this is a canon setting but strongly tells about their personal feeling.

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This is not Antonio's first time visiting Arthur's place when they got back from the usual international conference which by chance was held in England. It's their little secret in which no one else knows about their intimate closeness and the untold reconciliation upon their past hostility towards each other that had been long forgotten.

The conference has always ended with exhaustion and massive energy drain that Antonio frequently gets his neck stiff and back stinging as he spent all the day sitting atop of the stony chair, engaging himself to the bland, long nation conference.

Arthur lives nearby from the venue; it takes 15 minutes away to drive to his residence with a car. Once they've arrived Antonio straightly halts towards the entrance door and unlocks it with the key that Arthur gave beforehand while Arthur parks his car. They enter in together and wander directly through the bedroom.

Everytime Antonio enters this room he can't help but tugs a wide tender smile as if he can hear their nonsensical laughter in their old time. Arthur could have replaced this room's door but it stays the same as the old time; creaking wood door where Antonio spots some dull bruises of weather damage. Arthur has had his floor polished and his walls painted but all of their memories haven't been replaced.

"Absolutely knackered! No pub-crawling for me tonight!"

Arthur exhales a big sigh while stretching his aching arms and Antonio nods an agreement. He helps Arthur unlacing his tie before arranging their suits to hang them on the door just like an old couple that had been married for fifty years without they realising it themselves.

Arthur sinks himself down to his cozy bed and Antonio sits next to him.

"I miss the old days," he murmurs, gazing through the ceiling that holds everything about their bygone past..

Antonio blinks. He puts his wristwatch atop of the nightstand beside the bed, then glances at the Brit through his thick black lashes.

" We. " Antonio corrects him. A slight exhausted smile is engraved on his tired face. "We miss the peaceful old days indeed," he pulls the back of Arthur's neck and lets his head rest on his lap. He strokes the scruffy blond locks and the younger man giggles in his hold. "We sure really love reminiscing about our good old days innit?" he hums.

They were good just enough; their past marriages and the old sacred vows. It was all fine, at least, far before bad things happened and destroyed them to pieces that nobody could never fix.

But Arthur is here now, very close to him that Antonio can easily tell how warm his breath is and how tight Arthur clutches his arms on Antonio's waist. Antonio misses this. He misses and appreciates every second where they don't have to argue over petty little things like how they used to be.

He is the old Arthur who doesn't hold back revealing his childish side only when he is with Antonio; only when nobody is around them. He is not the vile, cold-hearted England whom Antonio used to detest. The old Arthur is back. His daring, his gentle, charming prince. Or his knight, if he says. His favourite knight whom he walks along with and they would entangle their fingers firmly on each step of their long journey.

"Antonio."

"Hm?"

"Please stay here tonight."

Arthur buries his face on Antonio's stomach and he inhales deeply on his shirt. "Only tonight if it's alright. I will drive you to Heathrow by tomorrow."

By all means Antonio chuckles he cups Arthur's face, squeezing his cheeks until the younger man laughs breathlessly. "Well of course Arthur. I didn't have any plan for going home exactly tonight."

Staying for only one night is never a big deal. Antonio would even be glad to spend another night or two when he wishes as long as no one finds out. In fact they have spent thousands of nights in the same room; this room, Antonio has always been familiar with Arthur's place and so has Arthur.

"What would you fancy for our breakfast tomorrow?"

"It can be anything as long as you cook," he genuinely answers the question from the purest side of his heart. Back then when they were living together Antonio always cooked for Arthur for every meal; breakfast, lunch, dinner, even snack times. Arthur was always spoilt with such splendid endearment Antonio harboured for him. He vaguely recalls his old memory where Antonio brought him a full plate of warm mushroom soup and oh he could clearly smell the rich, promising savoury taste.

Arthur sighs a long breath and Antonio can't partly hold his smile. He runs a finger to poke the tip of Arthur's nose as if he is teasing him.

"You're little baby."

Arthur lifts his face and stares through Antonio's green eyes which are ironically identical as his own, before he lays his lips on Antonio's. It's neither warm nor cold but they do adore it. When Arthur pulls himself up he trails a small triumphant grin.

"But yours."

"Right."

The elder of the two heartily laughs. It's not just a noisy laughter; it is his contentment, the way his face convulses, the way his green eyes are filled with joy. Arthur could've written a mile long poem if he wished but instead, he pulls Antonio's hands in a firm grasp and kisses each of his knuckles respectfully and earnestly as if he's kissing the hand of his kings and queens but still, he values Antonio above everything nevertheless.

Thus, that night will also be one of their little secrets.