Francis was greatly enjoying comforting his Angleterre.
The uptight nation never let anyone get remotely close to him, unless apparently, he was in emotional distress. But now, as he was curled up in a cocoon of blankets in the arms of the frenchman, he seemed completely content at the notion of being near another person.
"Mmmm..." Francis hummed with a smile, nuzzling into Arthur. "I wish we could stay like this more often...Why must we always fight?"
"Because we can't stand each other. That's why." England retorted acridly.
France chuckled, before gingerly lifting Arthur's hand, and gently kissing each finger.
"Mon cher...I think you and I both know how that's a lie..."
"If you say one more bloody word that I remotely dislike...I won't hesitate to have you take your leave."
Francis frowned, but complied nonetheless.
He pulled Arthur closer, and brushed his lips over England's ear.
"It's noon now, mon amour." He whispered.
"And this is important...how?"
Francis stood up.
"It means that I'm going to go make you lunch!"
"I'm perfectly fine with my scones, thank-you-very-much."
"Mon petit...I hardly think that it's healthy to eat those burnt hokey pucks everyday." France smirked slyly.
Arthur grunted.
"Fine...Just be quick."
Francis smiled widely.
"And please bring me the rum I have stored inside of my refrigerator." He added curtly.
"Mon cher... It's only halfway through the day, and you want to have a drink?"
"Yes."
"I don't mean to offend you, mon petit, but you do tend to be a..." Francis mumbled the last bit under his breath.
"A what?" Arthur glared.
The frenchman cleared his throat.
"A lightweight." France flinched. "And I have so much planned for today! Don't you want to spend the rest of the day out on the town?"
"No, as a matter of fact, I do not wish to leave my house today. And are you insinuating that I would become so intoxicated that I wouldn't be able to be brought out in public?" Arthur's face was becoming redder.
"...Oui..."
"You do realize that as nations, alcohol leaves our systems in around sixty minutes?" He growled.
"Oui."
"So why then, are you so blatantly concerned about me being drunk for the last twelve bloody hours of the day?"
Francis sighed, and made his way into the kitchen.
Twenty minutes later, he returned with two servings of Eggs Benedict atop croissants, and a tall necked bottle of dark liquid.
YOU ARE READING
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FanfictionThere are three days, out of 365 days, in which Arthur James Kirkland secludes himself from the outside world. He was perfectly content locking himself in his bedroom for these twenty four hour increments, and sulking in the all too painful memories...
