A/N: Okay so at some point I want to do a 2P! FACE series... This will not be contributing to that... (I'll likely go chapter by chapter on that so be on the look out if you like my stuff)

If there are grammar errors or spelling mistakes feel free to send me a review telling me that I did that. Also, I have to warn you there is naughty content that should not be viewed by anyone underage but you know, you're probably going to read it anyhow.

2P! FrUk, everyone. My OTP.

I'm not sorry.

Francois tapped his fingers on the counter rhythmically. A stream of grey smoke rose from his cigarette that lazily hung from his mouth. The house was quiet and he was bored.

Allen and Matt were both out for the day running errands. They wouldn't be back for hours since they'd really pissed Oliver off today. The American got the bright idea to start bugging Oliver that morning.

It started with breakfast. Oliver seemed to be having a rough morning as it was. Allen and Matt both came into the kitchen and sat side by side at the counter, looking at Oliver. Allen had sly smiles on his face.

The Englishman looked up from preparing breakfast to see the boys and offered them a genuine smile. He seemed exhausted. " Good morning," he said, his voice strained.

"Sup, Freckles," Allen said with a grin.

The Canadian nudged him with his knee under the table and shot a glare at his brother. Allen smirked back at him.

"Now, Al," Oliver said in a motherly tone. "That's impolite."

"What the fuck ever," he replied, still having a staring contest with his younger kin.

"Swear jar," Oliver snapped, losing his patience.

Allen rolled his crimson eyes. "Fuck that."

"Allen!"

"Dude, shut up," Matt growled at him.

The fight broke out so fast that the Englishman hardly had time to blink. Matt was slammed on the counter and Allen used his weight to pin his shoulders down. The Canadian kneed Allen in the crotch and he reeled back.

By the time Oliver ran around the counter to try and stop the fight, Matt had tackled Allen to the ground and fists flew. They were both out for blood and they were getting it.

Allen got on top of his brother again and hit him in the stomach making Matt gasp and gag. When he yanked another fist back to deliver another blow, he hadn't noticed Oliver run over to him.

His elbow hit Oliver in the face. Hard.

The small Englishman cried out in pain and fell back against the wall. He was so busy cupping his hands over his bloody nose that he didn't catch his fall. His head connected with the wall knocking stars into his vision.

Allen heard the cry and hesitated, giving Matt enough time to shove the American off of him.

They both froze and looked at Oliver with wide eyes. The vibrations from his collision with the wall send a shelf of nick-knacks tumbling down on him and crashing all around.

The room went silent.

No one had noticed Francois in the doorway, but he'd seen the entire thing. The boys jumped when he said, "Oliver…?"

The smaller nation got to his feet slowly, not looking up. He was shaking and his face was covered with blood.

Allen swallowed hard. "H-hey, Ol-"

"Out," Oliver said, his voice breaking.

Matt tried this time. "Are you-"

"I SAID OUT," he lifted his head and threw a bloody finger in the direction of the door. Tears were streaming down his face and his entire body was practically vibrating with rage.

Francois finally stepped in and grabbed both of the petrified boys by their collars. Without a word he dragged them both out of the kitchen and to the front door.

"Fucking idiots," he snapped.

"Fucking Allen-"

"Don't play the 'He started it' game with me," Francois growled and shoved them through the front door.

"But-" They both started in unison.

"Keep yourselves busy until dinner time," he demanded. "Make yourselves useful, perhaps…You have a lot of ass kissing to do."

They both remained silent and flinched when the Frenchman slammed the door in their faces.

Francois turned and walked down the hallway. Halfway to the kitchen, he heard Matt's truck fire up and pulled out of the lot. When he got to the kitchen, he saw Oliver quietly cleaning the glass from the floor. The blood on his face was already starting to dry.

"Please, leave me be," Oliver asked in a soft voice.

Francois frowned and moved past him to the sink. He grabbed a clean rag and wet it, and then took it to the Englishman.

Oliver hardly looked up and took the rag from his old friend. "Thank you," he said in a small voice. Tears spilled over again. "J-just give me a moment, please."

Francois nodded and patted Oliver's shoulder before walking out.

He went to the front porch and lit a cigarette.

He sat there bored. It had been an hour since he'd left Oliver alone and he wondered if that was long enough.

He knew that his… moments… would last a varied amount of times. Some days he was alright after ten minutes, and other days he would cry for hours. Some days a hug would calm him down immediately and other days it seemed best to leave him alone.

With Oliver, everything was a gamble. Allen loved playing this game and he always dragged his brother into the mess. The boy loved fighting and causing conflict. It seemed to keep him from being bored.

Finally, after some consideration, Francois stood and went into the house after putting his cigarette out. He ventured into the kitchen and noticed that the mess had been cleaned. He looked at the counter and saw a plate of waffles sitting there.

