FrUk One-shots

12

Arthur draped one of the curtains aside so he could get a better look out of the window.

Large, grey clouds covered the sky, as per usual, and it was hammering it down with rain. Anyone out there would get soaked within seconds.

For a moment he stood listening to the sound of the rain smashing against the windows, the roof, the walls... He honestly enjoyed the sound of it.

After a few moments he let the curtain go and wandered back over to his chair, resuming whatever he was reading.

A few minutes of engrossed reading later, Arthur was brought out of his thoughts when there was a rather quick knock on his door. He set down the book and walked over to the door, thinking who on earth would be at his door in this weather.

He unlocked the door, greeted by a bouquet of flowers. Arthur could hear the rain slamming against the pavement outside a lot more clearly now. The bouquet moved down to reveal a person, sodden right through to his skin, panting.

"Francis?! What on earth are you doing here? You're soaking!" The brit looked him up and down a few times.

"I wan-"

"Actually no, save it for a minute. Stay there, I'll go and get you a towel," Arthur cut Francis off before he could even begin, before turning on his heels and running to go and grab a towel. He constantly questioned himself why he was here.

Instead of giving the towel to Francis, Arthur left it in his room, so the other could dry off there instead of in front of him. He ran back down the stairs, almost stumbling, and came face to face with Francis again, who was standing under the the small ledge in front of the door.

"Okay... go upstairs in my room and dry yourself off and change. I'm sure there's something in my wardrobe that'll fit you, at least I hope there is, anyway. You'll have to hang your clothes up somewhere to dry and the towel will have to go in the laundry... I'll hold these for you," Arthur took the flowers while Francis stiffly walked inside. "Hurry up, I don't particularly want my house covered in rain water because of you," he scoffed. Francis smirked at this and began making his way to Arthur's room.

By the time Francis had finished, it was still pouring down with rain. The Frenchman had donned a larger jumper that the Brit owned with one of the only pairs of trousers he could find that fit him. Even though the combination was random and fit by chance, they matched surprisingly well. His hair was also a mess, he had managed to dry quite a bit of it - enough so it wouldn't drip - but areas like his roots were still damp.

He trudged down the stairs, and saw Arthur in the living room gazing out of the window. The brit turned and looked at him upon hearing his arrival. "That's better." He smiled a little, but it faded after remembering he never got to hear Francis's story. "Tell me why you're here, seen as I cut you off earlier. Sorry about that." He motioned for the other to follow him and sit at the table with him, to which Francis complied.

They each sat in a chair, and the table was quite small so even though they were opposite each other, they were still relatively close. Arthur kept eyeing up the bouquet, which, after drying the packaging, he had left on the middle of the table in front of the pair.

"Francis, why did you have flowers?"

"I wanted to give them to someone special."

"Oh? Could I perhaps ask who it is?"

"You."

"Me?"

"Arthur, listen to me," Francis reached out and held Arthur's hands in his. "I love you with all my heart. I always have, even when we argue. I adore everything about you, from your stubbornness to your overall personality... to your blonde mess of a mop to your eyes." He smiled gently at a rather surprised brit.