CC101- Alright, here is the FrUk gift exchange that I wrote for arthal. I hope you like it, arthal.

Honestly for such a slender man, England snored with a loud dynamic that few others could match. France's life was long and he had been with plenty of both men and women who snored. According to France, only England could ever snore that loud. Every time that he slept with the Englishman, it was like a loud trumpet playing Reveille next to his ear in the early hours of the day. Thankfully, the French nation remained more often than not a morning person so the England's alarmingly loud breath started his day.

If France were completely honest with himself, if there was one thing that he would ever admit to being jealous of in connection to Arthur, it was that the English nation could sleep. Both of them could be insomniacs at the worst of times but at least when England managed to fall asleep, he stayed asleep until his body managed to store up enough energy to start the day. Which roughly meant 10am. Anything before that left England in a bad mood until the nearest tea time. However France was cursed to wake up and fall asleep repeatedly when his insomnia started up. Which is why he had ended up in England's bed last night when Arthur approached him for some casual sex and he accepted.

He loved his people, he really did. He would give his life for them. He was so proud of them and of himself with all that they have accomplished in the many years he has spent with his people. Sure there were some very low points but he would never stop being proud of being French. No matter what England or anyone else said about him. France was just tired. There was a major shift in the government that usually sparked the insomnia. France knew of at least seven things that were guaranteed to cause his insomnia to start up again, most being related to stress and his government. The cures that the French nation tried were multiple and the results were various. France had tried the smaller cures that usually had some effect but the stress continued to build, forcing France to the final solution. This one solution apparently solved his insomnia every time.

England.

More specifically sex with England.

Groaning, he flipped onto his back and just looked up at the white ceiling, his blue eyes lazily roaming around with no clear motive. His cure of sleeping with England for stress relief was not just exclusive on his side. England too had admitted that the stress had gotten to him more and more over the years. So they had come to an understanding with each other during the 1970's. Whenever the stress of being a nation got too much, either of them were free to seek the other out. This wasn't a commitment, they were not dating, there was NO feelings involved. Although it had not come up during these past forty years, it was understood that this offer only remained on the table if neither of them started to date another nation. But neither of them ever did during those years. Francis didn't think much of it. Or rather, he refused to think about it.

All these years later and the unwritten rules hadn't changed very much.

Rolling back over, Francis got onto his side and looked at Arthur. The snoring continued and he reached out and slowly traced patterns on the Englishman's bare hip. The younger wouldn't wake up. Despite they were in England's home, it was actually England himself that approached Francis for a few rounds last night after the World Conference ended in London. France didn't know what exactly pushed England over the edge but after forty years of this arrangement, he could take a few guesses. None of them very nice. England had been rather randy and the old enemies actually went three exhausting rounds. England had topped twice before England rode France into his mattress.

"Damn it Francis harder! I'm not going to break!" England growled as he demanded the other move faster, their hips slamming together. Sweat and moans filled the air as the bed frame creaked at the activities on it's mattress moved to a faster pace. "Fuck yeah!" The heat between the two nations continued to rise and England moved his hips harder. Looking up at the Englishman, France licked his lips. Perhaps it was the sex talking but England was beautiful like this. In charge, demanding, flushed, and passionate. For all of his teasing, Francis admitted Arthur was very attractive. And damn the rules, he wanted to make the Englishman his.

Feeling his orgasm approaching, Francis gripped England's hips hard enough to bruise. He forced his cock into the other's prostate, making Arthur cry out in a beautiful manner. They were both panting hard as they settled into a slower yet more pleasurable pace, Francis easily hitting Arthur's prostate over and over again. Francis could tell England was getting close as well because Arthur was starting to swear like a sailor, muttering curse after curse under his breath. England leaned down to give France one last bruising kiss before they both managed to orgasm at the same time, screaming each other's name into an incomprehensible sound in each other's mouth.

The Frenchman sighed. His feelings would be the death of him. They had sworn to keep feelings out of this arrangement but the heart wants what it wants and it appeared that France's heart desired England. Not just sexually but romantically. He often asked himself why Arthur, why now? Was it the bits of personal life that France had gotten to see over the years that he would never been privy to unless by this arrangement. How England actually hated paperwork and messed around in his office instead of being the mature nation Arthur pretended to be? Perhaps it was the amazing trust that they had both given each other after such a long period of distrust and paranoia? Was it the long conversations they had during the meals they shared before or after having sex? Did France's heart fall for England because after hundreds upon hundreds of years together, France felt like he finally, finally understood England?

Did it even matter why at this point?

Long story short, France loved England. The end. There was no logic that could change those feelings.

And that sucked.

Royally.

Not because England was unattainable but simply because he was afraid that if he came through with his feelings that England would tear down the whole deal. And France wasn't willing to risk that. The younger nation provided him a foolproof method to help with his insomnia and stress. France couldn't trade that cure for the half a chance at a relationship with England if the other hadn't given him some other sign of attraction, a desire for more of a romantic relationship. But England had yet to so France kept his feelings locked away. Obviously England liked him well enough and he could use the term best friends if he dared but he wanted more. More than Arthur was willing to give.

"How long are we going to keep this game up Arthur?" He whispered to the snoring man. "The one where we hate each other on the outside and secretly are friends. How long do I have to wait for you to admit our love isn't just friendship? Wasn't forty years enough?" He felt very comfortable with talking openly like this to England when the green eyed man was asleep, England was too deep a sleeper to hear anything he said and it was too early for England to wake up. "Do you enjoy teasing me with fruit just out of my reach?"

Confirming his belief, England did not say anything or show any signs of waking up. He just continued to snore, his one leg moving a bit more to the right and ended up hanging off the bed.

"I hate you." France groaned.

