Short one (or maybe two)-shots, featuring anyone and everyone. Varying genres, pairings, quality and AUs.

In this one:

Characters: Arthur and Francis
Universe: Human AU
Genre: Fluff

The way Arthur had proposed was funny.

(We're out of butter, Frog. Go get some, would you?)

Francis had come home from a day at the restaurant. He was tired. That was normal. He'd stopped at the front door to fish his keys out of his pocket, only to have a flash of green catch his eye. That was not normal. He looked down and saw a post-it. It just said, 'Oi, you.'

(You forgot again didn't you? Go get the butter today!)

Odd. He'd opened the door, wondering why Arthur (who else had such lovely handwriting?) would have left it.

He had to stop for a moment and wonder if his eyes were playing tricks on him. His entire living room was covered in post-its.

(Butter! I expect a fresh pat by the time I get home.)

He'd plucked one off the wall. 'Let's get hitched,' it read. Francis looked up and plucked off another one. 'Hey you! Marry me.' And the next. 'Be my Frog forever?'

All of them were like that, or variations of the same message. Arthur had covered his walls with marriage proposals.

(Where's the butter?)

Francis had burst out laughing. There were even some stuck to the ceiling fan.

Arthur loved post-its. Francis wandered around the room, reading everything. How long had it taken? How many trees had Arthur killed? Horrible as it was, Francis couldn't bring himself to care.

It didn't take long to find Arthur hiding behind the sofa with an empty bag and his favourite pen.

"Yes," said Francis simply.

(Butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter)

They're married now. They live in a flat downtown with teal walls and mismatched furniture. Arthur goes to work in the mornings and Francis leaves to do the night shift in the evenings.

Sometimes they miss each other entirely, but it's not so bad because Arthur still loves post-its. Francis often finds them when he wakes up.

(This is margarine, you silly Frog, not butter.)

Sometimes he leaves them for Arthur too, where the other man can find them when he gets home from work. By the time Francis gets back Arthur may or may not be asleep. Francis only curls up into bed behind him.

(Never mind, I suppose. It's better than nothing.)

He still has each and every post-it Arthur proposed to him with. They're in a little black notebook so he won't wear them out from unfolding them to read so much.

(We need bread, too.)

Most of the time the messages are mundane things like what he needs to do, or whether or not there is a fresh pot of coffee in the kitchen.

If Francis is really lucky, he will wake up to a post-it stuck on his forehead instead of in some haphazardly-chosen part of the house. More often than not, these special post-its will say something short, but sweet. They aren't much, but they're more than enough.

Francis keeps these too.

(Also, I love you. You drool while you sleep.)