Arthur felt very out of place. His fingers tapped against the bars counter, and his green eyes shifted around the room as if looking for an escape. He would have been out of there long ago, had it not been for the exact reason he had stepped into the dreaded place.
The walls were covered in rich white paint; though dirty and grim climbed the walls of the seedy bar. The stools were all broken and some even sticky at the legs where men and woman had spilled their drinks in drunken rage. The pool table on the side was tacky and useless, seeing as the owner had to dispose of the pool sticks weeks before when a fight broke out. Getting the bartenders attention was harder than anything, and the half empty beer glass Arthur had in front of him wasn't enough. The people shouting and talking around him was not doing anything for his headache.
"Hey!" He called out, waving his hand forward, his blonde hair blowing slightly in a vent above him.
The bartenders eyes landed on him and scowled slightly, the mans red hair bouncing as he stepped forward, "What do you need?"
"Shot, the strongest you have." Arthur said, trying to ignore the annoyed stare of the bartender.
"Right." He grumbled, turning back around and fetching a glass, before he poured a particularly nauseous looking substance into it. The glass made a clunking sound as it was slammed down on the counter in front of Arthur accompanied by a smug grin.
"Strongest we have. I have to say, you're only the second person to order that." The man said, letting out a deep cackle and turning away.
Arthur glared down at his beverage, eyeing the beer and the shot carefully; wondering which to take first. His eyes shifted from his beverage across the bar, where a golden haired man sat. Golden haired was as close to the color as Arthur could think of. His hair was parted almost in the middle, cascading down his head in soft curls down past his chin where it was cut off. It almost seemed messy, but Arthur knew everything about this mans looks was thought out and planned.
"Bloody Git…" Arthur mumbled out, grabbing his beer in a death grip, and tilting back the glass. The thick beverage ran down his throat, almost making him cough.
"Be careful, I'm not dragging your drunk ass home tonight." A whimsical voice spoke from behind him, and the English mans shoulders went taught.
"I thought you were enjoying your company…" Arthur mumbled, staring down at his nearly empty glass.
"I was more enjoying the looks you gave us every once in a while, love." The other blonde, a thick accent almost making Arthur's head hurt as he tried to ignore it. He loved that accent, much as he would never admin it. It was beautiful to his ears. Just as he knew that from the look his lover got in his eyes when he spoke, he knew that love of accents was requited.
"Francis Bonnefoy, ignoring woman and men? Never would I have thought." Arthur said, tilting his head to the side and finally glancing at the other.
"Arthur Kirkland, drinking and not falling on his face? Never would I have thought…" Francis shot back, his eyes flashing wickedly.
"Shut-it. You've no right to talk to me." Arthur grumbled, pulling up his drink once again to his rosy lips.
"Non." Francis said, reaching out and pushing the rim of the glass away from Arthur's lips gently, looking at him with soft blue eyes, "I have every right to talk to you."
"Don't push my drink away, wanker." Arthur said, pulling at the drink and making Francis let go of the fragile glass, "I have every right to be forgetting you in the bottom of an alcoholic drink."
"Arthur I'm sick of this! We need to talk." Francis said, reaching out and pushing his drink away again, much to the English mans displeasure.
"What do you want to talk about? About how you brought back that girl last night and let her into our room while I was asleep?" Arthur snapped out, biting his bottom lip to make it stop trembling.
"Mon amour…" Francis murmured, his French accent coming out even stronger than before, "Non, you have it all wrong."
"You said that before and yet you decline to tell me how I have it wrong." Arthur said, wishing for once he had not consumed any alcohol and maybe his eyes wouldn't be getting wet with emotion at the moment.
"I told you, I was out with Antonio and Gilbert and they brought her back!" Francis said, his hand grasping Arthur; clasping their fingers together. Arthur pushed back, yanking his hand away.
"Why were you out with them… On that night?" Arthur whispered. Maybe he was overreacting. Maybe his emotions were running high because he was a bit of a lightweight, but in his mind he had every right to be angry. He had every right to want to punch Francis in the face for going out with his trio of friends on their anniversary. Then him waking up late at night only to realize there was a woman sleeping in the chair beside their bed. A woman that was covered in Francis' coat from the suit that Arthur had purchased in London for his lover himself.
"Because Antonio called and said he had seen that Italian boy, and wanted to go with him but this drunk girl wouldn't leave him alone." Francis' fingers seeked out Arthur's again. This time, the bushy eyed blonde did not pull them away, "She was terribly drunk and I know what would have happened to her had I not. I understand you sometimes think I am a bit of a pervert, but never on people who aren't willing and not while I am in a relationship with you. I would never allow anybody to be hurt in such a way… so how could I leave her there as she was?"
