Chapter 4

AN

Hey look, an update! That hasn't happened for a while. To tell the truth, this chapter has been in progress pretty much since I posted the last one, but I've just had so little time to actually finish it. School is driving me up the wall!

I do, however, have some very short letters that are written from the perspective of France, to various other countries. I wrote them for my France roleplay Instagram page, literally in the car on the way to school. Would you guys like to see them? They're fairly good, if I do say so myself. Which I do.

MOVING ONTO THIS STORY!

I had requests for GerIta, Itacest, AmeCan, PruCan, and RusCan for this… god, what am I going to do? GerIta I can most definitely slot in somewhere, but I might end up with a love quadrangle around Canada… lovely. I'll do what I can! I'll probably bring the PruAus back as well, cos it kinda started the whole 'debacle'. SO MANY SHIPS OMG. You guys are lucky I'm a multishipper…

This is really starting to turn into a full-blown fanfic, when it was only really meant to be one or two chapters. I have so many plans for it, so if you have any more requests, just let me know! Even if it's something as simple as a hug, I'll be sure to pop it in somewhere. Thanks for reviewing, I really appreciate it :D

/AN

They remained in their loving embrace until deep into the twilight, where the light-sleeping Brit jolted awake. A confused glance towards Francis, memories of the previous day flooding back, and a rare, blissful smile filled his features. It may not be the perfect relationship; there would most certainly be bumps along the way, perhaps even breaks. But it was good for him, good for both of them.

It was something they both needed, and, for some strange reason, he knew Francis deserved it. Hell, he deserved it too, didn't he? For putting up with the insufferable frog for all these years, for somehow managing not to throttle him half the time, and for keeping those ridiculous feelings supressed for this long. Although, in hindsight, it may have been better to let them out sooner, he could not wish for a more perfect outcome than this. For his love to be right there, sleeping so peacefully in his arms, he felt simultaneously like the world was watching, and that they were solitary on this crowded earth.

A chaste kiss to the blonde crown, and Arthur lay back again, shifting ever so slightly under Francis' slender form. Trust his feet to betray him, sending a numbing river up and down his legs.

"Oi, Francis, wake up," he hissed, prodding the man gently between the shoulder blades. A mumbled response, a slight change in position; perhaps the Frenchman was not a morning person. "My feet are asleep, you git, get off me!"

"Angl'terre?" Francis moaned, rubbing his eyes sleepily. Probably not a morning person. "I don't wanna." Definitely not a morning person.

"Well that's just too bad for you," smirked Arthur, shoving the slender blonde off his lap and onto the soft carpet. He stretched his long legs luxuriously, yawning into the back of his hand.

"You 'orrible person…" Francis simply lay back on the rug, squeezing his eyes shut, and not bothering to pronounce his words properly.

"Come on, get up, you twat… what's this doing here?" He lifted the old blanket by its corner, sharp eyes spotting a slight mistake in the crochet. "I made this years ago, dear god, it's dreadful."

"I see nothing wrong with it, Arthur…" yawned Francis, not bothering to look up. "Did you fetch it when we got here?"

"No, I didn't…" frowned the Brit. "Who on earth would come into my house and put a blanket, of all things, over us?" A sudden realisation came over the pair.

"Alfred."

The simultaneous realisation had a clearly different effect on the two men. Arthur simply chuckled, imagining Alfred bursting in through the door, all ready to demand ice-cream or coffee or some other weird American, only to find him and Francis curled up together on the couch. He could only imagine the look on the boy's face; confusion, shock, a little horror, perhaps. Francis, however, saw the true weight of the situation.

"You ought to call him… talk to him about this, oui?"

"Whatever for?" Arthur questioned, a fleeting smile still remaining on his lips. "He's never expressed any interest in my personal life before."

"It may be a sensitive topic for him, you being in a relationship." Francis trod carefully around the question; no point in scaring Arthur off.

"What? Why?" The expansive brow furrowed in confusion. "I don't see why it would concern him."

"He tends to get… jealous," Francis squeezed Arthur's hand gently. "Sometimes he feels like you are all he has, even when my Mathieu is right there. He won't be happy about losing you."

"Losing me?" The Brit scoffed. "He never had me in the first place! I had him, and then he left. There are no regrets in that child's head…"

"He does regret it, Arthur… but it had to be done. You know this. If he had never fought, he would have never grown up. And you are proud of things he has done, oui?"

