The small diner was slow, for no one wanted to leave his or her homes yet. The storm that passed the previous night had left about five inches of snow on the ground. The waitress of the establishment cautiously walked over to her only customers. The men had been bickering since the moment they had sat down.

"How was I supposed to know you would go off and get yourself turned into a mouse chasing feline," the French one demanded.

"Why can't you keep your clothes on for more than five minutes," the Englishman spat back.

The argument seemed completely ridiculous and it was obvious that it would never be resolved. The waitress decided that it really wasn't worth trying to understand and she placed the check on the table for the two.

As if a switch was flipped, they both stopped their arguing in mid sentence and looked at her.

"Thank you, ma'am," The Englishman said kindly, sounding as if he hadn't just been plainly upset.

"Oui, the food was great," the Frenchman complimented, acting in the same manner as the Englishman.

Well, at least they were respectful to others.

She smiled and wished them both a nice evening and a safe trip home. They both thanked her in unison. She walked away and left them to possibly argue over who would pay for the meal.

Arthur checked the pockets of the pants he was wearing and groaned. His wallet was in the clothes he'd left behind after his potion exploded on him.

Francis smiled and said, "I'll pay for this one."

He had left the waitress a well-deserved tip before exiting the diner. They both shivered and cussed as they walked into the bitter air that nipped at their bare flesh.

"This bloody cold is relentless," Arthur groaned.

"You're right," Francis said in return. "You could have never made it through the night as you were, even if you hadn't been taken hostage by a dog."

Arthur sighed and agreed. "Really, Francis, I do owe you for that one…" He looked away from the other man and bit his lip. He'd been holding back a lot of his pride that day, even through their meaningless bickering.

Sensing his embarrassment and slight discomfort, the other tried to lighten the heavy mood. "For English cooking, that wasn't bad at all."

Arthur wasn't sure if that was a jab or a compliment. Perhaps it had been both. Usually a comment like that would lead to more bickering, and although he owed the man his life, today had been no exception.

"What is that supposed to mean," the Englishman snapped.

"It is exactly what it sounded like," taunted the Frenchman.

The two bickered down the empty sidewalk loudly. If they hadn't been so cold, they likely would have gotten into a wrestling match.

For some odd reason, Arthur was walking alongside his rival to his hotel, rather than turning on his heel and going back to his own home. Perhaps it had been the fact that the hotel was much closer, which meant he'd get to warmth faster. The latter was that he was too involved in the fight to actually notice.

They hustled through the glass doors, partly out of anger and partly because the building waiting for them had been very warm compared to the tundra outside.

"You're such a frog!"

They entered the elevator.

"You're an old lady!"

Arthur hit the floor number.

"Excuse me, old man?!"

The doors slowly slid closed.

"You heard me!"

The elevator started moving.

"You may be older but at least I'm the mature one!"

Ding...ding…

"Oh, why don't you take that stick out of your ass and replace it with something better," Francis snapped.

Arthur's jaw dropped and he stared at his old rival in disbelief.

Francis seemed surprised at himself as well.

For the remaining few floors they stood in utter silence, both unsure of how to continue.

The lift stopped gently and the doors slid open and they carefully, they moved from the cramped space. The two started walking down the hallway in silence.

Neither of them really knew what to say, but for some reason Arthur stayed at Francis' side.

The door to the Frenchman's room was opened and Arthur stepped inside slowly with Francis right behind.

As he closed the door, Francis started saying, "I, eh… didn't mean th-"

"Shut up and lock the door," Arthur demanded coldly.

The tone in his voice sent shivers down Francis' body and he wasn't sure if that was a good or a bad thing.

Judging by their past, there was a chance that he had intrigued the British man, but there was an even better chance that he had immensely pissed him off and that this was going to get ugly. He let out a sigh as he locked the door and turned around carefully, preparing himself for the worst.

Arthur stood with his hands at his sides only a meter away from him. His blonde locks of hair hid his emerald eyes.

"Something better," the shorter man finally repeated. It sounded like a question, but Francis couldn't be sure. His voice had a rough edge to it and his expression was hidden.

"Listen, Arthur," he started, trying to think of a good apology. He almost found no use in such things, for the two of them seemed like they were seconds away from a choking match.

Before he could get much further, he felt Arthur's hands grip the collar of his ruffled shirt and there had been sudden warmth over his mouth.

It took a moment for him to realize what was happening, for he was expecting nothing like this.

Their lips were locked in a tight embrace and once the Frenchman had come to realize this, he leaned into the kiss, accepting it.

This wasn't Arthur's usual behavior, and Francis knew that he hadn't been drinking. When they finally parted for air, the taller blonde stared down at his old friend.

"Are you sure about this," he asked cautiously.

"Do you understand how long it has been since... since I-" Arthur seemed to choke on his words and bit his lower lip. It wasn't easy for him to admit that he hadn't done something like this in years. In fact, Francis was sure he knew the last time he'd done it.

It.

Francis forced the words out. "You haven't had sex in some time, non?" He smiled down at him and wrapped his arms around his waist. "My wish is your command, then."

"You know I'd much prefer it not be you, frog."

"Who else would remove that stick, hm?"

"Please stop saying that," Arthur groaned.

Francis pulled him closer if that was even possible and gently brushed his lips over the other's ear. He kissed the nape of Arthur's neck, and as reward he got a heavy sigh.

"S-stop…"

Confused, Francis perked up.

"If you don't stop, we won't make it to the bedroom," he gasped.

Having sex in the kitchen didn't sound so badly of an idea, but Arthur was right. The bedroom was the best place for such activities.

