[ENGLAND] La Varieté Plaît

[atrb=cellpadding, 0, true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style,width: 400px; background-image: url(http://subtlepatterns.subtlepatterns.netdna-cdn.com/patterns/tiny_grid.png); border-top: 45px solid #666666; border-bottom: 25px solid #666666;][STYLE=border: 3px solid #fff; height: 100px; width: 100px; background-image: url(http://i113.photobucket.com/albums/n222/amoline/aaaa.png); float: right; margin: -65 -20 10 10; border-radius: 50 50 50 50;][/style][STYLE=margin: 10px; font-family: georgia; font-size: 19px; color: #fff; text-align: justify; text-transform: uppercase; margin: -35 -5 5 10; letter-spacing:-3px; line-height: 15px; text-shadow: 1px 1px 0px #000;]I DON'T KNOW WHO YOU THINK YOU ARE BUT BEFORE THIS NIGHT IS THROUGH[/style][STYLE=margin: 10px; padding: 5px; background-color: #fff; font-family: tahoma; font-size: 10px; color: #000; text-align: justify; text-align: justify;] The Entente Cordiale was cemented after the signing of a series of agreements. The last agreement was marked on the 8th of April, 1904, formally between the United Kingdom and the French Third Republic. There were several reasons for agreeing to it: the concerns of colonial expansion and the hopeful ending of a nearly millennium long era of perpetual conflict between the two nations. France would recognize British control over Egypt if England in return recognized France’s presence in Morocco. There were extras thrown in, such as France giving up his fishing rights on the shore of Newfoundland, while England would drop the complaints regarding French customs regime in Madagascar. So much to happen, so many demands, and yet so much was at stake. It was an agreement that they both needed. Francis often thought that Arthur had also agreed upon it as an indirect slight to Germany. France had been isolated from other European powers, largely because of the German Chancellor’s efforts to estrange him from potential allies to keep the nation from possibly seeking revenge for defeat in the Franco-Prussian War. England, himself, enjoyed isolation from the European continent at this time, intervening only whenever it was deemed absolutely necessary or to maintain a balance of power, Francis supposed. Whatever the reason for England’s agreement to the Entente Cordial, Francis was politically glad. The last of the agreement had barely been finalized along with the nations’ own personal settlements to further strengthen this new bond between their people. France had little contact with the Englishmen during the process, although he was able to make his demands. And in return, Francis would receive Arthur’s. Such was the contracts of their kind. Today was the hundredth anniversary of their agreement to cordiality. There was a small celebration of commemoration while they were away. Currently they were going through the motions of another world meeting; this particular one was taking place in Italy. After the meeting, as per usual, they were free to do whatever they pleased. Most of the time this only included getting more work done, or to catch up on some much needed sleep, or to go sightseeing on rare occasions. And even though France had seen Italy several times over, he prompted for the latter. Work could always be finished later and he wasn’t the least bit tired. Quite the opposite actually. He needed to burn off this excess of energy. And he decided that it was going to be with whoever had the misfortune of capturing his attention first. Who in their right mind wanted to stay cooped up when there was so much beauty to admire anyway? His thoughts were interrupted by something soft and shuffling. It sounded like a person making their way towards where he was currently admiring the view. An idea occurred to the Frenchman the moment he was able to distinguish the faraway syllables as the familiar ones of a certain Brit. He couldn’t exactly catch the words, but it was loud enough for him to pinpoint where it was coming from. Smirking to himself, Francis followed it. He turned a few corners, as Italian walkways and streets were quite narrow. He barely managed to stop after nearly colliding into the very person that he was looking to harass… or play with. The two things usually went hand in hand until they were barely recognizable as their former actions. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - TAG: Arthur! TIME: May 8, 2004 PLACE: Italy (Close to their lodgings after a world meeting.) NOTES: Hurr. I finally got this up. Hope it’s okay. ;D [/style][STYLE=margin: 10px; font-family: georgia; font-size: 19px; color: #fff; text-align: justify; text-transform: uppercase; margin: 0 10 -15 10; letter-spacing:-3px; line-height: 13px; text-shadow: 1px 1px 0px #000; text-align: right;]I WANT TO DO BAD THINGS WITH YOU[/style]

[STYLE=padding: 3px; font-size: 10px; font-family: tahoma; color: #999999; text-align: center;]TEMPLATE BY PEBBLE OF BTN[/style]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,10,true][atrb=style,width:350px; background-color:#e3e3e1; border:4px solid #ececef,bTable][STYLE=float:right; color:#f1f1f1; font-size:24px; letter-spacing:-4.4px; text-transform:uppercase; font-weight:bolder; margin-right:-10px; margin-top:-5px; font-family:arial narrow]carry on carry on[/style][STYLE=color:#f1f1f1; font-size:14px; font-style:italic; font-family:georgia; letter-spacing:1px; margin-top:-10px; margin-right:-10px; float:right; font-weight:bold]like nothing really matters[/style][STYLE=float:right; width:200px; height:350px; background-color:#f1f1f1; overflow:auto; padding:5px; font-family:georgia; color:#3b3b3b; margin-top:0px; margin-right:-2px; font-size:10px; text-align:justify] Another useless meeting that was more augments and ‘agreements-to-disagrees.’ Not to anyone’s surprise, it felt like a complete waste of time. It was a schedule that was met and documented by their superiors, leaving them with more work to bring home and more worries to eat away at their already stressed minds. England, like the rest of the world, he was sure, was beyond tense. The economy was terrible for everyone and that alone took up the vast majority of their time. Sighing, Arthur stretched his arm muscles as he stepped out from his room, still feeling the annoying aches of sitting still for too long. After a long pause, he made his way further down the corridor until he made it outside. A quiet, spring breeze blew past, ruffling his somewhat dishevelled head of hair. He groaned quietly, feeling the sensation of blood flowing more heartily through his veins as he attempted to stretch out the knots behind his shoulders. Yes, that damned meeting was far too long. The stress lines in his face smoothed, relaxed as he gazed out at the softness of the scene. He did enjoy coming here whenever he could, but normally his schedule would never allow for such slow-paced indulgence. Without much thought to anything else, he continued to walk. He couldn’t really get lost, since they had been at these hotels far too often for past meetings, but he pretended for a moment that he could. Walking just for the sake of walking and not thinking a bloody thing. There was sometimes a strange sort of comfort in aimlessness. His mobile beeped a few successive beeps. That could only mean one person. Arthur frowned at the name popping up on the screen. It was an associate of one of his higher-ups. One that he’d prefer not to talk to. This moment to simply breathe was his alone. Irritated thoughts drifted to the work waiting for him in his room. His cold space, which awaited with even colder sheets. The silence was too thick. He should have been used to it by now. That same silence followed him to his home and even lingered in his office. He only noticed its stifling presence whenever he had been alone longer than usual. It happened periodically. ”Can I not be bothered for five fucking minutes…?” He spoke to no one, though there was a hollowness to his words. He stared ahead, his hands shoved deep in his pockets as he continued on his event-less stroll. He didn’t lift his eyes again to the horizon. The lure was no longer present. His mobile beeped again. Once. Curious, but still reluctant to bring the stupid thing out again, he peered at the screen. Just an event. Probably something inane that he had marked on his calendar. ”It probably doesn’t matter,” he mumbled to himself. They always had too many things to remember as it was. And—now he’s talking to himself... Brilliant. And just then, something large and quick nearly collided with him as he rounded the corner. Whoever it was had barely—just barely—managed to stop before running into him. And, of course, who would it be other than his least favourite person in the world. Well, not his very least favourite, but that wasn’t the point. Arthur frowned. ”Watch it!” No insults today. He wasn’t really in the mood; although the profound irritation remained. [/style] [STYLE=width:100px; height:100px; border:2px solid #f1f1f1][/style][STYLE=width:100px; background-color:#f1f1f1; font-family:georgia; font-style:italic; font-size:10px; color:#3b3b3b; margin-top:10px; padding:2px;]tags: francis[/style] [STYLE=width:100px; background-color:#f1f1f1; font-family:georgia; font-style:italic; font-size:10px; color:#3b3b3b; margin-top:10px; padding:2px]place: italy[/style] [STYLE=width:100px; background-color:#f1f1f1; font-family:georgia; font-style:italic; font-size:10px; color:#3b3b3b; margin-top:10px; padding:2px]notes: here we go again[/style] [STYLE=width:100px; background-color:#f1f1f1; font-family:georgia; font-style:italic; font-size:10px; color:#3b3b3b; margin-top:10px; padding:2px]credit to alpha of BTN and GS! [/style]

