God, he looked so gorgeous. Dancing there, so skillfully, so...teasingly. I hated him. Loathed his angel-like, golden ringlets; his crystal blue, dazzling, half-lidded eyes; his overly affectionate nature...

"Ah! Bonjour, Angelterre~!"

And his voice. How I despised that voice! So French, so alluring, so suave, so...no!

I glared at him, my fist clenching around my mug, almost tight enough to shatter the glass that held my drink. He continued dancing, spinning, twirling Antonio in every direction. Glancing around, I saw Romano giving Francis my exact glare.

He was jealous over how Antonio was giving Francis more attention than to him. But I was not. I wasn't jealous that Francis was clinging all over Antonio, grinding against him in such a crude manner, they should have been banned from the party.

"Bloody git..."

Chugging down the final contents of my glass, I slammed it down on the bar.

"Refill..." I muttered, keeping my glare on Francis and Antonio.

The song ended and he caught my gaze. Those crystal blue orbs transfixed and half-lidded; a taunting smirk plastered on his face. He sauntered over to me, leaning casually against the bar, calling for a glass of red wine.

My blood boiled. Who did he think he was? Practically sexing it up on the dance floor like some over-hormonal teenager, then strolling over to me all la-dee-da! He knew I was watching.

The frog probably thought me jealous.


I grinned, avoiding Francis' gaze at all cost, trying to play it off like I didn't just "HA!" out loud like a psycho.

Sipping my drink, I felt his arm snake around my waist, his mouth was so close to my ear.

"Dance with moi?"




"Why not?"


"You realize that's not an answer, oui?"


"Care for me to explain?"


"Shall I leave you be?"


He pouted. I smirked, taking another gulp from my glass. To my utter dismay, he kept his arm draped around my waist.

"Why won't you dance with me, mon cher~?" he asked, his voice pleading. His tone was a lie, as were his intentions. All he wanted was to feel me up...and then some.

"You bloody well know why. Now go run off and dance with Antonio."

Not like I really wanted that. What the bloody hell? Of course I did!

He chuckled. I wanted to punch his pretty, little face, and break that perfectly sculpted nose of his. Even if it was only for a minute or so.

I felt his hand brush across my cheek. It made me shudder...

"Do I sense a bit of jealousy, Arthur?" he asked, playfully.

"No, you frog." I shoved him away. "Now go away."

Finishing off my drink, I called for another, still keeping my eyes away from Francis.

"Not until you dance with me." He was grinning. I could hear it in his voice. "I have all night."

"Oh, I'm sure you do."

He gave a slight laugh, and I found myself staggering off the stool I sat upon. I thrashed to free myself of his grasp, only I was too intoxicated to be at my full strength (something I'd never admit out loud).

"I see this is the only way to get things done with you, Angelterre." he laughed, grabbing my hand with one of his, placing his other on my waist. "It's a slow song, cheri. Something more to your liking, non?"

I grumbled, placing my free hand on his shoulder, but not moving with the beat.

...not moving at all for that matter.

"I know you know how to dance, Arthur."

"Yes, I know that you know that I know how to---"

Glancing up at the frog, I stopped in mid-sentence. He wasn't breath-taking. No. He didn't illuminate in the dance floor lighting. That smile of his was not dazzling. ...He was not the most beautiful being I had ever laid eyes on.

"He isn't any of those anyway." I said, leaning my head on his shoulder, as I allowed him to sway us back and forth. "He's nothing but a stupid git..."

"Who is, mon ami?" Francis asked, a tinge of humor to his tone.

"You, frog."

He merely chuckled. I growled slightly, aggravated that he didn't get aggravated.

Ever-so-subtly, I felt a hand on my arse...


My fist clashed with his face, and Francis stumbled backwards, red blood trickling from his nostrils.

"Merde!" he cried, wiping the blood off his pure white sleeve. "Really, Angelterre, that was uncalled for! ...Look at me!"

I kissed him. Pulled him down by his powder blue tie, stained by little splotches of blood, and pressed my lips to his. It took him off-guard, but it wasn't like Francis to throw away affection.

So maybe I did like his face...his voice...and his eyes. But at that moment, I loved nothing more than his bloody nose.

"Did you finally come around?" he asked suggestively, going to pull me in closer.

I rolled my eyes. "You wish."