I was looking through old fanfics, and found this! As lame and short as it is, I hope you enjoy! XD

The house was quiet, just the way Arthur liked it. The reason? Francis had work and Arthur had a day off. It gave Arthur a sense of peacefulness in their medium sized, three bedroom house. Ever since they began living together, days like this one rarely occurred.

He sighed in pleasure as he sipped his tea in his study, re-reading, even though it may sound girlish, Little Woman. There was something about the March girls and their trials and errors that intrigued him to no end. The shy and peaceful Beth, fiery and passionate Jo, sensible Meg, and vane Amy had made Arthur want to reread the book many times. Even though it hurt to say, even the country of America could write classics. Alfred, his brother, was sure to tease him if he heard Arthur had actually read the book, much less liked it.

He continued to read, engulfed by the lives of the March sisters. When he finally finished the part he was on, he decided it was enough Little Woman for one night. After all, judging by the night sky, it at least had to be 10:30 pm. He picked up his Spiderman bookmark - courtesy of Alfred- and placed the book in it's special place, in one of Arthur's and Francis's massive book shelves, Yes, shelves, because Arthur had loads of books, along with Francis's French ones.

He then glanced at the clock, and frowned. 12:25 am. It was later than he thought. France's work had ended at eleven-thirty. Where had he been? His cafe was only a 15 minute drive away. Had he gone somewhere? No, Francis would have called, even if he had been with his rambunctious friends. Had his cafe been extra busy today?

Francis had his own cafe. He had been the one to start it, design it, paint it, and everything else. Arthur recalled the memories. At that time, it had been against so many odds that such a cafe could be built.

Still Arthur suspected that Francis had that idea for a while. Eight years ago, when it had only been a few years into their relationship, Arthur had been living at his parents house while Francis shared an apartment with idiots that he had called his best friends. The Frenchman had been disowned by his step-parents,( his parents had died in an accident when he was young) when they had found out he was gay at the age of 18. Arthur, was still in the closet at the point.

Francis had been working at a simple cafe, and evidently enjoyed the atmosphere. After working overtime for a while, he finally saved enough to afford to rent a small, broken down building which had looked as though it was a previous bar. It was an ugly building which needed many, many repairs. But, it had a low rent. And it was all his. With his chin up and his grasp on reality close to nonexistent, Francis had fixed repairs as much as he could. At this time, Arthur helped him the best he could, even though he himself had his own job and school work.

It obviously did not get many people in the beginning, but eventually, with lots of effort and posters, there was a steady amount of people. His friends, as nutty as they were, turned out to be pretty helpful as well.

Arthur smiled at the collection of memories. It had seemed as though it was yesterday, but in reality, it was eight years ago. Since then, it had grown into a well-known cafe with new customers coming in everyday.

However, his smile left as he remembered the current situation. He went to the front door, and glanced at the driveway. No one was there.

I should try calling him, Arthur thought. He walked to the living-room, picked up the phone, and dialed the memorized number.

The phone rang many times, and he eventually heard a sleepy "Bonjour?"

Arthur removed the phone from his ear and sighed in relief. Then, he placed the phone to his ear once again, and began saying "Francis Bonnefoy, where are you? Don't tell me you went drinking!?"

He heard a yawn from the other side of the phone. "No I didn't go out drinking, just finished up cleaning. It was extra busy, but I'm on my way home." So one of Arthur's suspicions had been true, he thought as he smirked.

"I called you earlier. Didn't you get the message?" Francis questioned.

Arthur's smirk had been wiped from his face, and his flushed as he checked the message box, which clearly said, "1 new message!" And, he recalled at one point while reading, hearing the phone ring, but he dismissed it as Alfred wanting to hang out.

"I-uh, was busy-" Arthur stuttered.

"-Reading?" Francis finished, making Arthur flush even darker. A tired chuckle was heard from the other side of the call. "Mon cher, you are too predictable sometimes."

Arthurs face remained red. "Okay, well, just hurry home!" He said, flustered.

"You are the one keeping me from coming, non?" He replied. Arthur swore he could hear his smirk.

Cheeky French frog.