Arthur's head slumped forward along with his shoulders. It was almost as if the fight had gone out of him. No longer caring that Francis story could be a well thought out lie. The French cook had never lied to him before; and he knew how he felt about this type of thing.
"Why bring her back there though?" Arthur mumbled, pulling up the beer glass and taking a very small drink from it.
"Where else? I knew neither of us would have done harm to the mon lapin, and I did not know where else to bring her. Give her a hotel, I thought, but she had no money and I did not either."
Arthur hummed softly, thinking this over. The girl had left abruptly the next morning, complaining loudly of a headache and just out the door she went. Not a thank you or a well deserved smile to the men who had taken her in.
"I believe you." Arthur mumbled, turning in his seat, finally placing the beer down, and leaning against Francis.
"Thank the lord." Francis praised, putting his arms tightly around his companion, pulling him tightly against his chest, "If your head gets any more hard headed then I don't know what I shall have to do next time to convince you."
"You mean to tell me you plan on bringing home strange woman for now on?" Arthur whispered, nuzzling his face gently into the crook of Francis neck, and half seating his rear on the others lap.
"If you would like that." Francis eyes flashed wickedly again, and a soft kiss was placed into Arthur's wild locks, "Which do you prefer, me or a random woman off the streets?"
"Oh random woman for sure. Hopefully they won't run around naked after their showers unlike you." Arthur quipped back, tilting his head up.
Each of these little remarks were given softly, as if this was the way they spoke when in love. They were not insults; it was mild teasing, because they knew they loved each other. Because no matter what they knew that these simple little quirks about the other they did not mind. Sure, maybe it was mushy and stupid and neither would admit to this. Pride sometimes is a double sided problem; good and bad.
"That was one time! You will never let that drop, will you?" Francis grumbled out, running a hand up Arthur's back gently, dipping into the curve of his spin and down to his waist to grip onto his belt with the tips of his fingers.
Arthur's only response was an amused and slightly grumpy sounding hum from deep within his throat, his eyes landing on a mouse crawling across the floor and running across a mans black shoe. Arthur's nose wrinkled up and he pulled back from the embrace abruptly.
"This place is so grimy…" Arthur mumbled quietly, ever polite so the bartender could not overhear over the clatter of glasses and chairs being rattled.
"You're the one who came in here. I just followed you." Francis admitted, flashing his smile.
"I knew you would, "Arthur murmured, standing up and stretching, before placing a few notes down onto the counter for the bartender, "I was going to make you jealous. I hear they give you lap dances here if you ask kind enough."
Francis' eyes narrowed and his arm snapped around, wrapping around Arthur's waist into a hard embrace, "You've no idea how jealous that would have made me." Francis murmured in his ear.
"I knew it," Arthur looked up with a smug smile, "Hey, maybe she would have even asked my name."
"Doubt it, love." Francis let out a laugh, starting for the door, and tugging along Arthur behind him, "Everything they do is bittersweet."
Arthur shook his head. Of course Francis would know. Before Arthur had met Francis he knew the French man had been a bit of a bar junkie. He'd slept around, not much caring for anything, with two drinks in hand. Then the man had run into the green-eyed 'angel' as he had said one night in a lonely pub outside of London. Arthur had dismissed him at once, eyeing his lipstick-covered cheek with disgust, and turning back around. For weeks Arthur would come to that pub, and Francis would be there. Everyday it would be a different horrible pick-up line. A different way to get rejected; a different way to make Arthur want to come back.
Then one day Francis had come to the bar dressed in a beautiful suit, his hair combed back perfectly, and his face shaved nicely with just a bit of stubble. He had held out his hand and, bowed and given Arthur a rose. Arthur chose right then, looking at the cleaned up man, maybe a chance could be given.
Since then, two years had passed and Francis had cleaned up his act. Arthur had stopped going to pubs and getting drunk due to being alone. They were odd pieces that didn't really match but to each other. Like a badly made puzzle yet they had finally found a pair in themselves. Since then they had moved to downtown London once, then to Paris over the summer. They had met a pair of odd blonde twins, one shy and soft-spoken, and the other loud and obnoxious. Francis had found himself not alone even while Arthur was gone on longer business trips, when he had run into his friends Gilbert and Antonio. They had made friends and found family in other people. They were no longer alone.
"Hey, eyebrows!" A voice called out from the pair, making them both turn around to look curiously at the bartender. One with an amused look and the other a scowl at the nickname.
"I paid you, sir." Arthur said, leaning lightly against Francis.
"Yeah, but you aren't going to try my special drink? I want to see your reaction compared to the other guy."
Arthur's twisted up, and Francis let out a chuckle, knowing a slightly hurtful remark was probably on the way.
"I'm afraid I may have faked it, I wouldn't be caught dead in this place, let alone try your drink." Arthur called out and turned back around, his coat drifting in the wind as he threw the door open and stepped out with Francis right behind him.