Playing Big Brother

England scowled as he watched the news, hand gripping a tea cup in a death grip. Those idiots. He'd told that idiot of a prime minister that raising tuition fees would meet the livid response of everyone in the country, but would he listen?

The students themselves were furious. It was understandable; raising the Student fees was discrimination against those who couldn't afford them, but this was insane, idiotic… there weren't words to describe the stupidity of the student's actions. What had started as a peaceful protest to get their voice heard had turned into a furious bombardment of abuse on the police and the Conservative HQ. Noticing his death grip, England put down his tea, sitting down and sighing.

Most students just wanted their voice heard – this was their future after all, and it wasn't as if they had even brought this on themselves; they were all too young to vote.

But there were always those who had to push it.

His phone rung, snapping England out of his tired contemplations. Picking it up, he answered.

"Arthur Kirkland." He grunted, and groaned when he heard the answering voice.

"Bonjour, Angleterre!" France seemed positively overjoyed, and England growled.

"What now, frog?" He spat down the phone. "I know you know what's going on here, so you'll state your business quickly so I can hang up on you." There was a pause, before,

"Can you come open your front door? It's freezing out here." England stared at his phone. There was no way France got here so quickly after the news… the Student Riot had only happened today! Striding to the door – and cursing himself for being fooled so easily – England threw it open, and yelped as three bodies tackled him to the ground.

"WARMTH!"

"Fritz, England! Why is it so cold in your country?"

"WARMTH!"

"Angleterre~! It's good to see you again!"

"WARMTH!"

England scowled as he looked up at the three men who'd charged into his quiet country home. France smirked back, quite happy to straddle his chest. Prussia – who had always gotten bored easily – had already started to wander into England's house, and Spain was clinging to the radiator.

"What the hell are you doing here?" England growled, trying to sit up, but stopped by France still sitting on his chest. The blonde country smirked down at him.

"Romano kicked Spain out for the week, Germany has ordered Prussia out while he spends time with Ita-chan, and my boss has had enough of the three of us, so we came over here!" England stared up at him.

"If Germany and Romano can't stand the three of you…" He started. "What makes you think I can?" France shrugged.

"Does it matter?" He asked, standing up and leaving England's chest. England stood up after him.

"Yes, it does. I'll be busy tomorrow, and will have to go up to London, so you can't stay here. Besides, I couldn't care less if you're homeless for a-" He was interrupted by Prussia calling from the living room.

"This really isn't what I expected from your house!" The ex-country shouted. "It's kinda cosy." France – who'd only been in England's London apartment before now – raised an eyebrow.

"Cosy?" He asked, following the albino into the living room. "You're right…" England groaned. He'd never get rid of them now… He looked at Spain, still huddled against the radiator, and sighed.

"Come on." He conceded. "It's warmer in the living room. I'll get you a blanket." Spain looked up at him, and there was a moment of wariness in his eyes, before he smiled.

"So you can be a nice guy!" He exclaimed. Detaching himself from the radiator, Spain rushed into the living room. England sighed as he followed. England's living room was cosy; it was full of rich reds and oranges, plush sofas, a dark wood table, and a gently crackling fire which warmed the room and sent soft shadows flickering across the floor. Prussia and France must've moved on to the rest of the house, since neither could be seen in the living room. Spain dived into the sofa closest to the fire, and sunk down with a sigh. England shook his head as he walked into his considerably colder hallway. Grabbing an armful of blankets and towels out of the airing cupboard, he carried them to the living room, setting two blankets down on one sofa, before walking to Spain. He blinked when he saw the older country was already fast asleep, snuggled into a red cushion. England raised an eyebrow, and shook his head, gently laying the still-warm blanket on the sunny country.

"Aw, sweet." The ash-blonde man whipped round at the voice, and stared coldly at France and Prussia, taking in their tired eyes, wet clothes and pale skin.

"You look like shit." He remarked. "How long have you been wandering around?" France avoided his accusing green eyes. Ever since the defence agreement, the two countries had grown slightly closer – or so France liked to think – and he had started to feel a little guilty whenever England looked at him like that.

"Since…" France counted on his fingers. "Since Monday… three days." England sighed, tossing a towel to each of the countries.

"Here. Dry off. I'll see if I can find any dry clothes that'll fit the three of you." France looked at the blushing nation with surprise, but before he could comment, England marched past them into the hall again, shoving the last towel into France's chest as he did so.

"You'll need to wake Spain up as well!"

France looked at Prussia.

"Does he seem nicer then normal to you?" He asked. Prussia shrugged.

"Seems the same miserable bastard as he always does." He grunted, towelling off his hair. "We're gonna need to wake up Tony." He commented. France looked at the sleeping man as he took off his soaking jacket.

