Chap7 How to cook a frog

When England awoke he was completely alone, slumped on the floor with his back to the sofa. The living room was dark and there seemed to be no signs of life around him. He sat up, and placed a hand on his forehead, it wasn't throbbing so he must still be drunk. He cursed the fact that his sleep patterns where probably completely out of whack now. He slowly got to his feet, stumbling slightly, and walked to the front window and flicked the curtains and the net curtains aside to check the street outside. Just as he thought, the Aston Martian was gone, and the rain was still pouring outside staining the asphalt and the red bricks a darker shade.

With a sigh, he staggered down the hallway, his bare feet creating muffled footsteps as he walked. He came to the first door on the right and opened it. The pile of blue silk bed clothes squirmed on the bed in front of him in the room. A sleepy looking France's head appeared from the bedclothes with his blonde hair in a ruffled bed head state. He yawned and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes then smiled kindly at England.

"Est-ce que tout est bien ? Did you ave a bad dream?" France teased, but not unkindly.

"Yes it was horrific! I dreamt I came into your room and hopped into your bed on my own free will!" England told him as he walked across the room and slid under the covers next to France.

France allowed himself to laugh at the englishmans dry sense of humour. He received a gentle nudge in the ribs from England. England wasn't angry, he moved closer to France and stared deep into his eyes. It was clear what he wanted, no one just hopped into the country of loves bed just for a cuddle or a conversation.

"I think et ez because you missed me so much that tu came 'ere. Ez et not Angleterre?" Whispered France warmly

"That isn't it at all! Stupid froggy git." Huffed England blushing

"Non? Then I will just go back to sleep then. Bonne nuit." France replied

France turned his back on England. He could imagine the other nations face dropping in disappointment. He smiled to himself, and let five minutes tick past on his alarm clock, after all England was stubborn. After it had passed he slowly counted to three in his head. He was bluffing and if England wasn't so drunk he probably would have figured out quickly that he was. However France knew as he was now England would take the bait. Sure enough France felt England wrap his arms around his waist and snuggle against him.

"Well, maybe a little. I'm starting to get use to your horrible scent, the fact that you go on strike over everything and that your language sounds like you have a cold. Not to mention your cooking is gay and flakey, which I suppose is natural since it reflects your personality." England muttered

France sighed as he turned to face England while remaining in his arms. Their faces were an inch apart. France was always amazed by the fact that England could flatter and insult at the same time. It seems that to be English you insulted the ones you loved more than anyone else. France had watched England and his brothers try and kill each other , then the next moment they would all be laughing over Johnny English like a true family night movie night. Family love in a British family was rough, but if anyone from outside said family tried to pick on or upset a member then whole family would unite extremely strongly and try and take that person down. Yes, British families where confusing and violent against each other, but you didn't mess with them. As such France felt that maybe the fact he was being insulted could mean that England considered him family or at least a close friend. But who could tell?

"Love you too Angleterre." France said with his most charming smile

"Prove it!" England dared him

"If zat ez what you wish mon cher."

Scotland arrived back at Frances house cursing the fact that the French knew nothing about driving. Well in his opinion anyway, but it wasn't really fair of him to say that as he had decided to drive down the middle of the road. The house was as quiet as when he left it, and he hurriedly lit one of the cigarettes that he had just purchased. Scotland stumbled to the couch, looking for England with the intention of waking him up and placing a few cigarette burns on him. He glanced around and cursed himself for miss placing his little brother, which was what he honest to god thought in his whisky sodden state. He froze as he heard his brother's voice give a guttural groan. Damn that Frenchman he must have started torturing his brother to get back at him for the past. Normally Scotland would understand the need to torture his brother, but no one interrupted his own torture attempts! Blood is thicker than water so he should have the first right to spill that blood.

With a hurried drunken run he ran to the first door on the right of the hallway and flung it open as it hit the wall behind it with a terrible bang. He paused as he took in the scene before his eyes, half with amusement and half with a wish that he could rip his eyes from their sockets and burn them.

The sight that greeted him was England lying on the bed, his hands gripping the blue bedclothes and France was kneeling between his spread legs with his mouth around his erection. Both brothers looked at each other and blushed bright red. France sat up and took in the scene, his hand still pumping Englands shaft.

"Ahh ... France... Stop" England tried to command but it sounded more like begging.

"Bonjour Scotland, did you per'aps want to join us?" France asked as England gave another moan

"Ah bloody well dinnea!" Shouted Scotland turning to leave

"Oh I am sorry mon ami, I forgot that you're not as skilled as angelterre in matters of l'amour." Taunted France

France bent down and kissed the brightly blushing England on the lips while Scotland processed his comment. His drunken mind finally made sense of the insult, but sadly reacted in a very drunk and stupid way.

"Is tha sae? Ah will show ye!" Snarled Scotland, obviously in his drunkenness his reason had been compromised.

France sat up just as Scotland reached him and kissed him passionately, exploring France's mouth with his tongue. France could taste the whisky on his breath, but that didn't stop him from smiling into the kiss. He had got his way, it seemed that tonight he will be enjoying the company of the two wild UK brothers in his bed.

France let out a gasp as Scotland's hand slide itself down to his erection. He continued stroking England's erection but with his other hand on Scotland's, he was rewarded when both brothers groaned and began bucking their hips with the movements of his skilled hands. Before France knew it he was thrusting himself into England while Scotland was thrusting himself into France. France felt like he was burning up due to the feeling of England's tightness around him and Scotland hitting his prostate. He panted and was flushed, he must have also been hot to the touch because Scotland and England seemed to be sneering at him.

