This was written for the FrUk Secret Santa on Tumblr. The prompts were: Mistletoe, Hot chocolate, Long time pining, Confession.

Merry Christmas!

Arthur was getting kind of bored. He liked Christmas parties, and Alfred wasn't a completely terrible host, either, but after four hours of mindless chatting, he couldn't wait to get away. One more drink, then. Something non-alcoholic, sadly, because he still had to drive home. He headed for the table with bottles of soda and thought about which one to pick.

"May I recommend the hot chocolate?"

Arthur turned around. "Frog."

"Hello, Arthur. You've done an excellent job at avoiding me all evening." Francis' mouth smiled, but his eyes didn't. They almost held a kind of… sadness.

"I've become an expert at avoiding annoying gits, thanks to you." Yes, annoying, with that stupid Christmas sweater Francis was wearing. It was an ugly thing—an obnoxious shade of red with a hideous reindeer on it. It should have made Francis look ridiculous, but Arthur found himself unable to look away. It was always like that: the frog always did something which caught Arthur's attention. It had to be some sort of dark magic.

"Perhaps your skills have gotten rusty, mon cher. Because here I am, with you"—Francis took a step closer—"under the mistletoe."

"Under the… what?"

He pointed up. Sure enough, there were branches above them, taunting Arthur. "Forget it, frog."

"Shame. It would've made a wonderful Christmas present."

"Well, only nice people get presents, so keep dreaming." He turned around to the drinks again. He spotted orange juice and reached for it, but stopped and looked over his shoulder when he realized there wasn't any savvy comment coming.

Francis was still looking at him, eyes positively sad now.

"Frog?"

Francis picked at the decorations on the table. He pulled out a long cord with a Christmas bell on each end.

"What are you doing?"

He wrapped the cord around Arthur's neck and tied it into a neat ribbon. "You can't attend a Christmas party in such plain clothes."

Arthur felt his face turn red, which he himself couldn't understand. Francis' face was close to his, and somehow, it made Arthur want to look up, into those beauti… into those eyes. He looked down instead.

Francis finished his decorating. "There you go."

"I'm not a Christmas tree, you know."

"Shame. I'd take you home with me."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Again that sad smile.

"What the matter with you today, frog? You're acting strangely." Arthur took a step back. He couldn't read the other person very well right now.

Francis looked around him. "It's quite beautiful, isn't it? This time of year. Even if it's so dark…"

Arthur eyed the mistletoe. "Don't you dare guilt me into kissing you."

"I would never." He jingled the little bells now hanging around Arthur's neck. "After all, love isn't something that you can force on people." His hand rested on the other's plain knitted sweater for just a moment too long. "You can only ask them kindly."

"And I say no." It came out way sharper than intended.

"So be it. You wanted a drink?"

"Just some orange juice."

"Non, I must object." He grabbed Arthur by his shoulders and dragged him along to another table.

"What are you doing?"

"Mon cher, you can't leave this place tonight without having tasted the hot chocolate."

Arthur couldn't identify anything on the table as hot chocolate. Francis grabbed a cup and poured liquid into it from a pot on a warming plate. He held the cup up and theatrically dropped a cube of chocolate in it.

"Stir well and enjoy."

Arthur took the cup from him with mild suspicion. "You're being awfully non-annoying tonight. One would almost call you… pleasant."

"Maybe because I have someone to be pleasant to."

"Don't pull my leg, frog. We both know I'm not the only one you've flattered with hot drinks tonight."

Francis raised his eyebrows. "If that's what you want to believe."

Arthur took a tentative sip. "Mm."

"I told you it's good."

"Why don't you have a cup?" He stirred the chocolate around. "This makes it look like you're trying to poison me."

"You'll never trust me, will you?" He held out his hands. "I'll drink some as well if it eases your worrisome mind."

Arthur hesitated. He'd only meant it as a joke. But somehow the thought of sharing his drink made his stomach tingle, in a nice way. He handed the cup over and got a sweet smile in return. How did that frog do that? How did he make all his smiles so enticing? Yes, it had to be dark magic. Nothing else could explain their bewitching power.

Francis took a sip and nodded. "This one tastes even better than the one I had."

"Good," Arthur said, for lack of an actual response.