Of course, Francois thought with a long sigh. He would always finish making breakfast, even if there had been a fight.

Deciding to not let the food go to waste, Francois reheated a few of the waffles and made a cup of coffee for himself as well. He left the pot on for Oliver if he had decided to join him.

An hour had passed and he'd finished the food and two cups of coffee before he felt a presence enter the room.

Francois looked up at him. His face cleaned up well, except for the bruise on his nose. The sight made his insides turn slightly, especially when he saw the kicked puppy look he had.

"I made coffee," he said, figuring that he wouldn't be able to smell it. "If you want though, I'll boil water for tea."

He seemed to be the master of puppy dog looks, because the look of joy in his eyes couldn't be mistaken. "You would do that?" His voice sounded a bit rough and congested.

Francois nodded and rose from his seat, then offered a chair to Oliver. The Englishman gladly took it. "Thank you."

Oliver listened as his friend walked into the kitchen and started making tea. After knowing each other for so long, Francois knew exactly how he liked his tea. He was sure that Allen and Matt wouldn't have any idea how to make the tea, let alone put the right amount of sugar in it.

Tears threatened to spill over again and he bit his lip, hoping the feeling would go away.

When Francois returned he noticed that 'look' and hesitated. "Oliver…?"

"I don't hate them," he squeaked, sounding pained. "I was just upset."

Francois sighed again and set the tea in front of him before taking his own seat across from him. "I know that."

"But-"

"They know it too, and YOU know that." He took a drink from his mug before continuing. "Those boys can be stupid, but they know you don't hate them."

Oliver took his cup and quietly said, "Thank you… For everything." He took a sip and set the cup down with shaky hands. He gave him a weak smile. "You're a good friend, Francois."

The corners of his mouth faltered and his head dipped down again.

Francois resisted the urge to sigh and stood up. He circled the table and knelt next to the nation who looked incredibly small and fragile. It was hard to believe in this moment that he was, without a doubt, dangerous when provoked. He wrapped his arms around him and Oliver jumped slightly, not expecting the physical contact. Francois held him in a tight embrace and after the initial shock wore off, Oliver happily returned the hug, clinging to him tightly. He exhaled and let out one last tremble before relaxing in the Frenchman's arms.

They held this position for a bit longer than Francois would have liked, but he didn't dare push Oliver away.

In the end, the one to let go had been the Englishman. He smiled his old bright smile and said, "I appreciate that." His bright blue eyes were lined with red from crying and the bruise seemed to have gotten worse, but he was cheered up and that was evident.

They sat in an awkward position for a long moment. Francois had a hand clinging to the back of the chair for support and Oliver's hand was still resting on the Frenchman's shoulder, keeping them closer than they normally ever were. Francois was a good bit taller than Oliver and sentimental moments like this only happened once in a great while.

A bubble of cheer seemed to pop in Oliver's face making him throw his arms around the Frenchman's neck again. Francois gasped and lost his balance and tipped backwards, dragging Oliver with him to the floor.

They both gasped, having the wind knocked from them and Oliver's arms were trapped behind Francois's back. He started giggling in the crook of the Frenchman's neck, apologizing in a muffled voice. He continued his random fit of laughter.

Under him, the Frenchman was feeling rather uncomfortable. He wasn't uncomfortable having Oliver on top of him because it was a bad thing. In fact… he felt that sense of boredom he had had earlier pass when a simple thought came to mind.

The country of love put his hand on the back of his friend's head and let him get the giggles out of his system.

After a moment, Oliver let out a sigh on Francois's neck, making him suppress a shiver. He lifted his head up and looked at Francois, smiling of course.

"Are you alright, poppet?"

Francois simply nodded. His hand was now resting on Oliver's shoulder. He bit his lip and stared up at the colorful Englishman.

Oliver's smiled faded slightly as he felt the shift in the atmosphere. "Fran-"

He couldn't finish speaking. Francois leaned up and pressed his lips against Oliver's lightly and held that position, waiting for rejection or acceptance.

Oliver gasped inwardly and blinked. Butterflies went wild in his stomach and his cheeks flushed red. After a moment of hesitation, he closed his eyes and leaned forward into the kiss.

Francois wrapped his arms around the small nation's waist and hugged him closely to his body.

Because he couldn't breathe through his nose, Oliver needed to pull away for air within a few seconds into the embrace. He gasped and panted a bit, shivering all over again.

Francois cleared his throat. "I'm… sorry."

"Don't be," he replied and leaned in again, molding his lips against the Frenchman's. Francois eagerly kissed back, moving his mouth in sync with his partner's. He was careful not to press too hard and hurt his bruised nose.

Francois brushed his tongue against Oliver's lips, asking for entrance. Oliver seemed to reject and backed away, but only did so to inhale. He immediately leaned back into the kiss and let the Frenchman's tongue slide into his mouth. There was no battle for dominance. Oliver let Francois roll over, putting him on the top now.

