France snaked his arms around England's neck, England continued to blush. The Prime Minister strode into HIS office and sat in one of the chairs where he had first met England's brothers. The PM looked at England expectantly, waiting for whatever excuse the nation could come up with.
"Err he fell?" England lied his attention still on France.
"Right. He just happened to fall over the desk, into your lap and your arms just happened to find themselves wrapped round his waist? France, you're Prime Minister has gone home he told me to tell you to go home when I saw you. "The PM said in attempt to dismiss France
France made no effort to move. Instead he continued to whisper flirtingly to England. The PM wasn't the type of guy to get irritated easily, but right now he had reached his irritation limit. Spending a morning with the U.K brothers who were trying to introduce themselves to you would do that to you. France however was irritating him more than all the brothers had. And he had had such a nice lunch with the French PM as well, enough to make him almost reconsider his dislike for the French. Almost. Still individuals, PM's or not, could not insult foreign nations without severe consequences, though it was fine for nations to insult each other. He would have to be a charming gentleman when he kicked the French nation out of his office.
"France, I need to speak to my nation now, could you please leave for a moment so we can speak privately? Why not make yourself a cup of tea ?" The PM asked in his most charming manner though in his mind he added " so bog off you annoying French prick".
France hesitantly got up. He winked at England and said something about tonight. The Prime Minister blushed and England threw a heavy glass paper weight at him, he purposely missed but it still made France quicken his pace out of the room while laughing wickedly. The paper weight landed with a huge thump on the floor.
"Oi! Thats my paper weight! " The PM cried out.
Still what was the point in telling England not to touch his things? The Nation seemed to think everything was his to do as he pleased. England just looked at him in a surly manner. The Prime Minister sighed in defeat and picked up the round heavy glass orb paperweight. He rotated it in his hands, deciding not to look at England due to the awkwardness he felt.
"Listen, I'm glad you're getting along with France. (Pause)Ok what gives? You and France hate each other!"The PM asked he had given up being professional, this was an emergency.
England raised a bushy eyebrow. He then started rummaging around in the filing cabinet behind the desk to the right of the window. He eventually brought out a thick brown file and slid it across the desk towards the PM. The PM picked it up and saw the title was French Relations. Next to the word French where a lot of hand drawn hearts in blue pen that looked like someone had later taken a black pen and tried to scribble them out. The PM opened it to see a picture of a smiling France who was posing with... was that the York and Lancaster roses? He looked at the picture in disgust. Still reading on he saw a bunch of statistics. He really didn't feel like reading them all so he just looked at England questioningly. England on his part sighed.
"My dear PM, where did you go on holiday last?"
"Erm the French Alps"
"What language did you learn as your second language at school?"
"Precisely, secretly I ...ah ... don't hate France. French is the most common second language choice in our house (the PM assumed he was talking about the country when he said house) which is saying something as we're a part of the EU and have many choices. Not only that, but the French Alps and the southern part of France's home remain a popular destination for holidays. His food is pretty good, and his wines nice too. We both like ballet, and have the Royal Academy of Dance. But other than that, he's a complete tosser, I mean like I'm going to admit I like any of those things! It's just when I look into his eyes it's like falling into a trap." England explained
"Uh huh, I don't care if your want to sleep with all the nations in the world, just do it somewhere else and on your own time ok?" The Prime Minister replied putting down the paper weight and walking to the filing cabinet.
"Tcht I am Jelouze Angelterre, such an underzanding Prime Minister." France said re-entering the room with a teapot, three cups, saucers and some pastries, which no one but he knew where he had got it from.
"What part of he is a tosser did you not understand!" England shouted at them both.
"Say that while looking into mon eyes" France smirked
The PM turned to see that France had forced England to look up into his eyes. England blushed and muttered something that made France smile. He cleared his throat to remind them where they were. England suddenly came back to reality and kneed France in the groin. As France slumped to the floor he walked off to pour the tea. He leant on the PM's desk sipping his tea and looking at France. England looked positively savage, almost pirate like.
"I don't like being made a fool of." England hissed at France
"Enough." The Prime Minister half heartily warned
The PM was still shuffling through the filing cabinet. He searched all the draws, then not finding what he was looking for turned to the desk draws. Papers flew around him, and soon there was a pile on the desk. England watched the flurry of papers while sipping his tea. The PM could tell he had peaked his nation's curiosity, and wondered why he wasn't questioning him. Still the quiet was nice, well apart from the French mans groans of pain interrupting it, but that was slightly amusing. He resumed his frantic searching.
"What are you looking for boss?" England asked
The Prime Minister paused as he was a little taken back by England calling him boss. He glanced at England wondering if to him and his brothers the title "boss" had any meaning or if it was just a nickname. Probably the latter he concluded.
"The French Prime Minister brought my attention to something that was in the agreement I signed. I wanted to check it myself instead of just taking his word for it. " The PM replied
"Vous and mon Prime Minister get along well non?" France asked
France had managed to get off of the floor and sit gingerly in the leather chair that the Prime Minister had previously been sitting in. The PM would have felt sorry for him, but he couldn't since France had ensnared his country in his culture. The French were so annoying like that.
"Yeah he's a nice chap. Too bad he's French though, but I suppose he can't really help that." The PM told the room at large.
England chuckled and France smiled. In France's opinion that was as close as he was going to get to a compliment from him. England gently put his cup down on its saucer with a small clink of china meeting china. He pulled out a bunch of papers that he had hidden in the inside of his jacket. The PM felt his anger rising again and France looked with interest between the two. This explained why the French man had found England in the PM's office. It dawned on France that England had tried to smuggle the papers back inside the PM's desk without the PM finding out he had taken them.
"Why was it in your jacket pocket?" The PM said slowly in an attempt to keep himself calm.
"Well not all Prime Ministers get along well with us. I took it so that you couldn't rip it up before the visit with the queen." Answered England uncomfortably
"Wonder why that is? The four of you need to work on your first impressions. Using magic and sounding like lunatics is not a good way to get people to like you. " The PM scolded
He stretched out his hand indicating that England should hand over the documents. When he did so the PM noticed he had laminated the papers. Shrewd England, Shrewd; still that was what scissors and paper shredders were for. The PM scanned the papers and saw the big loopy calligraphy title that labelled the document that made him PM. He saw his own squiggly signature at the bottom of the third to last page. The other three pages where all fine print that where written in miniscule writing. The Prime Minister felt the two nation's eyes on him and looked up. England looked visibly troubled, and was clutching his phone probably ready to contact his brothers. The Prime Minister smiled in what he hoped was a kindred smile. You know what? It didn't matter if the brothers where in the fine print or not. He was still their babysitter- oops PM , and he decided that he didn't really want to change that anytime soon. When it came to erasing his memory, well he'd figure that out later. At least he could never be bored at work, with these four his life could be quite an adventure.
"Don't worry so much, I'm not going or shred it or rip it up." He told him putting the documents on the desktop.
"Come on lets go. The two of you have better places to be, and I'm going to take the time that your brothers so graciously gave me to spend with my family. So scat!" The Prime Minister shooed them from the room while grabbing his coat.
He closed the door behind him and the two nations. As the door clicked to a shut a light that reflect off of the laminate paper from the sun outside sparkled on the door. As if by some divine power a line of the fine print in the document was highlighted by the sun. The line read: I promise to protect, honour and care for the well being of the nations England, Wales, Scotland and Northern Ireland in all their forms.