Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.

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Again, Arthur arrived at the station earlier than he should have. But this time, it was not pure coincidence—he had planned to arrive earlier than usual. As Arthur read his book, he had expected the long haired man to come and sit on the front bench, just right in front of him. So he waited for two things; the mysterious man and his train.

A presence alarmed him. Arthur looked up from his book and turned around; sure enough, the man he had been waiting for had arrived. Just as he expected, the man was the same man from yesterday and the day before; long blonde hair sitting just on his shoulders, and the same trench coat. As the man passed by, Arthur glanced at the clock on the nearest wall; four o'clock sharp. Arthur glanced back at the man who approached the vacant bench in front of him and sat just right in front of him.

Arthur paused before bookmarking his book and closing it. He stood up, picking his bag up, and walked to the front bench. He was going to try to greet the man. If the man did not acknowledge him, then Arthur might as well sit there and continue reading his book since he did plan to sit beside the man.

The blonde Brit sat down, setting his bag down on the floor since the bench only available for two seats. Arthur propped his elbows on his thighs, his book still in hand. He took a deep breath, before opening his mouth.

"Good afternoon," he greeted, making sure his voice was loud enough for the man beside him to hear.

The man blinked twice, turning his face towards him, then looked around, before looking at Arthur again, bewildered. The long haired man hesitantly opened his mouth, "moi?"

So he was French, Arthur thought. "Well, who else did I greet?" he asked sarcastically. Arthur noticed that the other man had dark blue eyes and thin, well-trimmed stubble around his chin. The Frenchman was probably around Arthur's age, maybe older.

"A-ah, excusez-moi! I thought you were greeting someone else," the Frenchman said apologetically.

Arthur chuckled. "Who else is here aside from us?"

"Ah, désulé," the Frenchman muttered.

"So you're French?" Arthur asked.

The man nodded with a smile. "Oui, je suis française," he said.

"But you can speak English, can't you?"

"Oh, how rude of you! Of course I can speak English!" the Frenchman exclaimed, annoyed.

"Well, I thought you were the type who is too proud to speak English as a second language, but I'm relieved to hear it."

The Frenchman huffed.

Arthur chuckled. "Okay, fine. I'm sorry," he said, extending his hand. "My name is Arthur Kirkland. Nice to meet you."

The Frenchman looked at his hand before happily accepted the handshake. "Je m'appelle Francis Bonnefoy."

Arthur nodded with smile, before noticing that the other's hand was somehow—cold? It was late spring and the sunshine was pretty hot outside. How come the hand felt cold? Could the other man be from a Wallmart before he went here? Probably so. They have air conditioner, so it should be cold in Wallmart.

Arthur broke the handshake, giving no further thoughts about it. He paused. "So, I see you came in exactly at four o'clock in the last three days," he stated.

"Ah, oui," Francis nodded, "I'm here to pick up my friends."

"They're coming here?"

Francis nodded again. "Both of them live separated, but we're good friends," he said with a smile. "I really do hope they're coming. I have already booked two hotel rooms for them."

The Brit frowned. "Wait, you came here for three days just to wait for them to arrive?"

"Uh, not really. I've come here before. Is it wrong?" Francis asked.

Arthur raised an eyebrow. If Francis had ever come here before, then why did Arthur never noticed him until two days ago? Was it because he usually hung out in Kiku's apartment while waiting for his train? Probably so, because Francis might always be coming at four, while Arthur's train arrive at five thirty. He just coincidentally arrived earlier two days ago, so that was why he just noticed Francis was there that day.

"They said they would come soon, so I wait here," Francis continued. "But they hadn't arrived yet. That's why I come again today."

Arthur stared at Francis. "Maybe you should send a message to them, ask them when they will be coming," he suggested.

Francis laughed nervously. "Ah, I left my phone in my apartment. I came hurriedly so..."

The blonde Brit brought his palm to his head with a sigh. "Did you three agree on when to pick them up?" he asked.

"... Non...?"

