The pitter patter of rain was all that could be heard in the eerily silent house. England was still asleep, the rain sparking a particular dream that was more than unpleasant. The rain didn't help at all, only making it all seem more real. There he was, on his knees in the mud and soaked. There was a man above him, pointing a musket to his head. He couldn't see his face, only the uniform he wore that was so different from his own red coat. The face became clear, and he found himself staring into hate filled blue eyes. "Alfred..." He sobbed aloud, his voice ringing out through the almost silence. Alfred's blue eyes were so icy, far from their normal warm state. His ex-colony left him there, bleeding and shivering in the downpour. Arthur didn't know what to do now. The war was over, and he felt empty. He contemplated laying there and dying, but that would never work. He forced himself to stand, making his way back to his own home. A loud crack of thunder tore England out of his nightmare. He was crying and he wiped the hot tears away from his face. He hated these dreams. They were so common, coming as frequently as the rain which seemed to always shower his country. He shivered and suddenly heard his bedroom door open. He went rigid with fear. Who was in his home? The person climbed into his bed and held him, arms warm and familiar. "Francis." England cooed softly, soothed by the other's presence. France stroked his hair. "I thought you might be awake. It's almost morning you know." England nodded. "Yeah. Time to get up." Both men got up from the sheets, and Francis suddenly wisked Arthur into the bathroom. "alright, I need you to shower, brush your teeth, and get dressed. I have things planned for today before the party." As soon as he was ready, Francis ushered Engkand out the door and to a salon. "France..." He groaned. The Frenchmen shook his head sternly. "Have you seen yourself lately? You look awful since you haven't been taking care of yourself for the past few years." Engkand sighed and caved in, allowing himself to be shoved in a chair. A little Asian woman scrubbed his feet til they were extremely soft and his nails were filed perfectly. She painted them with a clear gloss, then did the same with his fingernails. He followed her to another chair where she laid a think layer of wax along his eyebrows. He cried out as she ripped off layers of his eyebrows. "F-Francis! You bastard!" His voice was shrill and he yelped again as she removed more. "You have lot of hair." She said with a shake of her head. England pouted with her, looking in a mirror at his now thin eyebrows. The Asian woman laid him back down and spread some kind of mask on his face, placing cucumbers on his eyes. After all of this was finished, France forced Arthur to go shopping, getting him something that England found preposterous. "I will /not/ wear that!" He declared with a stomp of his foot. France rolled his eyes. "Yes you will. You wouldn't want to be an eyesore would you? Now, mon Lapin, try it on." England pulled on a skin tight sailor outfit, complete with shorts that only came just below his butt. "No." Arthur hissed. Francis glared. "Yes. You don't want to be out of place." Arthur hissed, but soon agreed. Once home, France decided to shave England's legs. "Now! Aren't you gorgeous!?" Arthur glared and could only hope the party wouldn't be as much torture as the preparation.
