Steamy ;)

Showery Antics? Lol not really dont get excited

"I know I should be used to it... But I despise the cold." Arthur, having just returned from a shopping trip, loosened his scarf, and hung it on the coat rack, then removing his jacket, and hanging that up too. "Must put the kettle on..." He mutters to himself, already craving a cup of tea, unsurprisingly. He trudges into his kitchen, filling up the kettle and placing it on the hob, and switching it on. He preferred the old-fashioned way in the first place, so he was quite happy doing so. The Brit then gets a teacup, a silver spoon, and a teabag. Milk and sugar would be added later. He relaxed on his armchair, glad to get a chance to sit down after hauling around shopping bags, and rest his bones. The gentle lull of the ticking clock soothed him, but he knew he would be soother further if only the kettle boiled. After a minute, which felt like an eternity to him, the high-pitched squeal of the kettle rang through the house. He smiles to himself, which slightly worried him, as even the idea of tea made him happy.  He poured the steaming, hot water into the cup that contained the teabag, and let the steam hit his face like a wall of warmth. He stirs well with the silver spoon, before squishing and removing the teabag. Plopping said teabag into the bin, he takes a bottle of milk, and pours. After a reasonable amount of milk had been added, he sprinkles some sugar into the cup. Sighing, he picks up the cup, holding a saucer underneath, and takes a sip. A look of pure bliss floods his face, and he sits himself down in his armchair once more. He reaches for the newspaper sitting atop his coffee table, that had been delivered this morning. Flicking through the first few pages, although taking a sneaky look at page three, he begins to read an article about Christmas celebrations throughout the country. He sighs. He wasn't planning on doing a lot for Christmas, and was going to be lonely, as always. He disregards the paper, returning his focus to his teacup, and glances at the frost-glazed windows. A hand... Or, at least, a knuckle, suddenly rapped on said window. Quite shocked at this sudden loud noise, and intrusion, the Brit calls out. "Yes?" And his neutral expression sours upon hearing the cry of "Arthuuur~!" that could've come from nobody other than Francis Bonnefoy. "What the bloody hell do you want, frog? I was in the middle of something important!" A face appeared at the window, blonde locks perfectly curled, and violet eyes. "Eh? It looks like you're sitting here drinking tea to moi!" A scowl surfaced on the Brit's face. "What did you want?!" A grin appeared from the rosy-cheeked face outside. "To talk, that's all!" Arthur sighs,  quite differently to the sigh he gave earlier, this one a sigh of irritation. He stands up, placing his cup of tea on top of the discarded newspaper. "Wait at the door, you bloody idiot." He stands up, rubbing his lower back, before dragging himself to the front door. He unlocks the door, edges it open, and barely has time breathe before a tall Francis launches himself at him. "ARTHUR!" Arthur himself let out a yelp, before swatting at Francis' face. "Don't touch me!" Francis simply laughs. "I've never been able to keep my hands off you before, what makes now an exception~?" This was answered with a scowl, and partially pink cheeks. "Shut up..." Francis laughs once again. "Silly Angleterre. Anyway, I was wondering about something." England raises an eyebrow, smoothing out his blazer that had been rumpled when he was pounced on. "What is it?" "Well... I have an emergency." "Spit it out, frog. What sort of emergency?" "A cleanliness emergency!" England gave a look of sheer disappointment. "How sad. I thought you were dying." Francis winks. "Don't be silly, Angleterre! If I died, you'd miss me too much." Arthur punched France's shoulder, almost playfully. "Bloody frog. What do you mean exactly by 'cleanliness'? It's not as though you're clean anyway, with hat disgusting mind of yours." France laughs, a tad awkwardly. "My water got shut off... So I haven't had a shower for a few days... I was hoping I could have a shower here." Arthur stared in disbelief. "Why did your water get shut off?!" "Ah... I have been rather busy, and forgot to pay my bills." Arthur smacks Francis around the head. "Wanker. I'd rather you not use my water... But the stench of disgusting cheese and cheap wine would become unbearable if you don't wash soon..." Francis gives a small smile. "So I can have a shower?" England sighs. "If you must. Don't even think about going through my laundry. Or stealing any of my soaps. Or putting my towels in places they shouldn't be." Arthur continues to reel off rules about his bathroom and belongings, while France's mind drifts elsewhere. "If you're so worried, why not watch me yourself?" England stopped in his tracks. "That's disgusting. Now bugger off." He pointed upstairs, frown plastered on his face. "You can find the bathroom yourself." France gave a nod, before practically flying upstairs, and finding the bathroom. Britain could hear from downstairs that the Frenchman was removing his clothing, and stepping into the shower. Arthur sighs, and returns to his armchair, and, more importantly, his cup of tea.