As usual when he woke up, Francis got on his robe that he brought with him and slid that on, not bothering to tie the rope together as none of England's brothers were in this house at the moment. He headed downstairs and started breakfast for the two of them. Not feeling up to doing much, he turned on the television to watch some news as he made eggs and bacon. Over-easy eggs for England and then Sunny-side-up for his own batch. Not eating bacon, Francis made it only to England's taste, done with a bit of a crisp to it. Okay, maybe he snuck a few. By nine thirty-five, Francis finished up breakfast and washed all of the dishes that he had used before placing them all away. By nine fifty-two, Francis set up breakfast on the dinner table with forks and cups, placing milk and orange juice on the table. And right on time, Francis heard Arthur's footsteps coming down the stairs at exactly ten o'clock.

When Francis turned around to greet England, he instead felt arms wrap around him and a tired Englishman resting his lips on Francis's neck. The older nation tried not to shiver as England's words blew into his ear.

"Thank you for breakfast but I was hoping for desert this morning." If Francis had any doubt that desert meant him, England's wandering hands into his robe surely cleared that up for him.

Chuckling at the bold move, Francis slapped away those hands before pointing the other man, who was also only wearing a robe, to the dinner table. "Mmm... Perhaps if you are really good but breakfast first."

Pouting, England groaned but did as the Frenchman required. Of course breakfast was delicious, thank you very much. For the first few minutes, there was silence until the silence felt too awkward. They talked about future plans and such. England had to travel to North America next week to see the colonies and France was actually heading north to Scotland for three days to talk about some trade agreements. Scotland's desire for independence had led England to give certain parts of their shared government to Scotland for part appeasement and part sharing a heavy load.

Remembering that Scotland and France were to meet, England set his fork down with a frown. It was hard to tell but France could tell that something had England worried. The Englishman leaned back in his chair and his middle finger on the table started to tap out a nervous set of beats on the table, obviously a subconscious motion on Arthur's part."Are you staying in a hotel or with Scotland?"

Francis also set his fork down, taking a sip of milk before responding. "As far as I am aware, Scotland is hosting me at his home. Why?"

"Curious as to his methods for this meeting that's all. Reviewing."

Francis blinked in surprise. Arthur was lying. Some people liked to say lying was in the eyes, but France found that for England, it was all in the shoulders. Right now Arthur was extremely tense and his shoulders were rigid. Curious. Very curious. Interested, the older country relaxed back in his chair and placed his napkin off his lap. "Yes I am quite excited. This is one of the big deals that you are allowing Scotland to put together." Being old friends, France was happy to hear that Scotland was finally getting some freedom.

England visibly bristled at that before trying to appear calm. The finger tapping increased its pace. "Is that the only reason that you are excited to go to Scotland?" He asked tersely, gazing unblinkingly at France.

"Well no, it would be nice to see an old friend. He hasn't come to a World Conference in a long time so I don't get to see him often." France admitted, his own gaze just as intense.

"Indeed?" England grimaced before returning to his plate. Obviously something was bothering him.

"Yes. Any particular reason for your interest?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"In deed?" France narrowed his eyes as the Englishman simply pushed around some eggs with his fork. "Well, when you're done lying to me, I will be doing the dishes." Taking his plate, Francis went into the kitchen again and started to do the dishes. Usually England was suppose to as Francis made the food but it was the first instinct that Francis had after his irritation with England grew for lying to him. Gloves on, he started to fill up the sink with soapy water. As he started to wash his plate, he heard England's chair move across the floor before footsteps approached him. A plate was set on the edge of the sink.

"Look France...Thank you and I'm sorry for lying to you but I don't really know how to say this." Arthur admitted as he watched the other clean the silverware. He felt awkward in his own kitchen and looked at anywhere but Francis.

"With words seems to be the best strategy."

England glared at the sarcasm. "I hate you."

France laughed. "No you don't.

"I do."

"You don't."

"I do."

"You don't."

"I love you."

"You don-"

France stopped what he was doing to turn around and stare at England. Said man had his head down, not looking at Francis and trying to hide his rosy cheeks. The older couldn't help the surprise on his face before he just smiled. "I know."

And that's all he had to say on that.

France finished the dishes and England dried them before setting them in their proper place. The two of them retired to the couch and watched some TV in the background. England was doing his embroidery and France was reading a book that he brought over for the flight from Paris to London. Every once in a while, England would sneak a kiss adorably. It actually made France set down the book and rest on England's shoulders. He wanted this moment to last forever. No fighting. No stress. Just France and England. Together.

Because even if France believed that England loved him, he didn't think that it was the same intensity that he had for England. "How much longer are you going to make me wait?"

England looked up from the pattern. "Excuse me?"

France gave a grunt and just sighed. "Nothing. It's nothing."

He wanted so many things. He wanted England. He wanted England to love him as he loved Arthur. Deeply. Passionately. But if there was one thing that England was, it was stubborn. England resisted his charms. And France had no clue why. They couldn't exactly talk about it because England would just go away or deny it. France had tried. He wanted to know why England didn't accept their relationship was more. France would wash every insecurity away. He would give almost anything to have England.

The next morning, France woke up to his English alarm clock like always. Last night was long but France had never felt so satisfied. England never said those three words again and France never said then back. But France felt it this time. Had England always been trying to tell him this way? France huffed and cuddled into England's side. That was so England. If anything his Englishman had always been a physical man. He should have known. Sore, the older nation closed his eyes and whispered.

"Thank you for not making us wait any longer. I love you."

And by a miracle, green eyes opened and the snoring stopped.

"I know."

CC101- Well I hope you enjoyed that. I did writing it. Now that I'm getting more into FrUk, I find France as easier to write.