Chapter Text
"I doubt there is someone slower than you, dad," Alfred groaned, pulling Arthur forward.
"How else am I supposed to show you that I do not care about this event at all?" Arthur smirked, slowing his pace.
"How can you not care? It's papa's big day!" another groan.
"Papa has enough of those," Arthur yawned and smirked.
It was true, though. Ever since Francis opened up his own boutique (started out as a side job, but became his calling), he was getting more and more popular with each fashion show. It was starting to bother Arthur, how little his husband was home and how popular he was with the ladies. (Though that wasn't anything new either.)
"Daddy!" a girly voice called out from the dark, and Michelle appeared next to him, taking his other hand, "come on, it's almost starting. Matthew saved us all seats in the front row. Come on, papa will start soon."
Arthur smiled, kissing her forehead and going willingly, leaving Alfred pulling his hair out.
"You know what? It is so not nice having a favorite child!" he protested.
"I don't have a favorite child, Alfred. I just have the least favorite," his father hummed and Matthew, overhearing it, almost died in his chair.
The four of them sat down and watched the podium, clapping when Francis walked out.
"Thank you, thank you. I would not be here without the support of my amazing family, who helped me pursue what started as a silly dream. Now, years after, this boutique is a project for everyone who loves fashion. Being the reason why all of you talented people are here is making me very happy. Giving opportunity to faces that are not known while carrying the legacy of those that are in business for decades, all in one place means more to me than I can explain," he smiled.
Francis spoke and spoke, people clapped and yelled and the evening was long. Arthur found Francis in the middle of reporters and with a simple excuse, he pulled his husband aside.
"Hi," he whispered.
"Hi yourself," Francis hummed, "did you like tonight?"
"Not more than any other show," Arthur grinned and shook his head.
When Francis leaned in, he could swear the kiss came from some other world...
"Arthur," France whispered next to him, "Arthur wake up. We'll be late for picnic. God, why are you smiling like that, it's creepy."
England opened his eyes, blinking a few times. A dream? Well, that was silly...
"What did you dream about?" France asked, raising his eyebrows.
"Just how it might be if we were real humans," the other mumbled.
"Did you like it?" France smiled widely.
"Meh... I like what we have now better..." England whispered and pulled France down in a kiss, their rings shining in the sunlight.