Their life was full of jazz music, always jazz music. Alfred had given them 5 boxes stuffed with records as he could not fit them all in his shoebox apartment. They couldn't either, but they were more than happy to accommodate for the records.

Bing was crooning over the gramophone, "Kiss me once, then kiss me twice, then kiss me once again; it's been a long, long time. Haven't felt like this, my dear, since I don't remember when. It's been a long, long time."

They were sprawled out on the sofa, inadvertently cuddling. Arthur was leaning against Francis with his nose buried in a book as always. Today was an Agatha Christie mystery, nothing too pretentious, but exciting none the less. Francis was flipping through a glossy fashion magazine. A normal Sunday for the two, at least it was until Francis leant down and kissed his roommate.

It took a second for then to realize, a second where it seemed the entire world was waiting with bated breath. Arthur dropped his book and let out a strangled noise when it finally sank in.

"What did you just do?" He asked in a soft voice, backing away from Francis

"I don't know; I just got caught up in the moment!" Francis exclaimed

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, we were on the sofa, practically cuddling, and the music, and I don't know!" He sank down into the sofa. He had just ruined everything, hadn't he?

"Do you regret it?" Arthur asked, getting his voice back.

"Well, I just wrecked everything didn't I? I shouldn't have been such an idiot, I cannot believe-" he broke off into a babble of French, pacing around the apartment.

"Do you have feelings for me, Francis?" He asked softly, watching Francis pace.

He stopped and turned to look at Arthur. "Yes," he said softly "I've fancied you for a while now."

Arthur searched his eyes for a few seconds before crossing the room to stand in front of him. "The feeling is mutual." He murmured, before leaning forward and kissing him. "You didn't ruin anything."