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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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The English nation smoothed his jacket and stood a little straighter upon the approach of the Frenchman.

“I’m terribly sorry for not being around more often but I was able to make it over here to congratulate you on a well-deserved victory…frog” the last part he added for show, he really was happy to see his old friend hale and whole.

Francis pulled Arthur into an embrace “Je vous ai manqué.”

Arthur pushed Francis away, blushing a bit “No need to get all sentimental on me, I just came to wish you congratulations, and now I have and I think I’ll be going back to my hotel now.”

“You must stay, mon ami, can’t you see there is a party here? You don’t want everyone to know that you really are such a stick in the mud do you?”

It was easy for Francis to fall back into their normal banter, at least outwardly. Inwardly he was resolving to keep Arthur with him as long as humanly possible. There were a slew of things that he wanted to say and do to the Englishman but he knew that now was not the time, he had waited this many years for his time with Arthur, he could wait a few more hours.

“How can you watch this filth?” Arthur cut through Francis’ train of thought, gesturing towards the women on stage.

“Live a little” Francis responded, gesturing for Arthur to sit down. Arthur took a seat, but made a show of sitting to the side so he wasn’t facing the women.

“One would think that you do not appreciate the beautiful form of a woman, Arthur, you make such a point in not looking at them. ” Francis smirked, goading the nation.

“What are you suggesting, frog?!” Arthur yelled, turning a beautiful shade of red.

“Nothing, cher ami” he responded, sitting down a little too close to the Englishman and draping an arm over the backside.

One of the waitresses arrived with an ale and a glass of champagne, both drinks with a mini American flag sticking out of them.

“Courtoisie de M. Jones” the waitress spoke seductively, leaning over as far as possible to hand Francis his drink.

“Merci beaucoup. At-on jamais vous dit que vous êtes belle?” the Frenchman took his drink and kissed the woman’s hand.

The ‘French maid’ giggled and flounced off.

Arthur rolled his eyes and took the American flag out of his drink “Alfred, here, take your damn flag ba—where did he go?”

Francis shrugged “Looks like it is just you and me for the rest of the night. ”

Arthur took a large gulp of his ale, and then he ordered another and another and somehow during the course of evening he agreed to let Francis help him up to his hotel room.

The temptation for Francis to take advantage of Arthur in this state was definitely testing his will, after all, it wouldn’t really be taking advantage of him; they had been lovers many times before.

“Arthur, I missed you”

“Don’t think just because I’m a tad sauced it means I’ll let you spout your horrendous poetry in hopes of getting into my pants” the British man spoke in tone that didn’t have quite the amount of anger in it he imagined it did.

“I hardly think telling you I missed you counts as poetry, here’s let’s get you on the bed before you fall over. ”

“Why would you even tell me such a thing you idiot?” he grabbed Francis by the collar in a mock display of anger and stumbled over the bed, not being sober enough to let go of Francis he unwittingly pulled the man on top of him.

Francis felt a twinge of pain in his heart remembering all the times that Arthur was beneath him before, he also felt a twinge elsewhere looking down at the mans flushed face and imagining that it was from him and not the alcohol, but he ignored it, moving to get off of the Englishman.

“I know that scent…” Arthur started to say “I know I’ve smelled it before…what is it?”

“My cologne?” Francis wondered how it was that Arthur recognized the scent of his cologne. Arthur had given the cologne to him as a gift long ago explaining to him that it was ‘to keep him from smelling so much like a frog. ’ It was expensive and despite the words that came with the gift, it showed that Arthur cared for him a great deal, so Francis resolved to only wear the cologne on special occasions, or when he was around Arthur; since he had had no special occasions and hadn’t seen Arthur in nearly five years, the cologne didn’t get much use.

“Arthur? How do you know this scent?” he asked hopefully, were there parts of their time together Arthur remembered?

“Hmm?” Arthur asked groggily “Oh…It’s the scent of a rose” he slurred drunkenly and then Francis heard the distinct sound of snoring.

Francis cocked an eyebrow wondering what the hell the man was going on about. He made sure to tuck Arthur into the bed and got in besides him, there was zero chance that he was going to let Arthur leave without an explanation and he knew that if he didn’t stay, the British Nation would try to leave without so much as speaking to him.

“Bonne nuit, Arthur, je t'aime” Francis whispered, kissing Arthurs forehead lightly.

A blood curdling scream woke Francis sharply from his dreams making his eyes fly open in panic. Taking a quick scan of the room, he noticed nothing had changed and that his shirt was moist. Why was his shirt wet? Apparently, in his sleep he had turned to his side and was spooning his former lover. Arthur’s sleeping body had responded to him and had scooted closer. A closer inspection of Arthur saw that Arthur’s tank top was drenched in sweat and then another anguished scream tore through the room.

Francis’ heart broke at the sight of the proud nation lying in bed screaming from nightmares. “Qu'avez-vous vu?” he asked softly, brushing the wet strands of hair from his face. He wasn’t sure what to do; if he woke Arthur up the man would probably be sober by now and would kick him out for sure. Of course he couldn’t just lay there and let the man scream all night long.

As gently as he could, without waking the man up he pulled the mans soaked t shirt off him and tossed it on the floor, removing his own as well, no sense in waking up in a disgustingly soaked t-shirt.

“Viens ici, mon amour” he whispered lovingly, laying on his back and very gently, lovingly, shifting Arthur so the Brits head was on his chest. “Plus de rêves mauvais, d'accord?” he whispered, wrapping his arm around Arthur.

Francis knew that when Arthur woke up and saw the state they were in he would throw a fit, but for now, he was going to pretend like everything was back to normal.

A/N: Sorry, I’m late (again) but dear god my head is in pain.

Translations:

Je vous ai manqué- I’ve missed you.

Courtoisie de M. Jones- Courtesy of Mr. Jones

Merci beaucoup. At-on jamais vous dit que vous êtes belle? - Thank you very much. Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are?

Qu'avez-vous vu?-What have you seen?

Viens ici, mon amour-Come here, my love.

“Plus de rêves mauvais, d'accord? - No more bad dreams, alright?

Additionally, I’ve said this before, but since there was a lot of French in this chapter I’m going to apologize again if it’s god awful. I’m literally only using Google Translate, so you can blame Google.
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The Scent of a Rose