**I love rain, everytime it rains I run outside and run around in it. So... it's not raining today, but I was thinking about rain, and this idea came into my head - a plotless oneshot (?) where England and France dance outside Buckingham Palace in the rain, at night. Don't ask about the randomness, I just wanted to type it! Well, with the help of myh Misting Fan from Disney and a cold room I typed it up - helping me get that "Feel" for a cold night to dance. My sister said she liked it, hopefully you do to. FLAMES SHALL BE BURNED WITH GREEN FIRE AND MURDERED WITH A HOCKEY STICK**


Buckingham Palace.

In the UK, where it always rains like hell.

At least that's what most of the other nations say. Francis could care less about the rain though, it was water, and water couldn't hurt a soul unless it was drowning you. Then it would be something to avoid for life.

But this was Arthur's home, where he lived and such, where he called most of his world meetings, where the two men usually got into arguments.

Also, where most other nations had confrontations with England in the past.

Today was the day before a big presentation to the other nations about world worries – the oil spill in the US, the economy, things that made everyone want to die and leave normal humans to deal with. As usual, England was met with rain.

Because of the nations wanting to save money, every one booked two for a room in the cheapest hotel they could find with the highest amount of stars. England, not wanting to have people asking to house in his home, did the same.

Sadly he was stuck with France, next door to America and Canada, with Spain, Romano, Germany, and Italy on the other side of the hall.

At least he knew his neighbors well, England talked to Spain before Romano dragged him away into their room for a good nights rest – which England was sure wasn't the case.

Then he realized, everyone was going into their rooms, pretty early.

"The rain must have something with the other countries, Mon ami."

England stiffened with France at his back, "Well, they can deal with the bloody rain no matter how sleepy it makes them!"

"Yes, but remember how Feliciano is with sleep." France walked to the front of England, making sure they were face to face, "Anything soothing could put him to sleep."

"What is your point, you frog?"

"Don't you like the rain?"

"I – I do like the rain, walking around in it without an umbrella, but how does it concern you?"

France smiled, the only thing that made England hate him with a fiery passion, "Have you ever danced in the rain?"

"N-not that I can remember." England crossed his arms, blushing at what things he would have done in the rain drunk. Which, he may have never remembered.

"Well, why not try it? I've always wanted to try it myself." France grabbed England's chin, "Why not ballroom dancing?"

"You can go grab someone else to bloody dance with you!" England slapped away the hand that was so warm against his skin, "If your looking for a shag, get your bloody –"

"Mon Dieu, with how loud you are people would think there's a fire upstairs." France whispered, "Please, just come and dance with me in the rain."

England looked outside, seeing the Palace in the evening light, no one in front of it – not even the guards. The gate was open as well; England would have to ask about the low security tomorrow when he saw some of his "bosses" before the meeting.

Unless France had something to do with it...

"It's a long walk to get there, you git, why would I do such a thing just to dance?"

"We can take umbrellas and take a cab there, ditch the umbrellas in the cab and dance." France patted England's shoulder, "Come now, can't you just –"

"Fine! But this one night only!"

After leaving the hotel (Which gave such a great view of Buckingham, by the way), England and France sat in the cold backseat of a cab that slowly drove the streets to the palace.

"Don't know why you'd want to come here this late." The driver said when they told him their destination.

"We just wanted to walk from the Palace to another hotel with our friends." France answered, "You know, take our time and see things that surround the Palace."

"OK then, not what I usually hear, but as long as you're not going to break into it –"

"Surely, I wouldn't!" England spoke, "I love the Palace! Whoever would do such a thing as to break into it?"

"Someone wanting cash." The driver muttered.

After being dropped off, France ushered England out in a hurry, and the cab drove off. The rain had stopped, and both looked rather disappointed as they stared at the sky.

"Well, that was a waste of my bloody time, you git."

"I'm sorry; I thought that the rain would –"

A drop hit France on the face as he continued to stare up. He smiled, looking down at England while feeling a drizzle. Holding out his hand, he smiled and said, "Care to dance?"

"If I'm caught with you by guards I'm going to kill you." England took the hand he was offered and let France drag him closer to the Palace, and by the time they made it to the gate – still open – the rain started to fall harder.

They stood; staring at the building with the lights dimly lit, the rain starting to fall harder, France looked at England one more time before grabbing his hand, forcing him to face himself. England muttered something about being uncomfortable about this, holding France's hand tighter.

The two tried to figure out who was going to be the woman in the dance, wasting a few minutes letting the rain get heavier. Finally, England sighed with frustration, "Maybe we should just give up and go back."

France placed his hand on England's hip, "Arthur, hand."

Grimacing at how stern France was, England slapped his hand on France's shoulder and sighed, "I guess we're ready now."

