A/N - So, I wrote this fic for my friend, 'cause she's obsessed with Hetalia, and in particular FrUK :) Reviews and constructive criticism are very much appreciated !

It was mid-afternoon, and sheaves of unfinished documents were piled around Arthur's desk, blocking what feeble sunlight had broken through the thick clouds. He sighed and reached for his tea, deciding to relax for a few precious minutes.

A warm arm draped round Arthur's shoulders, and a husky whisper announced the entirely unwelcome visitor.

'Bonjour, mon amour. Did you miss me?'

Arthur took a deep breath and just barely succeeded in suppressing the shiver that ran through him. That voice, the ridiculous way the stranger had announced his arrival - there was only one person who behaved like that. For the umpteenth time, Arthur had to wonder why a rich French businessman would bother to visit him so often.

'Get off, Francis. And no, of course I didn't. Who would?'

The Frenchman was unfazed, and smirked in that irritating way of his that seemed to say 'I-know-you're-lying-and-you-can't-convince-me-otherwise'. His lips ghosted over Arthur's neck, leaving a burning blush in their wake.

'That reaction would say otherwise.'

Arthur growled, and gripped his mug more firmly. 'Get off, unless you want this freshly boiled tea to become better acquainted with that face you're so proud of.'

Francis wound his arms tightly around Arthur. 'Ah, you are so naïve to think you can trick me. We both know you wouldn't waste your precious Earl Grey, even on me.'

'And we both also know that you wouldn't risk your precious good looks testing that theory.'

'Touché.' Francis stepped back, still smirking. 'I'll console myself with the fact that you admitted that I'm good looking.'

Arthur scowled. He berated himself; it hadn't been deliberate, but further inflating the Frenchman's ego was not a good move. 'Arrogant bastard.'

Francis laughed and sauntered off, radiating self-satisfaction.

Leaving Arthur to scowl at his tea and wish he could retain some small semblance of dignity where that stupid frog was concerned.

Arthur was sitting in a small London cafe, trying and failing to concentrate on the newspaper clenched angrily in his hands. He hadn't seen Francis for a while, and although part of him was praising this unexpected good luck, part of him was worried about the idiot, maybe even missing him slightly.

He blushed at the thought, and shook his head furiously, focussing desperately on the newspaper that had remained unread for some time now.

He had just finished the first sentence when Francis slid into the seat opposite him, pocketing a scrap of paper. Arthur knew it almost definitely had some girl's number scrawled across it in the idiot's ridiculously floral script. Torn between grinning and rolling his eyes at this typically Francis situation, Arthur instead ended up just staring.

Francis saw what he was looking at, and flashed his familiar smirk. 'Jealous, mon petit? After all, you English are rather lacking in charm. You wouldn't know romance if it kicked you in the -'

Arthur kicked him hard below the table and refused to dignify him with a response.

'You can pretend to be reading that newspaper as much as you want, mon cher, but I know you're listening.'

Closing the newspaper savagely, Arthur glared balefully at the Frenchman. 'What do you want now?'

Francis pretended to look hurt. 'Do I need an excuse to visit mon ami?'

'Yes. Especially if you plan on wasting my time as you always do.'

'Very well then.' With a flourish, Francis produced yet another batch of papers he would have to trawl through. Seeing Arthur's horrified expression, he laughed. 'You're so gullible! As if I'd be entrusted with your important documents.'

'Sod off,' Arthur said irritably.

'When I only just got here? Non.' He beckoned to the waitress, a pretty blonde who blushed and hurried over. 'Coffee. Black, and brew it strong, s'il vous plait.'

Arthur rolled his eyes and continued reading his paper as the Frenchman proceeded to flirt shamelessly.

Eventually the waitress wandered off, and Francis poked Arthur annoyingly.

He sighed and closed his newspaper. 'You've finished, then?'

'Oui. Now to business. I need a favour, mon cher.'

Arthur narrowed his eyes. 'What sort of favour?'

'Just a very small one. It would help me, immensely.'

'How small?'

'Very. All I need is to stay -'

'No.' Arthur's chair scraped back as he scrambled to his feet, horrified. 'Not in a million years. Not if you paid me. Never.'

The Frenchman looked wounded. 'But, mon cher, you don't even know what I was going to ask you!'

'I can guess, and I'm telling you, it will never, never happen.'

Francis pouted. 'Mais, you do not understand. I am a fugitive in my own land! I was desperate, you are the only one I can turn to.' He looked pleadingly at Arthur, gripping his coat sleeve with an air of desperation.

Arthur looked back sullenly. Then he sighed. 'What did you do?'

Quickly glancing around, Francis leant forward conspiratorially. 'There was a lady...'

Arthur sighed again. Of course it was a woman. Trust Francis to get into trouble over his libido.

'Her fiancé was more important than I had thought, and he pulled some strings to get me banished from my homeland.' He sighed melodramatically. 'Will you not take pity on a poor, troubled friend?'

Poor. The word reminded Arthur of something, and he grinned happily. 'Why can't you just buy a house here? You have the money, and that way, you wouldn't have to share my tiny flat!'

Francis paused fractionally, then said, 'My bank accounts have been frozen. I have very little money, not enough to live on for more than a few months.'

Despite how annoying the stupid frog was, Arthur couldn't help but feel sorry for him. After all, he too had been penniless for a while, and it hadn't been a good experience. He decided to take pity on him.

'Alright then. You can stay with me.'

Francis' face lit up, and he began babbling in an irritating mixture of French and English. 'Oh, mon amour, you cannot comprends how much you have rassuré-moi! J'étais si effrayé, I will not forget this Arthur! I -'

'Yes, yes, I get it, you're relieved. Now can you please just be quiet? You're giving me a headache.'

Francis nodded and put a finger to his lips, as if to silence them. Then he leant forward and lightly kissed Arthur's forehead.

Arthur squawked in a way that could not by any stretch be construed as dignified, feeling a blush set his face on fire. 'Wh-What the hell was that for, you bloody frog?'

'You said you had a headache, mon cher, I was just kissing it better!' Francis said, grinning and looking extremely pleased with himself.

'Do you want to stay with me or not?' Arthur growled.

Francis eeped and managed to look contrite, and Arthur nodded in satisfaction. At least now he had some way to control the French bastard. He could do this. Even Francis couldn't be that annoying, right?

Wrong.