[atrb=cellpadding, 0, true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style,width: 400px; background-image: url(http://subtlepatterns.subtlepatterns.netdna-cdn.com/patterns/tiny_grid.png); border-top: 45px solid #666666; border-bottom: 25px solid #666666;][STYLE=border: 3px solid #fff; height: 100px; width: 100px; background-image: url(http://i113.photobucket.com/albums/n222/amoline/aaaa.png); float: right; margin: -65 -20 10 10; border-radius: 50 50 50 50;][/style][STYLE=margin: 10px; font-family: georgia; font-size: 19px; color: #fff; text-align: justify; text-transform: uppercase; margin: -35 -5 5 10; letter-spacing:-3px; line-height: 15px; text-shadow: 1px 1px 0px #000;]I DON'T KNOW WHO YOU THINK YOU ARE BUT BEFORE THIS NIGHT IS THROUGH[/style][STYLE=margin: 10px; padding: 5px; background-color: #fff; font-family: tahoma; font-size: 10px; color: #000; text-align: justify; text-align: justify;] Francis’s pulse picked up just a little at nearly running into someone, as would be a natural response for anyone. He wasn’t disappointed with Arthur’s irritated reaction; he soaked up the negative attention from the man like a bad addiction. Their relationship really was not a healthy one, but Francis got a strange rush out of it every time. He loved irritating the Brit, he loved hearing those snide comments, and he couldn’t help but to feel a little bit of a thrill from having his hard, cynical eyes on him. God, it was bad. They always fed each other the wrong way and they both got something from their explosive, little interactions. Worst of all, they loved hurting each other. The Frenchman remembered meeting up with England in the past, with a sinking, heavy feeling in his stomach. A very rare feeling he had whenever he had to confront him. Yes, sometimes he enjoyed it, but there were moments were he simply didn’t want to. Nevertheless, being near Arthur, he never failed to notice things. He went to great lengths to notice every little thing about him. It was almost as if Francis were either looking for something to bother him about later or simply to notice just for the sake of noticing. It was a twisted downward spiral. England both confused and fascinated him. The last time Arthur had been invaded had been in 1066, one which they both remembered very well but never talked about. Since then, England had been relatively free from having his vital regions invaded. That – along with a somewhat inborn pride – gave England a sense of superiority and confidence that Francis rarely saw among the other nations. And he knew a number of them very well, so that truly said something. He felt this many times when they were both younger and he still felt traces of it to this present day. Arthur—to him—was still as tempting as he was when he was no more than a scraggly young nation. He was the most tempting thing that Francis had ever met – it wasn’t as if Francis hadn’t met other enticing nations. There were plenty others in the world. Yet, Arthur was special. He was the one thing that Francis had always wanted—ever since that bloody, terrible day in Hastings—but could never have. He was so damnably unattainable that it drove Francis mad. Arthur drove him mad. It wasn’t anything gentle and it wasn’t anything soft. He never felt those for the other nation. But he did feel something that could never be satisfied. Like a craving that couldn’t be indulged or a beautiful specimen that could never be captured. Arthur never let anyone near him—he build unseen fortified walls around him. If anyone dared to breech them, he would maim them like the former empire he was. And yet there was one time that Arthur had let down his guard down—only one had ever touched his heart—and only one that had ever slipped under the wire. Francis witnessed it. He saw how his green eyes used to light up for Alfred when he was little… and how they still sometimes did. It disgusted Francis to see him like that... and so he helped Alfred to break away from him... and a large part of the reason was because he wanted to see Arthur hurt. Because that’s how sick this game was between them. Arthur ruined his loves and Francis would in turn extinguish his. Oh, he’d known Arthur for centuries. Centuries that had passed by like a storm, leaving nothing but confusion and disappointment in its wake. Other nations had fallen. But he’d seen England rise again and again. And it was in commemoration of these remembrances and thoughts when he gazed upon him once again. A smaller part of him also noted the lack of name-calling and insults on Arthur’s part. He felt oddly upset over this. Where was the animosity? Surely, he could hear that Arthur was irritated with him. But that wasn’t enough. ”Ah, just the person I’ve been looking for,” Francis said, his voice was even, but also bordered on the same wave of irritation that Arthur displayed. Feeling a bit daring and knowing that he might get pushed away as he always was, his fingers brushed the side of England’s face, his thumb swiped gently below his jaw, inclining his head slightly to face his. ”You do remember what day it is, don’t you?” His tone came out a little harsher, demanding, as if presenting some sort of ultimatum. And yet his voice was also laced with hints of lust. Oh, yes. They both knew very well what Francis usually wanted during these annual events of tribute and confirmation. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - TAG: Arthur! TIME: May 8, 2004 PLACE: Italy (Close to their lodgings after a world meeting.) NOTES: So true. [/style][STYLE=margin: 10px; font-family: georgia; font-size: 19px; color: #fff; text-align: justify; text-transform: uppercase; margin: 0 10 -15 10; letter-spacing:-3px; line-height: 13px; text-shadow: 1px 1px 0px #000; text-align: right;]I WANT TO DO BAD THINGS WITH YOU[/style]

[STYLE=padding: 3px; font-size: 10px; font-family: tahoma; color: #999999; text-align: center;]TEMPLATE BY PEBBLE OF BTN[/style]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,10,true][atrb=style,width:350px; background-color:#e3e3e1; border:4px solid #ececef,bTable][STYLE=float:right; color:#f1f1f1; font-size:24px; letter-spacing:-4.4px; text-transform:uppercase; font-weight:bolder; margin-right:-10px; margin-top:-5px; font-family:arial narrow]carry on carry on[/style][STYLE=color:#f1f1f1; font-size:14px; font-style:italic; font-family:georgia; letter-spacing:1px; margin-top:-10px; margin-right:-10px; float:right; font-weight:bold]like nothing really matters[/style][STYLE=float:right; width:200px; height:350px; background-color:#f1f1f1; overflow:auto; padding:5px; font-family:georgia; color:#3b3b3b; margin-top:0px; margin-right:-2px; font-size:10px; text-align:justify] He remembered what day it was the moment that Francis reached out to touch him, before he had even asked. The way he did it was so predictably familiar and it dawned on Arthur like the sick moment when someone just remembered why today was supposed to be as unpleasant as it felt. Of course today was that day. His expression darkened with silent resentment—all the mild irritation in his stare replaced with something else entirely. He hated himself for his automatic response to the familiar touch— and he flinched away from it. Arthur reached up to harshly swat Francis’s fingers away from his face. ”For all your excellent recollection in this matter—“ his voice grew cold, ”—you must also remember my terms in this sodding agreement. I am under no obligation to fulfill your requests on foreign soil.” If Arthur really had any idea of the turmoil that Francis felt around him, then he probably wouldn’t have even allowed their ‘agreement’ to have ever taken place. That—to him, was dangerous. England didn’t like attachments—he didn’t even even like the appearance of them on paper. To England, the things that transpired between them were as cold and efficient as signing a document. Nothing lasting was ever exchanged. France would receive his benefits and England would receive his. He remembered back when it had first been molded. He remembered the smug superiority that crept over him like a silken covering when he had snatched the ever-distasteful France in a show of impertinence against Germany before the world wars. Yes, it served its purpose. And now it only continued to leave a bitter taste in his mouth. France was never an indulgence to him. And God forbid that the flamboyant frog should ever become one. Then the world would certainly end… Arthur continued to stare hard at Francis, but he didn’t leave like he normally would have. Although Arthur was correct on naming his terms, he was also a nation that never went back on his word and he wanted that to remain clear. A part of him noticed the flicker of want from the other... and a part of him wanted to ignore it. He was very familiar with what was usually demanded as compensation. It didn’t disgust or even surprise him one bit. This was France and this was how negotiations usually went with him. The entire affair had always been rather monotonous and he could only stare back with composed indifference. [/style] [STYLE=width:100px; height:100px; border:2px solid #f1f1f1][/style][STYLE=width:100px; background-color:#f1f1f1; font-family:georgia; font-style:italic; font-size:10px; color:#3b3b3b; margin-top:10px; padding:2px;]tags: francis[/style] [STYLE=width:100px; background-color:#f1f1f1; font-family:georgia; font-style:italic; font-size:10px; color:#3b3b3b; margin-top:10px; padding:2px]place: italy[/style] [STYLE=width:100px; background-color:#f1f1f1; font-family:georgia; font-style:italic; font-size:10px; color:#3b3b3b; margin-top:10px; padding:2px]notes: --[/style] [STYLE=width:100px; background-color:#f1f1f1; font-family:georgia; font-style:italic; font-size:10px; color:#3b3b3b; margin-top:10px; padding:2px]credit to alpha of BTN and GS! [/style]

