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The soft chime of the grandfather wall clock in the living room echoed throughout the house. From underneath the woolen duvet, a figure shuffled underneath the covers ever so slightly causing the other individual to move as well. A few moments passed before one of the occupants, a female, turned towards the other individual and unconsciously nuzzled unto a clothed shoulder. It took a few minutes longer than usual before a bleary-eyed Arthur Kirkland managed to find himself fully awake. The blonde sighed faintly as he tried to move his arm only to find that it had been encased in a warm hold.
Turning his head ever so slightly, the personification of Great Britain couldn't help the small smile from tugging at the corners of his lips as his gaze met his bedmate's still sleeping visage. Moving closer to the smaller figure, Arthur caressed the young woman's tresses before tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear.
"It's morning, love," Arthur whispered, voice still thick with sleep as he continued to caress her hair.
"Ugh." The weak voice was muffled by her husband's shoulder as she tried to burrow herself deeper. "Five more minutes."
The blonde rolled his eyes as he sat up and leaned against the headboard, careful not to disturb his wife as he combed his messy hair back with his other hand. Glancing at the small clock on his bedside, the blonde decided that a few more minutes in bed wouldn't hurt as he rested his eyes for a few seconds--possibly minutes.
The week had been quite grueling considering that he had to sit in several meetings at Parliament as well as dropping off some documents at Downing. If he could describe his week in a word, it would have been exhausting. Thankfully it was the weekend--Saturday morning to be precise-- and usually, he would be up already be having his morning tea with a copy of The Independent.
"What's wrong, Artie?"
"It's nothing, dearest." The Englishman briefly opened one eye to find his significant other rubbing her eyes weakly, face still half-hidden under the duvet. "We should get up."
"Mhm."
The couple remained still, neither making a move to get out of bed. Arthur leaned his head against the headboard as the young woman moved closer to his form. The two continued to sit in the dim room together for a while longer until the blonde turned his head towards his bedmate. His wife's eyes were half-closed and her light breathing seemed to indicate that she was slowly drifting to sleep once more. She always tended to fall back asleep when she warm enough and pressed up against him comfortably.
"Are you falling asleep?"
"Mhm."
"Well, try not to. We have to get up." The Englishman gave a soft nudge before caressing his bedmate's hair back, trying to tame the tresses that were sticking out in odd angles--an indication that she must have been as tired as him.
"I don't hear you making a move either, Artie."
"Because you're clinging unto me."
"I don't hear you complaining" The female, now half-awake, smiled coyly as she opened her eyes to meet suspiciously contemplative emerald orbs before receiving a reply.
"You're maddening, you know that?"
With that, the other individual decisively pressed herself comfortably into the Englishman's side, her arms looped around his shoulders, all the while smiling and not in the least bit self-conscious. Arthur couldn't help but feel slightly flustered at sudden the closeness until noticing the satin-covered mounds that were pressed up against his chest. Tearing his gaze away from his wife's cleavage, the Brit cleared his throat and lifted a thick eyebrow trying but failing to look nonchalant.
"W-what are you doing?"
"Convincing you to stay in bed with me?"
"Tempting." the blonde chuckled as he tried to release his bedmate's hold around his neck, leaning close to place a chaste kiss on her lips. "But we have to get up."
"Fine."
The female sighed faintly before pulling away from the embrace to sit up on her side of the bed. Arthur swung his legs over on the opposite side of the bed and stretched his arms, hearing his bones popping before leaning down to fix the bedcovers and pillows on their shared bed. The Englishman couldn't help but squint as light poured into the previously dim bedroom as he reached for his robe that was placed on a nearby armchair.
The couple shortly made their way down the stairs. The two individuals were careful not to step in certain areas seeing as the old wood tended to creak quite loudly. The young woman had been the first one to reach the bottom of the stairs whilst the blonde was slightly lagging.
"Would you mind putting the kettle on for me, love?"
"Not at all." The female replied as she was on her way towards the kitchen while Arthur turned towards the front door in the hopes of collecting the day's paper.
The Englishman found the rolled up piece of paper neatly placed by in the mailbox. Tucking the copy of The Independent underneath his arm, the thick-browed male made his way back inside the house and closed the door behind him. Walking back to the kitchen, he was greeted by his wife who was busily preparing their breakfast.
"I think we should pop by the grocer's later on today." The female supplied as she closed the fridge door. "What time would you like to go?"
"Possibly a bit after breakfast? Are we out of a few things?"