"I'll leave you to enjoy it. Have a nice evening." He jingled the bells one last time and walked away.

Arthur watched him and that stupid Christmas sweater. How did such an ugly thing fit him so elegantly?

"Yo, how are you holding up?" Alfred pat him on his back so hard, that Arthur nearly dropped his cup. "You seemed to be having a nice chat with Francis."

"Just look at it," Arthur hissed. "Look at that sweater."

"Yeah, I know. He came earlier to help set things up and got coffee all over his shirt. This was the only thing I had in his size. Shame, because he was wearing something really nice. Oh, well…"

"What do you mean, 'oh, well'?" Arthur clutched his cup tighter. "Look at it! It's not supposed to look good! How can he still have that annoying charm when wearing such a thing?"

Alfred watched Francis disappear around a corner. "Dude."

"What?"

"You're the first person to say such a thing. Everyone else has been laughing at him."

Blood rushed to Arthur's face. "I'm just saying what everyone thinks."

"Sure." Alfred draped an arm around his shoulder, again with a bit too much force. "Say, could you drive Francis home tonight? He came here with Gilbert, but I'm not letting that guy drive after all those beers."

Arthur stirred the chocolate around. "Can't that frog look after himself?"

"He'd do the same for you."

A moment of silence. "Fine."

"Awesome!" Alfred gave another hard pat on the shoulder, making Arthur clench his teeth. "I'll let him know." He walked away and Arthur was once again alone.

"It's that sweater's fault," he muttered to himself as he finished his drink. That shirt was so ugly, that it somehow made Francis look nicer. That had to be it.

Arthur managed to get another cup of hot chocolate, wandered around a bit, talked with some more nations and then decided that it was time to go home. "Oi, frog."

Francis took a break from talking to Gilbert—who, Arthur thought, didn't look that drunk at all. But perhaps he knew how to hide it well. "Arthur. Alfred told me you were willing to offer me a ride?"

"Somehow, yes."

Francis walked up to him and reached out a hand. Arthur leaned away, but couldn't escape the thumb wiping over the corner of his mouth. "You have chocolate here."

Arthur blinked, mind unfocused. "You could have just told me."

"This is easier." Francis smiled and Arthur knew he should look away, he really should. "Shall we go?"

Arthur swallowed and nodded. "Yes. It's not that short of a ride, after all."

The car ride was agony.

Arthur mentally squirmed in the heavy silence. Part of him wanted Francis to speak already. Part of him was afraid of what would happen if he did. How that smile would haunt him into the night again. Stupid French smile.

"You seem distracted," Francis said, staring out of the window. "Please don't get us killed."

"Shut up," Arthur snapped, regretting it immediately. He clutched the steering wheel. "Stop doing that."

"What?" Francis looked at him.

"This. Playing with my mind."

"I'm not sure I can follow."

Arthur let out an exasperated sigh. "Stop frustrating me so. Stop making me so uncomfortable with that stupid smile of yours. Or, worse, those sad puppy eyes."

Francis sat up at once. "I'm not… I don't know what—"

"Oh, save it."

Francis looked back out of the window. "You weren't supposed to see. I thought I had fooled everyone."

Arthur stopped the car in front of Francis' house. Neither of them moved. "Alright, frog. Talk to me."

Francis looked at him and Arthur felt his stomach tighten—for no reason, of course.

"I've been dreaming," Francis said. "About you."

Arthur kept his gaze focused ahead of him. "What as? A demon? An evil sorcerer? World's most terrible cook?"

"A lover." Francis showed a half-grin. "I dreamed of you as a lover. Amazing, non?"

Arthur didn't know what to say. He turned off the engine, not wanting to leave it on unnecessarily.

"I dreamed that I woke up next to you," Francis said. "That's how it started. I leaned in to kiss you, and then I woke up."

"Sounds like a nightmare."

"That's the thing." He rested his head in his palm. "It was so nice, such a shame to wake up…"

Arthur still had his hands on the steering wheel. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because you asked."

"I asked you why you're sad. Are you telling me it's all because of a dream?"

"Not just one." Francis leaned a bit closer. "I keep having those dreams. And it doesn't stop there, either. When I'm reading in a chair, I imagine you hugging me from behind." He snorted. "You have taken over my thoughts."