[atrb=cellpadding, 0, true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style,width: 400px; background-image: url(http://subtlepatterns.subtlepatterns.netdna-cdn.com/patterns/tiny_grid.png); border-top: 45px solid #666666; border-bottom: 25px solid #666666;][STYLE=border: 3px solid #fff; height: 100px; width: 100px; background-image: url(http://i113.photobucket.com/albums/n222/amoline/aaaa.png); float: right; margin: -65 -20 10 10; border-radius: 50 50 50 50;][/style][STYLE=margin: 10px; font-family: georgia; font-size: 19px; color: #fff; text-align: justify; text-transform: uppercase; margin: -35 -5 5 10; letter-spacing:-3px; line-height: 15px; text-shadow: 1px 1px 0px #000;]I DON'T KNOW WHO YOU THINK YOU ARE BUT BEFORE THIS NIGHT IS THROUGH[/style][STYLE=margin: 10px; padding: 5px; background-color: #fff; font-family: tahoma; font-size: 10px; color: #000; text-align: justify; text-align: justify;] Francis had been watching Arthur’s reactions the entire time, apathetic blue eyes revealed very little. He did; however, feel a long-standing sort of amusement when he noticed the realization come over Arthur’s expression. He was difficult to read as always, but France liked to think that he still knew better than most how to read the Englishman’s reactions. Even after centuries of acquaintance, though, it was still a challenge. Francis loved a challenge. If he hadn’t, then he probably would have ignored Arthur centuries ago… or at least wouldn’t have bothered with him years after. He was like a bad drug that he despised. Francis kept coming back to get his fill—to feed that wild mixture of irritation (and yes, sometimes even hatred) along with traces of affection. He didn’t mind Arthur’s reaction of swatting his fingers away. The corners of his unsettling smile only grew. ”I know your terms,” He said, his tone calm and even. ”I’m sure that Italy won’t mind… In either case, you’ve never been this stingy on our agreement before. Why start now?” Truthfully, Francis secretly enjoyed catching Arthur in these temperaments of his. The reward for the extra effort was usually well worth it in the end. But Francis was careful to not let his façade slip. Aside from the teasing and constant stream of remarks meant to irritate the Brit, he kept his front of business over the weird compulses to see him whenever it had been a long while since their last rendezvous. He knew what Arthur would do if he ever found out that Francis had developed a little bit of an attachment over the years— Everything had to remain strictly business, nevertheless. The stare that Arthur was giving him, though annoyed him. Francis preferred his usual upset reactions over the lack of them. It was a little unnerving—like touching and speaking to a lifeless doll. A rare spark of anger went through Francis over Arthur’s rigidity. If that’s how it was going to be, then he would force a reaction. His fingers took rough hold of the other’s chin, tilting his face rather forcefully towards his and pressed his mouth against his. Francis was quick about it, because he knew pretty damn well that England barely tolerated being kissed—not from anyone, least of all France. The majority of them, then, had to be stolen. Apparently France had a death wish… but he was willing to suffer a bit for the compensation. Few dared to touch the ill-tempered former empire like this—something that greatly amused him. His mouth was swift to trail down Arthur’s neck, an area that Francis had long ago established as an extremely useful weakness of his. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - TAG: Arthur! TIME: May 8, 2004 PLACE: Italy (Close to their lodgings after a world meeting.) NOTES: Pfffff [/style][STYLE=margin: 10px; font-family: georgia; font-size: 19px; color: #fff; text-align: justify; text-transform: uppercase; margin: 0 10 -15 10; letter-spacing:-3px; line-height: 13px; text-shadow: 1px 1px 0px #000; text-align: right;]I WANT TO DO BAD THINGS WITH YOU[/style]

