Chapter Text
It was quite the chilly day in England.
The foggy alleyways of London were certainly not those of the charming roads of Paris which Francis had grown ever so accustomed to, the weather leaving him with a sour taste in his mouth— whether it be from his mood or the cigarette between his middle and index finger as he stood on some balcony of the College overlooking the dreary city.
On top of how absolutely fantastic his morning was going already, Francis was also expected to sit in a meeting with the man whom he's despised since the beginning of his job at the College, Arthur Kirkland.
Francis had hated the British bastard since the moment Arthur had dared lay that bitter, English glare of his onto Francis' figure. The man's personality was just horrid! Something more dead than roadkill. He wished he could say the reason for this was simply because the man was glib, but Arthur was always a thought out man, however annoying and dry he may be, meaning his stale attitude was either completely on purpose or simply how he was from birth.
The more Francis thought about him, the more annoyed with himself he became. Why think so often of the man whom he detested? Arthur had neither quirks nor quiddities, so why concern himself over the desolate mind of someone such as him?
Just as Francis was deep in thought, the door to the verandah opened as someone stepped on and spoke in a thick, annoyed British tone.
"Well isn't this just bloody fantastic. Of course you're the one I have to share a smoke spot with." Arthur grumbled out, glaring at Francis as he begrudgingly lit a cigarette.
"I believe it was my spot first, besides, it's not like you own the College." Francis replied, taking a drag with an unbothered expression, though the slight twitch of the corner of his mouth spoke otherwise.
"Says the new professor..." Arthur mumbled, clearly far too fed up to really fight him.
The two sat there in silence for a few seconds before Francis blew a puff of smoke in the direction of Arthur's face and left.
The rest of the day passed as usual, although the two were equally far too tired to fight, they avoided each other for most of the day.
Then came the dreaded meeting.
Arthur was, of course, already there. Shooting Francis a look as he adjusted his tie and sat up a little straighter, lips curling into a slight scowl as he inhaled Francis' perfume. The dean started with the meeting, though Arthur couldn't help but glance at the Frenchman.
'It's only because he's so bright and obnoxious it practically forces people to look at him.' Arthur thought to himself lazily, still staring at Francis from the corner of his eye. The more he looked, the more he noticed. The way Francis' hair lit up a little when the sun shone on it, the light hook in his nose, how his eyebrows naturally raised in conversation, how close their shoulders were...Arthur quickly stood up a little straighter as he snapped out of it, he was simply...getting to know his enemy, was all. Arthur's face flushed and he quickly excused himself to the washroom.
Arthur walked as quickly as he could to a staff washroom, looking at the slightly red colour of his face, he splashed water on it, trying to cool off. His breath fogged the mirror as he breathed heavily, hands gripping the sink. 'This is normal...I mean, I don't feel anything but hatred for him, all this is is just me feeling so utterly mad with how perpetually smug that man is.'
Once Arthur felt well enough to return, he opened the door, only to be greeted with Francis' smirk. He swore he could feel his face heat up, the same colour from before returning, perhaps even deeper now that they were face to face.
"Arthur~" Said Francis in a sing-song tone of voice, only for Arthur to frown angrily at him.
"What do you want, Frog?" Arthur snapped, poorly attempting to hide his flustered expression
"Don't act like you didn't think I saw the way you were looking at me back there, you were practically ogling me, I'm not an idiot, Arthur." He said with a change of tone, clearly more annoyed with the Brit now.
"I was not—"
Arthur was cut off as Francis pushed him into the bathroom, locking the door, and kissing him firmly. Arthur kissed back for a second, before pushing him away and slapping him right across the cheek. Before Francis could react, Arthur grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket and pulled him into another kiss, it was clumsy and aggressive.
Arthur tried to downplay the flutter that gave way in his stomach, but to no avail, Francis was an annoyingly good kisser, and his mouth naturally split open as the Frenchman slid his tongue into Arthur's mouth. He let out an involuntary moan before pushing Francis against the wall and kissing him with even more ferocity than before.
The two pushed and pinned each other against anything they could find in the cramped space, slapping and punching along the way to gain the upper hand.
They ended up on the floor, Francis straddling Arthur as they panted together in the small room. Both of their shirts had the first few buttons open, and Arthur’s tie was loosened enough to show where Francis had bitten his shoulders and chest.
"Francis..?" Arthur breathed
"Oui?" Francis asked in an almost hopeful tone
"Get off."
A shocked and almost offended look flashed over Francis' face as he shifted off of Arthur, still sitting on the bathroom floor as he watched Arthur compose himself in the mirror, each man's lips still kiss-swollen.
"Get up and fix yourself, will you?" Arthur spoke as if nothing had happened at all, lip still split from when Francis had punched him exceptionally hard in the mouth during their make-out session earlier.
Arthur finished touching himself up as much as he could, luckily no black eye, and left Francis on the bathroom floor in a daze, still in that dreamy state of mind.