"This is how we UK brothers cook a frog." England teased between gasps

"I uum must let ahh the two of you cook the dish more ahh often" France spluttered

The next morning found France and England sleeping in each other's arms. France slowly opened his eyes and as he did so he caught a glimpse of England's face and gasped. His gasp caused England to lazily open one eye, and then his eyes flew wide open and his mouth opened in an "oh" expression.

"Eyebrows"

"Hair"

They both said to each other in horror. Both got up suddenly to rush to the mirror on the far side of France's room, but England was now suffering the side effects of the liquor and collapsed back on to the bed clutching his throbbing head. France however stood in front of the mirror and let out an ear piercing shriek. This made England cry out in pain and hide his head under the pillow.

"Shut it frog, you're doing my head in." Cried England in a hoarse whisper

"Forget your 'ead Angleterre, look at mon beau 'air!" France said breaking down in tears

England slowly withdrew from the shelter the pillow offered and slowly sat up. The sobbing naked Frenchman now had blonde stubble but dark Celtic blue hair. England sighed and slowly staggered to the mirror to see what damage had been done to him. The England that was wincing back had the same scruffy hair, but his past thick eyebrows where slender and looked like someone had plucked them. England grit his teeth but stopped when it caused his head to ache.

" Stop your crying, its only Celtic war paint. I once used it on Alba when I was little..." England whispered in an attempt to stop his voice from hurting his head that felt like Spain had sliced it with his axe.

"What 'appened?" France asked his eyes growing wide

England blushed but continued his story anyway. " I was just a young nation, I thought that Alba dyed his hair red because to me it was a unnatural colour. One day when he was sleeping I took some of my old Celtic war paint and decided to dye his hair blue for him, because it was his favourite colour and I thought he would like it better than red. Let's just say when he woke up he wasn't very happy. It took two weeks to finally wash out. "

France chuckled at the image of a blue haired, white skinned and red eyebrowed Scotland. He must have looked like the Union Jack. But Frances chuckling stopped when the words two weeks sank in. England however ignored France as he noticed a note on the corner of the mirror.

" To the two idiots,

How dare you take advantage of me when I was drunk! I don't know how you managed to get me so drunk to start with. Anyway hope you like your new hair and eyebrows you bastards!

-Scotland" Read England who had also translated it from Scottish to English

"What is he talking about? What did we do last night? Well I obviously know what we did, but what about him?" Asked England

"Ah nothing to bothersome, ee seemed to be 'aving fun zats all." France said uneasily

England however didn't seem to be paying attention to France at all, even though the Frenchman was fidgeting nervously. All England cared about was that his eyebrows where ruined!

The first thing England noticed when he slammed the front door shut on the UK brother's large home was his older twin brother Wales sitting on the sofa reading a book. Wales looked up from his book and started giggling when he saw England's eyebrows.

"Shut it. Where is that stupid twat anyway?" Snarled England

"Hello to you too. Alba went out, probably to visit Nessie. She always seems able to calm him down when he's angry. You really did it this time. What did you actually do?" Wales asked his voice in awe

"I don't remember, I was drunk, but I have a horrible feeling that I set the Frog on him." England replied his eyes scanning the coat hooks on the wall.

Wales broke out in a fit of giggles again, but England ignored him as he found what he was searching for. There was Scotland's coat from the night before. England dug his hands into the pockets and sure enough a pack of Scotland's cigarettes emerged in England's hand.

Wales looked curiously at the packet that England was holding as England walked into the kitchen. There was banging of cupboard doors and England re-emerged holding a large mixing bowl. He disappeared for a few minutes and returned with the bowl filled to the brim with Scotland's cigarettes and a carrier bag full of the empty cartons. His curiosity got the better of him and Wales followed England into the kitchen. He watched wide eyed as England pulled two large bottles of vinegar from the cupboard and poured them both into the bowl making a cigarette and vinegar soup. After a few minutes of letting them soak, England pulled out all the cigarettes and left them to dry. He turned to Wales.

"Don't tell him it was me Cymru." England warned

"I think he's going to figure it out anyway Albion." Sniggered Wales

After awhile of watching TV England got up and placed the now dry cigarettes into the cartons and disappeared to return each carton to their original spot. When England was done he looked up at the clock and smiled, perfect timing. England raced down the stairs and grabbed his jacket and slipped into his shoes. As he raced out the door he passed Scotland on the front step.

"Whaur ye goin?" He asked eyes narrowing suspiciously

" Got a world meeting to get to and I promised Froggy I would pick him up." England replied with a shrug as he paused long enough to tell him and darted off again.

Scotland watched as England drove away in his Jaguar, and with a huff let himself into the house. Wales looked up at him briefly and then returned to his book. Scotland rummaged in the coat he was wearing last night and pulled out a box of cigarettes. He smiled to himself as he put it in his mouth. Suddenly he spat the cigarette out and the offending cigarette fell to the floor. Scotland dashed around the house trying a cigarette from every carton he found. Wales hide his face behind his book so Scotland couldn't see that he was laughing.

"Ah am goin tae rip his bloody head off!" Scotland roared

Authors notes

Jaguar, Aston Martian and Morgan are all English car companies that are still owned by the British. I see in a lot of fanfics that people use mini, but England sold that company to Germany, so Mini is now German. Jag isn't doing so well at the moment so that might be sold off as well. There's a lot of over cars that England still owns, so I imagine that the UK brothers have a huge garage to go with their huge house. What can I say, England loves cars.