[STYLE=padding: 3px; font-size: 10px; font-family: tahoma; color: #999999; text-align: center;]TEMPLATE BY PEBBLE OF BTN[/style]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,10,true][atrb=style,width:350px; background-color:#e3e3e1; border:4px solid #ececef,bTable][STYLE=float:right; color:#f1f1f1; font-size:24px; letter-spacing:-4.4px; text-transform:uppercase; font-weight:bolder; margin-right:-10px; margin-top:-5px; font-family:arial narrow]carry on carry on[/style][STYLE=color:#f1f1f1; font-size:14px; font-style:italic; font-family:georgia; letter-spacing:1px; margin-top:-10px; margin-right:-10px; float:right; font-weight:bold]like nothing really matters[/style][STYLE=float:right; width:200px; height:350px; background-color:#f1f1f1; overflow:auto; padding:5px; font-family:georgia; color:#3b3b3b; margin-top:0px; margin-right:-2px; font-size:10px; text-align:justify] Arthur’s relationship with Francis on his end comprised almost entirely of animosity. There were moments in the past where he absolutely hated him. Hated him—as in he probably would leave him bleeding to death on the street corner if that sort of scenario ever actually happened. There was no affection on his part. Though he sometimes received a vast amount of unwanted attention from Francis (probably more to bother him than anything, was Arthur’s conclusion,) he truly, truly wanted his obnoxious neighbor to leave him alone. But their relational business ties unfortunately would never allow for such a thing. More’s the pity. Sometimes Arthur did wonder why Francis came back for more. He always crawled back to be insulted and start stupid arguments, not really the other way around. Arthur very rarely, if ever, voluntarily left to visit the bastard. Never on his own time, at least. So, why in the seven circles of Hell did France come back? It made little sense to England. Then again, when did Francis ever really make complete sense? The idiot was as nonsensical as his powdery, over-coloured, over-styled wardrobe suggested. God, he irritated him. As expected, Francis barely flinched when Arthur swatted his grabby fingers away. What’s more, the bastard had the audacity to smile. Arthur’s brow arched slightly at this. ”I believe that you’re confusing my duty to occasionally comply with your inane terms with personal compliance on my part. I will stick to my previous sentiment and ask you to kindly piss off.” His tone was even and didn’t rise, but the spite was still there beneath every quietly pronounced word. He didn’t even know why he was still standing there taking this. France didn’t deserve any of his extra time, not when Arthur had been looking for a quiet evening to begin with. Certainly none of this nonsense. Anyone who desired Francis’s ‘affections’ were completely mad in his opinion-- completely and utterly mad. He did have to admit, though, he did have the tendency to turn on anyone that decided to join in on their 'disagreements', as he remembered, something that Francis also did. While they spat their words at each other like old men with gnarled grudges, at least they were consistent in their twisted-beyond-words alliance. Arthur noticed when Francis grew annoyed. He paused for a moment, thinking that it was a bit of a strange reaction, considering how they normally reacted around the other. He was about to ask what the hell was wrong when he felt fingers at his jaw, forcing it up before a dry and unpleasant mouth was pressed against his. His eyes widened marginally, not entirely expecting this kind of assault so quickly. The previous anger and hatred that he had been previously mulling about rose in him, hot and fast as he prepared to push the other nation away. No, he never tolerated being kissed. He was always the initiator—no questions, no exceptions. It was a thing of intimacy and like hell he wanted that from anyone. Well, almost anyone… But that was far, far beyond the point. This was unwelcome and England was frankly quite disgusted over Francis’s filthy means of getting what he wanted. Apparently France anticipated what England was going to do and quickly pulled away before moving his stupid mouth down to his neck. That… didn’t feel as bad. He felt the betrayal of blood rushing to his face. But that didn’t mean he was going to tolerate it. Not for another miniscule of a minute. France had tried this trick numerous times and Arthur wasn’t going to dwell on the number of times that he had been successful. He answered France’s affections with a swing of his fist, hopefully landing exactly where he wanted it to, as he pulled away. ”If you so much as lay another finger on me, then I will actually follow through on what I threatened earlier. Swine.” He was seriously considering it, whether or not France actually complied. England continued to glare, fingernails biting painfully into his palms. [/style] [STYLE=width:100px; height:100px; border:2px solid #f1f1f1][/style][STYLE=width:100px; background-color:#f1f1f1; font-family:georgia; font-style:italic; font-size:10px; color:#3b3b3b; margin-top:10px; padding:2px;]tags: francis[/style] [STYLE=width:100px; background-color:#f1f1f1; font-family:georgia; font-style:italic; font-size:10px; color:#3b3b3b; margin-top:10px; padding:2px]place: italy[/style] [STYLE=width:100px; background-color:#f1f1f1; font-family:georgia; font-style:italic; font-size:10px; color:#3b3b3b; margin-top:10px; padding:2px]notes: pfff maaarv[/style] [STYLE=width:100px; background-color:#f1f1f1; font-family:georgia; font-style:italic; font-size:10px; color:#3b3b3b; margin-top:10px; padding:2px]credit to alpha of BTN and GS! [/style]

[atrb=cellpadding, 0, true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style,width: 400px; background-image: url(http://subtlepatterns.subtlepatterns.netdna-cdn.com/patterns/tiny_grid.png); border-top: 45px solid #666666; border-bottom: 25px solid #666666;][STYLE=border: 3px solid #fff; height: 100px; width: 100px; background-image: url(http://i113.photobucket.com/albums/n222/amoline/aaaa.png); float: right; margin: -65 -20 10 10; border-radius: 50 50 50 50;][/style][STYLE=margin: 10px; font-family: georgia; font-size: 19px; color: #fff; text-align: justify; text-transform: uppercase; margin: -35 -5 5 10; letter-spacing:-3px; line-height: 15px; text-shadow: 1px 1px 0px #000;]I DON'T KNOW WHO YOU THINK YOU ARE BUT BEFORE THIS NIGHT IS THROUGH[/style][STYLE=margin: 10px; padding: 5px; background-color: #fff; font-family: tahoma; font-size: 10px; color: #000; text-align: justify; text-align: justify;] Francis smirked when he heard Arthur’s tightly-rehearsed-sounding response—except he really did look like he wanted to strangle him. Not that that was really different from any other time that they’ve ever interacted. Oh how the Englishman needed to let loose every once in a while. A little unthinking fun would do him good. ”I hear what you’re saying, Angleterre…” He chuckled as he leaned closer, warm breath clouding between them as he leaned a little forward. ”—But the problem is that you do have a tendency to say that every time we meet… and every time we meet, we ending up doing what we always do… More often than not.” His voice was light, yet still in a conversational tone, as if they were simply conferring about business matters. The nation was more than aware of the fact that Arthur never wanted intimacy (or at least the kind that Francis was thinking of…) Even whenever they did end up doing what Francis had been attempting to do since even before bumping into the grumpy nation, Arthur did have his own rules—rules that Francis was entirely too aware of for his own good. And, yes, kissing was a blatant disregard of those ‘rules’, he remembered. He just wasn’t too keen on following rules at the moment… Or any other moment. Francis smirked when he felt more than saw Arthur’s reaction. The entire moment was ruined; however, when he felt a fist against his face. It took a moment to recover from the impact, his fingers tenderly rubbing at his cheek that had received the worst of it, making a small noise of resentment. ”Tu es fou!?” After a moment of gathering his composure, Francis frowned at Arthur, his eyes now far more hardened than playful. ”Clearly, you haven’t let anyone touch you in a long while. You Anglais are always so fâché… especially où vous devez être baisée.” His words were clipped, clearly ruffled over the imprudence. Dealing with the stringent Englishmen really did test Francis’s patience for all it was worth. Sometimes he wondered if it was better just to get straight to the point instead of wasting his breath on making this sound a little more than what it really was. Ah, but that took the fun out of it. Well, some of the fun... Trying the more direct approach, Francis tried to calm down before completely giving up on this opportunity. "Could we at least have a calm, civilisé meeting? It would be good to have something to show the patrons that we at least discussed these matters, oui?" He breathed an irritated sigh, his expression more stoic with obligation now instead of his previous lightness. Yes, the intentions to fool around were still there, but France was momentarily more concerned with actually getting England and him into a quiet environment without one of them maiming the other first. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - TAG: Arthur! TIME: May 8, 2004 PLACE: Italy (Close to their lodgings after a world meeting.) NOTES: And on they hopefully go, lol [/style][STYLE=margin: 10px; font-family: georgia; font-size: 19px; color: #fff; text-align: justify; text-transform: uppercase; margin: 0 10 -15 10; letter-spacing:-3px; line-height: 13px; text-shadow: 1px 1px 0px #000; text-align: right;]I WANT TO DO BAD THINGS WITH YOU[/style]