Arthur sighed again. "You're hopeless," he muttered. "You might as well wait here for the rest of your life. There's a chance that they lied to you, claiming to come here but in truth they went on a holiday without you."

"But the last message I received was they will be here soon!" Francis objected. "I may didn't ask when they will arrive specifically, but I just have to come here real quick to pick them up."

Arthur sighed for the third time. "Then you'll have to wait forever! You know you three have to agree on when to pick them up if they're really planning on coming here!"

"But I'm the one who ask them to come over! They can't refuse my request, can they?"

"Look here, git." Arthur's patience started to wear off. "If you're the one who ask them to come over, then they had two choices; yes or no. If they said yes, they should have been here two days ago! They're not here right now, and this is the umpteenth day you've come here, so they clearly said no to your invitation!"

"How can you be sure that they declined my invitation? There are chances that they can't come because of something, and I haven't received a message that said they're canceling the plan! So what makes you convinced that they refused my invitation? If you're a wizard, then it's a whole different story! But clearly, you're not a wizard! You don't even look like one! So I don't believe a word you said!"

"Oh, so you're telling me that you only believe me if I'm a wizard, git?!"

"Oui, and as I've said, you're not. So I don't believe you." Francis crossed his arms and looked away with a huff.

"Tch, whatever you said, then. Don't come crawling to me if they really don't come and cancel their plan!"

"Haa? Who wants to crawl to you of all people? And by the way, I don't crawl—I'd walk elegantly." Sparkles suddenly appeared around Francis as he waved his long blonde hair.

Arthur growled, veins appearing around his temple. "If this isn't a public area, I'd love to kill you right here."

Francis scoffed. "Try killing me, then. You don't have the guts."

"Hmph, we'll see about that."

Francis did a double take. "W-wait, you're actually going to kill me?"

"Well, there are so many things that can turn into weapons here, and the bathroom is over there—"

"Y-you're not going to kill innocent people, are you, cher Arthur? After all, I didn't do anything."

"Don't call me that, frog!"

"Quoi? What the hell did you just call me?!"

"Frog! You happy?! That's why don't call me like that!"

"But your name is Arthur, non?"

"You add something in front of my name, git!"

"Oh, you mean cher? What, you don't want me to call you cher?" Francis winked. "Or maybe you just don't know the meaning of cher because you can't understand la langue française?" he grinned.

Arthur scoffed. "If I didn't understand French, I wouldn't have understood what you were saying minutes ago."

Francis pondered this. "Hmm, you have a point."

"I know that cher means dear in French, so don't you even dare to call me dear."

"Oh, so you know!"

"Of course I know, git! I learned French when I was a wee lad! In fact, I was forced to!" It was a lie, but Arthur couldn't help it. This man was more annoying than he would expect.

Francis giggled. "An Englishman speaking French! C'est mignon!"

"It's not cute at all, frog!"

And they kept on like that, bickering and shouting profanities at each other, despite they were complete strangers and they had just met. They argued about one thing after another, changing from discussing something into debating senselessly, or worse; shouting senselessly at one another. One side had his strong opinion, the other mocked his opinion and claiming his own opinion was far more superior, and then it escalated quickly into a full-blown fight of two adult men. Both Arthur and Francis were too stubborn and hard-headed to give up. When Arthur's train arrived, the duo was almost strangling each other.

Arthur glanced at his supposed train, and loosened his grip around Francis' neck. "Tch, it's about damn time," he grumbled as both of them released their grips around each other's neck. Arthur went to the bench to retrieve his book and his bag, then walked away from Francis.

The Brit was halfway to the platform when Francis shouted, "See you tomorrow, rosbif!"

A tick of vein popped out on Arthur's temple. He turned around. "What the bloody hell did you just call me, frog?!"

"Rosbif! You happy?! That's why don't call me frog!" Francis snickered.

Hearing the familiar phrase, Arthur growled. "You little—"

Unfortunately, a female voice told the passengers of the train to board through the intercom. Arthur clicked his tongue in dismay. "Fine! Count yourself lucky this time, git! Tomorrow, I'll definitely strangle you!" he shouted, pointing at Francis as he approached the train.

