Author's Note
A short FrUK drabble to start this off. SFW requests will be taken.
Summary: Arthur can't capture Francis's beauty in words.
Writing is never easy. Anybody who does write can attest to that. Rather, coming up with the diction and syntax to get one's idea across is the hard bit.
Arthur scowled at the notebook clasped in his hand. Why was every word in the song coming out as some damn cliché trite lovesick puppy love song?
"I see mon amour is attempting to murder his notebook."
Arthur sat up straight, the laughter of his lover startling him from his writing.
"I would have an easier time writing this song if it were easier to describe how beautiful you are."
"I'm amazed our relationship has lasted this long. Ah, I remember a time where you would have pummeled me to death for that comment," Francis mused.
The notebook was cast aside. "Our relations have never been the kindest, have they?"
"What do you call the last three years?"
And with that Francis pressed a kiss to Arthur's lips.