The stars trembled in the cold black night as a blond Frenchman chased his laughing British lover.

"I am going to get you Angeltere!" called the blond, and the Brit ran faster.

"You've got to catch me first Frog!" he hollered back over his shoulder, swishing his hips playfully which gave the Frenchman another spurt of lustful energy. Just as he thought he was close, the Brit escaped his view and noises sounded in a forest surrounding a local park.

"That's not fair Arthur!" he whined, greatfully slipping into the coverage of the silent trees.

"What's not?" responded a voice that swung off the branches into his keen ears.

"When I catch you, I can't ravish you!"

"And why not, Francis?"

"There will obviously be children around!"

"This late at night?" Arthur snorted, slipping out of the shadows for mere seconds to give his lover a hint. "When have you cared?"

"Since Matthew was born." Francis smiled as he spoke his smaller son's name into the thick night air. And, after following sounds and signs, Francis stood in the middle of the park. The Brit was seated on a wooden bench, his messy blond hair caressed gently by the wind. Francis grinned and, with a stealthy pace, walked up and draped his thin arms lazily around his chest, ignoring the bench that deprecated the two.

"I've got you." he whispered, flicking his tongue playfully on the smaller nations ear. He could feel a hungry shudder tremble through the small frame with his slim fingers and lay a gentle kiss on his cheek.

"Now may I prove my love?" Breathes the Frenchman. But, as he finished the word, Arthur stood up and flipped over the bench, grabbing an amazed Francis by the hand and dragging him to the front. Arthur stood, a smile on his lips with a hand still twined with his lover's as Francis blinked, amazed. Finally catching his thoughts, the blond stared at the scene in front of him.

"It's for you." Murmured Arthur, lazily snaking his arms around the Frenchman's gracefully thin waist, lying his head in the crook of his shoulder. "Happy Birthday."

He sat again and opened his arms with a smile, contributing himself to the gift.
Francis observed the scene, first shamelessly eying his lover up and down. Arthur noticed his hungry eyes practically clawing off his clothes and put his arms on the top, uncrossing his legs for a better view. Clenching his fist as not to run and attack the Brit he admired the rest of the view.
The cool maple wood was polished and shone in the silver moons light. His name was engraved and highlighted by the pale beams, followed with the line "A man to which no others compare. I love you. -Arthur" and a small heart. His own melted and he shook his head, blinking away happy tears. He ran quickly, sliding next to Arthur,his Arthur, and wrapped him close.

"I love you too." He whispered breathlessly, drawing their lips together, and they kissed under the weeping willows of the night.