"Ah, mon amour, you're always so feisty~"
"Just get the hell outta here you bloody pervert!"
"I will, but I will come back as I am yours forever!"
"Leave me the fuck alone!"
The door closed, and the angry Brit was left alone to pull the phone out of the wall, grab another beer and sit down, cradling his head in his hands.
------
Arthur sat on the floor with his back against the couch armrest, trying to remember what had happened last night.
'Okay, he teased me, I got pissed off, we fought (okay, well Arthur yelled and Francis made lewd statements) he left so I got drunk off my face and watched four hours of reruns of Black Adder.'
Well, that's what he assumed, from the carnage, empty beer cans and DVDs lying everywhere. And unfortunately, it wasn't an unusual setting.
'If Francis were here, he'd bring me panadol or something, and probably would have his arms around me, stroking my hair- dammit!' Arthur gripped his hair in vain, tying to forget the Frenchman, who remained the cause and solutions to all his problems.
He hated Francis.
He despised Francis.
He loathed Francis.
He loved Francis.
He missed Francis…
Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted something familiar. 'Francis' jacket.' Arthur blushed at the thought of seeing Francis again, not a good thing. Shaking any impure or fanboy thoughts from his mind, he got up and dressed, finally grabbing the jacket before heading out of the door into the crisp autumn morning.
'I'm just returning his jacket, like a proper gentleman. Nothing more, I'm just doing the frog a favour…'
-----
A sharp series of knocks on his front door woke Francis from his daze. "Mon dieu," the Frenchman mumbled, rising from his slouched position. "Who is it so early?" Slowly, he ambled over to the door. "D'accord, d'accord, I'm here-" Francis stopped his rambling when he saw who was at the door. Messy hair, face flushed and set in its normal slightly scowl, Arthur Kirkland, all bundled up in winter clothing, stood on his step.
"…morning git." The shorted blonde stood awkwardly, scuffing his heels slightly. Francis smiled slightly at the Englishman's coloured face.
"Bonjour cher, did you miss me that much already?" Francis let his smile get wider as his words caused another flood of colour to Arthur's cheeks.
"Sh-shut up you frog!" he barked back defensively. "I was just returning your damn jacket; I don't want it stinking up my house!" Francis could've laughed at the thinly veiled affection Arthur was showing. Instead, he settled for smiling cunningly.
"Ah, yes, merci, but…" he began, taking the jacket from his hands, before moving his own towards Arthur's neck. "It seems you have left your scarf here." Quickly, he whipped the Brit's scarf off, throwing it carelessly over his should into his hall. "Why don't you come in and fetch it?" he offered, stepping aside. Even Arthur allowed himself a small up turn of his lips at the ridiculous excuse.
"How careless of me," he murmured, walking past Francis and into the house. As he heard the door closing shut, a pair of arms encircled his waist.
"I missed you cher…" the taller blonde said into the crook of the other's neck.
"Mm, me too you git."