Author's note: So I wrote another FrUk fic about Iggy's eyebrows. I really wasn't sure what I wanted...but I knew I wanted it to be funny and involve France somehow. Hence this. The end is kinda meh, but I'll deal with it. It's just a little oneshot anyway. (And England's eyebrows totally have the magic curse that Harry Potter's hair does XD)

***

He thought plucking his eyebrows would somehow make him more attractive, and lessen the stares he sometimes got when out in public. He didn't expect them to keep growing back no matter how much he plucked them.

England didn't understand why his eyebrows were so against him. "Bloody gits," he grumbled as he looked in the mirror. "Can't just leave me alone for one hour, can you?"

"Arthur, we're going to be late to the meeting if you don't hurry up!" France called.

"I'll be right down," he hissed. Realizing his eyebrows wouldn't stop growing with normal techniques, he decided he would curse them off; At least for the meeting. So he muttered a quick spell and smiled when his eyebrows reduced themselves. "Aha!" he said proudly. By the time he got downstairs and into the taxi, France was already waiting for him.

"Something seems different about you," the Frenchman said curiously. "Did you…Mon dieu, you didn't."

"Wot?" England replied innocently. He was trying to suppress a grin.

"Your eyebrows…they are…"

"Yes?"

"…normal."

"Do you like them?"

France quirked a brow. "…I'm not sure."

England scowled then. "How the bloody hell can't you be sure?"

"I am not used to seeing your face like this. It's…not permanent, is it?"

"Why?"

France shrugged. "I always thought your eyebrows were very endearing, mon cher."

England was not amused. "You call them caterpillars, for chrissake."

"It was a term I used lovingly."

The Brit rolled his eyes. "So all this time you merely teased me of my eyebrows because you actuallyliked them?"

"Isn't that what teasing means, Angleterre?"

"…Should I have left them as they were?"

"Well…people will be staring at you tonight."

He hated when people stared at him, unless it was for something he had done (that didn't involve his body parts). "All right I'll change them back," he sighed. He mumbled the spell under his breath and waited. "Well?"

France's eyes widened. "A-Arthur…"

"What?"

"They are pink."

"…WHAT?!" He looked out of the window to see his reflection and paled when he saw that his now re-grown eyebrows were indeed pink. Hot pink to be precise. "I…" The taxi stopped and England realized his reputation was about to go down the drain if he went inside the building. France opened the door to get out, but was pulled back in. "I can't go in there!" he cried. "Look at me!"

"Oh…it's…really not that bad, Angleterre."

"Liar! You think they're hideous! No, I know they're hideous!"

"Calm down."

"No!" he wailed. "I cannot waltz into that meeting with BLOODY PINK EYEBEOWS!"

"Maybe no one will notice…?"

England glared at him.

"Hey, are you two stayin' or leavin'?" the taxi driver grumbled. "I don't have all night."

"We're leaving," France said sternly, ignoring the horrified look on England's face. He handed the driver some money and pulled his companion out of the car. "Just don't think about them. Let the others stare all they want, I still think you are attractive."

"Oh bollocks," he pouted. "I look horrible."

France frowned as they walked side by side into the building. "Should anyone laugh, I'll happily defend your honor. How does that sound?"

"Bah, don't joke." He blushed anyway, and as they neared the meeting room, he began to tremble.

"Arthur, it's all right." The Frenchman took his hand within his own and brought it to his lips. "I am right here."

He pushed open the door and when they walked inside, sure enough, all eyes widened once they saw England's eyebrows. He ignored the whispered murmurs as he and France took their seats. America, at the front of the table gaped and then cleared his throat once Canada nudged him.

"Oh…right. Well, anyway, let's get down to business, people."

By the end of the meeting, England's eyebrows had gone back to their normal color and the other nations had seemed to lose interest. Once he and France were back in the taxi heading to their hotel, France teasingly stroked his eyebrows and he let out a soft moan. "Still the same," he chuckled. "Oh mon cher, don't ever try to change your eyebrows again."

"…bastard," England grumbled, blushing to the roots of his hair.

Yes, England's eyebrows are his erogenous zone.

I've seen other people do it :I

(and don't lie, I know you guys started singing the song from Mulan as soon as you saw "Let's get down to business" ಠ_ಠ)