Seven Days of Rain (1/7?)
Title: Seven Days of Rain
Author: mslavender
Characters: AU!France and AU!England
Pairing: FrUK <3
Rating: T
Summary: Seven days of rain, seven days of innocent romance.
Francis hated the rain.
He hated how it soaked him even when his umbrella was wide open. He hated how it made his clothes stick to him as he walked. He hated how it made him shiver no matter how thick the jacket he had worn. And he hated how it made him feel all sticky and wet and dirty. Francis could list so many things he hated about the rain; however, there was one reason that peeved him the most: Francis hated the rain because nothing good ever happened when it did.
And so it was this very problem that made Francis curse as he carried a bag of bread on one arm while holding up his umbrella on the other. Of all the days it could have rained, it had to be on grocery day. He was a student living alone in an inexpensive apartment after all, so he couldn't have asked anyone to do the grocery shopping for him. One of the perks of being a French student studying abroad, in England, of all places, where it rained the most. Joy.
Craving for the comfort of his own home, the Frenchman quickened his pace, trying his hardest not to mind the rain seeping into his shoes or the droplets that found its way onto his face. He was already shivering, and going to school with a cold the next day wasn't what he had in mind.
Through the slight fog that had formed, Francis could see the silhouette of the bridge that was just right beside his apartment. Francis smiled to himself and broke into a small run, careful not to spill the contents of the grocery bag he now held tightly. But as he got closer, he saw something- someone hunched over the edge soaking wet and staring out into space.
At first, the Frenchman was careful to approach. It's not every day, after all, that you see someone blanked out under the cold rain, what more without an umbrella. But as soon as Francis had gotten closer, he was certain this pale skinny boy that looked just about Francis' age was harmless. And so, before he could stop himself, he held out his umbrella and asked, "Are you alright?"
Bright round emeralds caught Francis off guard, as well as a slight shove and his grocery bag almost falling off his grip.
"Monsieur, that was very rude!" said Francis when he had regained his balance.
Francis then noticed that the stranger had taken a few steps backwards. It was at that moment that he caught sight of the Englishman before him; messy blonde hair that seemed to stick everywhere even with the rain, huge eyebrows that sagged as if it held too much rainwater, and beneath them, lovely forest green eyes that were now boring holes into Francis' head. He was shivering, but not because of the cold, it seemed, but because he hadn't recovered from the shock that the Frenchman put him through. Francis was reminded of a lost wet rabbit, and he surprisingly found it... adorable.
The Frenchman coughed, a small smile graced his lips. "Let us start over, oui? I am Francis," he said as he took the man back under his umbrella. "What is your name, s'il vous plait?"
"That is none of your business, frog." The stranger only glared and put some more space between the both of them until half of his body was under the rain.
Francis frowned, eyebrow twitching; maybe adorable wasn't the right word. Nonetheless, he chose to ignore the insult, being the kind Frenchman that he was, and shoved the umbrella towards the man once again. "You will get sick if you choose to stay in the rain like that. At least let me bring you home."
The Frenchman noticed that the stranger had suddenly become quiet. He was hoping that the man would take his offer into consideration, when all of a sudden, the Englishman had somehow produced an umbrella of his own.
"You had an umbrella with you this whole time?" Francis asked, dumbfounded.
The Brit's cheeks flushed a tiny bit as he began opening his umbrella. "What's it to you, frog? As I said, mind your own business."
Francis could only blink a few times, before he laughed and laughed. To others, the stranger's situation earlier may have looked silly, but to Francis it was less silly and more cute.
"Ah," Francis said in between bursts of laughter. "You really are adorable, monsieur."
The Englishman only blushed some more and said, "Who're you calling adorable, you fucking frog?!" He then punched Francis' arm before turning around and walking away, muttering curses under his breath.
Before the Englishman could escape however, Francis immediately made an arm free and grabbed the stranger's wrist, unintentionally pulling him closer. "May I at least know your name?"
The Brit's face reddened even more, his wrist quick to pull back. This, however, pulled the Frenchman as well, allowing him to lose his grip on his grocery bag. Thankfully, the Englishman was quick to react, and was able to push the grocery back to Francis' arm, inevitably pushing the Frenchman back to regain his balance.
This earned a quiet pause from the both of them; they just avoided a tiny little accident under the heavy rain. Francis only just noticed as well that he was almost completely soaked. And surprisingly, he didn't even mind, not when what the stranger said next made Francis forget that he was already cold and shivering under the rain.
"Arthur," the Englishman said. "My name is Arthur."
