"Arthur," Francis called to his lover over the flat while he was lazing on the sofa, doing nothing, since there wasn't anything likable enough to watch on the numerous BBC channels currently nor did he feel like reading a book. "What is it?" the Brit asked from the kitchen, looking at the couch where the Frenchman was laying, his legs dangling over the armrests. "Come here." Sighing, he left his kettle unattended and loitered over to his roommate. "What is it?" he asked again, looking down at Francis widely smiling at him. "Come closer," he said, Arthur rolling his eyes, a small smirk playing on his lips. He leaned in, but all the Frenchman said was to come closer again. The Brit leaned in until Francis' lips braised his ear and he shuddered from the feeling of his hot breath against his skin. "Bring me more coffee, s'il vous plaît," he whispered, a wide and gloating grin forming on his face. Arthur rolled his eyes once again and turned around, getting a soft slap on his bottom.
Francis cursed at his broken right leg, which was now itching horrendously in the white plaster surrounding it. A few days ago he had gone running with Arthur, since the gym had been closed for an annual maintenance check-up, and because the weather was as horrible as the weather in London during November could get, the roads were completely frozen. Of course, Arthur had objected to the point of Francis going running without proper football boots or something similar in fear of him slipping and breaking a leg or an arm, but Francis had brushed him off, saying he was going to be fine. Sure, the start of the run had been quite adequate, but some time later Arthur was already sitting with him in the infirmary, squeezing his hand and hiding his face into his lover's chest, since he couldn't stand the white bone sticking out of Francis' leg; not that he couldn't stomach injuries or blood or anything like that, but the fact that his Frenchman was (a little) brutally wounded made his head feel light and heart queasy.
"I still can't believe you broke your leg, you look way too tough for something like that to happen," Arthur said and placed the new coffee on the small table in front of the couch. He jumped to sit on the Frenchman, causing the latter to laughingly cough from the sudden blow to his abdomen. "To be fair, I did slip on the ice AND got hit by a car. I still remember how mortified you had looked and it really, really touched my heart, cher," Francis said, lightly kissing the Brit who had leaned in and was now resting on his torso. "Of course, I was worried, you twat, you got hit by a car," Arthur huffed and pouting, closed his eyes. "That just goes to show that you should listen to me more. And that you should drink more milk." "Oui-oui, mon chou," his lover chuckled and kissed him more, getting a little more intimate every moment. Suddenly Arthur sprung up and stretched himself. "You shouldn't strain yourself or do anything physical until your leg is healed, remember the doctor's orders, Francis, dear?" he smugly grinned, giving him a small peck on the cheek, and went back to the kitchen to get his tea, leaving the Frenchman grow more and more irritated at his broken leg.
Francis was surprised, feeling his cellphone buzz against his thigh in his pocket. He gauged it out and wasn't as surprised as before seeing the caller-ID belong to his friend Gilbert. "Oui," he answered and cringed at the nasal yell screeching into his ear. "Why aren't you ANYWHERE?" the Prussian demanded. "What?" Francis was confused and looked at Arthur who was cocking his eyebrow at him, hearing Gilbert's voice all the way to the kitchen over the flat. "I mean, you're not in you Parisian apartment, you're not at Matt's place and I am with Antonio, standing behind Artie's flat with no answer! Where the hell are you?" Gilbert kept screaming, to which Francis rolled his eyes. "Didn't it never occur to them that I just might not have been in during the time they had been behind my door?" he thought to himself before answering. "He's here," he heard Arthur say from the door-frame to the duo standing in the corridor. Francis hung up and crawled up into a sitting position in order to get his crutches so he could go and greet his friend. Gilbert and Antonio collapsed against the now closed door upon seeing their friend, laughing maniacally at him. "What the hell-" was all Antonio managed to gasp out between breaks of laughter, while Gilbert was tearing on the ground, clutching his stomach from getting cramps over too violent chortling. "For your information he slipped while running and got hit by a car," Arthur retorted and folded his arms, not appreciating the two laughing over Francis' misery. This only caused them to laugh more and the two lovers just left them to calm down and get themselves together.
"So, how come you're here, Francis? Weren't the two of you supposed to be in a big fight and you live in France or something? Did Artie actually break your leg?" Gilbert bluntly asked while he was enjoying one of Francis' baked tarts. Antonio slapped himself on the forehead, not believing how ignorant his friend could be. "You idiot, what if they're still fighting and Francis came over to talk things through?" he hissed, shaking the Prussian by his hair. "Why are you two fighting anyway?" he asked, looking at the two sit on the sofa. The Frenchman face-palmed, thinking of ways to explain the stupidity of his friends. "We're not in a fight anymore," Arthur chuckled, making Francis smile at the happy voice of his lover. "Well, that's good," Gilbert said, licking his plate, "so why are you here, Fran?" "Well, I live here," the Frenchman answered, cocking an eyebrow at the smugly smiling Spaniard. Gilbert lazily waved his hand in the air and sighed. "I know you live in this house, but why are you spending your sick-days here with Artie - no offence -, while you could easily pick up some fine women while doing the oh-I'm-so-helpless routine and bring 'em to your place?" Francis raised another brow. "Maybe it's because this is my place?" he asked, looking at the surprised Gilbert and the more widely smiling Antonio. The Prussian leaned in, squinting his eyes. "What, you're roommates now?" he drawled. "Well, yes, we're in a relationship, didn't I tell you guys?"
Arthur was startled by the sudden outburst of Antonio, who was shoving his fists up into the air and yelling victoriously, while Gilbert was dumbfounded and still stared at Francis, eyelids nearly touching. "What do you mean?" he drawled again, causing the rest to marvel at the idiocy or stubbornness of the Prussian. "It means they date and hug and kiss and fuck- I'm sorry, now it's make love, right? And live in the same place and hold hands and other stuff like that, you stupid shit!" Antonio giggled and smacked Gilbert against the back of his head. "So pay up, bitch, 500 euros, easy money!" "What?!" Gilbert now finally got it and stood up, screaming. "You mean... you two... you're... mein Gott," he dribbled out, causing the Brit to feel a little awkward and the Frenchman to grow irritated at his friends making his serious relationship seem like a plaything or something unimaginable. "So what?" he asked, standing up as fast as he could with his plaster, and looked at his two friends, intimidating them. "It's none of your business who I choose to be with! I love, who I love, and let me tell you, I love Arthur with all my heart and even more!" he scuffed while folding his arms. He was surprised to see the two laugh and pat him on the shoulder. "Of course, we don't doubt you, it's just that we're happy for you, both of you, is all!" Antonio cheered and sat back down, pulling Gilbert along with him. "Yeah, yeah!" Gilbert laughed. "We just didn't think neither of you had it in you, since it was clear as day you both had a thing for each other but did nothing to advance towards it. Still, I guess Antonio had a little more hope for you than I did," he retorted, weeping over his lost money. Sighing, Francis sat down and laughed at the unbelievableness of his friends. He smiled happily, feeling Arthur's hands wrap around his, and resting his head against the Brit's, the four continued to make up for lost time and chatted until late hours.