*THIS FIC IS OLD AS FUCKING DIRT AND I'M SO SORRY THAT MY STUPID YOUNG SELF KNEW NOTHING ABOUT ALCOHOL*
Hey, Guys! A-mae-100 reporting for...whatever the hell you call this...fanfiction duties...? Translations for the french are at the end of the story!
FrUk is one of my favorite Yaoi pairings..because France and Britain are both so gorgeous
P.S: There will be 3 chapters, so this isn't the end! On hon hon hon...
It was a meeting just like any other. America wouldn't stop running is mouth, China sat respectful and silent, Russia was eerily quiet, and England was hot-headed and temperamental as usual; the only exception was France.
Instead of being his normal energetic and romantic self, France was unusually calm and said not a word, responding to any questions with a nod or a shake of his head. No one was particularly worried, but England was almost annoyed at the country's behavior. Since most of England's contributions to the meetings sparked off of disagreements with France, England had absolutely nothing to say, for there was nothing to argue with. He found it humiliating that as he listened to each country ramble on and on, all he could do was sit there foolishly.
And so, with two countries not contributing to the conversations, when the meeting had finally drawn to a close, the topics were so narrow and unresolved that every country stood up to leave feeling very confused.
England, the usual last one to leave, was just gathering his things and putting on his formal coat when he noticed France out of the corner of his eye. To Britain's surprise and annoyance, the French man was still seated without a word, staring down at his half-full wine glass.
"If you're going to continue to sit there, then I won't stop you…but you're going to be quite lonely," England cleared his throat and fixed his tie, glancing over at Francis. When France still said nothing, Arthur snorted and pushed in his chair, turning to leave. "A goodbye would have been appropriate…" he grumbled, stopping abruptly when he heard the other speak up.
"Ah! So the frog finally speaks!" Arthur laughed and turned around on his back foot, folding his arms and looking into France's blue eyes. "Now go on and spit it out Francis…I don't have all of the bloody day to waste."
"So…So Britain…Life is hard for me back home…"
"Life is hard for all of us during this war." England interrupted, narrowing his eyes as he had already anticipated what France was suggesting.
"Yes, I realize that, but…Arthur, what I'm asking for isn't all that much…just a little help..a donation if you will…"
"And why would I help you? You wine-guzzling fool…! We've already had this discussion, so get a grip and run your own bloody country!"
"But, Britain..!" France pleaded, rising to his feet and taking a hesitant step forward.
"My answer is, and will forever be no!" Britain slammed his fists down on the large table, causing silverware and glasses that rested on its surface to tremble and nearly clatter to the floor.
In one cool and calm move, Francis swiftly steadied his wine glass that had rested precariously near the edge of the table, and then raised it and brought it to his lips, his eyes suddenly devoid of all sadness or helplessness. "Mon ami…You have become much too stressed over the years…Sit down with me and we'll talk over a few glasses of wine like we used to, old friend…"
"Don't try and change my mind, frog…!" England hissed, gritting his teeth when France took a hearty sip from his glass, drawing his tongue over his lips.
"Non, non…I'm not trying to persuade you at all, my friend…this is just to wind down a bit. You and I could both use a bit of relaxation, no?" The French man then laughed and poured another glass of wine in a new goblet, presenting it to Britain.
"Damn it all, France!" Arthur growled, glaring into the blue eyes of the other country, who had risen to his feet and gently waved the shining glass of wine in front of Britain's face.
Francis took another step closer, enticing England with the crisp scent of the wine. "Oh, be rational…" He almost purred, "Have a seat and drink a glass with me, you'll be happy you did…"
With a grumble and a huff of slight protest, Arthur finally gave in. "Bah …fine! But do not think that this changes anything…" he mumbled as he sat down grumpily in the seat next to France, snatching the wineglass out of his hand and taking a quick sip. The wine was rather bitter, but was better than what England was used to. After all, he had never really cared for any wine that he had tried from France, but this taste was wonderful and different, however, he refused to admit that to his enemy.
