La Tristesse

Chapter 10

Arthur was in the middle of watching exorcism videos on YouTube when Francis called again. With a soft sigh, he answered without the protest all his imaginary friends had been expecting. "What do you want, bloody frog?"
"Eyebrows! It's ze awesome me!" Prussia shouted, "Vhat are jou doing? Francy-pants is being totally unawesome."
He could hear crashing and a frenzy of grunts and growls in the background. Glass shattered somewhere and he thought he heard Spain crying entreaties. "What's going on?"
"Vell, ve were all out having an awesome time! An zen zis prick Turkey showed up and everyzing vent to hell. Zis bar is ruined!"
"Wait- Is France in a bar fight?"
"Ja. Jou need to come stop him."
"What do you mean? Stop him? Isn't he trying to run for the hills?"
"No, zats ze problem! He's gone all nutsy-cookoo."
"Surely the awesome Prussia can handle one wimpy Frenchman." He sighed, though by the sounds of it, that was not the case.
"As jou vell know, ze awesome me is not as strong as I once vas..."
The admission of Prussia's weakness caught him off guard and the fact that France was participating in a fight had him heading for the door before his good sense caught up. "Where are you?"
Prussia then rattled off a set of detailed coordinates that were suspiciously nearby. He could only assume that their plan had been to drop Francis on him before the night had ended anyway. He didn't have time to be annoyed. His thoughts were racing elsewhere as he walked as quickly as a gentleman could without losing his class. The only things that ever set Francis off was the ruination of his favorite clothing and talk of the Second World War. A torn hem he could deal, but if Turkey had been fool enough to spew drunken taunts about
France's history, well... Francis would likely not be Francis when he arrived.
        None of them liked that particular war dredged up, but something had snapped in Francis during that time. Having been fractured, turned against himself, and occupied had not been easy on his mentality. Arthur had not forgotten the half-crazed Frenchmen he and Alfred had found the day they'd gone to liberate him. He picked up his pace.
       The door to the pub was dangling by one hinge and the police lingered outside looking baffled as the owner wept into her hands. Leave it to France to wait until he was in someone else's house to throw a tantrum. A bottle of half finished whiskey zipped by his head as he entered and Prussia and Spain waves to him from their place behind the bar. Turkey was on his back in the midst of broken tables and spilt liquor. His hands were around Francis' throat while the Frenchmen straddled his waist,  one hand latched in Turkey's hair and the other pounding mercilessly at his face. 
       "That's quite enough!" Arthur bellowed, stalking across the ruined room and slapping Francis upside the head. "What in the bloody hell are you thinking? Your bosses are not going to be very happy with all of this nonsense!"
        "Saving you again." Turkey snickered around the blood running from his mouth. "Pathetic."
        France raised his fist once more, this time with a shard of broken bottle clasped tightly within. Arthur caught his wrist. "Je dis que ça suffit!" He snarled, wrenching the blond off of the masked country. He shook him violently by the arm and swept a hand through the air, showcasing the devastation bed caused. "Regardez ce que vous avez fait!"
Turkey heaved himself up from the mess and chuckled. Francis stiffened but didn't move. Spain and Prussia began to approach but Arthur held up his hand to stop them. "Don't crowd him." He hissed, "Who bound him?"
Prussia furrowed his brows and looked at Spain. "Vhat?"
He lifted Francis' arm and revealed the purple and black bruises around his wrist. It was obvious that they were no new adornment. "Who did this?"
Spain shook his head and Prussia looked at Turkey, who shrugged and shoved his hands into his pockets. "Not my fault he's all talk." He snorted, "Good luck England, he's more your type them mine anyway."
Francis reclaimed his arm and shakily retrieved his soiled jacket from the floor. "Sorry for ze mess, Angleterre. I'll have it fixed."
Arthur balked as the Frenchman began to follow Turkey out. "Where did you think you're bloody going?" He snapped.
Francis sounded uncertain when he answered and it was easy to tell he wasn't yet settled into his right mind. "Home?"
"No worries England, we'll take him." Spain said, "Sorry about all of this."
"You two idiots aren't taking anyone home but yourselves." Arthur declared, his temper muddling his logic. "Do not breathe a word of this to anyone or I'll put a curse on the both of you."
"Ja, no problem. Mattie vould flip out." Prussia agreed easily. "He vould vithhold my pancakes! Totally unawesome."
"Are you sure? We can take him Arthur. He's-"
"Oh don't bloody act like you weren't gonna dump him on me anyway!" He spat, shoving at France's shoulder, urging him forward toward the door.
Turkey was talking to the officers outside, having somehow gotten them laughing. They stopped when they stepped out. "I'll have this all paid for." Arthur announced. "Would you please take us back to my house."

****

Forgive typos. I've got two three year olds terrorizing me right now.

I like Turkey, but I needed an antagonist.

Also I like the idea of Francis being a secret badass.

And I find it too cute when Arthur speaks French.

Okay.

Now, let the wound tending begin. 😍