[STYLE=padding: 3px; font-size: 10px; font-family: tahoma; color: #999999; text-align: center;]TEMPLATE BY PEBBLE OF BTN[/style]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,10,true][atrb=style,width:350px; background-color:#e3e3e1; border:4px solid #ececef,bTable][STYLE=float:right; color:#f1f1f1; font-size:24px; letter-spacing:-4.4px; text-transform:uppercase; font-weight:bolder; margin-right:-10px; margin-top:-5px; font-family:arial narrow]carry on carry on[/style][STYLE=color:#f1f1f1; font-size:14px; font-style:italic; font-family:georgia; letter-spacing:1px; margin-top:-10px; margin-right:-10px; float:right; font-weight:bold]like nothing really matters[/style][STYLE=float:right; width:200px; height:350px; background-color:#f1f1f1; overflow:auto; padding:5px; font-family:georgia; color:#3b3b3b; margin-top:0px; margin-right:-2px; font-size:10px; text-align:justify] Arthur refused to take a step back when Francis leaned forward, even though he was obviously invading his space. True to form, he never backed away from the Frenchman—always standing his ground as usual. But he did tilt his face slightly over to the side, so that he didn’t have to feel his breath so close. His lips thinned tightly at Francis’s words, but didn’t offer any rebuttal. The truth burned and tightened his chest—almost making him want to lash out at him again. This time, however; he kept his composure, only dispassionately glancing back at Francis. Insufferable twat. He snorted at Francis’s words after he had hit him. ”I only am if I ever let you touch me again,” he spat his words back at him. If that really were the case, then Arthur was insane. Tenfold. And he was aware of that as he knew Francis was… but it felt good to say nonetheless. He was just so irritating! A small sort of triumph bloomed within Arthur when he saw the other nation’s less than pleased expression. Good—now they were on a level playing field. Now they were both irritated with each other. Perhaps Arthur was just as bad for getting some sort of sick amusement out of this. But he would never admit to that… of course not. Unfortunately, France’s next statement rubbed England the wrong way. High points of colour rushed to his cheeks. ”H-how dare you insinuate such things—” his voice had lost some of its severity and was instead replaced with an awkward mortification. Sometimes he still wasn’t used to the French nation so blatantly throwing around crude allegations. Being around his neighbor for so long, he could easily translate most of his words, but he would never speak French if he could help it. Sometimes he would even claim complete ignorance of it just to spite the other nation, but everyone knew that wasn’t true, of course. He’d been around for far too long not to have picked up on it eventually. Trying to rid himself of the uncomfortable heat swamping his face, England cleared his throat before giving France a harsh look. His next suggestion was… fairly reasonable. And he was right. They needed to finish their usual exchange of customary obligations. Duty calls… regardless of their feelings and aversions. ”Quite right,” he agreed in the most civil tone that he could manage with him at this point. Why Francis always strove to make him feel as awkward and irritated as possible whenever they were required to have their usual meetings was beyond him. Actually, it’s not really a surprise that he seemed to go out of his way just to annoy him. He’d been doing that for centuries… Arthur released a tight sigh. ”My only condition is that we go over everything in my room. I refuse to step foot in yours.” Francis no doubt had a ludicrous setup in his meant for other purposes. Business was apparently far from his thoughts despite his conflicting words. Arthur at least felt a tad bit more in control if he was in a slightly more familiar environment. Hopefully he could reduce some of his idiot neighbor’s ridiculous antics and actually get something productive accomplished. [/style] [STYLE=width:100px; height:100px; border:2px solid #f1f1f1][/style][STYLE=width:100px; background-color:#f1f1f1; font-family:georgia; font-style:italic; font-size:10px; color:#3b3b3b; margin-top:10px; padding:2px;]tags: francis[/style] [STYLE=width:100px; background-color:#f1f1f1; font-family:georgia; font-style:italic; font-size:10px; color:#3b3b3b; margin-top:10px; padding:2px]place: italy[/style] [STYLE=width:100px; background-color:#f1f1f1; font-family:georgia; font-style:italic; font-size:10px; color:#3b3b3b; margin-top:10px; padding:2px]notes: yep ;P[/style] [STYLE=width:100px; background-color:#f1f1f1; font-family:georgia; font-style:italic; font-size:10px; color:#3b3b3b; margin-top:10px; padding:2px]credit to alpha of BTN and GS! [/style]

[atrb=cellpadding, 0, true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style,width: 400px; background-image: url(http://subtlepatterns.subtlepatterns.netdna-cdn.com/patterns/tiny_grid.png); border-top: 45px solid #666666; border-bottom: 25px solid #666666;][STYLE=border: 3px solid #fff; height: 100px; width: 100px; background-image: url(http://i113.photobucket.com/albums/n222/amoline/aaaa.png); float: right; margin: -65 -20 10 10; border-radius: 50 50 50 50;][/style][STYLE=margin: 10px; font-family: georgia; font-size: 19px; color: #fff; text-align: justify; text-transform: uppercase; margin: -35 -5 5 10; letter-spacing:-3px; line-height: 15px; text-shadow: 1px 1px 0px #000;]I DON'T KNOW WHO YOU THINK YOU ARE BUT BEFORE THIS NIGHT IS THROUGH[/style][STYLE=margin: 10px; padding: 5px; background-color: #fff; font-family: tahoma; font-size: 10px; color: #000; text-align: justify; text-align: justify;]Arthur's slight movement away from him didn't bother Francis. He expected it, just as he expected him not to step away from him. An oddly lingering sense of disappointment probably would have clouded over if he had. Francis only ever approached him like this if he was faced with what he expected to face. Anything else would have been annoying. It's a taste of how screwed up their relationship is. "Oh, oui?" France smiled wickedly at that. He probably would have agreed with that assessment. Then again. This is France. Of course he thinks Arthur is insane. An insane, vindictive, and somewhat unpredictable nation. It was perfect fuel for their amusing disagreements. And it was only that much more fun to get him drunk, which was far too easy. In either case, the secret amusement was a two-way street for them. And they just continued to abuse it. Francis chuckled when he saw the color darkening in Arthur's face. That was another entertaining reaction to draw from him... "Oui Angleterre. I only say these things because I know these things." his voice was teasing, somewhere between being cruel and nonchalantly playful. A usual tone that he took with England. "J'aime how rouge you can get..." His thumb brushed over Arthur's cheek, which he quickly took away before he lost a limb. "...en tous lieux." He finished his statement in a quiet voice, as if lowering it so that only Arthur could hear him in a crowded room. Oh yes--Francis knew that Arthur could speak his language. And he was just as aware that he refused to speak it unless necessary. It was fun, then, knowing that Arthur could understand him whenever Francis occasionally started muttering a few choice to him (usually something dirty or annoying.) Francis really didn't have any other reason for driving Arthur mad other than that he simply found it entertaining. And he really did hate him sometimes. But that was only when Arthur started acting like an arrogant prick, which in France's opinion, he did quite often. He gave a slight nod when Arthur gave his agreement that some work should at least be attempted. Though their ideas of work were probably two completely different things, France thought with an internal smugness. The Frenchman gave a small shrug at Arthur's suggestion that they go over everything in his room. "That is fine. I can perform well anywhere." He tried not to smile at that, but kept a pretty straight face. In the end, he was getting the meeting that he wanted, so he wasn't going to try to anger Arthur more than he already was. At least until they finished their work... "Let's not waste anymore time then, oui?" he replied. He started walking down the path that Arthur had walked from, heading in the correct direction. He seemed to know where he was going well enough... - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - TAG: Arthur! TIME: May 8, 2004 PLACE: Italy (Close to their lodgings after a world meeting.) NOTES: wewt ^^ [/style][STYLE=margin: 10px; font-family: georgia; font-size: 19px; color: #fff; text-align: justify; text-transform: uppercase; margin: 0 10 -15 10; letter-spacing:-3px; line-height: 13px; text-shadow: 1px 1px 0px #000; text-align: right;]I WANT TO DO BAD THINGS WITH YOU[/style]