Doing such things on the dining room floor seemed so taboo, but for once Oliver didn't mind. From what Francois has said, the boys would return around dinnertime and they had hours to themselves. Although, he knew that after this he would be cleaning the dining room anyhow.

Instead of worrying about that, he let his thoughts go and focused on what was happening. Francois had moved from his mouth to his neck, kissing and nipping at the flesh.

Oliver's chest rose and fell as a noticeable pace. He recalled that it had been a while since he'd done this, since he rarely thought about such activities.

Francois undid the pastel blue bowtie around the Brit's neck and set the fabric aside. He then pulled at the bottom hem of his sweater vest and pulled it over his head. Oliver hooked his hands behind Francois's neck and stared up at him, looking a bit nervous.

He leaned down and kissed his partner softly then pulled away enough to say, "I'll be careful, mon amour."

Oliver giggled and blushed, and then kissed him again. Francois worked on undoing the buttons on Oliver's shirt and silently cursed the man for wearing so much clothing. He removed his lips from Oliver's to let the man breathe again and kissed his bare skin as it was being exposed.

The Englishman ran his fingers through his long hair and gasped a bit as Francois kissed his nipple. He flicked his tongue over the sensitive area and used his thumb and forefinger to tease the other.

"G-gah…" Oliver squeaked.

Francois chuckled a bit, remembering how Oliver was a bit of a screamer. He kissed down from his chest and over his stomach. He teased with his belt, and then dragged his tongue up from his belly button and up to his neck again, making Oliver shiver and moan.

"N-no fair, y-you tease," complained the Englishman. He bit his lip and wrapped his hands in the cloth of Francois's collar. The Frenchman sat up and started unbuttoning his own shirt to expose his torso. He tossed the shirt over the chair that Oliver had fallen from. He bent down again and Oliver pressed his hands on his chest then swallowed, still looking a bit intimidated.

"Are you sure you're all right," Francois asked, but Oliver was nodding before he finished speaking. The nation of love leaned in and whispered right in his ear, "Are you sure?"

A shiver went down Oliver's entire frame. "Ah… y-yes, love." He tried swallowing but his mouth was dry. He shivered again when Francois chuckled in his ear. "Please, Francois," Oliver pleaded. "Your taunting is merciless…"

Francois grinned and kissed his neck softly, then brushed his lips over his flesh and down to his collarbones when he kissed again. Oliver reacted each time, holding his lover's shoulders tightly and suppressing moans of pleasure.

He moved to his belt again and removed the buckle. He then used his teeth to pull the fabric away from the button and then yanked the zipper down ever so slowly.

The waiting was agonizing and the seemingly innocent nation pushed his hips upwards slightly, begging to be touched. He used his mouth and hands to pull his trousers down, exposing Oliver's briefs.

Once he removed Oliver's pants, he unlatched his own belt buckle. And slid his pants off. To no one's surprise, he wasn't wearing any undergarments.

His member was already semi hard and stood rather proudly. Oliver bit his lip and decided to help Francois remove his briefs. Unlike Francois, he was completely erect. He hardly had time to get his briefs from around his ankles before Francois dipped his head down and took Oliver's member in his hand.

The Englishman leaned back again, gasping out again.

Francois kissed the tip gingerly and stroked his fins fingers up and down the shaft. He put his mouth around the head and licked the pre cum that came out. Oliver was clawing at the floor and biting back a cry of pleasure.

Francois bobbed his head up and down Oliver's member, expertly moving his tongue around the shaft. He would occasionally let out a soft hum to send vibrations from his mouth and making Oliver cry out.

Oliver tilted his head back. "Ah- Ah!" He bucked his hip involuntarily. "F-Francois," he panted. His voice was strained and cracked on the 'o' of his lover's name. "I'm not going to last much longer," he admitted.

Francois tucked his hands under Oliver's backside and took his whole member in his mouth, sucking. It must have been an eternity since he'd had this much attention for him to be so close so soon.

He started moving up and down the shaft again and brought a hand around to message his 'tea bags'.

The pressure built up in the small nation and he whined loudly. His mind was fogged over with pleasure and ecstasy, yet he knew that they weren't even halfway done with this encounter.

"I- I-" He hardly had to say it. Francois took his entire length and let Oliver come into his mouth. He cried out as he released himself and his entire body went stiff. After a moment, he relaxed and forced himself to not pass out.

Francois swallowed the remains and licked his cock clean. He leaned over the panting Brit and smirked.

Oliver threw his arms around Francois's neck and kissed him again, not caring where his mouth had just been.

The Frenchman reached for his dissuaded pants and dug in the pockets. He pulled a small tube of lubrication from them and Oliver sighed.

Of course he carried it around.