The rain got heavier, making a soothing sound that somehow turned into music for the two of them. France moved one way, England followed, not caring that it looked weird dancing without music playing – the rain was their orchestra, the Palace grounds was their ballroom, and they were the dancers.

This somehow made England relax, looking at the other man's face as the rain made it shine in the dim light, seeing the water fall off his eyelashes, his smile never fading as he stared back.

They slowly made their way closer to the palace, no one watching them; they started to dance more talented like. France wasn't as bad a dancer England thought he was, and the rain started to make an even more lovely melody to dance to.

"Francis..." England muttered suddenly, biting his lip after it slipped, cursing himself in his head.

"Arthur?" France answered.

"N-nothing, you git." England answered.

France laughed, swinging England to the left so that way he had a better view of the Palace behind him, "It's OK to say my name, you know."

"Whatever, just shut up and dance."

France chuckled again, "Sure enough."

"What?"

England felt the ground leave his feet; France lifted him for a second before placing him back on the ground, reassuming the position they originally had before the sudden move.

"W-what was that?" England asked, stumbling from the shock.

"Do you not hear the music, Mon ami?"

Well, come to think of it, Arthur did hear some kind of music – which to any onlooker would have been the rain. Francis spun Arthur again, mentioning that he was starting to get a little wobbly with his steps.

No reply, the rain made it impossible to give one, England heard the music now, he mistook it for the rain talking. He quickly regained his tuned steps and followed France's lead.

In what seemed to be five hours of staring at each other and just spinning around and waltzing – which was five minutes really – England and France where now directly in front of the Palace and the rain fell softer, but heavy. France held England's hand above them, "Spin." He said.

With no difficulty at all, the two spun with time to the fake music, grabbing hands and stepping towards each other and away two times before spinning again.

The rain started to fall harder again, the "music" getting faster, our dancers spun and glided around the Palace front grounds with no flaw of difficulty, occasionally stopping to go the other direction. It was like... magic, Arthur decided. The way France told him what to do silently, the was he was careful when he lifted England off the ground and placed him back down – it was all Arthur needed to forget that Francis and he were... enemies. They hated each other, this wasn't love –

Another spin, rain changing it's music, Francis smiling at his partner as he looked dazed at him – at the same time keeping with the timing and steps. Neither of them realized that it was starting to get lighter around them, the rain starting to get lighter and fade away. Both thinking it was the music ending, they stopped and bowed to each other, feeling the drizzle of the last notes of music beat against them.

England blinked a few times, regaining reality. Francis was giving him that stupid smile, his eyes flashing that stupid message –

They stood up straight, "That was, great, right?" England asked, hoping France wasn't going to ask to dance again.

"Well, you certainly have your feet trained for the ballroom. We should do this," France opened his arms out to the Palace grounds, "Again sometime, only with less..." he stepped toward England, "...reluctance."

"What are you talking about you git-" Arthur started, silenced by Francis's lips pressing against his. Wide eyed, frozen, cold as well, Arthur kept his lips sealed, not going to let France into his mouth. No, he'd never –

France pinched his back, England opening his mouth to squeak in pain, letting the invading tongue explore his mouth.

After a few seconds of stiff, cold shock, England fought back, tongue wrestling with Francis for dominance. His lips started to taste of wine, his smell started to crowd his nose, England thought that this was just going to be a one night thing – a dance in the rain, not anything more. But... now he wanted to kiss Francis, keep those lips against his until the meeting came around –

"We must return, I don't want to see you grouchy during your presentation tomorrow, England." France pulled away, giving that disgusting smile again.

England went to object the idea, wanting the kiss back – but then again his presentation was the most important one for tomorrow. Sighing, England nodded his head, "Why not? I... it's not like I wanted to come out here anyway." He pulled away from the other man, soaked and red, kicking himself in his mind. France was just flirting with him; there wasn't any love between them, not at all!

"But there is one thing I must tell you, Arthur." France grabbed England's shoulder lightly, making him stop walking. Leaning down and whispering in his ear, "You can think we're enemies, and say that you don't love me all you want. But, you know – and I know – that we love each other. That's why I asked to come out here and dance."

A light kiss on the cheek, and Francis was ahead of Arthur, making way back to the hotel without stopping or slowing down for the man. England stood, staring after him. Sure... he may have thought it was hate, but it was actually love.

Love that he hated to admit for that...

No.

Not love.

He couldn't be in love with France, they're rivals –

"You going to stand there or come along?" France called, "I'm pretty sure the hotel is warmer then out here!"

England walked forward, "Are you sure?"

France chuckled, "If not, we can share a bed, and get very warm and cozy in no time." He said when England caught up, "And I mean, very." He said, grabbing England's butt.

"B-Bloody hell!"