It had been a rough couple of months for Francis. First, those dreadfully devastating floods, ruining his country and making his people
homeless, desperate and even killing them. Then there had been that burning humiliation at the World Cup – France, always able to boast
a strong team, eliminated so shamefully early, after only a couple of rather disappointing games. Needless to say his people low spirited
and he could not help suffering from it. He didn’t look his best, either –which was rare for the ever elegant, handsome Frenchman, one who
always paid the utmost attention to the smallest of details – a perfectionist by all means. He was presently laying in the dimly lit sitting
room of his huge mansion, wearing nothing but an old dressing gown, messy blond hair falling into his face, his beard left to grow untamed.
((Bah fucking word limit!))
[[I love you, Francis Nii san~ Sparkling eyes lurker]]
[[I missed your roleplaying France!/lurks]
(( <3 je t'aime aussi mon petit Italien! and lol, I'm rusty so I hope I will not disappoint you my lovely lurkers <3 ))
(( You're off to a good start <258715094
)
)
((Stupid smileys ))
Arthur bit his lip as he debated on ringing on the Frenchman's doorbell. There was a chance he wouldn't even answer.The Englishman had been,
more or less, actually worried about him. He hadn't recieve any annoying phone calls or crude emails from the Nation in a rather long
Hunny!Feli
shares
[[YOU won't and and a welcome back pic for Francis Nii san]] 
time. England thought it was a nice change for once, but when he tried to argue with Francis at the recent UN meeting was when the worry set
in. He didn't even retort back, he didn't steal a kiss or a grope, he was just... solitary. Arthur shakes his head to clear his thoughts and
rings the bell, tapping his foot nervously.
[ you'll do great France~]
Francis was not expecting any visitors, uncharacteristically so – he had not been in a long time due to safety restrictions and his overall
lack of social life recently. When he heard the sharp, shrill noise of the door bell it startled him, and he opened his eyes groggily,
blinking a few times to will himself awake. He had not gotten much sleep at all in the past few months and those rare, precious hours he did
manage to were often haunted by nightmares, and were usually during the daytime. Even so he could not leave a visitor standing outside and
he could not risk turning away someone who could potentially bring news of an emergency. He slowly, gingerly walked up to the door
and opened it as far as the latch allowed. “Oui?” his voice was devoid of the usual charm it held – it sounded rather like one of
someone who had been smoking most of their life, hoarse, raspy and low.
((aww merci you guys <3 ))
Arthur shivers slightly at the groggy voice. Even through the partly agape door, the Englishman could already tell Francis was not taking
this disaster well. He had never wittnessed the Frenchman like this. Arthur keeps his frown plastered on his face, and folds his
arms. "What? Are you going to leave a guest out on your door step? That's quite unlike you, I must say."
A click could be heard and the door was instantly unbolted, the chain clinking lightly as the latch swung loose. Francis could not bear for
Arthur,of all people,to see him in such a state,but he figured that it was best to strip the plaster sooner rather than later.
He owed him an explanation after all. “Bienvenue,mon Angleterre. Come in..” he droned in that same, alarmingly unfamiliar voice as he
stepped to the side and turned his back on him, ready to lead him through the dark corridor and into the sitting room.
"That's more like it," Arthur says in an unamused tone, frowning even further as he sees the Frenchman's full state. He allows Francis to
lead him to the sitting room, their foot steps echoing the empty dark halls. "How long do you plan to keep the lights off? Good Lord, you
could at least draw the curtains a tad," The Englishman said, his voice strong and stubborn as usual, a strong facade to hide how worried he
really was.
“Until ze situation vill stabilise. My people are suffering from a dire electricity shortage, amongst ozer things.”
He offered as they entered the sitting room, curtains drawn. “Forgive my state,I vas trying to catch some sleep..”
he added as he glanced over the thick curtains blocking any light. He plopped onto his baroque sofa,
an arm lazily draped over the ornate armrest, tired eyes scanning the Englishman. “I am ‘appy to see you.” he spoke after a lengthy
moment of silence.
((Damn and blast! Why must it be 3 am ;A; *bedtimes s-sob*))
(( ;A; I'm sorry for my slow typing <///3 when do you think you'll be up? ))
((Aww don't apologise ma chére <3 I will be up at around 10-11 my time (GMT+1) and I will respond asap. <3 ))
(( ;3; kk <3 ))
((*baise main!* Forgive me for failing you so hard mon bijou ;3; darn sleep!))
(( Q 3 Q no its fine! go to sleep <3 ))
((Oui! Bonne nuit mon amour~ *chu* ))
The Brit chose to stand by the window, arms still stubbornly folded against his chest as he studies him. He scowls and retorts to the last
comment, "In all honesty Francis, I can't say the same." He lets his gaze wonder away from the Frenchman to the window, not wanting to see
the him any longer in this state. It made his heart fall just seeing his drooping blue eyes, groggy with the need of sleep. "From what I see
right now you're not my idiotic, git-faced frog. Have you even had a taste of wine this month? When was the last time you properly groomed
yourself?" Oh damn it all, his facade was cracking.