"He must've been exhausted." He commented. "Antonio never falls asleep that quickly" Regretfully, France shook his friend awake. Spain woke with sleepy murmurs and tired yawns, before looking up with large emerald eyes.

"Morning…" He greeted, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. France shook his head.

"Come on." He said, passing Spain a towel. "You need to dry yourself off before you go to sleep."

Still half-asleep, Spain obediently took the towel and started to unbutton his shirt. France followed his lead, and was stripped to navy blue boxers by the time England arrived back in the living room with three sets of pyjamas. He raised an eyebrow at Prussia's flag boxers, but didn't comment as he handed out the pyjamas.

"Here you go." He muttered. "You three are all leaving in the morning, though. You know where the kitchen is. Goodnight." He left as quickly as he came, shutting the door behind him, and leaving France and Prussia – but mainly France – to coax Spain into the pyjamas. France contemplated cooking something for the three of them, but the realm of sleep was too inviting, and he quickly snatched up the other sofa, leaving Prussia with the Armchair.

France waited until he heard Prussia's loud snoring to sit up, looking around. They'd left the fire going, and it was just starting to fade to softly glowing embers. By the dim light, France was able to pad across the room into the cold hall. Locating the stairs in the dark was harder – England's city home was always lit up by the streetlights outside, but out in the country, it was almost pitch black. Finding the rail, the blonde slowly ascended the stairs, every so often stubbing his bare toes on the wooden stairs. On the landing, France groped blindly towards a single crack of light, opening the door cautiously. He peered in.

"Yes, I know. It's- no, he wasn't there. He was in China. What… No, you can't blame them. No. Yeah…" France frowned as England sighed, still talking on the phone.

"I know. I'm coming up tomorrow. Yeah… No, no, I understand… It's a matter of importance… Yes. I'll see you tomorrow." Putting down the phone, England rubbed his face, slumping into his chair, exhausted. He looked at the computer screen in front of him.

"Shit…" He muttered. "This is a cock up…"

"Angleterre?" France let the door swing open, announcing his arrival. England looked up tiredly.

"Hey." He greeted. France frowned as he walked over. He and England had never gotten along, admittedly, but France still felt a pang to see England under so much stress. In Frances mind, England was still the little kid who tried to copy him, and then run to him when it failed. Although… France snorted. England never ran to him anymore. England was no longer the tiny, insignificant country. He insisted he was fine on his own, and never needed anything beyond trade with other countries.

But not even England could stand on his own forever. He wasn't the proud, foolhardy Pirate he used to be. He just needed to realise that himself. He needed someone to open his eyes to his friends, no matter how few they may seem. France smiled.

"Come sleep with us." His tone was inviting, but the steel grip he applied to England's shoulder left no room to argue. England glared at him.

"I can't." He snapped. "I'm busy. Besides, I've got my own bed." France tugged on England's shoulder.

"Tough." He stated. "If you're driving to London tomorrow, you'll need sleep now. Come on."

England glared at France suspiciously, but let himself be dragged out of his seat and office. Once France had closed the door, he led England downstairs, shoving him on the sofa in the living room. England scowled.

"I'm still in my clothes." He commented. France shrugged.

"Then strip." He ignored England's spluttering protests. "We're all men here, right? Unless you've been hiding something for the couple of thousand or so years…" His scowl deepening, England fumbled with the buttons of his waistcoat, undoing them slowly, unsure why he was even listening to France. There was something comforting in everything momentarily being taken out of his hands, and being told what to do instead of having to give instructions. France nodded in satisfaction as England folded up his shirt and waistcoat, before taking England's hand, drawing him to the sofa. England felt a blush light up his face as France wrapped an arm around his shoulder and lay down, hugging the shorter nation to his chest, before covering them with the blanket.

"Bastard…" England muttered half-heartedly. "Don't hold me so tight…" His feeble protests didn't stop him from resting his head against Frances chest. France buried his face in England's hair, smiling.

"It's like the old days, non?" He whispered, careful not to wake up his friends. "When you used to come crying to me because Denmark and Norway or your brothers were being mean, and I'd hold you and whisper to you and you never knew what I was saying…"

England snorted.

"It's nothing like that." He said. France smirked.

"Ah, mon lapin…" He crooned. "Mon petit bébé, ne pleure pas, tout ira bien…" [1]

England scowled.

"What the hell are you blathering on about now?" He shot. France just hugged him tighter.

"… It's nothing."

England raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment, letting France hug him to his chest. In the morning he'd kick the bad touch trio out of his house, drive down to London and try to sort out the entire student protest ordeal. But for now… He'd let France play big brother, just for one night.

A note from ME! Yeah, I know it's been a while since the student protests in England, but I wrote this at the time, and never got down to uploading it.

The French in here was translated by my friend, so hopefully it's all correct.

[1] "Ah, my rabbit, my little baby, do not cry, everything will be alright…"