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Never in his life would Francis Bonnefoy admit that he is in love with his longtime frenemy, Arthur Kirkland. But there he was, on a particular Friday midnight (or was it already Saturday morning), on the streets of Paris, struggling beneath the weight of his sworn enemy/secret crush. His week started normally, with dozens of meetings and greetings to the visitors from Britain and throwing flirtatious teases to Arthur whenever they were alone. Then, out of nowhere, Arthur had challenged him to a drinking contest (a contest that Arthur has lost several times in the past because that man can do anything but hold his liquor) earlier that evening. Three shots in and the blond was already challenging him to fight to the death.
“I can still drink more!” Arthur shouted again into the streets. Although it was already October, the weather was still relatively nice with days filled with sunshine and nights of laughter and fun. Francis had been surprised earlier after Arthur called him to go out for drinks. After all, it was already ten at night and he knew how the Englishman preferred his sleep.
“Give it up Kirkland, you’ll never win against me,” Francis replied as they trudged along the road slowly. Although he was physically fit from exercising every afternoon, he was slowly losing his strength under Arthur’s weight. “Where even is your hotel?” Francis found himself asking again.
“Somewhere…” Arthur pointed ahead of them. “That way.” He paused and looked around, confused at their surroundings. “Or was it that way?” He pointed to their left.
Francis knew a lost cause when he saw one. “So you don’t know where your hotel is.”
“Yes, I do!” Arthur pushed Francis’s arm away from him. For a second, Francis was relieved as he rubbed feelings back into his arm. “And I can get there myself!” Arthur waddled for two steps before he tripped over a curb and fell onto the ground. Francis winced as Arthur’s face made contact with the concrete.
“Are you okay?” Francis rushed over to his side. Arthur remained on the ground, dumbfounded by what had just happened.
“I don’t need your help!” Arthur slapped away Francis’ hand as he attempted to help him up. “I can do… Everything by--” Francis clamped his hand over his mouth and before Arthur could protest, he picked him up, bridal style.
“What are you doing!” Arthur tried to break free from the awkward position, however, after a close encounter with the nearby lamppost, he held on tighter to Francis. “Where are we going?”
“To the nearest available hotel room,” Francis answered.
“I have a hotel room,” Arthur argued. Francis sighed. There was no point in arguing with the drunk, especially when the drunk does not know where he was staying. “I can go back to my own hotel room!”
“But you don’t really know where your hotel room is now don’t you.” Francis shot back. Arthur finally shut his mouth shut as Francis marched forward. If his memory served him right, there should be a hotel two blocks down from the bar.
As Francis walked, his mind began to wonder. It was not every day that Arthur showed his weak and vulnerable side. Instances like these were rare, and for once Arthur was not talking his ears off with complaints. Just as he felt like his arms were about to fall off from carrying Arthur (Francis secretly thanked himself for all of the workouts that he had done and his own dedication to staying fit), they arrived at what Francis remembered to be a glamorous victorian mansion. But the reality is often different than one’s memory.
The hotel looked like it had seen better days. Francis eyed its shaggy appearance skeptically, however, the lack of options left no room for choice for him. He lowered his arms and Arthur hopped out of them eagerly. Relieved at the lack of burden on his arm, Francis shook his stiff arm, grabbed Arthur, and pushed open the revolving doors, and headed inside.
“Good evening young miss.” He smiled at the young woman at the front desk. The inside of the hotel was not any better than the outside. He was really beginning to regret not taking a taxi and going to a fancier one. “Do you have any more rooms available? I am looking for a two-person room, ideally with two beds.” I’m not going to let this idiot do something dumb by himself in a hotel room, he thought to himself. Technically, they cannot die from alcohol poisoning, but it would be embarrassing if the news tomorrow showed some Englishman thrashing a really old hotel room.
“Let me check.” The girl smiled back and began to click her mouse aggressively. “Sorry.” She mumbled. “The computer hasn’t been working too well lately.” Several awkward moments later, she looked up at him again. “Sorry sir, the only two-person room we have available now are deluxe suites with a king-size bed. Would that be okay with you?”
Francis glanced at Arthur, who does not appear to have any remote consciousness (he settled on the sofa at the hotel lobby upon arrival to the hotel) and contemplated the idea of calling a cab to another hotel late at night. He sighed. “We will take it.”
“Alright, here are your keys, complimentary breakfast starts at 7:00 a.m.” The girl handed over a set of rusty keys, “Hope you enjoy your stay.” She winked. “If you need anything for you and your cute boyfriend, just ring the front desk, I’ll be here all night long.”
Francis felt himself go warm. “We are not, I mean we are just friends.” Francis looked at Arthur and back at the girl who was smiling smugly at him. He sighed, grabbed Arthur by his hands, and headed for the room.
Despite the shaggy outer appearance of the hotel, the room itself was clean and modern. Tired from the day’s events, Francis headed for the comfortable looking bed in the middle of the room. However, before he took off his jacket, Arthur made a beeline for the bed and promptly settled himself in the pristine sheets. Francis sighed as he walked over to the bed and forcefully removed Arthur’s jacket. A strong whiff of alcohol clung to Arthur’s shirt, and Francis gagged. “Go take a shower Kirkland, you reek of alcohol.” He knew how much the blond liked to take his shower and maintain a clean and proper image, plus he did not want to sleep next to someone who smelled like the bar.