Author's Note: I'm still a beginner at this whole LJ posting/layout/journal thing. Please be patient? ;u;''
Author: mslavender
Characters: AU!France and AU!England
Pairing: FrUK <3
Rating: T
Summary: Seven days of rain, seven days of innocent romance.
Francis hated the rain.
He hated how it soaked him even when his umbrella was wide open. He hated how it made his clothes stick to him as he walked. He hated how it made him shiver no matter how thick the jacket he had worn. And he hated how it made him feel all sticky and wet and dirty. Francis could list so many things he hated about the rain; however, there was one reason that peeved him the most: Francis hated the rain because nothing good ever happened when it did.
And so it was this very problem that made Francis curse as he carried a bag of bread on one arm while holding up his umbrella on the other. Of all the days it could have rained, it had to be on grocery day. He was a student living alone in an inexpensive apartment after all, so he couldn't have asked anyone to do the grocery shopping for him. One of the perks of being a French student studying abroad, in England, of all places, where it rained the most. Joy.
Craving for the comfort of his own home, the Frenchman quickened his pace, trying his hardest not to mind the rain seeping into his shoes or the droplets that found its way onto his face. He was already shivering, and going to school with a cold the next day wasn't what he had in mind.
Through the slight fog that had formed, Francis could see the silhouette of the bridge that was just right beside his apartment. Francis smiled to himself and broke into a small run, careful not to spill the contents of the grocery bag he now held tightly. But as he got closer, he saw something- someone hunched over the edge soaking wet and staring out into space.
At first, the Frenchman was careful to approach. It's not every day, after all, that you see someone blanked out under the cold rain, what more without an umbrella. But as soon as Francis had gotten closer, he was certain this pale skinny boy that looked just about Francis' age was harmless. And so, before he could stop himself, he held out his umbrella and asked, "Are you alright?"
Bright round emeralds caught Francis off guard, as well as a slight shove and his grocery bag almost falling off his grip.
"Monsieur, that was very rude!" said Francis when he had regained his balance.
Francis then noticed that the stranger had taken a few steps backwards. It was at that moment that he caught sight of the Englishman before him; messy blonde hair that seemed to stick everywhere even with the rain, huge eyebrows that sagged as if it held too much rainwater, and beneath them, lovely forest green eyes that were now boring holes into Francis' head. He was shivering, but not because of the cold, it seemed, but because he hadn't recovered from the shock that the Frenchman put him through. Francis was reminded of a lost wet rabbit, and he surprisingly found it... adorable.
The Frenchman coughed, a small smile graced his lips. "Let us start over, oui? I am Francis," he said as he took the man back under his umbrella. "What is your name, s'il vous plait?"
"That is none of your business, frog." The stranger only glared and put some more space between the both of them until half of his body was under the rain.
Francis frowned, eyebrow twitching; maybe adorable wasn't the right word. Nonetheless, he chose to ignore the insult, being the kind Frenchman that he was, and shoved the umbrella towards the man once again. "You will get sick if you choose to stay in the rain like that. At least let me bring you home."
The Frenchman noticed that the stranger had suddenly become quiet. He was hoping that the man would take his offer into consideration, when all of a sudden, the Englishman had somehow produced an umbrella of his own.
"You had an umbrella with you this whole time?" Francis asked, dumbfounded.
The Brit's cheeks flushed a tiny bit as he began opening his umbrella. "What's it to you, frog? As I said, mind your own business."
Francis could only blink a few times, before he laughed and laughed. To others, the stranger's situation earlier may have looked silly, but to Francis it was less silly and more cute.
"Ah," Francis said in between bursts of laughter. "You really are adorable, monsieur."
The Englishman only blushed some more and said, "Who're you calling adorable, you fucking frog?!" He then punched Francis' arm before turning around and walking away, muttering curses under his breath.
Before the Englishman could escape however, Francis immediately made an arm free and grabbed the stranger's wrist, unintentionally pulling him closer. "May I at least know your name?"
The Brit's face reddened even more, his wrist quick to pull back. This, however, pulled the Frenchman as well, allowing him to lose his grip on his grocery bag. Thankfully, the Englishman was quick to react, and was able to push the grocery back to Francis' arm, inevitably pushing the Frenchman back to regain his balance.
This earned a quiet pause from the both of them; they just avoided a tiny little accident under the heavy rain. Francis only just noticed as well that he was almost completely soaked. And surprisingly, he didn't even mind, not when what the stranger said next made Francis forget that he was already cold and shivering under the rain.
"Arthur," the Englishman said. "My name is Arthur."
Author's Note: I'm still a beginner at this whole LJ posting/layout/journal thing. Please be patient? ;u;''