[STYLE=padding: 3px; font-size: 10px; font-family: tahoma; color: #999999; text-align: center;]TEMPLATE BY PEBBLE OF BTN[/style]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,10,true][atrb=style,width:350px; background-color:#e3e3e1; border:4px solid #ececef,bTable][STYLE=float:right; color:#f1f1f1; font-size:24px; letter-spacing:-4.4px; text-transform:uppercase; font-weight:bolder; margin-right:-10px; margin-top:-5px; font-family:arial narrow]carry on carry on[/style][STYLE=color:#f1f1f1; font-size:14px; font-style:italic; font-family:georgia; letter-spacing:1px; margin-top:-10px; margin-right:-10px; float:right; font-weight:bold]like nothing really matters[/style][STYLE=float:right; width:200px; height:350px; background-color:#f1f1f1; overflow:auto; padding:5px; font-family:georgia; color:#3b3b3b; margin-top:0px; margin-right:-2px; font-size:10px; text-align:justify] Arthur gave the Frenchman an ‘are you serious’ expression before reiterating ”Of course, wee,” he mocked the other nation’s tongue, the frown further etching into Arthur’s expression, unknowingly fuelling France’s amusement, no doubt. Arthur quietly simmered at that. He didn’t understand what Francis found so bloody entertaining with the Englishmen. It wasn’t unusual for him to frequently tell him off only to have the other nation start laughing at him or hitting on him—both reactions only inspiring mentally staged elaborate, murderous plots to finally rid the world of him. ”No, you only say these things because you know that I hate hearing your abhorrent thoughts.” His voice was flat and contempt held his gaze. He was used to France taking that odd-cruel-yet-playful tone of voice with him, so it didn’t really faze him all that much. What he didn’t expect was for Francis to touch him again after he made it abundantly clear that it wasn’t allowed to. But it was his words alongside the graze to his cheek that made them burn a little more. Arthur averted his stern gaze away from Francis, attempting to cool his face. He didn’t really have a retort for that except to ignore his ridiculous remarks. A bit of Arthur’s anger dissipated when Francis gave his slight consent that at least some work would be accomplished for their little impromptu meeting. Of course that didn’t mean that Arthur would be letting his guard up anytime soon. Either way, he could already tell that the wanker was up to something if that smug expression of his was anything to go by. Arthur gave Francis a dry, unimpressed glance when he pulled his little pun. ”Yes, yes, brilliant.” His tone conveying just how spectacularly apathetic he was with Francis and anything that he had to say at the moment. ”We’ve wasted enough time with your antics,” He responded shortly. Arthur was a bit perturbed to see that Francis was already walking, seemingly already knowing his way about… well, straight to his room that is. Creep. Arthur followed him, sliding in front so that he could unlock his door. Pushing it open so that France would wander in. Still embarrassed that he was even going through with this stupid meeting, Arthur glanced about, glad to see that there weren’t any prying eyes that would get the wrong idea. Because, really, this looked very wrong… Any incident that involved France walking into another nation’s hotel room was usually the correct assumption of indecency. Arthur was quick to shut the door after they slipped in, hoping beyond hope that Francis wasn’t going to start acting like a deprived fanatic the moment they were inside. ”Don’t touch anything unless I give you definite permission.” Not that Arthur really had much in the hotel room to begin with. Most of what he had brought included his work laptop, a briefcase filled with documentation and notes from the meeting, and a small overnight carryon for the actual overnight stay. Otherwise, it was pretty barren and somewhat typical of their usual lodgings for meetings. [/style] [STYLE=width:100px; height:100px; border:2px solid #f1f1f1][/style][STYLE=width:100px; background-color:#f1f1f1; font-family:georgia; font-style:italic; font-size:10px; color:#3b3b3b; margin-top:10px; padding:2px;]tags: francis[/style] [STYLE=width:100px; background-color:#f1f1f1; font-family:georgia; font-style:italic; font-size:10px; color:#3b3b3b; margin-top:10px; padding:2px]place: italy[/style] [STYLE=width:100px; background-color:#f1f1f1; font-family:georgia; font-style:italic; font-size:10px; color:#3b3b3b; margin-top:10px; padding:2px]notes: aaand his fate is sealed.[/style] [STYLE=width:100px; background-color:#f1f1f1; font-family:georgia; font-style:italic; font-size:10px; color:#3b3b3b; margin-top:10px; padding:2px]credit to alpha of BTN and GS! [/style]

[atrb=cellpadding, 0, true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style,width: 400px; background-image: url(http://subtlepatterns.subtlepatterns.netdna-cdn.com/patterns/tiny_grid.png); border-top: 45px solid #666666; border-bottom: 25px solid #666666;][STYLE=border: 3px solid #fff; height: 100px; width: 100px; background-image: url(http://i113.photobucket.com/albums/n222/amoline/aaaa.png); float: right; margin: -65 -20 10 10; border-radius: 50 50 50 50;][/style][STYLE=margin: 10px; font-family: georgia; font-size: 19px; color: #fff; text-align: justify; text-transform: uppercase; margin: -35 -5 5 10; letter-spacing:-3px; line-height: 15px; text-shadow: 1px 1px 0px #000;]I DON'T KNOW WHO YOU THINK YOU ARE BUT BEFORE THIS NIGHT IS THROUGH[/style][STYLE=margin: 10px; padding: 5px; background-color: #fff; font-family: tahoma; font-size: 10px; color: #000; text-align: justify; text-align: justify;]Francis didn’t need an excuse for why he found certain individuals amusing. As long as they were entertaining to be around, then that was a good enough reason for the French nation to seek out their company. He was fully aware of the fact that Arthur hated him. And for valid reason, Francis would admit to no one. At least he seemed somewhat satisfied that they were about to do something productive than just standing around arguing, spitting insults back and forth. Francis, of course, could think of far more enjoyable ways of spending his time than having another frustrating quarrel with his equally frustrating neighbor. He didn’t have much to say in response to Arthur’s dry quips, so he continued in silence. He did have to stifle an amused smirk when he noticed Arthur glancing around, as if worried that others could be watching them. Anyone seen with Francis usually adopted the same cautious demeanor. He had no trouble with keeping certain details of his involvement with others quiet. Where’s the fun in keeping a secret scandal if everyone knew about it? No, Francis did know how to keep his secrets whenever he found the entertainment value in it far more enticing than the actual rumors. Overall; however, Francis didn’t care what others thought about him. Everyone usually thought the worst with him anyway, so there really was little point in making something appear innocent when it most likely wasn’t. Francis glanced disapprovingly around in Arthur’s temporary living space. It hardly looked inviting. In his opinion, it was good to at least make some effort in making a place that they were staying at for a few nights look somewhat comfortable. Then again, France’s place perhaps looked a bit too inviting in more ways than one. Arthur probably would have had a heart palpitation if he’d seen the way that Francis had arranged his own room. He glanced over towards Arthur’s workspace that included a similar laptop and paperwork that Francis had also been forced to bring for the meeting. He wasn’t planning on using that particular space of the room… He peered at Arthur when he heard his statement, extremely amused. ”Oh, don’t worry. I refuse to risk my appendages no matter how tempting.” He winked at the other blond nation, wearing a small, wry grin. ”In either case, I’m sure that you’ll be begging me to break my word by the time this evening is over.” Again with the teasing. No, Francis sometimes didn’t have an off-switch when it came to Arthur. As the Englishman would probably put it, he was, indeed, quite incorrigible. ”I’m sure you won’t mind me making an innocent call at the very least?” Before waiting for any sort of answer, Francis picked up the phone and dialed in room service, ordering a few bottles of wine to be brought up. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - TAG: Arthur! TIME: May 8, 2004 PLACE: Italy (Close to their lodgings after a world meeting.) NOTES: Nothing much. Just France being France. [/style][STYLE=margin: 10px; font-family: georgia; font-size: 19px; color: #fff; text-align: justify; text-transform: uppercase; margin: 0 10 -15 10; letter-spacing:-3px; line-height: 13px; text-shadow: 1px 1px 0px #000; text-align: right;]I WANT TO DO BAD THINGS WITH YOU[/style]