After a while, and his tea now finished, England leaned back to simply relax. After a while, he realised something- not because he was thinking about a nude, and not to mention wet, France right above him, of course- which was that he had just done his laundry, and to cut a long story short, there were no towels in the bathroom. The results of this scenario could be the following: a nude France would wander around his house, searching for towels; a nude France would wander round his house without a single care in the world; a nude France would remain in his bathroom for the foreseeable future; a nude France would-- you get the idea. Arthur didn't like the sound of any of these, so he resolved to bring a towel to Francis to avoid all scenarios. Arthur collected a towel from a freshly laundered pile, and took it upstairs. He knocked on the bathroom door. "Francis?" ... There was no reply, and the water continued running. "Francis!" He knocked on the door. Again, no reply. "Oi, frog!" He hits the door with his palm. Sighing, he pushes down the handle to open the door. "France, I bought you a towe--" A scream was the next thing to escape Britain's mouth- a very feminine one at that. "What the bloody hell are you doing?!" Francis laughed, having been waiting at the door so he could fall on England as soon as he entered. "Playful fun!" He grins. England's horrified expression would remain on his face for a long time, as he processed what had just happened many times over. "... France." "Oui?" "... You're all wet." "Oui." "... And you don't have anything on your top half." "Ouuuui." "... Is it the same situation down there?" "Oui!" Another shrill squeal escaped the Brit's mouth, and he started thrashing around violently. "GET OFF ME THIS INSTANT THAT'S DISGUSTING YOU PERVERT I HATE YOU" and the like could be heard afterwards, with France's chuckling countering it.

After France had been pushed away, and had been covered up, which was the result of a very long struggle, Arthur began to lecture him on proper etiquette and manners, and France raised his hand. "Don't do that. What is it?" "You were the one who came in the salle de bains while I was showering, Angleterre." Irritation etched onto his face, Arthur mutters. "Shut up, stupid frog..." "Cat got your tongue, Angleterre? Was my retort too amazing?" Arthur then strode over to France, lowering himself to his level as Francis was sitting down. "Don't say such things in my own house, France." France gives a small smirk, before practically lunging at England, and to which Arthur replied with yet another shout, and found himself pinned to the ground once again.

After another long while of struggling, England was unable to throw France off a second time, and now hand his hands were pinned beside his head. "You lose, Angleterre!" "I wasn't aware this was a game..." "Well, it was, and you lost! Now. For your penalty." "Penalty?! Nobody said anything about a bloody game, now you're making up things about penalties?!" "Angleterre, I do not believe you are in any position to argue right now." "... Have I not told you to shut up beforehand?" "And I said you were in no position to argue." "You're such a twat." "I know." "...." "Getting back to penalty thing... I think it should be something to doanith me, as you violated my privacy." "Hardly! I was bringing you a towe--" "Save it, disgusting paedophile." "What?!" "I think I should get a kiss on the cheek, as a condolence." "... Why?" "Why not?" "... I hate you." "I know!" "You can't make me kiss you, you know." "But it isn't gentlemanly to wrong a person and not make up for it." "I suppose you have a point, although I still don't want to do it." "Get it over and done with, then." "..." With a scowl, which softened as he got ever closer to France, England strained his neck so he could reach France's cheek. France decided to help out, also moving closer, until there was contact. But, not in the way England first thought it would be. Francis had tilted his head at the very last second, an overused tactic, but still effective, so that England ended up properly kissing him. England himself realised the Frenchman's intentions just as they made contact, and it would've been thought England would've pulled away... But he didn't. In all honesty, England was most likely enjoying this unexpected embrace more than France, the one who planned it in the first place. The two men remained in this position for a while, not quite aware of the time passing by, and then they pulled apart. After staring at each other, a pink glow coming from either man's face, Arthur composed himself, and cleared his throat. "Well. You had your shower, I made it up to you for my impropriate intrusion, be off with you." France took a while to remove himself, and after doing so, redressed himself, now being quite dry due to their kiss taking so long to be over, and allowed England to lead him out. After thanking England for letting him use the shower. Just before England closed the door and returned to his newspaper, he gives a small smile. "You can always come here if you need to use the shower and yours is out of use. We could shower together next time."