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Francis flirted with Arthur often. And who could blame him? He couldn’t help it. Not when Arthur’s cheeks flushed red as a strawberry. Not when his voice went an octave higher and he puffed up like an angry kitten.
Mon petit lapin tout mignon.
Arthur’s cheeks were flushed now, but it wasn’t because he was being teased. It was because he was drunk. He leaned over the bar table, yelling gibberish at the poor, confused bartender. Alfred grabbed his arm and gently pulled him back.
“Ge’ off me!” Arthur tried to shake off Alfred’s grip. “Wanker! Tosser! Ya absolute fucking twat!”
“Geez, alright!” Alfred took his hands off Arthur and held them up in surrender. “Calm down.”
“I am calm!”
“Yeah, shouting at me is really proving your point,” Alfred snorted sarcastically. Arthur responded with more indecipherable gibberish.
“We should get him home now,” Francis spoke up.
“No, no’ yet,” Arthur slurred. “I need… I need another pint.”
Alfred ignored him. “Yeah, let’s get him out of here before he somehow embarrasses himself anymore.”
Francis looked at Alfred and noted the dark circles under his eyes. Poor kid, he always got stuck dealing with an inebriated Arthur. A task no one wanted.
“It’s late. You can go back to your hotel and focus on sleeping and heading home tomorrow. I’ve got…” Francis gestured over at a stumbling Arthur, “him.”
“I can’t just leave you. You know how he gets when he’s like this.”
“Trust me, I’ve been managing him for many, many, many years. I can…” Arthur suddenly leaned close to his face. And—only because he was caught off guard—Francis felt his cheeks warm.
“You’re pretty…” Arthur said with a dopey grin plastered on his face.
“And there he goes somehow embarrassing himself even more,” Alfred sighed.
“You’re pretty too,” Francis chuckled and pushed him back a little bit. “You’re also drunk.”
Arthur’s eyebrows furrowed. “I’m no’ drunk.”
“Oh, really now?” Francis brought his attention back to Alfred. “We’ll get a taxi. You’re going back to your hotel room, and I’ll make sure he gets inside his house, okay?” They were in England, so Arthur would be able to sleep in his own bed tonight.
“Really, you don’t have to do that.”
“But I am.”
Alfred gave him an uncharacteristically soft smile. “Thank you,” he said.
Francis smiled back.
“You wanna go!?” Arthur was back to shouting at the bartender. He hooked a leg over the bar, as if he were about to crawl over it. “I’ll beat yer arse right here!”
“I’m gonna get a taxi now,” Alfred huffed.
Francis nodded as he dragged the screaming, struggling Arthur off the bar.
—
“Are you sure you’ve got him?” Alfred asked.
“Yes, I do,” Francis replied, trying to ignore the Brit practically crawling on his lap. He dismissively waved a hand. “You can go.”
“It’s so weird to see him act all… clingy…” Alfred laughed. “I’m totally going to make fun of him for this later!”
With that, he climbed out of the taxi and scurried off into the hotel lobby.
The car drove out of the parking lot and back onto the dark midnight road. Stars and street lamps passed them by.
“What are you doing, mon ami?” Francis asked as Arthur got closer.
“Admiring you.”
In a rare occurrence, Francis was at a loss for words. Which was something he was never at a loss for, especially when it came to Arthur. He always had a quip or retort ready for the other man.
What is wrong with you today, Francis?
“Admiring me?”
“Mhm. I’ve always admired you.” His voice was soft and smooth like honey, and Francis felt himself shiver. It didn’t help when Arthur grabbed his chin. “I’ve always—”
“Oi!” the taxi driver barked up front. “No shagging back there, or I’m kicking you lot out!”
“We’re not shagging!” Arthur shouted and kicked the back of the driver’s seat. Just like a switch being flipped, it was right back to this Arthur…
“Ang— A-Arthur. Stop it,” Francis stuttered out. “How about you close your eyes and sleep for a little bit?”
“Don’ need no fucking sleep,” Arthur grumbled.
“You should, though. It’s late. And we’ll be at your house soon enough.”
“You’re…” A smirk rose on Arthur’s face. “You’re coming home with me?”
“Yes, I am. Somebody needs to make sure you don’t pass out before entering your house.”
“Good… I’d like that…” Arthur closed his eyes. “I’d like that a lot…”
Francis stared at Arthur for a few more seconds. The peaceful expression on his face and the steady rise and fall of his chest. Then he looked back out the window.
There were so many stars out tonight—like a million diamonds floating in the black sky. The moon was full, and it seemed to follow the car as it sped down the road.
Francis felt a weight land on his shoulder. He didn’t need to look over; he could see Arthur through the reflection in the window. He could also feel the breath tickle his neck.
