"No mon ami! You're doing it wrong! Here, let help you."
"I don't need your help, bloody frog."
"If you didn't need my help, then why did you come to my restaurant and beg me to teach you to cook?" The Frenchmen laughed as his British companion struggled to find a suitable comeback. "Here, show you how to do it." Francis said as the stood behind Arthur, taking the smaller man's hands in his own and guiding the knife across the cutting board as he carefully diced the onions for the soup they were making. Not that he would ever tell anyone, but Arthur didn't mind how close Francis stood to him, or how he gently guided his hands. In fact, now that Arthur thought about it, Francis had been doing queer things like this all day. Standing closer than necessary when they were mixing dry ingredients together, heck, even letting Arthur into his restaurant's kitchen was oddly out of Francis' character.
"Now," Francis said, stepping away from Arthur, who almost protested the action, "we need to get some carrots and potatoes to go into the soup. Follow me." Francis led the way through the restaurant, finally stopping before a large metal door. "This is the pantry." He steps in and closes the door behind Arthur. "Want to know something interesting about the pantry?"
"What?" Arthur asked, gazing around at the variety of vegetables in the small room. He heard a loud click, and turned around to see Francis smirking at him.
"It locks from the inside."
A/N: This will probably be the only (even slightly) yaoi story I ever post. Ever. So enjoy it.