The bedroom was as they'd left it that morning. The sheets were in disarray and a silk robe hung over one of the bedposts. Clothes were tossed about between hungry kisses. First a ruffled shirt, then a tie was tossed on the dresser. Two pairs of shoes being hastily dragged off while the two clung to each other like magnets.

Francis didn't bother to wait for Arthur to mess with the buttons of his shirt and shoved him onto the king sized bed. He took the collar aggressively and ripped the shirt open. Buttons shot across the room and bounced off of the walls. He wasted no time and started kissing and biting his lover's collarbones with passion. He wanted to savor every moment of this newly lustful Englishman.

Arthur let out a quiet groan as lightning bolts shot from his chest and into his stomach, causing an explosion of sensations. The tips of his fingers and toes tingled and his vision blurred. They hadn't even touched each other's members and Arthur was on the edge of his sanity.

The Frenchman dragged his tongue from his collar and down to his chest. He started to give attention to his nipples, which were already erect, much like the organ in his trousers.

Arthur tangled his fingers through Francis' long hair and bit his lip. His experience partner flicked his tongue over the sensitive bud and used his thumb and forefinger to toy with the other.

It had been entirely too long since he'd felt such pleasure. He tried forcing himself to come back to focus. His luck would be that he would faint, and he knew that Francis would never let him live it down.

Inhaling sharply, Arthur yanked back on the Frenchman's hair.

"Ow!" Francis looked up and looked at Arthur. "That hurt," he snapped.

"Oh, shut up," Arthur snapped back and brought him to his lips. No longer complaining, Francis wrapped his arms around his neck and parted his lips, inviting his partner in. They both accepted each other's tongues and they seemed to battle for dominance. In the end, the more prideful of the two let his partner take the upper hand.

Arthur slipped his hands under the other's belt and tugged at the buckle until it came undone. He fought with his button and then yanked the zipper down. Francis helped yank the pants down and his erection sprung out, already a bit wet from pre cum.

Of course he wasn't wearing underpants.

Francis broke the kiss and let out a deep sigh before kissing Arthur's neck, then trailing down to his waistline. "I'm glad you're better at this than you are at cooking," The Frenchman taunted.

As expected, Arthur yanked at Francis' hair again.

He laughed and carelessly yanked his trousers down and tossed them across the room. He dragged his tongue over the tent that Arthur's erection had made and the Englishman gasped. He took the waistband and carefully pulled it over his member.

He smiled at Big Ben and admired how kissing and teasing had gotten his partner so hard. Arthur leaned his head back and suppressed a loud moan as Francis started kissing the tip and working his way down the shaft.

He sucked and moved forward and back, up and down Arthur's shaft. The Englishman ran his hands through the Frenchman's long hair and groaned. Francis pulled away from Arthur and brought himself over his lover, smiling. He leaned in and kissed Arthur passionately, but roughly at the same time.

Their clothing had been torn away and tossed lazily around the room. They embraced and kissed, licked, and bit each other; they left marks of love on each other.

Francis leaned over Arthur and opened the drawer on his night stand.

"If you're getting protection, I hate to remind you that-"

"Do you want me to go I dry," Francis asked pulling out a bottle of lubricant.

Arthur blushed. "Right."

Francis started stroking his own erection and putting the lubricant on himself. "Any last words," he teased.

"Yes," Arthur said. "Make sure to remove the stick first."

Francis buckled over laughing. He slowly composed himself and looked up at Arthur, who was trying to hide his evident amusement. "I-" He snickered. "I'm sorry. I hope that didn't ruin the mood."

"Please," Arthur said. "Your face alone is enough to ruin a mood. If it hasn't by now, a little laughing fit is nothing."

"Well fuck you, too," Francis chuckled.

"I do hope that's your plan."

Francis pressed the base of his dick to Arthur's hole and slowly started working his way in.

Arthur let out a small gasp and Francis stopped. He immediately said, "No, I'm fine. Just get on with it."

"You're quite impatient," Francis pushed further in until he was completely inside. He adjusted Arthur carefully so that his legs wrapped around his waist and waited for the uncomfortable look to leave his lover's face.

The Englishman let out a soft sigh and shifted slightly. He looked up at Francis, his eyes full of lust.

The French lover leaned forward and gently kissed Arthur before rocking his hips back and forth. He was skilled in the art of sex and quickly found Arthur's sweet spot. Within minutes he was moaning and gasping in pleasure below him.

He quickened his pace and panted and he pushed in and out of his partner.

Time seemed to stand still around them. They only heard each other and felt nothing but the way thy caressed each other's skin. Teeth bit into flesh and nails scraped into the fabric below. The bed rocked and creaked softly, singing a rhythm of the making of their love.

Arthur gasped and cried out, his orgasm getting to its peak. Francis wasn't nearly as close, but he didn't blame his lover when he let go for the first time. He seemed content with Francis continuing.

At this point, they were unaware of the wind crashing against their window. They heard their own heart beats slamming in their ears.

Francis gasped out and held Arthur's hips.

"Yeah, me too," Arthur said and leaned his head back.

The Frenchman pushed into Arthur and let go, filling him. Another shot came from Arthur's prick, getting on their stomachs.

They panted and heaved. Francis slowly pulled out and Arthur let out a tiny gasp. He grabbed a tissue from the side of the bed to clean them both off. He leaned forward, kissing Arthur.

"Would you like me to replace the stick?"

"Oh, fuck you," Arthur snapped.

"Is that a promise?"

The blizzard wasn't the only fierce storm that night.