UsernameEmailRegionInterestAOL IMICQ IDYahoo! IDMSN IDJabber

England wheeled back around to face France as he got off the phone. "Who did you just call?"

"Amerique. He has invited us over for the holiday." France spoke the lie quite smoothly. He didn't bother to mention how cold it would be outside as he handed one of England's bags over.

Arthur took it indignantly, not the least bit happy that would be stuck in America until further notice. No, that was a lie, but he told himself the lie so well, it was difficult to know how he really felt. "He has room for the both of us?"

"Of course, of course," Francis urged, allowing Arthur out of the airport before him with a polite gesture. Behind the Englishman's back, he was busy pulling extra scarves and a jumper or two on, making sure to pause and check himself out in a window on the way out. Yes, he still looked fabulous, and could continue to the cold happily.

England, however, stopped dead in his tracks as they got outside. His elegant coat and plaid scarf, which had been warm enough before the snow started up, now felt much too thin for the piercing cold. He was about to about-face back into the building, but France wouldn't allow it.

Grabbing England's arm tightly, France thought out loud to himself. "Should we wait for a bus? Walking is fine, too. You have returned your rental car, have you not, Angelterre? Such a pity, we could have driven!"

"N-No," Arthur stammered through his chattering teeth. "Th-The bus wi-will do."

An hour and one bus ride later, a cheerful Francis and half-frozen Arthur were standing on Alfred's doorstep. France rang the doorbell and hummed a romantic tune as they awaited an answer.