He unscrewed the cap and put a rather liberal amount on his fingers, then placed the bottle aside. He leaded forward and kissed Oliver's neck, then whispered, "Are you ready?"

Oliver nodded and bit his lip again.

Francois reached under his partner and found his entrance with his lubricated index finger. He carefully pushed against the opening and his finger easily slid inside of Oliver, making him gasp slightly. He held onto Francois tightly and let him invade his personal area.

The skilled French lover pulled in and out, trying to find that special spot. It was obvious when he found it, because Oliver gasped out and clung tightly to Francois. He smiled in satisfaction and carefully added a second finger. Oliver took it better than he'd expected. At least he wasn't a virgin, so he'd been down this road in the past.

"Just get on with it," Oliver begged. He hugged on the Frenchman and pushed against his hand.

To be on the safe side, he carefully added a third finger and pulled in and out slowly. The last thing he wanted to do was to hurt his partner. He pushed in and out faster and faster until Oliver begged for him.

"Please, I want you," he whined. His fingers were tangled in the Frenchman's hair.

Francois slowly pulled his fingers out and reached for the lube again. He ran the slippery liquid up and down his erect member. He then pressed the tip of his opening and carefully pushed into him. The Englishman relaxed his body and let his lover in. Francois leaned over Oliver's body and let the man wrap his arms around his neck and his legs around his waist.

The Frenchman pushed in slowly. Oliver relaxed around his member and let out a sigh. Francois took that as a cue to continue and pulled out almost all of the way before pushing in again. He started to pick up the speed and Oliver quickly matched his rhythm with his hips.

The Brit started out soft, but the harder Francois pushed into him and hit against his prostate, he couldn't contain his cries of pleasure. As innocent as he seemed, sex wasn't foreign to the colorful Englishman. Had the circumstances been different, he wouldn't have let Francois spoil him as much as he had.

Francois couldn't say he wasn't enjoying himself. Oliver was tight and warm, making every thrust and explosion of satisfaction. The floor was hard but that didn't take away any of the excitement. Oliver held Francois tightly and held his head back, panting and moaning.

Without warning, the Frenchman felt his orgasms rising and he picked up the speed, causing Oliver to cry out more. He knew that they were both reaching their peek.

As if on cue, Oliver cried out loudly, letting go on their bellies.

Francois thrust into his partner a few more times before he released his seed deep inside of the other.

They both collapse on each other, panting heavily. Francois carefully pulled out of Oliver, who inhaled sharply, then sighed.

Francois rolled over onto the other side of Oliver and caught his breath. He felt the freckle Brit snuggle up to him and kiss his cheek.

"Well, that was exciting," he said dreamily. He opened his mouth to say something else when he heard the front door slam.

They both froze.

"Francy? Ollie?" It was Allen.

"Fuck," Francois said, sitting up and dragging Oliver with him.

"Swear ja-"

"Not now," he snapped and grabbed his pants.

Oliver quickly dismissed the swear jar and found his trousers. He forgot about his briefs momentarily and yanked the pants on quickly.

Loud footsteps went through the house and Francois had finished dressing first, having been and expert at this. He noted the briefs and made the quick decision to shove them in his pocket, as well as the lubricant.

Oliver was trying to tie his bowtie when Allen knocked on the doorframe.

"Hey," Allen said, looking guilty. For as much as he'd wanted to cause trouble with Matt, he'd never meant to hurt his former caretaker.

Oliver burst into the chipper attitude he had always carried. "Al! Is Mattie here, too?"

Allen blinked, surprised by his mood. "Uh-"

"Yeah," Matt said and walked in. He glanced at Francois apologetically. "Sorry we're early but-"

Oliver rushed over to them and yanked them to his height for a hug. They both hesitated, but then accepted the hug. Allen didn't even complain when it seemed to last forever. "Don't be sorry, boys. I'm just glad you're home."

Allen glanced at Matt, who was giving him a stern look. They were both bruised up and battered. He sighed. "No, Ol, I really am sorry. I was a di- uh… jerk."

Oliver smiled widely and hugged them both tighter.

They finally where released and Matt held a bag up. "We got cupcake stuff."

Oliver's face lit up. "Oh, you shouldn't have!" He took the bag and hugged them again, but briefly. "Thank you, boys!"

He then turned to Francois and said, "And thank you."

Francois nodded, giving them no reason to think anything.

Oliver skipped to the kitchen like a kid on Christmas with a new toy. Matt sighed and said, "Alright, I'm going out for a smoke." He turned and left, leaving Allen and Francois in the dining room.

Francois bit his lip. He still had…stuff… on his stomach and he knew he'd have to get his shirt dry-cleaned. He wondered if Oliver even noticed at this point.

Allen stood quietly for a long moment, staring at the floor. He made a face then said, "Oh, god, did you two fuck?"

"Swear jar," Francois said and walked out.