Arthur snuck through the Frenchman's door. It was July thirteenth, the day before July fourteenth. It was different this year, though. Normally, the Englishman had a strict policy to avoid countries on his or her birthday. Usually, there was too much fanfare for him to be comfortable. But this was Francis' birthday. His newly-wed husband. He simply couldn't avoid him today. Even if he wanted to.

The day had been particularly trying.

He wanted to give the Frenchman something that meant something, but didn't come off as cheap or ridiculous He was confident he had chosen the best option possible. Arthur slipped off his shoes and hung his coat on the rack beside the door. He climbed up the stairs as quietly as he could, carrying a bouquet of roses and a gift bag. It wasn't a large gift bag nor was it too small. He slipped into his husband's room and set his gift and the flowers down by the foot of his bed.

Since it was late, Francis was asleep, and Arthur took the time to watch his sleeping figure before sliding under the covers beside him. Even though he was still fully dressed. He would wait until Francis woke up to give him his present. He knew well that countries needed their sleep. He used the tips of his fingers to trace the lines of his lover's face. He smiled sadly at the darkened circles hanging beneath his closed eyes.

Long blonde eyelashes swept over high cheekbones and his full lips parted slightly in his deep slumber. Golden locks splayed out over white pillows. The sight was absolutely beautiful to the Briton. Although he would never admit it. He squirmed beneath the blankets to work his way closer to the Frenchman. He hooked one leg over the other's hip, wrapping his arms around him and snuggling against his chest. Strong arms held his small frame against him.

Three soft words were whispered into the thin night shirt, the British accent coloring them. "I love you..." In return, mumbled nonsense was given. French mixed with English in a sleepy garble until it faded and snoring took it's place upon the Frenchman's lips. A light nuzzle was given to the top of Arthur's head. Arthur fell asleep with a smile on his lips.

The sunlight beat through the lacy curtains. The bright light woke the sleeping Frenchman. A groan was given and blue eyes blinked. "Goddamn..." He trailed off as he noticed the sleeping Brit beside him. The light behind him lit up the messy mop of hair, outlining him in fiery colors. A content sigh blew from Francis' curved lips. Arthur lay curled around Francis' left arm. He clung to it like a small child to a security blanket. The sight was rather adorable.

Francis' right hand ran through his husband's choppy blonde hair, chuckling softly. "Arthur? Amour...could you let go, please?" The soft request caused mumbles from Arthur, yet didn't suffice to awaken him. Francis tugged his arm gently, attempting to free it from the sleeping Englishman. "Amour..?"

Arthur whined as he rubbed at his eyes, blinking sleep out of them. "... Morning.."

Francis smiled and slowly sat up. "Good morning, Arthur."

"Happy birthday."

A rare and beautiful grin graced his grumpy lover's lips.

"Oh, thank you, Arthur." The Frenchman covered his mouth as his jaw stretched in a yawn.

"I got you something..." Arthur shifted a bit beneath the blankets. He was quite nervous his gift wouldn't be accepted as well as he was hoping.

His soft words were met with confused blinking and stretching. "Hmm?"

Arthur flopped over on his back. He was tangled in the sheets and a sleepy smile graced those beautiful lips.

The very same lips that Francis had kissed time and time again. The ones that molded perfectly to his own. He knew every divot in those lips, the precise way they curved, what they hid behind them. The devilish tongue that the smaller male possessed knew exactly how to dance over skin, teeth, or move just right with his own tongue. "It's nothing really special..."

"Of course it is, if it's from you."

A chuckle sounded again as the taller of the blondes pushed the bedding off himself and moved to stand.

A light blush colored the cheeks of Francis' lover. "I-It's at the foot of the bed.." He eventually managed to stutter out though his embarrassment.

The sapphire eyes turned to look at where the roses and the bag rested. "You didn't have to get me anything, amour."

"I doubt you would have been happier if I hadn't given you something. Really, though, it's nothing. You might not even like it..."

Nervous fidgeting plagued the younger nation as he fretted over if his present had really been a good idea.

"I'm happiest just being with you, silly." The words made Arthur blush darker, emerald eyes watching as Francis' hand reached for the gifts.

"N-No need to flatter me... It's not /my/ birthday." Arthur's attempt at laughing sounded and felt awkward. He began to turn the simple wedding band around and around his finger, taking slight comfort in the action.

He sat up, eyes trained on the familiar features that built up the face of his husband. He studied his eyes for any hints of dislike as Francis pulled a small box one would expect a ring to be held in. "Go on and open it." Nerves were eating away at his stomach lining. He could just feel it.

"I'm only telling the truth, Arthur~ If you had gotten me nothing I would have very happily spent the entire day with you without a single complaint. Material things aren't as important to me as you are.

He flipped the lid of the box up. Settled there, shone a gold ring in very good condition. Although the inner band was well-worn with use. It was obvious this ring had been well-loved. The design was intricate, a single wave accompanied by two leaves that appeared to be oak, if Arthur remembered correctly. Four pearls and three sapphires were embedded in the ring. Arthur couldn't help but note the similarities between the two shining blues.

One belonging to his lover's eyes, and the second taken by the sapphires. Three smaller purplish stones that Arthur believed to be amethysts twinkled from each leaf. On the inside of the band, faint words in a lost language could just barely be made out. Loosely translated, they spoke of happiness and strength in one's lover.

"It's just a ring from my past... From the nineteenth century, to be exact." A reminiscent smile ghosted over his lips.

"I thought you would like it. It was one of my favorites.."

A moment of silence was kept between the two males before Francis leaned over to kiss Arthur. It was a soft and gentle kiss. One that spoke of the volumes of love they shared. Things that Arthur wouldn't speak of, and Francis was quick to flaunt. "Amour, it's beautiful...but if it's one of your favorites, why don't you keep it?"

"Because I want you to have it. I wanted you to have something of mine that means a lot."

Arthur had definitely put much thought into this gift.

Tuneless humming spoke of Francis' satisfaction. "But don't I already, amour?" A quick peck on the cheek was given before the Frenchman pulled away and set the flowers and ring on the nightstand.

"Not particularly."

A pout answered him. "But I have your heart, oui?" A smile replaced the pout. "Thank you so much for the gift, my love..." A brief pause entered his speech. "... Are you hungry, by chance?"

"Well, that's figurative. I meant something tangible." Arthur blinked slightly before giving a nod. "I suppose so. Why?" A sneaking suspicious entered his mind as he eyed his lover.

"I'll make some breakfast. What would you like?" Francis absently began to tidy up the room. A stray pillow was thrown back to the bed beside Arthur.

"Oh, no! I cant let you do that! It's your birthday!" As a gentleman, allowing to be treated like royalty while it was his husband's birthday was quite unthinkable.

If anything /he/ should be the one cooking for him. Or at least pay for some breakfast at a restaurant. He even had money in his coat pocket, set aside for this exact reason.

"It's fine, I like cooking...so tell me what you'd like, amour.~" As he spoke, he stretched in such a way that made the joints in his back crack noisily.

Deciding he couldn't refuse him, he tried his best to come up with an easy dish. "Something simple... Scones, if at all possible."

A frown creased Francis' brow.

"Oh, amour, you know I'm horrible at making those."

"I said if at all possible. Just make whatever you please. I'll eat it." He thought over what he had said before quickly correcting himself. "So long as it has nothing to do with frogs, snails, insects, or horses. I think everything else is alright..." He had to be careful while eating French cuisine. He never quite knew what the attraction had been in eating snails in the first place. And he had vowed long ago to never try that.

The Frenchman's lips quirked up. "Oh, ha ha, you're hilarious." With that, he turned to leave his bedroom.