"Aww, aren't you just the cutest thing?"
Arthur Kirkland watched you snuggle with the cat, green eyes narrowed. He could see why'd you dubbed it as FranceCat; after all, that cat was a fluff ball, just like Francis's "sexy" hair and, also very much like France, this cat seemed more than happy to cuddle near some.....Intimate areas.
To anyone else, it would have been rather amusing to see the Brit's face turn bright red as glowered at the smug, fluffy cat. Arthur, however, was less than amused. "You really are cute!" You cooed, scratching the cat's ears and ignoring your boyfriend's silent hissy fit. "Why don't you sleep with me tonight?"
Arthur's eye twitched. That was it. This cat could mock him, even hog his girlfriend on a day Arthur planned to spend with you, but to take his place in your bed, the one place he had to look forward to at this point?
That. Bloody. Cat's. Gone. Too. Far.
The cat had to go, Arthur knew that much. He then had an idea. "____?" He adressed you, smiling. "Do you think you could go grab the 69th research book in the library? I need it for some paper work."
You put down the cat, smiling. "Sure thing, Arthur." You stood up, stretching briefly before going, leaving Arthur and FranceCat alone, a fact the cat didn't seem too happy about.
Taking advantage of your absence, the Brit grabbed a scone off the silver platter resting on the coffee table, setting the so called food down in front of the disgruntled cat. "Eat up, you bloody cat."
FranceCat was either very hungry or very stupid, because he began to devour the scone without hesitation.
Arthur grinned maliciously.
"What the hell happened to FranceCat?!" You shrieked. The poor cat was puking his guts out in the cornor, looking just a little less smug.
Arthur shrugged his shoulders, trying not to smile. "I don't know, love. Must have been something he ate." Arthur laughed at his little private joke, much to your confusion and FranceCat's annoyance.
Ah yes, victory was sweet.