Arthur wiped an invisible stain from his dashboard. "I don't see how I could form such a great distraction to you."

Francis rested his hand on Arthur's arm. "This morning, I dreamed that you told me you loved me. When I woke up, I tried to get right back to sleep again. But I couldn't return to that moment. Tonight, at the party, you avoided me, and that made it hurt even more."

"Were you hoping I'd say something kind? That I'd bring your fantasy to life?"

"Yes. Yes, I was foolish enough to hope." He cupped Arthur's face. "Can you help me, mon cher? Can you tell me you'll never love me, and silence my mind for once and for all?"

Arthur looked into his eyes and entirely different words came to his mind, words which had nothing to do with what he was supposed to say. He almost leaned forward, almost wrapped his arms around Francis. "What did you put in that hot chocolate?"

Francis frowned. "What do you mean?"

"You drugged me, didn't you? Some sort of… love drug or something. You've messed up my mind."

"Mon cher, are you alright? Do you need to come inside for a moment?"

"Yes. No, I mean no!" Arthur flushed bright red. "Stop… stop doing this! You…" He looked around him, searching for words. "I can't tell you that I'll never love you because you won't let me. Even if I want to, you just have to look at me, and… and I can't think straight anymore! So if you want me to hate you, stop being so bloody gorgeous!"

Oops. He wasn't supposed to say that.

Francis gaped at him. "Arthur?"

"Come on, laugh at me."

Francis smiled and oh, it made Arthur melt faster than the chocolate had done. "I have mistletoe hanging above the front door. If anyone asks, you can say you were obeying tradition like the gentleman you are."

Arthur swallowed thickly. Would that silence his mind? Was giving in the way to go?

"Come on, Arthur. What's holding you back?"

A strand of hair had fallen onto Francis' face and Arthur felt like wiping it away. "What if anyone finds out?"

Francis got out of the car and walked around it. He opened Arthur's door and leaned down. "Forget about diplomatic relations, or reputations, or any of that silly stuff." He held out his hand. "Choose what feels right to you."

Arthur looked at the hand, knowing that he couldn't stop himself from taking it, no matter what was at stake. "No one has to know."

Francis nodded and Arthur took the hand, stepping out of the car. He closed the door and let Francis lead him across the street to his house. Sure enough, there was mistletoe right in front of the door. "Why doesn't this surprise me?"

Francis chuckled and leaned against the door. "I knew it would come in handy."

Arthur stepped closer. Was he actually doing this? "You're my enemy."

"Am I?"

Those eyes, those warm, beautiful eyes. They lured Arthur in until there was barely any space between them anymore. This was the right thing to do, wasn't it? At least, it felt that way.

"Shall I go first?" Francis asked.

Arthur shook his head. He leaned forward, and then his lips were on Francis', and the whole world fell into place. His shoulders relaxed and he sighed into the kiss. His hands slid onto Francis' back, pulling him closer, and he melted into the hands cupping his face.

Francis let out a shuddering sigh. "I love you." He caressed Arthur's cheek. "I may be the country of love, but I have never said these words with such conviction. For the longest time, I have loved you."

Arthur couldn't find words to say anymore. He just stood there, face bright red and body shaking. The only thing he could still do was pull Francis against him and bury his face in the other's shoulder.

"Do you want to come inside?" Francis asked. "There's no mistletoe there, but…"

"I'm fine as long as I get to burn that sweater."

Francis laughed and Arthur's heart skipped a beat at the sound. "This is some dark magic you're using, frog." He leaned back a little so he could look into those bewitching eyes. "It's dangerous to be this charming, you know. People have been burned at the stake for it."

"It's worth the risk."

Arthur rolled his eyes and leaned in for another kiss. "Next time, confess to me right away instead of sulking all over the place."

"Got it." He jingled the bells around Arthur's neck again. "Let's go inside."

"Do we have to?"

"That hot chocolate you enjoyed so much? I'm the one who brought it along. Which means"—he brought his lips to the other's ear—"I have more inside."

"Open the door."

"Always the gentleman." Francis unlocked the door. "After you, mon cher."

In a moment of impulsivity, Arthur pressed a kiss to the other's cheek. "I think I may love you too," he whispered.

"Let's see if I can make you fall for me completely."

"By all means, try."

And that's when Arthur tripped over the threshold.