It smelt like alcohol.
—
“Thank you,” Francis said as he paid the taxi driver.
“Cheers.”
Francis had spent enough time with Arthur to detect the sarcasm. Not saying anything else, the taxi driver accelerated off.
Brits…
Francis turned around to see Arthur trip. It was almost like slow motion. Francis ran over and caught him before he kissed the cold, hard ground.
“I looked away from you for one second.”
“Then don’t take your eyes off me again, love.”
“I—” Francis paused. “Let’s get you inside.”
Arthur leaned on him as they slowly made their way to the front door. It was only then Francis realized something quite important.
“You have your keys on you, right?”
“Hmm… I think they’re in my back pocket,” Arthur responded. He chuckled lowly. “You want to grab them?”
“If you remember any of this in the morning, you’re going to hate yourself.” Francis shook his head. “You can grab them yourself.”
“You’re no fun,” Arthur grumbled. He reached back and snatched the keys from his pocket. He tried to place a key in the keyhole but was clearly too drunk to do anything that involved fine motor skills.
“I can do it,” Francis said as he took the keys. He stuck the key in, but it wouldn’t turn. “That’s the wrong one. Do you know which key opens this door?”
“Fucking… I don’t know…”
Why did he even bother asking? Luckily there weren’t too many keys, so it didn’t take him too long to insert the right one. Francis opened the door.
“What direction is your room?”
“Oh, you want us to go to my room, hmm?”
“Just tell me what direction it is, Angleterre.”
“Fine.” Arthur rolled his eyes. “To the left.”
Francis helped Arthur walk towards the bedroom. When they got there, Francis guided him on the bed and placed the blankets over him.
“Good night, Arthur. Go to sleep.”
“W-wait.” Arthur sat up while Francis was about to make his way out of the room. “Where the hell are you going?”
“I was going to get you a cup of water, and then I was leaving.”
“Leaving?!” Arthur blinked. “You can’t leave!”
“Sorry. I have to go.”
“Wait, wait, wait.” Arthur threw the covers off of him and jumped out of bed, nearly falling in the process. He staggered over to Francis and peered up at him.
“‘m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I didn’t mean to. Stay. Please, stay. I love you.”
Those last three words made Francis stop breathing momentarily. It was like everything stopped. The world stopped spinning, the birds stopped chirping, and the tides stopped splashing. Francis shook his head, trying to get a hold of himself.
“You’re drunk, and you don’t know what you’re saying.”
“I am drunk, but I know what I am saying! I love you, Francis. You idiot.”
“Arthur…” Francis trailed off. “Lay back in bed.”
“Do I need to prove it to you?!” he yelled.
“C-calm down.”
“Because I’ll prove it to you right now! You wanna go?!”
“Angleterre, I—”
Arthur wrapped his arms around Francis's neck and kissed his cheek. It was something quick and chaste. Nothing like how Francis often fantasized his first kiss with Arthur would go. Which usually involved pressing Arthur against a wall. Making him blush and whimper and a whole lot of other imagery that Arthur would smack him upside the head for thinking about.
But this kiss affected him more than any other kiss he’s ever and probably will ever have. His brain felt like it was short-circuiting.
“Is that enough proof for ya, frog? Huh?”
“I-I-I-I—”
“Francis…?”
“I— y-yes, I’m okay.” Francis shook his head, trying to get his stupid brain to function again. “Listen, you’re not in the… right state at the moment. We will talk about this tomorrow.”
“But—”
“We will talk about this tomorrow,” Francis repeated.
Whatever “this” was. Francis doubted that Arthur would even remember this tomorrow. Did he want him to? What would he do if he didn’t? What would he do if he did? Merde, Arthur. He always made things so confusing and difficult…
He helped Arthur back to the bed and laid him back down. He brought the blankets back over him and tucked him in tighter this time.
“I’m no’ even tired,” Arthur muttered, even as his eyes flickered, fighting to keep them open. “Damn frog.”
“Bonne nuit, mon petit lapin.”
It didn’t take Arthur long to lose the battle. His face softened as he was dragged into the world of dreams. Francis stared at Arthur. He couldn’t help himself as he brushed a hand through his hair.
Francis then brought it back to his person. He forced his feet to take him out of that room and into the kitchen. He poured a glass of water, and the whole time he still felt that kiss lingering on his cheek. He touched it.
He sighed and returned to the bedroom, placing the water on the nightstand and then leaving the house. Not sparing Arthur another glance.
A million thoughts rushed through his mind at once, making any individual thought hard to pick out and leaving him confused. Confused on how he was supposed to feel… How he was supposed to react. There was one thought that stuck out, though.
Next time they kissed, Arthur would be sober. Or at least have a breath mint in his mouth.