It's Not a Fashion Statement
Francis, Arthur acknowledged with a snort of disgust, was prancing. Francis only ever pranced when he was teasing someone, or he had something new to show off. He figured, where it concerned him, it was probably going to be a good mix of both.
"What now, you bloody frog?" The Englishman groused irritably, crossing his arms over his chest. He was still annoyed (pissed) with the Frenchman for helping with Alfred's revolution. Had the other done it simply to annoy him, as he always did? So he waited until Francis had stopped prancing long enough to tease him so that he could punch the bastard and get on with his life. If only things were that simple.
Francis smirked, executing a perfect twirl, not even mussing his tricorne hat, cocked to the side. He his hair was long and powdered white, tied back by a black ribbon, and Arthur was quite convinced he looked absolutely ridiculous.
"Do you like it? It's all the rage these days. But then, I shouldn't expect you to follow fashion, should I? You never have." Francis gave him what was supposed to be a charming smile, leaning against him. He smelt of perfume and powders and creams, like nobility. It was making Arthur nauseous.
So Arthur gave Francis a roguish grin of his own, not bothering to take the frenchman's arm off him, even as his hand wandered lower. "Fashion?" He asked mockingly, lifting one thick eyebrow. "Is this just like those ridiculous ruff things you wore for at least a century?"
Francis sniffed, waving his hand flippantly. "You wore them too, Mon Cher. I thought you looked very cute in them, back then." Here, he winked suggestively. Arthur grunted, not deeming the statement worth replying to. "And cravats too, I remember you being quite fond of those." Arthur blushed, scowling darkly as he fingered the cravat hanging at his neck, though far simpler than the ones Francis was referring to.
"Well what about you dancing around in your poofy pants and lace like an idiot?!" Francis gave him a feigned upset look, perfectly manicured hand clutching his chest as though in agony.
"They were not just poofy pants, L'Angleterre! They were art!" Arthur snorted in disbelief, rolling his eyes as Francis dramatically continued. "Fashion isn't just flouncing about trying to look good and out do the other man!" He paused thoughtfully, touching a finger to his lips. "Though that does make up a good part of it... But it's about expressing yourself!"
Arthur looked at Francis for a long moment, genuinely surprised at his reaction. And just when he thought that the pervert was actually being sensitive for once, his lips were stolen in a kiss, and Francis was skipping away, laughing at him over his shoulder. "You'll think about being fashionable then, won't you, Mon Lapin? I'll help you if you want! Worse comes to worse, you can just start wearing that green cape of yours again, that was adorable!" And then he was gone, throughly satisfied with a day's work.
"Stupid! Obviously I'm not going to wear that cape again, you git!" Arthur huffed petulantly, stamping his foot as he turned his back to where Francis had been. No matter what, every time a new trend sprang up, Francis was there to tease him about it. And it didn't matter if the fashion lasted for centuries or a few pathetic years. He'd make fun of Arthur for it. He'd show him! He could out do the French wanker any day!
Arthur sighed and touched his hair, staring up at the fringe of blonde on his forehead. Should he invest in a wig, then?
Owari