“Le vin makes my throat parched,vhen zere are so many people vho struggle to get eau.” he explained, looking at the Englishman’s tense frame
but he offered a small smile at his concern.”Do I look zat bad, chéri?” he asked, almost teasingly, after a long pause in which he pondered
something, sad blue eyes scanning the other’s body language for an answer he already knew.
((Question, starting over or not? ))
((Whatever you wish! It seems like at this point it would make sense...))
((mkay~ then I say relationship, but still in the earier stages of it o3o ))
((Okay! That is why France has isolated himself,choosing not to burden England))
“I would expect you to owned a mirror.” Arthur sneers lightly, but automatically bites his lip after what he just said. Insults and punches
weren’t going to work this time, were they? The Frenchman’s appearance, it was hard to look at. The Englishman stole quick glances at him as
he stood by the window, almost not wanting it to be true, wishing it was just all one big atrocious allusion or dream that can be swept
away with ease.
Francis raised an eyebrow at the jab, but also saw Arthur’s reaction to that slip.He smiled warmly,and let out a breathless laugh. “I own
many,mon cher...mais I ‘ave covered zem.” he could feel the tension,he could feel the Englishman’s unease. He knew he was not much to
look at right then,but for once he didn’t really care. “Viens ici, s’il vous plait..” he pleaded, patting a spot on the sofa next to him.
Arthur stays still at the window, eyeing the seat warily. Usually the Englishman would refuse without a thought knowing it’d just lead
to vulgar intensions by the Frenchman…but now, its probably something he needs. The nation walks slowly over and quietly sits down next to
Francis, his green eyes gazing at the floor in front of them.
“Merci..” he whispered hoarsely,leaning slightly towards the Englishman. “Do I repulse you, Arthúr?” he asked after a few moments,
piercing blue eyes fixed on the other’s features.
Arthur laughs dryly leaning back into the couch. "You always do." He allows himself to glance over at the Frenchman, offering him a
small strained smile.
He smiled back,lapis lazuli eyes narrowing appreciatively,a tiny glint of that alluring mischief typical of the Frenchman in them.
“I’m glad..” he extended an arm towards him,long,bony fingers caressing the other’s chest briefly before curling around the fabric of his
shirt,rather like a lost child would.Only then did it hit him just how lonely he felt,and how much he’d needed Arthur.He'd come to see him
in his moment of weakness,and Francis had let him in.
Arthur’s eyes softened as he witnessed the childish action. He lets his own hands take a hold of the one on his shirt, clasping it between
his owns two hands. He held it to his chest, not wanting to let go of the boney hand.The Englishman couldn’t remember the last time they had
even touched each other, it was almost to painful to think about. It seemed as though every time those blue eyes of his, full of stress
and depression, blinked, one of Arthur’s heart strings would be snipped apart.
The silent gesture of affection is what was needed for Francis to give in. He could no longer pretend, or hold back. He took comfort in
Arthur’s warm hands and leaned over,letting his tired head rest on the Englishman’s shoulder,burrowing lightly into the crook of his neck,
his shoulders shaking lightly.
Arthur held the hand a bit longer before latching his arms around Francis, pressing the nation even closer to him feeling as though he’d
vanish right out of thin air. His beard pricked his skin more than usual, but the Englishman couldn’t care less at the moment. Francis was
in his arms, that was enough for now. But even so, it left him a way to break the silence. “Oi, haven’t you even thought about shaving?” One
of his hands moves the thread itself lightly into the Frenchman’s locks, brushing out the tangles comfortingly.
“non...” Francis mumbled against Arthur’s soft skin as he inhaled his familiar,inebriating scent,one he’d missed dearly.
The Englishman had such power over him – a simple gesture,a word uttered in a certain way,a brief glance...anything
he did could provoke such strong turmoil in his chest,a churning in his gut,a tremor in his body,a weakness in his joints...such was the
power Arthur held over the helpless Frenchman.He leaned into his arms completely,hands gripping almost desperately onto his shirt,his scalp
tingling pleasantly from the soft caresses. “zere is...” he inhaled deeply,eyes fluttering shut as he gave into the comforting sensation
“a certain fascination to ze rugged look..” he teased,even though his body was screaming need.
“Oh, is that so? I must say fashion is going down hill if this is the new casual,” Arthur snorts lightly. “I don’t think I am very fond of
fashion movement.” The Englishman continued his light caresses, leaning his head down to kiss Francis’ temple. “I’d prefer your normal
flashy wears to this in comparison.” He relaxes his shoulders letting the Frenchman get comfortable in the nook of his neck. His job
UK_
was
going to be easier than he thought if this was all the nation needed to be cheered up, but something tells him it isn’t.
Francis’ dry lips curled into a smile,and he kissed a soft spot on Arthur’s neck before nuzzling it with his nose. “You never vere fond of
novelties in fashion...you’re so old fashioned” he murmured playfully as he shifted, allowing himself to nestle comfortably into the
Briton’s arms.His breath hitched slightly as he felt the other’s soft,warm lips on his temple,a shiver running down his weakened body – a
touch he much needed.
