New Morning

Arthur woke in a bed that was not his own. He was naked, the silk sheets felt cool and pleasant against his skin. He couldn't remember ever having silk sheets, but knew only two people who would, and only one of which that would actually drag him to his bed.

He looked up, ignoring the pounding migraine, finding Francis, already dressed in simple slacks and a button down shirt. He was holding a glass of water and a couple of Advil. He wasn't laughing, he wasn't teasing. His eyes were oddly serious, even as he smirked.

"What the fuck am I doing laying in your bed, naked I might add?" He wasn't nearly as upset as he sounded. He vaguely remembered a party, drinking himself silly until he'd been yelling out nonsense and casting spells hoping that they would work. Sadly, a few did. He remembered hoping Antonio was okay before the memory seemed to end, leaving him with static and the left over buzz of drunkenness. "Did you take advantage of me while I was drunk?!"

Francis let out a stiff laugh. "I figured, Arthur, that you would prefer not to sleep in clothes covered in your own vomit, hm?" Arthur had the decency to blush, taking the offered Advil and gulping them down with water.

"You could have at least given me something to sleep in! Naked while you could have done god knows what to me in the middle of the night...."

"I slept on the couch." Francis calmly interjected. Arthur frowned at him, watching his back as he pulled a few clean shirts from his wardrobe, tossing them at Arthur to choose from. Arthur picked the only one without frills, slipping it on and feeling to smooth cotton, glad to be covered.

"What's wrong with you?" He asked when Francis didn't comment on how cute he looked in the shirt that was too big for him. "Did something happen?"

Francis shook his head, moving towards the door. "It's just something you said at the party." Arthur caught his arm before he could leave, burying the concern that wanted to surface.

"What did I say?"

"Well...." Francis started, sitting next to Arthur on the bed. Close enough to be intimate, far enough to retain a sense of distance. "You were drunk, and crying at the bar, so I asked you what was wrong. And you said something about valentines day. Really, you were speaking such a thick cockney accent that if I didn't know you as well as I do, I wouldn't have been able to understand you at all." Francis shot him a quick smile before his expression melted back into one of seriousness.

"And then?" Arthur asked. Francis thought for a moment, pulling together his words carefully.

"So I asked you what about valentines day, and you started crying harder saying 'what's the point of it if the guy I like won't even pay attention to me', roughly translated of course." Francis fell silent again, almost as though he'd forgotten he'd been speaking.

Arthur felt panic rise in his stomach, his face going pale. He was always such an emotional wreck when he was drunk. And now it looked like he'd fucked up as royally as he possibly could.

"And I said, 'who? Alfred?' And you said 'no you idiot! You!' By then I figured you were severely drunk, so I took you home." Francis watched Arthur's face carefully for a reaction, he got nothing.

"Wow, I say such stupid things while drunk." Arthur mumbled loud enough for Francis to hear. "In any case, thanks for taking care of me. It was.... civil of you." He grabbed the pair of pants Francis had also left out for him, slipping them on in silence while hopping out the door.

Francis grabbed him by the shoulder. "I threw it off at first, petit lapin. But then I thought about it. And what you meant." He was slow to convey his meaning, staring into Arthur's eyes, studying his face. "Do you want attention from me?"

Arthur snorted, fighting back a blush. "I was drunk. Stop reading into it." He tried to give Francis an arrogant smirk, ask him 'what, is it you who wants my attention?' But his serious expression stopped him.

"I wouldn't, except that people have a habit of telling the truth when their inhibitions have been kicked out by a few bottles of whiskey." Arthur frowned.

"Shut up. Why would I want your attention?" He stood still as Francis wrapped his arms around him, holding him close, closer than either of them were used to.

"You want it. I can see it clearly now, when I look at you." He kissed his mouth chastely, fingers stroking his cheeks, drawing swirls. He pulled back, studying Arthur's reaction. Arthur leaned forward to kiss him again, this time with teeth and tongue and passion.

When they parted, Arthur smirked. "Have I captured your attention yet?"

Owari