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The Scent of a Rose	By : larien04 Category: +G to L > Hetalia: Axis Powers Views: 2855 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia and I make no money off of this fic!

Chapter List
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Arthur put up no resistance when they had finally gotten around to getting under the covers and Francis pulled him close. This was unusual because they had a game that they were accustomed to; Arthur would stubbornly insist that he didn’t need someone to cuddle with after sex and would purposefully roll over with his back to Francis, but every morning Arthur would always magically wake up secure in Francis’ arms.

“It’s not that I’m complaining that you’ve finally given in to my irresistible charms, but it is no fun when I don’t have to chase you” Francis teased, kissing the man’s forehead.

Arthur didn’t laugh at the joke; his thoughts were far from humorous. The day was over and they were getting ready to fall asleep; after he woke up in the morning he would have to leave. “Francis, I’m going to have to return to London in the morning, it’s not going to be possible to stay another night.” Arthurs tone was formal, something he usually took to when he was trying to hide his emotions.

“You don’t have to go; Arthur, Ivan and Alfred seem to be giving Germany all the trouble he can handle for now.”

“That’s just it, frog, the war could be over soon and I can’t have it on record that when the war ended I was off in Paris having some grand ole’ time snogging a Frenchman.”

“Is that because people might get the impression that you aren’t a complete prude? Can’t have that can we?”

Huffing in annoyance Arthur attempted to divest himself from the infuriating man’s arms but said man held him tightly. “There is no need to worry mon petit Angleterre, I will come to London with you.”

“Absolutely not” Arthur’s tone was harsher than necessary but the thought of Francis so near the battle made Arthurs heart stop. It was true that Francis was no stranger to this war; he had, after all, been under Germanys control this whole time, but Paris was not devastated like London was.

“Why not? I will not interfere when you’re off playing Commander; I just want to come back home with you. Arthur, I lost you for five years and I just now got you back” Francis pleaded and Arthur was aware of the tightness in his voice.

Even though Francis was pouring his heart out, baring his soul to his lover; Arthur could not find it in himself to do the same. There was no way he was going to tell Francis the reason he didn’t want him in London was because he wanted to protect him. Rationally he knew that Francis had seen the horror of war from his past and he knew what a city looked after being devastated but, irrationally, Arthur didn’t want Francis to see what had become of the once beautiful city of London. The British Nation also didn’t want to give Germany any leverage against him; he knew Ludwig was distracted by Russia but if Germany found out the one thing that could completely destroy England he wouldn’t hesitate to use that. Maybe he was being paranoid and irrational but he didn’t care.

“I’m sorry, Francis, but I can’t allow you to come back with me; I can’t afford to have any distractions and when you’re around me I can’t think rationally.”

Francis was hurt; he couldn’t understand why Arthur wouldn’t want him by his side after they had spent a fantastic two days together. He knew that he could be a distraction to Arthur at times, but the Brit couldn’t seriously think that he would get in the way of his war time duties; there had to be something else. “Arthur, cher, what’s the real problem, I would think that by now you would know that there’s nothing you can’t tell me.”

“Look, stiff upper lip, don’t think I’m trying to push you away; I just need you to stay in one place until this war is over, then we can start our life together.” Arthur felt incredibly selfish and guilty at what he was doing to Francis but he would take the feeling of guilt if it were going to keep Francis safe.

“Arthur, all I want is to stay in one place; wherever you are is where I want to be. Why are you making things so difficult?” Francis’ grip on Arthur loosened a little and both men felt the pain in their hearts from the motion.

The English Nation reached over and turned out the lamp as if to draw the conversation to a close “Just promise me you’ll stay here until this…ordeal is over. I swear to you that we will be together when this is all over.”

Francis’ eyes went wide in a panic “Arthur, now I know I cannot let you go alone; the last time you said that to me we were separated for five years. Please…don’t go.” Despite what many may think of the French Nation, he was not one to cry often, but hearing those same condemning words again had brought tears to the man’s eyes just thinking of the possibility of another time span where he couldn’t hold Arthur.

Arthur’s heart truly broke at the feel of moisture on his shoulder and he turned to face the heart broken man. Maybe it wouldn’t be so terrible if he just told Francis that all he wanted was to protect him, of course Francis would immediately disregard the notion as being ridiculous and the argument would start all over again. “Francis, I kept my promise to you didn’t I? I came back to you just as soon as I was able to, why would that ever change? I love you, you idiot” he lightly admonished, stretching slightly so he could kiss the man’s tears away. “Now let’s not have any more of this foolishness, we can discuss it in the morning. Hold me.”

Calming himself, Francis clutched Arthur to his chest as if the man would disappear if he didn’t hold on tight enough. “If tonight has to be my last night with you until who knows when I’m going to hold on to you all night.”

The pair fell into an uneasy sleep; neither of them wanting to go to sleep upset with the other but with having to be up early enough so Arthur could catch the first train left them with little choice.

Arthurs dream did not come that night; instead it was replaced by an image of Francis pleading with him ‘Please…don’t go’ and Arthur would merely turn briskly on his heel and walk off. The image immediately flash forwarded to the London in all its shattered glory and Francis was walking down the street hand in hand with Arthur, the frenchies face horrified by the ruins on the ground and the people forced into homelessness. People spat on the ground where Arthur walked, blaming him for the lack of shelters that been built for the poor and newly homeless, saying that this had been nothing more than a class war; the poor and middle class were forced to find their own shelters or build their own while there remained plenty of shelters for the rich and powerful. Arthur was tortured; he didn’t want his beloved citizens angry with him, he had truly done all he could to shelter everyone, he had even argued with the king about the importance of the safety of the citizens. Arthur’s dream-self turned to Francis and was shocked to find that Francis had a look of utter disgust on his face. “You didn’t help them?” he asked “Look at all these people who hate you; what have you done, Arthur?” Arthur went pale white “Francis? That’s not true; I gave the orders to shelter all.” Francis let go of Arthurs hand “Apparently they were not followed; and you did not bother to check on these people. You are not the man I thought you were, Arthur Kirkland” and with that Francis disappeared, leaving Arthur alone in the London remains.

Arthur awoke with a start and noticed that he wasn’t sweating or screaming; there would be no way Francis would have been asleep still if he had been screaming, but tears were streaming down his face almost of their own volition.

Wiping his tears away he looked over at Francis and was surprised to see that the man’s face was troubled even in sleep. Arthur hated to see the man so hurt; especially since he was at fault but there was just no way could he bring the man with him. The British Nation kissed his partner tenderly on the forehead and wrapped the man’s arms around him, falling into another restless sleep.

The morning came, as it always did, and when Francis woke he noticed that he was the only occupant of the bed. Looking over at his alarm clock he noticed it was only 5:30 in the morning, there’s no way Arthur could have left so soon. Francis panicked for a moment; did Arthur really leave him without even saying goodbye? As if in answer to his question he heard the water in the shower being turned on and he audibly sighed in relief; they had had a disagreement but Arthur would not have left him without saying goodbye.

Shrugging, the French Nation got out of bed and headed straight for the shower; there was no way he was going to miss an opportunity to see Arthur naked one last time.

A/N: Thank you to everyone who is currently reading this story; it means a lot to me! Additionally, I looked up when alarm clocks were invented and it appears that the wind up, mechanical versions of alarm clocks have been around in Europe since the 15^th century and that modern radio alarm clocks weren’t invented until post WW2. Was anyone else aware that alarm clocks were that old? Now I feel a little silly for having looked it up.
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The Scent of a Rose