[STYLE=padding: 3px; font-size: 10px; font-family: tahoma; color: #999999; text-align: center;]TEMPLATE BY PEBBLE OF BTN[/style]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,10,true][atrb=style,width:350px; background-color:#e3e3e1; border:4px solid #ececef,bTable][STYLE=float:right; color:#f1f1f1; font-size:24px; letter-spacing:-4.4px; text-transform:uppercase; font-weight:bolder; margin-right:-10px; margin-top:-5px; font-family:arial narrow]carry on carry on[/style][STYLE=color:#f1f1f1; font-size:14px; font-style:italic; font-family:georgia; letter-spacing:1px; margin-top:-10px; margin-right:-10px; float:right; font-weight:bold]like nothing really matters[/style][STYLE=float:right; width:200px; height:350px; background-color:#f1f1f1; overflow:auto; padding:5px; font-family:georgia; color:#3b3b3b; margin-top:0px; margin-right:-2px; font-size:10px; text-align:justify] Arthur scowled at Francis’s obvious disapproval as he glanced about his room. As if that mattered… He didn’t care for a bloody moment if Francis disapproved of anything he did, much less how he kept his room. He’d rather not even venture into what the other nation could have possibly done with his—it was probably beyond Arthur's scope of imagination, and he had a damn good one, so that was saying something. Whatever Francis was thinking, it obviously had little to do with business, but Arthur wouldn’t be deterred. He walked over and started up is laptop from its sleep mode, already moving quickly to bring up the paperwork. A flat laugh escaped from the back of Arthur’s throat at Francis’s words. His eyes didn’t move from the screen of his laptop as he spoke, still clicking through documents. ”I beg to differ on that. I’ve lost count the number of times that you risked your so-called precious ’appendages’.” At Francis’s next statement, Arthur actually did take his eyes off the screen with a raised brow. ”I never beg,” was all he said before turning his attention to his bag, cursing softly when he couldn’t locate the folder that he had apparently misplaced. ”Aside from that little detail,” he continued, his eyes still not on Francis as he spoke. ”Your ruddy word is never one that can be taken with much credence.” When Francis said that he was going to be making a call, with or without Arthur’s permission, he did little to stifle a glare towards the back of the other blond’s head as soon as he turned to place an order for a few bottles of wine. As soon as he finished ringing room service, green eyes stared flatly back at the other. ”We’re not going to be taking that much time. Lord only knows that we’re only having this sodding meeting for the sake of tradition, for which you’re suddenly so interested in upholding. Can’t you wait to get sloshed with your piss water until we finish?” Arthur’s mood was quickly growing sour, as if it already wasn’t dark enough for having been coerced by the stupid frog into allowing him into his room for business matters. Then again, when did Francis ever go into someone’s room for purely business reasons? Probably never. Which begged the more important question of why Arthur was even allowing this. Well, if Francis was drinking… then perhaps a bit of whiskey wouldn’t hurt… No. Getting tipsy with Francis in his hotel room was a very, very bad idea. Arthur knew from experience that it would end exactly how he wouldn’t want this to end. Best to stay sober and alert. Sighing, now even more upset that Francis got to drink while he couldn’t. Damn him! Neatly tapping the stack of his papers against the table, Arthur sat at one of the chairs, leisurely one leg over the other, before flipping through their work. He looked up at Francis with lazy indifference. ”Shall we begin, then?” [/style] [STYLE=width:100px; height:100px; border:2px solid #f1f1f1][/style][STYLE=width:100px; background-color:#f1f1f1; font-family:georgia; font-style:italic; font-size:10px; color:#3b3b3b; margin-top:10px; padding:2px;]tags: francis[/style] [STYLE=width:100px; background-color:#f1f1f1; font-family:georgia; font-style:italic; font-size:10px; color:#3b3b3b; margin-top:10px; padding:2px]place: italy[/style] [STYLE=width:100px; background-color:#f1f1f1; font-family:georgia; font-style:italic; font-size:10px; color:#3b3b3b; margin-top:10px; padding:2px]notes: womwomwom.[/style] [STYLE=width:100px; background-color:#f1f1f1; font-family:georgia; font-style:italic; font-size:10px; color:#3b3b3b; margin-top:10px; padding:2px]credit to alpha of BTN and GS! [/style]

[atrb=cellpadding, 0, true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style,width: 400px; background-image: url(http://subtlepatterns.subtlepatterns.netdna-cdn.com/patterns/tiny_grid.png); border-top: 45px solid #666666; border-bottom: 25px solid #666666;][STYLE=border: 3px solid #fff; height: 100px; width: 100px; background-image: url(http://i113.photobucket.com/albums/n222/amoline/aaaa.png); float: right; margin: -65 -20 10 10; border-radius: 50 50 50 50;][/style][STYLE=margin: 10px; font-family: georgia; font-size: 19px; color: #fff; text-align: justify; text-transform: uppercase; margin: -35 -5 5 10; letter-spacing:-3px; line-height: 15px; text-shadow: 1px 1px 0px #000;]I DON'T KNOW WHO YOU THINK YOU ARE BUT BEFORE THIS NIGHT IS THROUGH[/style][STYLE=margin: 10px; padding: 5px; background-color: #fff; font-family: tahoma; font-size: 10px; color: #000; text-align: justify; text-align: justify;]In a roundabout way, Francis could combat Arthur's frame of thought by stating that he didn't care that Arthur didn't care. He only cared whenever he got some form of twisted amusement out of bothering him. At least, that's what he actually admitted. Anything else, Francis wouldn't budge in revealing more... He could be surprisingly secretive when it came to certain areas concerning what he really thought about their really odd relationship. Probably in a further attempt to annoy his stuffy neighbor... But otherwise, Arthur was correct in his assessment of Francis having thoughts that went beyond business... Then again, when ever did Francis not have thoughts that were less than innocent? His eyes followed Arthur (particularly in the downward motion) as he started to open documents from his laptop. He was very shamelessly eyeing Arthur's backside when the Englishman asked the rhetorical question about risking his appendages. Francis chuckled. "Mmm you're right. Perhaps all those moments were worth it in the end, seeing as everything is still intact." His voice dipped teasingly on that last statement. And he only laughed harder at Arthur's firm resolution that he never begs. "Hmm, perhaps not with you, Angleterre," Francis rebutted Arthur's statement that Francis's word wasn't worth much. "Have you not shown me the same courtesy?" He raised his brow... while still occasionally lowering his gaze down his adversary's body... Yes, he was being purposefully obvious. What better way to raise Arthur's irritation, which also usually inadvertently elevated Francis's level of entertainment. The Frenchman smirked at Arthur's argument against needing the wine for their meeting. "And you're absolutely certain that we won't take long? Based on past meetings, we usually extend ours by half an hour at least... though going by your mood, you might need a bit more to work to ease out that... tension." His voice lowered, matched with a smile, as an age-old, familiar tone of invitation seeped into his words. "Is it really that difficult for you to have a bit of enjoyment once in a while? Let your guard down... forget the pretenses... and just be impulsive and feel good about it?" Of course, Francis knew that Arthur had it in him to be that person. There were moments in history where that formal, polite facade had slipped. Hell, even certain weekends that were a little off for the Brit... or if he had a little too much to drink... Speaking of which, there was a knock at the door. Francis was quick to get it, receiving his ordered wine with relish. Back at the table, he opened one of them, and as they didn't have glasses, took a long sip straight from the bottle, feeling the slow, heady burn down his throat. Francis moved his chair closer so that less of the small, rounded table was between them. Leaning forward, resting the side of his jaw against his knuckles, he gave Arthur a slow, mischievous grin. "Care for some?" He pushed the bottle towards Arthur, his fingers going up at first and slowly down the neck of the glass until they tapered ever so slowly at the base... all in a very suggestive manner, watching his reaction. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - TAG: Arthur! TIME: May 8, 2004 PLACE: Italy (Close to their lodgings after a world meeting.) NOTES: Just France being France...... [/style][STYLE=margin: 10px; font-family: georgia; font-size: 19px; color: #fff; text-align: justify; text-transform: uppercase; margin: 0 10 -15 10; letter-spacing:-3px; line-height: 13px; text-shadow: 1px 1px 0px #000; text-align: right;]I WANT TO DO BAD THINGS WITH YOU[/style]

