Kiss the Cook

by MaruneKaite

“Francis… what are you wearing?” Arthur asked as if he didn’t hear what Francis had said. Francis gave Arthur a puzzled look before looking down and finally understanding what his lover had got staring at him. FrUK.

WARNING: boy love, writing fail, shortness, blushing Englishmen and French househusbands (THEY'RE DESTRUCTIVE. BELIEVE ME. /shot)
Pairing: FrUK, durrrr.
Author's Note: Are you prepared to kiss the cook 3 ? ;D

Arthur sat on the kitchen chair, unable to take his eyes off of the Frenchman that moved around the kitchen, cooking what seemed to be like their dinner for that night. Francis had noticed this ever since he got home from work. Not that I mind, of course, he thought with a smile.

Yet he also thought it weird of the Englishman to be caring about what he was doing. Usually, it would be Francis cooking and Arthur reading the newspaper, minding his own business. God knows what kind of destruction would happen if it was the other way around. But from what Francis observed, there was no newspaper to be seen and minding his own business wasn't what seemed to be in Arthur's mind. The eerie silence and the following eyes were almost bothering the Frenchman. He just had to do something about it.

"…"

"Arthur?"

"…"

"…Arthur cheri, if you want me to get naked so I could show you my tight ass, I will, but right now I'm cooking dinner."

"Francis… what are you wearing?" Arthur asked as if he didn't hear what Francis had said.

Francis gave Arthur a puzzled look before looking down and finally understanding what his lover had got staring at him. It was a lovely pink apron decorated with fine silk laces around the edges. On the front hung two small pockets that didn't even seem to accommodate the size of Francis' hands but they had the same lovely laces that adorned its small opening. But the Frenchman guessed that that really wasn't what Arthur had in mind for, in huge red letters that was stitched right smack in the middle of the apron, it said, KISS THE COOK with a small heart attached at the end.

The Frenchman chuckled. Turning off the stove, he put his mittens on the kitchen counter. He slowly walked to where Arthur was, noticing the blush that had spread across the Englishman's face. With a gentle but quick motion, he grabbed Arthur's small chin and made him look up to where Francis' own face was. Slowly, he brought his lips near Arthur's ear and whispered,

"Do you want to?"

Arthur sat still, his breathing ragged with desire. "Do I want to what…?"

"Kiss the cook."

"Well…" Arthur grinned, a tempting smile playing on his lips. "Your apron says so, doesn't it?"