The Little Things

⭐️Forty-One⭐️

**da past**

World meeting room

     Arthur was sitting calmly in his chair until he felt a hand be gently placed on his thigh. He swatted the hand away, keeping his eyes on Ludwig, who was saying something about global warming. It wasn't long before the hand was back, a little higher this time. Arthur slapped it away again, his brow creasing. But of course, it returned, even farther up his leg. The fuming Englishman stood up and glared at the Frenchman next to him. "Keep your filthy hands off of me, frog!"

     Francis blinked up at him innocently. "Moi...?"

     "Who else would I be talking to?!"

     Ludwig cleared his throat. "England, is there a problem?"

     "Er... no... sorry... please continue...." Arthur sat down.

     A few minutes passed before the hand made its way back onto Arthur's thigh.

     Arthur leaned closer to Francis. "Take your hand off of my leg before I cut it off," he whispered, a slight smile on his face.

     Francis quickly took his hand away.

**12:13 AM**

Arthur's bedroom

     Francis was crying. Again.

     "Hey... everything's alright, love...!" Arthur pulled Francis tight against himself, causing the Frenchman to start squirming and crying louder. He sat up, pulling the French nation into his lap.

     Francis started trying to escape from Arthur. He didn't get much of anywhere.

     "You've been especially moody these past few days...."

     Francis let out a loud shriek, which enabled him to get away from Arthur. He pushed himself as far away from Arthur as he could, while staying on the bed. The Frenchman angrily turned his back to Arthur, sniffling quietly.

     "Geez... calm down, would you...?"

     "Scary... no hand cutting...."

     "Wh-... what?"

     "You-... you say you gon' cut my hand off...."

     "When did I...?" he trailed off. "Whatever I said, I didn't mean it, Francis.... I won't cut your hand off.... At least not right now," he added under his breath.

     After a few minutes, Francis stood up and faced away from Arthur, deep in thought. His fingers twitched closer and closer to his mouth.

     Arthur crawled to Francis' side of the bed. He gently grabbed onto Francis' sides and pulled him down into his lap. "Hey.... Are you okay...?"

     The Frenchman thought for a little bit before hesitantly nodding. He looked down at Arthur's hands, which were gently resting on his stomach, and placed his own over them. "Hands...."

     "Yep... and yours are going to stay connected to your arms, alright? 'Cause I won't let anyone hurt you, and I most certainly won't hurt you."

     Francis whimpered softly and leaned back against Arthur. His eyes flickered shut and he was soon sleeping calmly in the Englishman's lap.