Francis' face beamed. "Oh, so you're going to meet me tomorrow? How exciting!" he squealed.

"Yes, and I'll surely strangle you tomorrow! See to it!"

Arthur sat on his usual seat by the window and put his bag on his side seat. He looked outside the window; Francis was still standing there, waving his hand at him with a big grin on his face. Arthur deadpanned, thinking of what to do as a reply when the train started to move. Francis was still waving his hand outside, that big grin never left his face. Arthur sighed. Maybe a wave of hand wouldn't hurt.

The blonde Brit then waved his hand once towards the Frenchman. He saw Francis opened his mouth, probably laughed, and proceeded to wave his hand joyously.

Arthur huffed. Why would Francis be happy when he waved back at him? Ah, well. This was the first time he made a friend outside of college environment. Though Francis was annoying and often getting on his nerves, Arthur decided to give this friendship a chance. Maybe they could work something out instead of fighting their heads off.

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"I just made a friend," Arthur said.

Both Seamus and Dylan turned to him, their green eyes widened in shock.

"Really, brother?!" Seamus asked, and Arthur nodded.

"Whoa, that's something!" Dylan exclaimed. "Tell us more! Tell us more!"

Arthur paused for a moment, leaning on the sofa. "You remember the night before, when we had dinner, and I told you that I saw a weird man in the station," he said.

Seamus nodded. Dylan frowned. "Don't tell me you were befriending that man," he muttered.

"He was a Frenchman, and in fact, yes, I was," Arthur nodded. "He was a pain in the arse, and we fought a lot even in our first meeting. But, uh, I suppose we can work something out."

Seamus applauded. "This is the first time our dearest Arthur made a friend outside of college," he stated, slinging his arm around Arthur's neck. "I'm so proud of you, boy-o."

"Yes, yes. Now bugger off," Arthur grumbled, pushing Seamus away.

"Is he safe?" Dylan suddenly asked.

Both Seamus and Arthur turned to Dylan, their thick eyebrows raised in bewilderment.

Dylan sighed. "I mean, he doesn't have any bad intention, does he?"

Seamus gave him a look, and Arthur brought his palm to his head. "If he did, I would have known, brother dearest," Arthur sighed. "No, he doesn't. Even though he was such an arsehole and always getting on my nerves, he's not that bad."

"Not that bad?" Dylan raised a thick eyebrow.

"I've told you, we fought in our first meeting," Arthur sighed again.

"But why would you two bicker?" Seamus asked with a laugh.

"I don't know," Arthur admitted, shrugging. "I guess we were just too stubborn and hard-headed."

Both Seamus and Dylan snorted.

"And he was just too bloody proud of himself," Arthur added with a huff. "Whenever I started a topic, Francis would respond annoyingly and I really had to hold the urge to punch him right in the face when he did."

"Whoa! So his name is Francis?" Seamus exclaimed.

The young blonde sighed. "Yes, his name is Francis," he muttered.

A redhead was seen peeking from the kitchen. "Oi, lads! Dinner's ready!" Allistair shouted to his three little brothers in the living room.

"Hurry, we've got to tell this to Allistair!" Seamus urged his twin younger brothers to stand up.

Arthur made a face. "Why would you want to tell this to Allistair? He doesn't need to know!"

Once again, the eldest brother peeked from the kitchen. "Oi, if you lot aren't hurry, I'll have the lamb chops for myself," he threatened.

Seamus gasped. "No! Not the lamb chops!" he exclaimed, dashing to the kitchen, followed by the twin brothers who walked casually.

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A/N:

First: I'm not French, British, Scottish, Irish, or Welsh. So excuse the wrong usage of slangs and languages here and there.

Second: Very sorry for OOCness...

Bonjour, everybody! Told you so the next chap is gonna be longer. And this time, our dear France is here! X3 I'm really nervous how this would turn out, so please leave a review and concrits. Let me know your thoughts about this, and if you have a question, PM me. Stay tune for the next chap.