Alright, soooo... Here is a FrUK. Don't know what I think about this yet, but eh. Who knows? Alright. So this is not gonna be smutty. It's gonna kinda be angsty. But who knows, maybe it will be smutty later. PS. A warning of an O.C.! Her name is Francine, she is the country of Alsace Lorraine, and there will be a fic describing her coming up soon! That is all!

The thunder cracked and the rain pelted against the bedroom window, stirring the ash blond from yet another fitful sleep. The red glow of the alarm clock above his head on the bed board threatened 6:05 AM. He lay there quietly, listening to the pounding of the rain; another glorious morning in Dover, England. A deep breath and his brain shot into "What the hell" mode, the remnants of his night before causing his head to pound.

"Oh, sod it! Just kill me and get it over with," he thought as the pounding echoed again. Blinking a couple times, he roused himself awake enough to realize that the pounding was not only in his head. He looked at the clock, thinking, "Who the fuck pounds on a man's door at six in the bloody forenoon!?"

He dragged himself out of the warm bed and shuffled down the hall toward the front door. Staggering, he hopped to my left as a sharp pain jolted up his leg. "Ow! Shit!" he cried as he hobbled to the couch, propping himself against the arm as he grabbed his heel. "Oh bloody hell, why are these ruddy keys on the damned floor?!" It was his own damn fault, he guessed. He should have turned on the light when he first got up.

The pounding became a bit erratic.

"Yeah, yeah! I'm coming," He yelled, crossing the rest of the living room far more awake than he really wanted to be at this hour. With a yank the door swung open. "What?!?"

"My my my, trés fâché. And what cute little boxers you have on today, mon chaux." Deep blue eyes stared down at the small Englishman, and Arthur could not help but sigh. He was in no mood for the Frenchman today, not with this hangover at its peak.

"Bonjour, Arthur."

Arthur blinked, looking straight ahead at the girl hanging off of Francis's arm. It was his younger sister, aptly named Francine, for she was the spitting image of her brother, aside for her having a more feminine charm about her, while he was more rugged and masculine.

"Oh. Mint forenoon to ya, Francine." Arthur nodded and peeked out the front door, watching the rain ricochet off the car and pavement. Another streak of lightning and the inevitable reverberation of thunder lit the apartment. Bare footing to the kitchen, he grabbed his smokes from a drawer and flicked the light switch up. "What brings yeh two here so early?" There was a slight hint of distaste in his voice, and he raised agitated green eyes up from his cigarette.

"Well, we were in the neighborhood-", Francine started, but Francis brought a large hand over her mouth, stopping her from finishing her sentence. Though, Arthur thought it looked more like his hand was smothering her face with its large size.

"Mon ange, let us not bore Monsieur Arthur with silly tales. Why don't you go back and meet me at the ferry to cross the channel."

"But-"

He gave her a chaste kiss on the forehead, and shook his head. "No buts, mon ange. I will meet you at the ferry."

She didn't protest much after that, smiling cheerfully as she waved goodbye to Arthur, and got back into the growler that drove her towards the harbor.

"Well, do you want to come in or do you want to stand in the bloody rain all day?"

"Is that a nice way to say j'ai manqué vous?"

"You are such a prick sometimes," Arthur answered flatly, walking into the kitchen again. He grabbed a rag, wiping of the stove from last night's attempt at cooking dinner. He was glad the rancid stench had finally left, though now his kitchen was completely soaked from having to leave his windows open all night.

"Only sometimes?" Francis replied just as flat, crossing his arms in front of him, "Feeling generous today, non?"

The rag made a wet, slapping sound as it was hurled into the sink. Arthur looked up at Francis, and the two glared at each other for a few moments, before the Brit relented and broke the silence.

"Well, come in and shut the door already," he sighed, turning around to open a cabinet. He took two teacups out, on blue and the other green, as well a box of tea bags. "Earl Grey is fine, yeah?"

"What makes you think I want to stay?" Francis asked impatiently, his foot tapping on the ground. Ah, the sure sign that the frog was annoyed.

A smirk tugged at Arthur's lips as he opened the box of tea, answering simply, "You actually walked into my house".

Francis let out a defeated sigh, walking in and closing the door behind him .

And forgive the French, because I really don't know if it is accurate or not. Becaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaause I do not know French. Sooooo, I used my own translator, sooooo I am sorry if the French is not as accurate as you all would like it.

trés fâché - So angry

j'ai manqué vous - I missed you

mon ange - my angel