Lost Letters (Hetalia: FrUk)

9. I'm in love with you

Many Centuries ago, had you told England that one day he would be in a kitchen baking desert for a dinner because his younger brother and his boyfriend were coming to visit his family, he would have laughed before declaring war on you (and/or killed you on the spot). And yet, here he was, trying his hardest not to completely ruin the pie they were to eat that night. How things had changed.

Arthur had made sure Francis did not get on that plane that day and now, three years later, he finds himself wondering what would've happened if he had? What if Arthur had stayed home and decided to simply wait and call him later. Perhaps they wouldn't have met again until the next World Meeting. And if they had, what then? Things would have never been the same between them again.

Arthur couldn't imagine that kind of life. Especially not as he gazed at his husband, who was sat out in the sunlit backyard with their daughter, Geneviève, better known as the newly formed Republic of Anglo-France. The young girl bore resemblance to both of her father's, who had shared territory, thus her being "born". She had France's hair, much to his pleasure, but had had the horrible luck of taking on England's eyebrows. France had tried not to cry, but now he considered them a beautiful feature (on both his daughter and his husband). She also had England's green eyes. France had openly wept when he saw them, and England was sure he had never been kissed harder than the day they found her.

"Daddy, daddy!" He pulled off his oven mitts after closing the oven door, the pie resting inside. Geneviève came running through the sliding patio doors with a large smile on her face. "Look!" She shoved a large bundle of flowers in his face, "Me and Papa picked them. Aren't they beautiful?"

Arthur smiled and picked her up in his arms, the flowers resting between them as he walked back to the door. "Their beautiful, Gene," He smiled. "Are they from the prairie?" They lived in the Republic of Anglo-France, and near a glade that bloomed beautiful wild flowers for three-quarters of the year.

"Oui," She said eagerly, "Papa says when these wilt we'll go back for more. Can we?" Her eyes glittered as he stepped out in the sun. He always swore there was blue swimming in her green iris', but Francis insisted that they were the same emerald as Arthur's.

"Of course," He promised, "We'll pick as many as you like."

"And have a picnic?" He chuckled.

"And have a picnic."

She squealed and jumped down from his arms, running back to her Papa and jumping on him, (the flowers had been dropped haphazardly during her dash). " Avez-vous entendu qui? Did you? Did you? He said we could go!" She smiled widely.

"Oui, I heard, Geneviève," He smiled kindly. "Will we let your father make the food for us?"

"No." Gene rapidly shook her head.

"Hey, now," Arthur twitched, "That's a bit mean, don't you think?"

"Non." They both denied.

"Oh, really?" Arthur smirked. Francis' smile fell.

"Run, Gene!" He said and she took off across the green lawn. He stood up and wiped off the seat of his pants, "I'll stop your father."

"Will you now?" He walked over slowly with his arms crossed, but his smirk was still in place.

"Hm, I think so," His husband smiled.

"And how will you do that?"

"Like this."

England was dipped back, France's arm locked around Arthur's waist as his wrapped around Francis' neck, and he smiled cheekily. The sun blinded him for a moment, silhouetting his lovers face against the sky. His eyes soon adjusted and he smiled as he took in the others features.

"See something you like?" Francis asked cheekily.

"Nothing in particular," Arthur proclaimed nonchalantly. Francis' smile fell.

"However, I do see someone I love."

Francis chuckled before catching Arthur's lips in a sweet kiss. It wasn't passionate, and neither attempted to deepen it. It was simple and loving, and perfect in every way.

France had been bested by the Englishman once again. Step up your game Francis.

"Ah, Le beau sentiment de l'amour," They heard Geneviève sigh. Arthur pulled back and looked at Francis, who stared back, and then they both looked to Geneviève. They all three laughed, Gene walking over so her dad could pick her up. Arthur held her on his waist while Francis wrapped his arms around the both of them.

"I think I may be the luckiest man alive," Arthur kissed Geneviève's cheek.

"I'll have to fight you there, Cher." Arthur smirked.

"Shut it, Frog."

~

Ding Dong!

"I've got it!" Gene ran for the front door as Arthur and Francis finished setting up the kitchen. Arthur paused and held a plate as he began counting down.

"Three, two, one-"

"Uncle Alfie! Uncle Ivan!" Arthur chuckled and laid out the last plate.

"Let's go greet them!" Arthur lead the way out to see Alfred holding Geneviève up and spinning her around while Ivan stood and watched with a smile.

"Hello," Arthur greeted.

"Hey, Artie!"

"Yeah, hey Artie!" Gene giggled.

Arthur glared at Alfred.

~

"Arthur, can I.... we need to talk."

Arthur looked up from the dishes he was cleaning, and saw Ivan standing nervously in the doorway.

Arthur cleared his throat uncomfortably. Despite accepting his relationship with Alfred, he still always felt a bit unerved around the Russian.

"Yes?" Ivan glanced back at the dining room before closing the door behind him and sighing.

"It's about, Alfred." Arthur felt himself tense up. Alfred was his younger brother, and everything be dammed if he would let anything hurt him.

"Ivan, if you plan on breaking his heart, after what happened with Japan, I swear I will-" Ivan held up his hands quickly and shook his head.

"It is not that," He looked worried and nervous. Good. Arthur would show no mercy.

"What is it than?" Arthur crossed his arms.

"I want- er, I wish," He lowered his hands and fiddled with his fingers, "I would like to....," He really was nervous, "to... ask for your - your blessing."

"My... what?" Was this what he thought it was? Ivan stood straighter, and then suddenly all nervousness left him.

"I would like to ask for your permission to marry Alfred."

...

Drip!

Water fell from the faucet.

Drop!

Another droplet landed in the dish water.

"You what?"

Francis, come hold your husband back.

~

Fin