The War of the Toasters (France x England/ FrUk)

Chapter Three: Dig

It began just as any other day. Aggression, distrust, and often times, anger. Alfred had awoken to several microwaves in his room, Arthur's doing. Francis hadn't really bothered with the whole quarrel, he actually thought it was quite childish. Although, he did love it when Arthur got irritated. Francis thought it gave him a bit of a spark, even if his bark was worse than his bite. Arthur had usually pushed Alfred's antics aside, but Francis knew this was different. This was a war of kitchenware. To be honest, Francis had been slightly concerned, he really hated to see his appliances used in such a terrible way.

Both Francis and Arthur had thought the whole thing had been for attention, and in all honesty, that was the main reason for Alfred's 'toaster bombardment.' Matthew had taken serious patriotism to the cause, his loyalty never faltering for his brother. Alfred was in trouble? Matthew rushed to his side, even if he couldn't do much. But Matthew's face had gotten Alfred out of many fights. It was true, Matthew did have a bit of an adorable face. His face often softened up any competitor. In this way, Alfred could then get the upper hand and turn the tables of the whole predicament. The same could not be said for Arthur. Francis wouldn't help for anything, the man was known for his surrenders. As was Feliciano, but he was Francis's little brother, so of course it made sense.

Today was different, though. Francis was tired of Alfred assaulting his Englishmen. It was also different in the way that Alfred had Matthew set up a bunker in their vast backyard. Arthur was doing the same, only alone. Francis refused to accompany Arthur in such a filthy activity. He had claimed that 'he had better things to do.' When questioned, he had said: "Tending to my hair, of course!"

Arthur had rolled his eyes at this. He usually rolled his eyes at everything. His trench digging was terrible, he had to admit, but the least the frog could do was do something of productivity. No, he only sat there and drank his fancy red wine. Arthur had made a note to curse him when this was done with. The whole thing seemed a bit unfair. Alfred and Matthew were working, Matthew working a bit more diligently than Alfred, but at least Alfred was doing something in preparation for this childish war. He swore he could hear Alfred yelling something of encouragement to his brother, something along the lines of, "We'll win this if we can work together, Mattie, I promise you!" Matthew had only mumbled something of agreement.

Francis had finally walked out to check on the three males, only to go back inside five minutes later. Although it appeared that Francis didn't really care, as if he had no thoughts about the problem, he really did. It was all in the plan. Those blond-haired glasses-wearing nerds would soon find out his true skills. He had more experience than any of them with these types of things. Francis would no longer be the person surrendering.

Francis, of course, could never say any of these things aloud. No one took him seriously, his reputation had robbed him of saying anything close to serious. As if that mattered, Francis thought. He didn't intend on saying any of that, anyway. This would be a splendid surprise. Splendid for Arthur and him, devastating for Alfred and Matthew, unfortunately. This is the price they pay for hurting Artie, Francis thought.