"Of course I'm proud of him; I just wish he hadn't left!" Arthur was beginning to get grumpy. "I suppose it was for the best though…"

"Oui, it was," Francis assured him, patting his hand affectionately.

"I still don't see why he needs to know about this. Not that we should keep it a secret, that's ridiculous. But I think we should wait, at least until we sort ourselves out. And our bosses, they need to know too… blimey, this is a lot more complicated than I originally thought," Arthur groaned, rubbing his temples in a reflexive movement.

Francis only chuckled, nodding his head in agreement. A shared glance conveyed their shared opinion; this would be dealt with after coffee. Arthur pulled himself off the couch, muffling a yawn in the back of his free hand, but was pulled to a stop by Francis, who was still clutching the other.

"Come on, get up already, you lazy bastard!"

"Non," Francis moaned, dramatically throwing his head back. "I am too sleepy! You will have to bring me breakfast in bread. Or rather, breakfast on couch."

"I'll be damned if I ever bring you breakfast of any kind! You will get up, and get up now, or you can make your own coffee," the Brit crossed his arms, sensing his triumph - the lazy Frenchman hated using coffee machines.

"Ugh, fine…" Francis rubbed his eyes, combed his fingers through his hair (eliciting an eye-roll from Arthur) and pulled himself, with great effort, off the couch. "I will cook though. I refuse to eat your food, Angleterre."

"Well, aren't you rude," Arthur childishly stuck his tongue out at the blonde, not having a good argument for his cooking. "There is absolutely nothing wrong with my food!"

"Then you will be fine without my cooking, oui?"

Knowing he was beat, Arthur simply turned on his heel and marched into the kitchen, followed by a softly chuckling Francis. Maybe they were good for each other after all.

"I would, however, like some tea, yet I am not the best with beverages. Perhaps you could?" Francis flashed the Brit a winning smile, knowing that the suggestion would placate him.

"Well, I suppose if you're cooking I'll have to do something…" Francis only continued to grin, so Arthur mock-slapped him on the shoulder and moved to fill up the kettle. "Be quiet, frog!"

"I did not say a word, Angleterre," chuckled the blonde, who was already whisking an egg into milk and honey. "You are happy with French toast, oui?"

"Cor, I haven't had French toast for years!" Arthur grinned, happy for once. "You'd cook that for me?"

"It is not very difficult, Arthur!" Francis chuckled, shaking his head. "It is not as though I am baking you a croquembouche." One look at Arthur's face, however, and he patted the slender hand gently. "Oui, I will make French toast, just for you."

"Don't patronize me!" Arthur's face was slowly turning red as he tried to keep his anger bottled in; something which took quite an effort.

"I was simply offering you breakfast, mon jour de pluie," the Frenchman chuckled, nudging Arthur's shoulder. "It is nothing to get all up in the air about."

"I- you- fine," the Brit clearly had more to say on the matter (he usually did), but chose to keep it to himself. Francis liked to think it was for his sake, but in all honesty, Arthur was probably just hungry. "Just make the bloody toast, will you?"

"French toast, chere! There is a difference."

Arthur only rolled his eyes, a welcome change from the usual fight that would have ensued. He moved to fill up the kettle, the pair falling into a comfortable silence. When your usual form of communication is argument, silence is truly golden. Francis could hear Arthur humming softly as he soaked the bread in milk, and he smiled, recognising the tune.

"I did not know that you liked Vera Lynn," he teased, glancing at Arthur over his shoulder.

"There are lots of things about me that you don't know, Francis. My music preferences are very… selective."

"Then I must learn more, oui? There was a time when I knew everything about you, Angleterre. I wish to be in such a time again."

"You do say the silliest things," muttered Arthur, but a light blush was tipping his ears. "But, I agree. I hardly know anything about you these days. To know more…" he turned his head to meet Francis' eyes. "I'd like that."

"Then all you need to know, I will tell you," the Frenchman murmured, slipping his arms around Arthur's waist from behind and settling his chin on the Brit's bony shoulder . The scene was so homely it was almost sickening.

"Do you have anything planned for the rest of the week?" Arthur hummed, leaning his head on Francis' as he set out the mugs, fussing over the way the handles were facing and the placement of tea bags next them. He had a tendency to become meticulous when nervous.

"Today is all free, mon amour, but tomorrow we are sleeping over at Alfred's chalet, oui?" Francis planted a chaste kiss on Arthur's cheek before moving back to his unfinished French toast, and began to warm a skillet on the gas stove.