The smaller individual nodded as she returned to the stove where a pan containing a pair of eggs. Arthur placed the paper on the nearby table before joining his wife in the kitchen. The Englishman quietly prepared the two of them a pot of tea.
Glancing over his significant other, the blonde couldn't help but notice the tiny birthmark of his wife's neck. Reaching over, the Englishman couldn't help but caress the small expanse of skin which didn't seem to startle her at all. Emerald orbs traveled down her neck before noticing a nylon tag that had been left on the inside. The Brit pulled at it, hoping to snap it, but it proved to be stubborn.
"Hm? What are you doing?"
"There's something on your gown. It's a tag."
"Would you mind taking it off? I think we have some scissors in the drawers."
There were no scissors. The blonde glanced over to see a few knives but quickly discarded the thought and closed the drawer. Arthur moved closer to the female in the hopes of removing the offending item off his wife's clothing.
"Almost done, darling?" The female chuckled as she turned her head towards her companion as she tried to plate the eggs.
"Don't move."
"Why--"
Before the female could ask, the Englishman leaned, gently pushing aside the satin strap down her shoulder, placed his mouth against her neck, and took the tag between his teeth. After a few moments, the blonde was able to bite through the plastic, closing his eyes, and tried to ignore the feel of soft skin against his mouth. And then finally, the tag gave. Arthur pulled back and opened his eyes, looking triumphant, plucking the tag from between his teeth.
"I got it."
The surprise was evident on his significant other's visage which quickly morphed into a bashful expression. The female couldn't help but avoid his gaze, suddenly feeling self-conscious as she tugged at the shoulder strap of her gown. It then hit him--the absurdity of his unexpected actions and her apparent reaction. Turning away, Arthur could feel his face reddening as he tried to fight down his embarrassment all the while trying to focus on making their drinks. The male could feel a pair of eyes on him, and he silently wished that she wouldn't say anything--it had been embarrassing enough as it was.
"That was…" A pause. "…Very chivalrous of you, Arthur."
"I-I... You're welcome."
A chuckle escaped the young woman as she plated the eggs and the slices of toasted bread. The said individual made her way towards the kitchen table but not before tugging at her husband's sleeve--an indication for him to quickly finish what he was doing. Arthur instinctively turned towards his significant other all the while expertly holding the two mugs and a pot of freshly brewed tea in his other hand.
"If you wanted a kiss, I most certainly would have given you one."
"Funny. You're just making fun of me now."
"I most certainly am not. Why don’t you come closer and find out if I'm lying."
"I don’t see how that would benefit me."
"Right. I believe it would benefit both of us."
The two settled down close to one another even as they exchanged subtle flirtations. Regardless of Arthur's claim of being a gentleman, he owned a silver-tongue and it never failed to charm his significant other. Soon enough, the sound of silverware filled the comfortable space. The conversation flowed as the couple slowly ate their breakfast with Arthur leaning back comfortably, reading the morning paper whilst his wife refilled her mug.
The young woman turned her head towards the window, admiring the small vegetable garden. The female, now quite relaxed, began to slouch over the cool table as more sunlight began to pour in. The movement had caught Arthur's attention as he lowered the paper and he couldn't help but notice the rather lovely view.
"Darling, would you mind sitting up properly?" The Englishman cleared his throat before grumbling awkwardly and raising his newspaper over his flushed countenance. "I can see…Everything."
"...You would have never looked at my breasts if you haven't been my husband."
"Wha-!?" The Englishman spluttered, the sound of paper crumpling in his fists only served to betray his flustered state.
The young woman sat back up to muffling her laugh into her hand. After a few moments of unbridled laughter, the female raised her head to meet the mildly annoyed but flustered face of Arthur Kirkland from behind the paper. Once the giggles have subsided, the smaller individual couldn't help but give the blonde a cheeky smile and another taunt.
"Fancy a peek?"
"Alright. That's enough out of you." The Englishman quickly rolled the newspaper up and gently batted his wife's hand across the table.
"Spoilsport."
"You're insufferable."
"And I think you love me, Mr. Grumpy Trousers."
"A tiny bit." Arthur hated that nickname, amongst many others, but he couldn't help but smirk at his wife who merely rolled her eyes. "Just a sliver."
After spending more than a few years of being married to his beloved, he had been able to feel at ease. She had seen him for who he was--a cynical, sharp-tongued, and fanciful man--and still decided to stay with him. His significant must have felt his warm gaze, and he couldn't care less about how it made him look at the moment. He was irrevocably happy and hoped to spend the rest of his mornings or evenings with her--even if she bullied him a tiny bit--for that matter.