When the winter comes and the evenings get colder, Arthur likes to curl up in the corner of his sofa. There's fire on the fireplace, creating a nice, comfy atmosphere as the Briton picks up his favorite book and wraps a blanket around himself so he won't get cold. There is a steaming cup of tea on the coffee table, waiting for Arthur.

Everything is almost perfect.

Almost.

Even in these quiet moments, there is something bothering Arthur. He is alone, once again. When everyone else is cuddling close to their lover, receiving gentle kisses and just enjoying the closeness of someone they love, he is all alone. There's no one holding him, stroking his hair, telling him how beautiful he looks in the dim light of the fire.

He has always been alone.

When the door to the Brit's house opens, he doesn't lift his look from the book. It doesn't matter who it is, it's probably just someone who needs notes from the last meeting or just wants to disturb him somehow. But this time, the visitor doesn't say a word; he just sits down next to Arthur and pulls the Briton into a gentle hold.

Arthur smiles softly as he smells the familiar cologne and he snuggles closer to the other man, murmuring quietly how the other was a frog for coming in without his permission.

The Frenchman laughs softly and plants a soft kiss on the top of Arthur's head; a gentle and tender gesture that holds more love than any word could ever do.

Arthur feels content in the other one's arms and he leans against him, the book now placed in the Frenchman's lap as he continues to read, a happy smile on his lips.

With Francis, it's not a quiet moment of loneliness. It's a moment of peace and love.

Oh my god. Just when did I write something last time? I've been too lazy to write anything lately, I'm sorry ^^