France, England, and FrUk Oneshots

The Frog Is Totally Hungover

*England's POV*

  England opened his eyes slowly, yawning. The sun was filtering in through the curtains, the birds were singing, France was cuddled up with him- WAIT WHAT?!? England jerked away, shoving at France, who grunted and fell off the bed. "Oh Lord, oh no, ohhhhh my Lord oh no... Please tell me I didn't have sex with him... Oh no..."

"Mon head...", France moaned from the floor. Suddenly realization clicked in England's head. "Oh... You're hungover, aren't you?", he asked, feeling a bit awkward. "You shoved me off zhe damn bed...", France groaned, attempting to stand up. The second the frog stood up, England remembered the fact that when France had fallen asleep, he had only been wearing a towel. And he realized that the towel was now gone.

"Bloody cover yourself, you git!!", the Brit shrieked, turning around and covering his eyes. France groaned again. "Stop yelling..." England curled his lip and began rummaging around in the bed, eyes still closed. His hands grabbed the towel and he threw it in France's direction. "Put the bloody towel on," the Brit practically snarled. "Fine, fine," France grumbled. When England looked back, France had the towel around his waist.

"I'll get you some clothes," England sighed, heading to his drawers. France snorted. "Me? Wear your bland clozhes? Er, non merci." The Englishman curled his lip up in a sneer again, and threw a pair of sweatpants and a tshirt at France. "You're going to want something comfortable, frog. Don't bloody complain. You have no idea of what I went through last night."  France smirked as he pulled the sweatpants on, the towel still around his waist. "Oh, hmmm... Did we?..", he trailed off, wiggling his eyebrows.

  England scoffed and threw a pair of socks at France. "NO! We did nothing of the sort, you perverted, dirty frog! All that happened is that you threw up all over the place - and not in a sexual way, you dirty minded Frenchman - and you took shower (God knows how, you were so hammered), and then you fell asleep after making me get you water!" By now, France was completely dressed and had a slight frown on his face. "...Er...Oh..."

The Brit sighed, staring at the Frenchman, who was now sitting on the bed. "...Sorry, frog." France shrugged. "No need to apologize. I'm sorry for showing up drunk at your home." It was England's turn to shrug. "Meh. It's fine, frog. Except for the facts that you vomited on my shoes." France snorted and raised an eyebrow. "Kinky."

"Oh, shut it."

France stood up with a small smile, and stretched, yawning. He then put his head in his hands, and immediately sat back down on the bed. England snickered. "You've got quite a hangover, don't you?" France slowly laid back down, putting his face in a pillow. "Kill me," came the muffled response. England rolled his eyes. "I gladly would, but I'd get in trouble. Do you want something to eat?"

The Frenchman jerked his head up, wincing as he did so. "Oh, ow- Er, I don't want it if you're making it... Or maybe I don't want anyzhing at all...", he said, groaning slightly as his hand wrapped around his stomach. England dove for the trash bin and shoved it into France's hands. "If you puke on me or yourself or my bed, I'll kill you. I've had enough vomit incidents in the past day alone to last me a lifetime." France glared at him. "I'm not going to zhrow up...", he muttered, despite the fact that he was 50 shades of green.

  England rolled his eyes at France, who was squirming slightly as he grasped his stomach. "Well, I'm going to make some tea and scones. I'll bring you some if you're able to stomach it." France looked up at him, narrowing his eyes. "I won't be able to stomach it, hangover or not." England flipped him off, and stomped into the kitchen.

  As he grumpily put the kettle on the stove, he heard France retching in the other room. "Should I go in and check on him?... He'll get awfully clingy... But what if he's puking on my floor? No, he's sober now, there's no way he is. I hope. I'll just check on him when the tea is done."

When the tea was done, he took it off the stove and filled a glass with water to take to his enemy in the other room. He marched in there to see France leaning over the trash bin, groaning every so often. England snickered. "See frog? This is what you get for drinking so much." France glanced up at him, eyes narrowed. "If looks could kill....", England thought, shifting awkwardly.

"Er, here. I got you glass of water." France simply continued to glare. England frowned and set it on the bedside table. "Well, ahem, since you've forgotten how to move, I'll just leave this here... And go get my tea. And make some sco-" Just as he finished his sentence, France leapt up, and smashed his lips against the Englishman's.

England let out a surprised squeak and pulled away quickly. "What was!... Bloody Hell! You can't just... You- You- You tasted like VOMIT!" He grabbed the water he had just set down and drank some. "That's disgusting," England snarled. France shrugged. "Désolé. I would've waited until I had brushed my teezh, but you looked so... So cute! And you were caring for me so I zhought... Uh...", France began to trail off, beginning to blush. "I assumed... You uh... Liked moi."

The Englishman curled his lip. "Me?!? Like YOU?! How absurd! The only way I like you is maybe, mayyyybe as a friend!" France looked away, his face completely red. "I... Uh..." England's gaze softened a bit.

"Does he... Really like me that much? Maybe I was much too harsh. If he likes me back... Then... Well..."

England cleared his throat. "I've got a spare toothbrush in the bathroom." France nodded and silently trudged into the bathroom. England went into the kitchen and poured two cups of tea; one for himself and one for mint bunny. What, did you really think he was going to give some of his best tea to Francis Bonnefoy?

He heard footsteps and looked up as he sipped his tea. "Did you brush your teeth?", England asked. "Oui," France mumbled. England walked up to him and smiled slightly.

"Good."

At that, he stood up on his tiptoes and kissed France on the lips. He felt the older nation freeze momentarily, then he leaned into it, stooping down slightly. England closed his eyes and let himself sink into France. After what seemed like forever, yet much too short, France pulled away. "Why did you kiss moi?", he asked softly, sounding a bit confused.

  England sighed and blushed. "Because I like you. Duh." France smiled and pressed his lips against England's once more before quickly pulling away. "You taste like mint," England mumbled. France snickered. "Well, you taste like... Wait, what kind of tea is zhat? Is it new?" He leaned forward again, and England jerked his head back. "Hey! You don't get to kiss me just so you can taste the tea again." France laughed softly, gazed into England's eyes, and sighed. "Angleterre..."

  "Yes?" France sighed again. "I zhink I'm going to zhrow up again." England jerked away. "NO!! NOT ON MY FLOOR! NOT ON MEEEE!!" France covered his ears and groaned. "No yelling", he moaned. England frowned as he shoved another trash bin in front of the frog. "Sorry. Just don't puke on me." France rolled his eyes and sat down at he kitchen table, holding the trash bin.

  The two sat in silence for a minute before France cleared his throat. "I always imagined my first real kiss wizh you would be under more romantic circumstances." England blushed. "You've imagined about our first kiss?" France laughed. "Oui. Haven't you?" England felt his face get even warmer. "N-no?..." France snickered. "Oui, sure."

  England smiled softly and poured another cup of tea, and set it in front of France. "Yes, it's new." France raised the cup to his lips then froze, dropped the trash bin and the cup, and sprinted off to the bathroom. England groaned.

  "This is going to be one looooooong day..."

~The End~

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