted from drying himself by watching Arthur standing there, naked and wet and still flushed with sex and, well, by all means his. Before he could stop himself, he said, "I suppose if I were to ask you to marry me now, I would not have to wrestle you into it."

The statement caught Arthur off-guard, and he paused, back to Francis. The Frenchman bit his lip, heart pounding, wishing he could see Arthur's face to take in his current expression, whether what Francis had said would push the man away. Francis opened his mouth after half a minute, going to take back what he'd said, correct it, laugh it off, whatever it took to keep Arthur with him. But then Arthur cleared his throat, and Francis froze.

"Is that a request, frog?" Arthur still had his back to him, but now he turned to regard him with the same flirtatious (Francis thought he would never use that adjective with the Brit) smirk he had given him earlier. But it didn't reach Arthur's eyes. Instead, what he saw there was the sincerity of the question.

And Francis was awestruck. So much so that he didn't know how to respond. He stood there, blithering like an idiot while feeling so high he could barely remember to breathe. When Francis finally got a hold of himself, Arthur was staring at him, smirk disappeared, appearing… hurt. Francis supposed he was smiling and blubbering so much that the man had perceived that he was laughing, as if at a joke. Francis promptly corrected himself then.

And walked over to Arthur, grabbed his face, and kissed him.

"If you want, more than a request," Francis answered, Arthur's face heating in his hands as a flush took over the other man's face.

And then Arthur was the one that was blithering. It was as if his tongue forgot how to form words. "Er… I…wow, um," Arthur faltered, unable to tear his eyes away from the man who was looking so adoringly at him. It was overwhelming, almost suffocating, the weight of what Francis was asking of him. But it was also exhilarating. His choice. It had nothing to do with the world, nor his duties as a country. This was just for him and Francis and no one else. And, at the moment, he forgot about everything that had happened and stopped worrying about what might happen. It was as if they were standing on a whole other plane of time.

Then Arthur found his voice and wrapped his arms around Francis's waist, pulling the man to him and feeling his warmth. He had missed the feel of someone else's skin against his own, but he knew he would receive no such satisfaction from touch unless it was with Francis. He propped his head comfortably beneath Francis's chin and said thoughtfully, "No… maybe you won't have to wrestle me this time."

Elation burst within Francis, but he knew Arthur wouldn't take kindly to him jumping up and down. Besides, his back kind of hurt from rubbing up against the tub. So he just smiled and said, "Hmm, I have always wondered how you would look in a wedding dress."

"And I've always wondered how you would sound if I kicked you in the bollocks."

Francis took a few steps back, understandably, a horrified expression on his face. "Mais, cher, you cannot do that! How else are we to have children?"

Arthur gaped. "And what makes you think we'll manage that nonsensical feat of science?"

Francis shrugged. "Your hips appear very promising in that department."

Arthur was about to deny Francis outright, and then he recalled his escape from that bunker in Wyoming and how he almost never had escaped because his hips had become stuck in a window. He felt his hip with a hand and gave a defeated but no less sharp, "Shut up."

He kind of wished the smile would go away now. It was starting to hurt his face.

Translations:

D'accord-Okay

Je veux écouter ton voix-I want to hear your voice

A Word From the Writer: D'aww, the little passive-aggressive kinda proposal acceptance at the end. Hips don't lie, England, hips don't lie.

Phew, that felt great to get out of my system. It was about time they got together again, goddamn. It was almost like I was torturing myself by not writing this scene, and I could have written it any time, but I wanted to have them do it in a bathtub, so I waited. And waited. And waited. And thank fuck I can't get blueballs else I think mine would have shriveled up into raisins and dropped off long before this, haha. On top of that, I think my Bell's Palsy is going away now. Yay!

Don't think this is the last bit of smut you'll get. There's still more to come... hehe, get it? Sometimes I think I have the mind of a 12-year-old boy, but no one's complaining, right?