"Ah yes, the sleepover," the Brit muttered darkly. "I still have nightmares from the last one."

"Mm, something about snogging Kiku and not regretting it?" Teased the older blonde, although a stab of jealousy struck his stomach. Perhaps they would abstain from truth or dare this time around.

"That is not how it happened and you know it!" Arthur spluttered, turning an interesting shade of purple. "It was a misunderstanding…"

"I know that, I was only teasing," laughed Francis, flicking a breadcrumb at him.

"Did you just throw bread at me?!" Arthur turned indignantly, holding up the crumb he'd plucked from his hair. "Rude little bastard," he griped, throwing it back and landing the speck of bread in Francis' own hair.

The scrupulous blonde gasped, a horrified hand flying up to his hair, his mouth falling open in horror. A pained look crossed his face as he pulled the lock of hair in front of cerulean eyes, inspecting it closely for any further crumbs. Finding it clean, thankfully, he dropped it (the stupid piece of hair fell perfectly into place, of course) and glared at Arthur, mouth scrunched up in annoyance at the comment.

"Says the man who is shorter than me."

"Oi, it's by less than an inch, you twat!"

"Don't call me a twat, tu petit merde!"

"Then don't call me a little shit, you wanker!"

"Shut up!"

"You shut up!"

"Only if you do first, rosbif!"

"Fine, maybe I will!"

"Will you?"

"Yes!"

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

The two finally shut up, sudden silence ringing through the air. Usually they'd keep yelling at each other until someone else came and broke it up (usually Ludwig), but they'd managed to stop all on their own, after only a few petty insults. Rather an accomplishment, in Arthur's mind. Perhaps this 'being together' thing was helping their relationship more than he'd expected.

But that didn't mean he would let up - oh no, he was quite happy to give Francis a good strong dose of the silent treatment. This time, he might actually receive an apology. Apologies were rare for the both of them, but it was in their best interests now, wasn't it? The Brit folded his arms and turned away from Francis - he'd have to wait and see.

"Arthur?"

He didn't reply, only pouted further and stared more harshly at the wall.

"Arthur, look at me."

The surly Brit still refused, turning his head so Francis was completely out of his line of sight.

"Je suis desolé, I did not mean to hurt you," the blonde murmured, reaching out a hand to touch Arthur's shoulder.

"I'm not hurt," replied the smaller (only slightly, mind you!) man, placing his hand over Francis' and smiling. "I said some horrid things too, I'm sorry."

"It is easily forgivable when it is you, mon amour," Francis grinned, sliding his arms around Arthur's shoulders and giving him a peck on the cheek.

"Sickly sweet nonsense," muttered the Brit, but he had to admit he enjoyed the attention - even if it was from his supposed enemy. "Shall we make breakfast properly now? I'm beginning to get properly hungry."

"Breakfast it is," laughed Francis, squeezing Arthur in a quick hug before turning back to the French toast.

AN

Oh no. I am so sorry. I really am sorry! I haven't updated this fic for… how long now? *checks* Oh my gods it's been THREE MONTHS? Holy cheese, that's a lot longer than I intended. Well, in my defence, school has been extremely busy this term, especially with me failing chemistry and all ;-; Then, just as I was starting to get things under control, I caught influenza and missed a week! That was two weeks ago, and last week I had my midyear exams, but I missed the maths one because, of all things, I contracted sinusitis! It's been a rough few months, as you can see. On top of that, my anxiety and depression has been mounting and mounting and I've just gone a tiny bit insane… whoops.

BUT I finally had the time to finish off this chapter, and the ending is kind of lame but I have a lot of plans for our favourite love birds. As per usual, any suggestions will be taken into account, but PLEASE NO MORE SHIPS WITH CANADA! I have like four already XD But any other ships will be gladly taken into consideration. So far I have;

FrUk (Of course)

PruAus (We've seen that already, I'll be adding more though)

RusCan (I was so glad to get this request, I love RusCan!)

AmeCan (Ehhhh I'll give it a shot but I also kinda want to do FACE)

PruCan (I'll figure something out for this, I'm sure… even though Prussia's already with Austria… heuahlfkajs)

GerIta (I don't really ship it, but I'll do it anyways)

Itacest (Probably not happening, sorry)

Turkey x Greece (I don't know how to write Turkey but I'll give it a shot?)

Giripan (Scratch that, I'm doing Giripan, I love that ship to bits)

ANYWAYS, thank you for reading, please leave a review, and have a nice day!

/AN