[STYLE=padding: 3px; font-size: 10px; font-family: tahoma; color: #999999; text-align: center;]TEMPLATE BY PEBBLE OF BTN[/style]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,10,true][atrb=style,width:350px; background-color:#e3e3e1; border:4px solid #ececef,bTable][STYLE=float:right; color:#f1f1f1; font-size:24px; letter-spacing:-4.4px; text-transform:uppercase; font-weight:bolder; margin-right:-10px; margin-top:-5px; font-family:arial narrow]carry on carry on[/style][STYLE=color:#f1f1f1; font-size:14px; font-style:italic; font-family:georgia; letter-spacing:1px; margin-top:-10px; margin-right:-10px; float:right; font-weight:bold]like nothing really matters[/style][STYLE=float:right; width:200px; height:350px; background-color:#f1f1f1; overflow:auto; padding:5px; font-family:georgia; color:#3b3b3b; margin-top:0px; margin-right:-2px; font-size:10px; text-align:justify]Arthur was (fortunately for Francis) unaware that he was being eyed from behind like a three course meal to a starving man. But then again, that wouldn't shock him. Nothing Francis did shocked Arthur anymore. He was probably so sadly used to it, that he passively assumed that the Frenchman was thinking something lewd while rudely staring every time someone had their back turned. "Which is a bloody shame, now, isn't it? The world could benefit from fewer extensions of you." Shaded amusement trickled in his voice, while Arthur tossed him a mildly disgusted glance. His amusement soured when Francis laughed--a laugh that always did irritate him to no end. Arthur's anger flared at Francis's insinuation that his word meant little. "And what is that you are implying about my honour?" His tone was sharp, because he felt that he had upheld the honour of his word fairly well over the years... then again, he couldn't remember exactly every outcome following his promises. Francis probably would be one that he would break it with... so at least it didn't sound far-fetched. And just as soon as he had said that, he caught Francis eyeing up his body. Arthur's face grew warm. "Eyes up here," he muttered. Instead of directly answering to Francis's mocking question if he really thought that they wouldn't take long, Arthur's fingers curled against the armrests of the chair as he sent him a fresh glare. "Persistent this evening, aren't you?" And even with Francis's ongoing commentary, poking in exactly the same places where Arthur was weakest in his resolve... fighting against the constraints of society, being impulsive, and relentless... Before he could even think of a proper reply to that, there was a knock at the door, thankfully interrupting the building tension. Once Francis had his wine, Arthur watched passively as he brought it back to the table, taking a long, drawn-out sip from the neck of the bottle. He watched, his throat steadily growing dry and tight. Averting his eyes briefly, his gaze was quickly brought back to Francis's mischievous smile. One that caused very light, involuntary shivers to crawl down his spine... yes, he was quite familiar with that smile. And despite how much Arthur despised it, it was impossible to completely ignore the memories. Yes, they had a past... a quite involved past. One that Arthur frequently tried to ignore. But every so often, he slipped back into the same trap of rehashing old feelings and resentments. He blamed Francis. Obviously, the damned frog was making an effort to keep that destructive cycle going between them if his behaviour at the moment was anything to judge by... Arthur sighed, frustrated, as he grabbed at the bottle from Francis's suggestive fingers. "Bastard." Arthur mumbled before taking an equally long sip. He was going to need it if he was going to be with Francis for the next hour. [/style] [STYLE=width:100px; height:100px; border:2px solid #f1f1f1][/style][STYLE=width:100px; background-color:#f1f1f1; font-family:georgia; font-style:italic; font-size:10px; color:#3b3b3b; margin-top:10px; padding:2px;]tags: francis[/style] [STYLE=width:100px; background-color:#f1f1f1; font-family:georgia; font-style:italic; font-size:10px; color:#3b3b3b; margin-top:10px; padding:2px]place: italy[/style] [STYLE=width:100px; background-color:#f1f1f1; font-family:georgia; font-style:italic; font-size:10px; color:#3b3b3b; margin-top:10px; padding:2px]notes: ---[/style] [STYLE=width:100px; background-color:#f1f1f1; font-family:georgia; font-style:italic; font-size:10px; color:#3b3b3b; margin-top:10px; padding:2px]credit to alpha of BTN and GS! [/style]

[atrb=cellpadding, 0, true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style,width: 400px; background-image: url(http://subtlepatterns.subtlepatterns.netdna-cdn.com/patterns/tiny_grid.png); border-top: 45px solid #666666; border-bottom: 25px solid #666666;][STYLE=border: 3px solid #fff; height: 100px; width: 100px; background-image: url(http://i113.photobucket.com/albums/n222/amoline/aaaa.png); float: right; margin: -65 -20 10 10; border-radius: 50 50 50 50;][/style][STYLE=margin: 10px; font-family: georgia; font-size: 19px; color: #fff; text-align: justify; text-transform: uppercase; margin: -35 -5 5 10; letter-spacing:-3px; line-height: 15px; text-shadow: 1px 1px 0px #000;]I DON'T KNOW WHO YOU THINK YOU ARE BUT BEFORE THIS NIGHT IS THROUGH[/style][STYLE=margin: 10px; padding: 5px; background-color: #fff; font-family: tahoma; font-size: 10px; color: #000; text-align: justify; text-align: justify;]Francis smiled smugly at Arthur at his words. Harsh words from an even harsher tongue. ”I’d say it’s perhaps too late for that, mon cher Angleterre.” He winked, the lewd undertones very much present. Leave it to him to turn a potential insult—and a pretty clever one by Arthur, he would admit—into something coarse. ”You’re honor?” Francis brows rose at Arthur in amusement. ”I have a few things to say on that, but I’d rather this turn into a civil meeting. If you’d prefer to fight instead of forming a mutual understanding, then feel free to ask for further clarification on that, chéri.” His smile darkened for a moment, but the next he was his usual, relaxed, teasing self once more. ”De toute façon, ma caille, I did not mean to insult you.” He didn’t comment further on Arthur’s request to keep his eyes in reasonable places and his warm gaze didn’t comply. ”Only as persistent as I need to be. You are a stubborn one, so you can’t say that the extra effort is too persistent, now can you?” Francis replied with a light tone. Of course, he was only teasing, so he didn’t really expect an answer to that. But it was still fun to see the Brit slowly unravel beneath his teasing and ridiculous rhetorical questions. After bringing the wine back to the table, Francis had a difficult time not noticing Arthur’s glance. The smallest bit of warmth filled him at the sight of it, brief as it was, devoid of the usual malice and anger usually directed at him. Yes… they did have a past. One where Francis hadn’t been hiding behind his usual façade of frivolous words and smiles. Perhaps there was still a part of him that didn’t want to forget that past… he wanted to rehash some of those old feelings. But that would never work. He had hurt England for far too long. And England had hurt him back just as violently. All they had left between them were broken memories and heated moments that truly meant nothing in the end. At least, that's what he liked to tell himself. The corner of his mouth quirked when Arthur relented. He grabbed the wine from Francis, which he was more than happy to surrender and watch him take his fill. His eyes wandered to Arthur’s lips, suddenly wanting to taste the wine from them. Warmth grew beneath his skin, prickling. There was a long pause as Francis took the wine back to drink a little more before handing it back. Moving his chair closer, his expression confident and relaxed as he lounged in his seat. Beneath the table, the side of his shoe very slowly slid against the edge of Arthur’s. Deviant fingers smoothly brushed up the arm of Arthur’s chair, being careful not to touch him yet. Light and purposeful as his fingers moved alongside. ”I’m a betting man this evening,” Francis murmured with a sly grin. ”I'm tempted to place one on how free yours is.” It was worth a try. See just how far he could go before Arthur pushed back. It was a trying process, but he would get to him eventually. Leading him just a little more down the path that he desired with each small attempt. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - TAG: Arthur! TIME: May 8, 2004 PLACE: Italy (Close to their lodgings after a world meeting.) NOTES: Just France being France...... [/style][STYLE=margin: 10px; font-family: georgia; font-size: 19px; color: #fff; text-align: justify; text-transform: uppercase; margin: 0 10 -15 10; letter-spacing:-3px; line-height: 13px; text-shadow: 1px 1px 0px #000; text-align: right;]I WANT TO DO BAD THINGS WITH YOU[/style]

[STYLE=padding: 3px; font-size: 10px; font-family: tahoma; color: #999999; text-align: center;]TEMPLATE BY PEBBLE OF BTN[/style]