Tú eres mi luz celestial. (Spamano yaoi)

Dormez Bein Mon Amour. (France X Prussia)

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Hey everyone! I am so, so sorry it's been so long since I've been able to post something!
My laptop has perminately died and I don't think I'll be able to get another any time soon! And classes, ugh, classes, a crap ton of tests and studies have certainly kept me busy and away from being able to read, do art or any writing! ;A; So again, I apologize for the horridly long amount of time you guys have had to wait!

Anyway! Here is a France X Prussia chapter! I hope you guys enjoy it! And I am so sorry if it has several erros, my brain is fried and isn't working or Englishing too well! Hahaha, I will go back and fix any errors later, whenever can, promise!

This is suppose to he part 4. I have no idea how I accidentally uploaded this first instead of three. I AM SO SORRY!! Please skip forward, then come back here.
Again, I AM SO SORRY!!
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France drove back to Spain's house in the storm, his thoughts spinning wildly around in his head. He glanced back at his sleeping friend beside him, his heart breaking a little more.

Spain laid curled up in the seat, his wet hair dripping droplets of cold rainwater down his face and adding to his already sodden clothes. His face was pale and his eyes seemed to be sunken in, surrounded by dark circles.

Driving back at the manor, France pulled into the double garage and killed the engine.

He unbuckled his seat belt and opened the door, closed it behind him and walked around the other side to gather up his friend and carry him into the warm, dry house.

As gently as he could, he pulled him out of the car and heaved him over his shoulder, closing the car door shut with his foot. He locked his car, walked up the small steps and opened the door that lead into the back of Spain's large, fancy kitchen. He dropped his keys into a glass bowl on the counter and headed upstairs towards his friend's bedroom to put the dark haired man to bed.

He had a little trouble climbing the flight of steps that lead upstairs, but he adjusted Spain to where it would be easier to carry his limp body up the forty-some steps to the top. When he reached Spain's bedroom, he carefully laid the man down on his large, red, gold and white, feathered bed and as carefully as he could, slipped off his friend's sodden jacket, shirt, shoes, socks, and his dark jeans, only leaving on Spain's red and gold boxers. There was no way he'd ever mess with those. No, thank you.
Sure, the Spainard had a nice body, but that was one line between friend's that you just simply did not cross, and taking off their underwear was one.

Spain mumbled quietly to himself and shifted slightly, but thankfully did not wake from from his exhaust induced sleep. Without a sound, he let the blond slowly strip him of his sodden clothes and let him dry his dripping wet hair with a soft hand towel from the bathroom.

After he'd dried and put his friend to rest, France picked up the sodden pile of clothing and walked out of the room leaving the door slightly ajar, just in case the Spaniard awoke and called out in a panic.
He padded silently down the steps and into the laundry room, where he threw the wet articles into the dryer and pushed the start button.

He stood there for a while, deep in thought as he listened to the whirring of the clothes tumbling around in the machine. He ran a hand though his damp hair and leaned back against the dryer.

Everything had gotten worse, and again, his instincts told him that things were not going to get any easier from here on out. He dipped his head back and closed his eyes trying to think of a way to get to talk to Romano.

The Italian wasn't answering his door or his phone, and he didn't seem like he wanted to be around anyone.

Suddenly his brain reminded him that he had asked a certain albino to speak to the Italian's younger brother and a certain, large, broody German for him. He pushed himself off the dryer and reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone.