Unfamiliar Feelings - A Hetalia FrUK Fanfiction

France is drunk?

Hola! Sorry the last chapter was reeeally short, but hopefully this one will be longer! I think I will upload daily from now on until this story ends, buy I'm updating another one today because chapter one was short. So here's another chapter, in the same day! Woo! Enjoy :3

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He has a bottle in his hands, it's empty, and I can smell the alcohol radiating off of him in strong waves. He smells terrible! "What the hell happened to you Francis?" I ask with no reply, only a barely audible groan. "Come on, get up." I say as I haul him over to the couch and plop him down not so delicately. Another groan falls out of his mouth followed by doubling over and clutching his stomach. My eyes widen and I run to get a bucket, a bowl, anything that he can empty his stomach contents into. I finally settle with a bin and rush it over to him just in time as he wretches and throws up into the bin.

"Oh chap what have you been drinking?" I say but not expecting a response. I let him rest for a while, just laying on my couch, hopefully gaining enough strength to get cleaned up. "You need a shower."  I tell him as I put an arm around his back and put his arm around my shoulders. I pull him to his feet and shuffle him over to the bathroom. "The towels are on the rack, call if you need anything else. I'll be outside." With that, I close the bathroom door and wait outside.

I check my watch every now and then, it's now been 15 minutes and I still haven't heard the shower turn off. Maybe he's just having a really long shower I think to myself. Should I check if he's ok? the internal argument keeps going for maybe a few minutes more until I decide that I'm going to go check on him.

I turn the handle and walk into the room warily. My eyes scan the room, looking for the drunk man who suddenly turned up at my house. The shower is still running, and the curtain is open, but no Francis standing there under the jet of water, no droplets running down his smooth arms, no fingers running through his sandy blonde- snap out of it Arthur, you're meant to be looking for Francis, not daydreaming about him!
I scan the room again and don't see anything, where did he go? I walk further into the room and close the door slightly. That's when I see a soaking wet Francis slumped against the wall behind the door. Luckily, he's wearing a towel wrapped loosely around his waist. It almost gives me a bloody heart attack! He looks to be sleeping, and I don't want to wake him up, but that position just looks downright uncomfortable.

I crouch down next to him. Hesitantly, I bring my fingers up to his shoulder and tap lightly at first. When he doesn't respond I repeat the action a little harder. Eventually, I end up shaking him violently awake. His eyes snap open and they are bloodshot and red. I let out a low sigh of relief, god that would be embarrassing wouldn't it. Letting someone use your shower, then turns out, they're dead in your bathroom...

I loop my arm around his back and he places his soft arm on my shoulders. I didn't know Francis had such soft arms. I begin to wonder what else might be soft before I stop myself mid-thought, realising just what I was about to think. "Francis, you can have my bed, and I'll sleep on the couch." I tell him, he replies by nodding his head slightly. I never thought this would happen, me carrying an half naked man to my bedroom. Some day this turned out to be.

We walk to my room, and I push the door open with my foot. I help him sit down softly, and start to get up when he pulls me back down and presses his lips hard against mine. What the hell is he doing? And why the hell am I not objecting and pushing him away? He pulls away finally but is still holding my shirt in his hand, holding me in place. He leans into me, his warm breath tickles the side of my head. He whispers in my ear, "Thank you Angleterre." I swear my heart stops right then and there, my breathing does too. I don't even move while he still has me in his grasp. He lets go and falls back onto the bed, probably going out like a rock as soon as his blonde head reaches the pillows.

I just sit and stare, not quite believing the events that had just passed only moments ago. I reach up to feel my lips, then quickly pull my hands away and push myself off the bed with all my strength and force myself to leave the room. I close the door quietly and just stand outside running everything that just happened through my head over and over until I believe it. It takes a while, but I finally force myself to get a spare blanket from the cupboard. I pull a clean one out and walk back over to the couch. I slump down on it feeling utterly confused.

After nearly an hour of thinking everything over and over in my head, my eyelids eventually get heavy and my eyes flutter closed. I drift off into a heavy sleep and dream unwanted, (but secretly very wanted,) dreams of Francis.