Syphilis

Mine and Aff's word challenge #3
note; I do not like writing fanfics. I can't write fanfics. However, I couldn't pass up this opportunity so apologies for the wankiness of it.

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"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING IN MY BED?"
The shriek echoed throughout the cottage, it wouldn't have been surprising if the entire country of England hadn't heard the blood-curdling scream that simple caused a lazy roll over of the figure that had been resting in Arthur's bed. That was his bed, the place he had to himself and now this... this thing had even taken that from him. Well, we'd soon see about that.

"Bonjour, mon cherie." As blue eyes blinked open, unphased by the deadly scowl worn by the male he looked up at, a smile couldn't help but curve one Francis Bonnefoi's lips. "You know, Angleterre, you should really keep your voice down when people are trying to speak." The tall figure seemed to gain quite a bit of satisfaction from the visible cringe he drew from the other male, noticing the remains of a shattered tea cup on the floor in a pool of amber liquid; once a fine cup of tea now it was just a fatality of the day.

Stepping back as France swung legs out of the bed, feet meeting with the floor, England found himself forever in debt to the cover that still wrapped around the others waist and thighs, hiding the inevitable truth that he was not only in his bed, but in his bed naked. "You know, France, you don't have a very good past history of invading me successfully, do you?" His words were not answered, instead recieving an impassive look from the blonde in his bed. "Infact, I think its save to say that more British people have been killed by Syphillis than by the French."

Part of him wished he hadn't said that, as not only was he know made to feel short as his present company rose from the bed, he was also in the presence of the other completely starkers, looking anywhere but him. "Well, eyebrows, there is always room to change, don't you think?" With a dramatic flourish and a rather proud swagger to hide his bitterness at Englands words the man soon strode out of the room, head held high in an act of defiance leaving a rather confused England stood there.

After throwing the clothes he left at Francis through the window as the nude male strode past on his way down the road he tried to register what had actually just happened. If he wasn't mistaken, he believed himself to be victorious over the other nation. Yet again.