"Your wine tastes as awful as always, Francis." England lied, taking another large sip despite his attempt to stifle his craving for more.
"Ahh..but your actions do not agree with you, Arthur…" the French man laughed softly and refilled England's' quickly emptied glass. "Now tell me, mon chére…has anything been…troubling you…?"
"Me…? Now why would anything be troubling me? I'm as good as I've ever been, you nosy Frenchie…why the hell do you care, anyway?" England stifled a hiccup, a painful reminder that he wasn't the most alcohol-tolerant.
"Absurdité… Even before a drink or two, you are not the best liar, Arthur…" Francis sipped at his drink slowly and elegantly, resting his other hand on the table, "Now tell me what has made you so tense, my friend…"
The British man traced his finger around the rim of the wineglass, sighing nervously and taking another large swallow of his drink. "Nothing is really bothering me…in particular…" he whispered half-heartedly, and in return, France chuckled.
"Go on and make your troubles heard, friend…After all, we are all going through a bit of bad luck, are we not?"
Although he hardly ever agreed with France on anything, Arthur had to nod at this, for it was very true. It was hard enough to sustain equilibrium between war and the wellbeing of his country, but his own sanity was an entirely different matter. Even if he hated to do so, England admitted to himself that what France said was true; he had become a dense shell of his former self. "It's very frustrating…dealing with my own wellness as well as my country's…"
"Yes…I know what you mean…" Francis chimed in, offering England a cloth which he then used to wipe the stray droplets of wine off his lip. "Even moi, the gorgeous France, has problems with these sorts of things…" he sighed, peering down the table at the chalkboard, littered with strategic drawings and plans drawn in white. "Times are tough…but that is why we all stay together…you'll find peace in togetherness, as they say…"
"You believe that malarkey?" England hiccupped and wiped his mouth with his sleeve, looking over at France with a mocking smile.
"Oui, I do."
"When has peace ever been accomplished through being together…? Just look at us, Francis…How many times have we met as allies…quite a few, I'd say… and yet we still continue to argue with one another..." As the alcohol began to set in, Arthur's words became slurred and slow, his green eyes cloudy in a drunken stupor.
His reactions became delayed and confused, which may explain why at first he did not react when he felt a pair of lips brush against his neck.
All England could muster was a shocked yelp before his lips were smothered by France's, who's hands had begun to move lower than Britain cared for them to go.
"Love, mon chére…Love is the togetherness that brings peace…." France whispered hotly into Britain's ear, and then lightly kissed the nape of his neck, his facial hair brushing England's skin and making him shiver.
"W-What the hell…? Get off of me, you…you…!" the blushing man sputtered, fighting as effectively as he could to pry France's searching hands off of him.
When the effects of the alcohol proved too much of a setback for England to fight back, he began to reach out for something to use; a phone, a heavy object, it didn't matter, all he needed was something to save himself with. The first thing that he touched he grasped, and that object just happened to be a wine glass, full to the brim. The green-eyed man splashed the entire fill of the glass into France's face, staining the blonde's beautiful uniform coat a deep red.
Francis released his grasp long enough for the other country to slip out of his grip and onto the ground, trembling. "H-How dare you…!" Britain gasped, attempting to rise to his feet as he backed up against the wall. In his drunken state, his legs refused to stand straight, and France was right next to him before he could even pull himself onto his feet. "Stay away from me, you frog..! Pervert!" He yelled, throwing his hands up defensively. To his surprise, Francis did not take another step further, but instead offered a hand to help Arthur to his feet.
"I apologize," he murmured, using his other hand to brush his dripping hair from his eyes, "That was not very appropriate of me."
"I would agree, sir!" The British man growled, forcing himself to his feet without the other's aid, "Good day to you!" He cleared his throat with a huff of annoyance and dusted off his clothing, staggering out of the room while fighting to escape the tempting sensation of the French man who smelled of wine and his enchanting kisses.
Oui = Yes
Mon chére = My dear
Mon ami = My friend