Hetalia || Oneshots and Crackfic

5.) It's Cold Outside

Here's an older fic of mine, wink wonk

Snow was settled everywhere, trapping streets and houses alike. The sun is out and shining dully above in the open sky, blocked out by the damp and cold weather. Even breathing sent a big cloud of fog flying from your lips.

"It's cold out here," He reminds for the millionth time since leaving the house. You'd think he'd have a bit more patience, with it having only been, like, five minutes. But Arthur is not known as a man of patience.

It really is too cold. Any sensible man should have the damn right to curse the weather being negative four! It's cold enough to freeze your toes solid, not so far they'd fall off but well enough for the pain to set itself in. So sue him, if Arthur wants to complain he is going to complain!

There's a snort and Arthur's boyfriend turns to him with a raised brow, "Okay, do you want my last layer or?" Francis starts lifting his designer white sweater up from the bottom, but Arthur stops him before he can get nude in the street.

"No, I'm fine. I promise," He grumbles. Francis smiles at him and laughs softly before smoothing the fabric and continuing their way to one of his favourite stores, reaching out for a hand. Arthur grabs onto it with the intent to warm his own cold dead heart- hand. His hand.

But he's still worried about going out today at the moment. The weatherman said there was only an unlikely fifty-two percent chance of a snowstorm, but that's over half! And what does he mean by unlikely, the bastard. What if they got caught in something nasty? It's happened before and Arthur can and will tell anyone straight up snow does not taste good. Neither does it feel good getting it dumped down your shirt by a stupid older brother or two.

Francis squeezes his hand, "Do not worry my rose, even if it does snow more we already know how to deal with it. We don't live here just to die of frostbite." Arthur rolls his eyes at him, somewhat satisfied for now and wraps his scarf tighter around his neck and face. At least the forecast also mentioned it warming up later in the evening.

They continue to stroll through the streets, feeling the wind blow angrily through their snug clothes and whip over their clasped hands. Francis, bless his pure soul, goes about pointing out all the colourful decoration and outfits set out in tune for the holiday season like his fingers aren't dying from their insides. A jolly Santa smiles and waves at them as they pass, accepting Arthur's two notes for the donation box with a graciously loud holler.

Arthur pauses with Francis when he slows to do a small bit of window shopping. There's a cute knitted hat that catches his eye that he thinks Alfred might like. "Might have to come back later." Arthur hums to him and gets a nod back. They fall back to strolling on their way until the shop is well passed by and they arrive in front of the cosy cafe-shoppe they came out here for.

Francis bounces in with Arthur dragging along behind him, their entrance being signalled by the bell hung over the door. "Bonjour, mon amis! Comment faites-vous ce beau matin froid?" Francis greets. With how quiet the place is he might as well have shouted at the man behind the counter. Luckily, Arthur's too busy breathing in the warm and delicious smelling air to shush him anyways.

The worker is excited by their arrival, "Oh Frannie, hola amigo! Arthur, I see you're doing well. Hope your cold's gone. How's all the crazy lovemaking been you two?" Antonio shouts back just as loud with an extra dosage of happiness. God. The customers in here never bat an eye, but Arthur, however, would bat eighty eyes if he could.

The last comment sends him in a flush as he yells back, "We do not make crazy love and even then you shouldn't shout that for everyone to hear, you wanker!" He avoids the sight of all the customers so he can't make accidentally eye contact.