Arthur sees the nation’s reaction and kisses him again. Sure it was uncharacteristic of him, but at the moment it looked as though all that
Francis needed was to be spoiled right now in his arms. The nuzzles the man was giving him reassured the Brit to continue with his
comforting, something he didn‘t have much experience in. Now that he thought about it, he was the one who always got comforted. “Your nation
wouldn’t be pleased if they see you like this…” The Englishman mumbled into his hair as he laid a few more kisses on the other’s head.
Francis could tell Arthur wasn’t quite used to comforting,but it was that fact that made him feel even more comforted –the Englishman’s rare
gesture directed towards him was eloquent enough. “non...mais I suppose zey ‘ave greater things on zeir minds..” he let his fingers smooth
Francis could tell Arthur wasn’t quite used to comforting,but it was over Arthur’s chest and lay on top of his heart, fingertips trying to
((eep I made a mess of the last post because it lagged sob! lemme rewrite it!))
*over Arthur’s chest and lay on top of his heart, fingertips trying to feel the beat.
He could probably feel it, Arthur thought seeing how it had been pounding loudly ever since he touched the Frenchman. Arthur felt his
face flush at the thought and decides to takes his mind off his beating heart by worrying over the nation.“And when is the last time you had
a full meal?"
Francis let out a soft whine at that,pouting like a child and hiding even more onto the other’s shoulder. “I am not ‘ungry,Arthúr...”
Arthur frowns at not having an answer,"And how long have you been like that?" Honestly, Francis could be such a child at times...
“Je ne sais pas...” was his answer,his voice lowering to a whisper,slowly gaining back its charm.
The nation clicked his tongue in disbelief. "...you don't know. Do you honestly think that I would believe that?" Arthur huffs, looking
down at the Frenchman on his shoulder.
He nodded playfully,refusing to look up,rubbing his beard lightly onto his neck. “mhhmh...”
The beard, Arthur was ashamed to say, actually *tickled* his neck. He cringed at the rubbing, tensing up his shoulders. "Oi, don't do that."
Francis actually /grinned/ at that,for the first time in months,his face almost aching as his lips stretched,and kept nuzzling him like
that,highly amused “Pourquoi..?”
Arthur feels his stomach squirm at the tickling sensation and tries to unlatch the Frenchman from the crook of his neck. "O-o-oi! stop it!"
Francis let out a breathless laugh and kissed the spot he was rubbing,letting his lips linger there for a moment.
The nation stayed tense expecting more tickling from the Frenchman. After a moment, Arthur sighs, relaxing his body back. "You're so
childish some times."
“And you are so easy to tease...” he chuckled, considerably happier in Arthur’s hold. He began a trail of kisses up his neck before settling
back down.
If this were any other situation, Arthur would have probably shoved the Frenchman off once he started kissing his neck, but if this is
what Francis wants, Arthur supposed he could live through the embarrassment.
“hmm..?” Francis mused, rather surprised by Arthur’s lack of protest in the form of hitting.He usually ended up bruised.
He frowned a little, looking up at the Briton. “Arthúr...? Are you alright..?”
Arthur frowned slightly at the question,blushing slightly."You of all people are asking me *that*?Of course I'm alright, why wouldn't I be?"
“You are be’aving in a strange vay. ....Do you ....pity me..?” he asked candidly, but wore a serious expression as he drew back a little.
Arthur breathes deeply in, no really wanting to answer that."I'm just... concerned, okay?"His blush deepened as he admits the truth, letting
his eyes look anywhere but at Francis'.
“Concerned...” Francis looked at him intently, scouring for a sign,anything...of course there must have been a reason as to why Arthur
turned up on his front step, and it went beyond mere curiousity. Concern. His Arthur was concerned about him..and he knew for it to be true,
since he normally would never admit to that.
Arthur huffs in embarrassment and folds his arms against his chest. "I-its not like I'm fretting over you, I-I'm just a tad concerned. My
inbox has been spam free for months!" The Englishman continues to ramble on, trying to make it seem as though his concern was
minuscule. But it might have been to late...
"You miss my spam?" Francis smiled a little impishly,leaning onto his shoulder in a casual manner.He'd known Arthur for a long time and knew
better than to completely believe what he said. The Briton was the king of denial after all.
"What? No! How could I miss such crude waste of space in my inbox?!" The Englishman refused to look at the casual leaning man, he could
already feel the smugness admitting off of him...Damn it...
"It's alright,Arthúr. It makes me 'appy to know you missed me." his smile is sincere,and he raises a hand to the other's cheek, caressing it
lightly. "Merci for coming."
"I wasn't missing you, I was *concerned*," Arthur denied, but Lord, that was false. He had been missing his pestering, his arguing, just
in all, him. Sure, Arthur was usually a solitary person confined to himself, but after a while... it does get lonely.