☐ Single ☐ Taken ✔ Living with England (Hetalia fanfic)

Brainzzz!... And pink frilly panties.

I'm pretty sure a spider was crawling across my legs last night but that has nothing to do with this. So right now I'm in Temecula, California visiting family. Actually one of my many cousins it getting married ^.^ [Might be a sensitive topic for some people coming up in my rant] You know... I never realized how prone my family is to getting divorces O.O My brother has gotten divorced twice, so has my dad. And between all five of my aunts and uncles ( i have sven but one's dead and one never got married) they've got a total of seven divorces *twitches eye* [Rant end]

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“Francis, you are an evil genius.” I grinned as I stared at the outfit that hung against the door.

France’s own lips curved up into an evil smile. “Oui, oui. I am well aware mon amie.” He reached an arm up and plucked the outfit from where it hung. Spinning on his heels to face me he carefully pushed it towards me. “Get changed,” I reached out but then wavered for a second. “Or do you want me to change you?”  His smile never faded from his face. I raised an eyebrow, not saying anything as I took it from it. Turning around I headed towards the bathroom to change.

I had no idea if he was joking or not.

Closing and, naturally, locking the door behind me I immediately changed. Pulling on the ragged brown pants and the torn white shirt I stared at myself in the full body mirror that was on the door. I couldn’t suppress a smile as it slid across my lips. Just thinking about the plan was too much. Unlocking the door I opened it. “Okay Francis. Work your magic mon ami. Gah! You’re contagious! Just get in here old man.” I called out. In seconds the blonde was hovering over me, hands on his hips.

“Do I really look that old?” He asked.

I shrugged my shoulders. “Older than me.”

He let out a playful, annoyed huff as he entered the bathroom. “I’m only 26.” He scoffed.

I rolled my eyes. “You look 26. How old are you really old man?” I smirked at him and he gave me a light scowl.

“Does it really matter? Now come here.” He commanded. Doing as told I watched as he opened up one of his many draws and pulled out a hair clamp. He walked over to stand behind me and I instinctively tensed. He chuckled in a deep voice. “Don’t worry mon amie, I won’t hurt you.”

“That's not what I’m worried about,” I muttered under my breath. “France, you are known for oh, I don’t know, sexual assaulting people.”

I could tell he was raising an eyebrow as he started putting my hair up so it wouldn’t get in the way when he did my… eh, make up. “Antonio is the pedo, not me.”

I placed my hand under my chin and squinted my eyes slightly as if in thought. “True, true.” I admitted. “Ah, question. Why do you and Arthur hate each other so much?”

He froze, his hands nestled in my hair. “Touché subject. Google it. You are American, no?” He said resuming what he was doing. Finishing piling my hair so that it wouldn’t get in the way he opened a different drawer.

I let out an angry huff. “Hey France, you’re bi right?” I asked.

He froze again before turning to me with a smiling glint in his eyes. “You’re a nosy one, aren’t you?”

“A little.” I said holding my hand up with my thumb and pointer finger pinched an inch apart.

Letting out a soft chuckled he stood up straight with some white container in his hand. “Let’s begin.” And then he started attacking my naked skin with white powder.