“Mmmmmf.” Arthur responded. He sat up and tugged clumsily at his dress shirt to no avail. Then to Francis’ surprise, he got up and stumbled towards the bathroom. Fearing that the Englishman might accidentally drown himself in the bathtub or accidentally give himself a concussion, Francis followed and stayed outside to give him his privacy. He heard Arthur turn on the bathtub and the sound of Arthur unbuckling his belt. Francis swallowed as he let his imagination run slightly wild on what’s happening inside, his face began to heat up. He imagined Arthur’s slender pale hands reaching to unbutton the buttons one by one, then pulling to reveal what he’s been hiding underneath. Shit. He thought to himself as he got more excited.
A loud splash tugged him back to reality. Fearing the worst, he called out. “Kirkland?” Arthur did not respond. “Kirkland! He tried the doorknob on the bathroom door and it surprisingly swung open. He rushed into the bathroom only to find Arthur submerged in the bathtub, wearing nothing but a half unbuttoned dress shirt. Unsure where to look, he leaned over the bathtub and prepared to scold him. “Kirkland, you’re--” He never had a chance to finish his sentence, as Arthur dragged him into the bathtub.
“PFFHAHAHA.” Arthur giggled, “now you are really looking like a toad Bonnefoy.” Francis struggled to sit upright in the bathtub. Despite the surprisingly fancy shower head, the bathtub really wasn’t built for two people. When he finally managed to push himself up, he found himself between Arthur’s legs, 5cm away from Arthur’s most delicate region. All of the anger that has previously consumed him has disappeared, as his primal instincts took over. It really doesn’t help that the person in front of him is someone whom he has loved since he could remember. Well, shit. He thought to himself.
Arthur felt it too, as he turned a bright shade of red. “Stop looking,” he whispered while gazing at Francis.
“Well, you’ve got an impressive package down there.” Francis chuckled as he tried desperately to walk away from this situation, “and you know that big brother does swing both ways.” He doesn't know how much of it Arthur will remember when the morning comes, but he definitely does not want him to remember this. He tried to move without much success. Several splashes later, he found himself inches away from Arthur’s face, staring deep into his emerald eyes. The Englishman stared back at him and then without warning, he grabbed Francis’ face and put his lips on his.
For someone who isn’t French, Arthur sure can French kiss well, was Francis’ first thought. He was struggling to make sense of what’s happening, but he returned Arthur’s kiss with the same enthusiasm that the British were giving him. When they finally pulled apart, he was nearly out of breath. He looked at Arthur, confused, the latter of whom was now fumbling with Francis’ shirt buttons. “Arthur”, he said flabbergasted, “what are you doing.”
“Your clothes are wet,” he replied, “I need to take it off.” Arthur’s hand unbuttoned Francis’ dress shirt with surprising precision and in one swift motion, he stripped Francis of his dress shirt and flung it across the bathroom where it landed in a wet puddle. Francis’ mind went blank, what on earth is happening.
“Arthur, what--” Arthur put his index finger on Francis’ lips for a second, before sliding it down to his chest, where he gently placed his hand over his heart.
“Isn’t this what you want to do with me,” Arthur paused and looked away slightly. “I felt it go hard.”
As much as Francis wants to do Arthur till dawn right then and there, he stopped himself. “Arthur, you’re drunk.” He pushed the blond away.
“For the last time, I am NOT drunk!” Arthur exclaimed as he tried to loop his arm around Francis’ neck to bring him back for a kiss. But Francis pushed him away once again. “I want you; I’ve been wanting you for a while now.”
“Arthur, you’re drunk.” Unwrapping Arthur’s hand around his wrist, Francis climbed out of the bathtub. There was no way that he would take advantage of Arthur when he is not in the right state of mind. “You hate me, remember.” His heart sunk as he remembered how much the blond disliked him. There was no way he meant what he said. He just had some physical needs and he happened to be the one that he was trapped with. “Now, finish up, we need to get you into bed.” Before Arthur could protest, he made a run for the door and slammed the door shut.
Shit shit shit shit. He thought to himself. He quickly stripped the rest of the wet clothes that he was wearing and slipped into the bathrobe laid out on the bed and crawled into the bed. Covering his head with the blanket, the thoughts of what just happened overwhelmed him. He knew if the blond attempted something like that again, he would not be able to control himself again. Then what will happen? Arthur will wake up tomorrow morning to his senses, realize what has happened, and never speak to him again. The thought of Arthur never speaking to him again terrified him.
He can’t remember what happened next, but he must have fallen asleep because the next thing he knew was being vigorously shoved awake to a room filled with sunlight. He opened his eyes groggily to see Arthur sitting in bed, blushing and covering his lower body with the hotel blanket.
“What happened.” Arthur paused. “Here.” He pointed to his exposed chest and his own naked body.
Francis felt a strong sense of relief. Arthur must not have remembered what happened the previous night. Putting on his usual flirty charms, he winked. “What do you think happened, my love.” He paused dramatically and touched Arthur’s shoulder. “You were absolutely splendid yesterday night.”
Arthur’s eyes widened as he turned even redder. “Pervert!” He exclaimed and threw his pillow at Francis. Francis closed his eyes; he could really use a second round of sleep. Arthur Kirkland can figure out his feelings for him some other time.
Arthur sighed as he looked at the sound asleep Francis. After poking him on the arm several times without any response, he leaned down and pecked him on the mouth.
“Thanks for being a gentleman… But I meant it when I said that I’ve been wanting you for some time. Next time I will make my feelings clear, just you wait.”