A/N: Well, I was bored, thinking deep philosophical thoughts, and wanting to write a FrUKy morning-after fluff. And without further adieu, this was born! God, I love it when they cuddle...
They need to make fluff a fanfiction genre.
There are some things that only you are meant to know about yourself. Things you never tell anyone else, that lurk in the shadows of the back of your mind waiting for an opportunity to present themselves to the right person, in the right place at the right time. Secrets that no one really has to know, because what they don't know won't hurt them.
Everyone has been in possession of such a secret at one point or another in their lives. Most will take it with them to their grave, for it is something that was important at the time, but shoved aside as trivial in the long run. Others, however, are fortunate enough to find someone they can tell anything to, who loves them enough to simply hold them and comfort them and tell them all their little secrets as well.
And maybe it was time for him to get this weight off his shoulders.
Green eyes fluttered drowsily; Arthur Kirkland shifted closer to the warm body beside him. He mumbled something in his sleepy daze, the wonderful heat of another person enveloping him like a warm cloak. Something tickled his cheek, gentle hands slowly rubbing down his back.
"Bonjour, mon amour," a low voice murmured, soft lips pressing a kiss to his ear. Arthur groaned, lazily dragging himself onto his side. He pried open one sticky eyelid and then let it fall shut again, snuggling into the warm chest that was now pressed against his.
"Hey, frog," he mumbled in reply.
Arthur smiled a little as he slowly began to drift back into consciousness, becoming distantly aware of a pleasant ache in his thighs and hips, and... other places. He shifted a little, parting his legs a bit to relieve some of the dull throb. But somehow he couldn't bring himself to be angry with Francis for bringing his pain about in the first place. After all, last night had been amazing.
It could easily have been the best Fourth of July that Arthur had ever had.
Arthur felt warm lips come to rest against his and lazily kissed back. Francis tasted sweet and fresh, even after all of last night's... activities. Some of the memories came meandering back to him, and he smiled. Oh, yes—activities indeed. He hadn't even been drunk!
But on the other hand, Arthur frowned. He had bottomed again.
No wonder his ass hurt so bad.
"How are you feeling, mon amour?" Francis purred gently, still massaging Arthur's back. He knew the Brit would be in some kind of pain today, unless he'd miraculously managed to numb every nerve that was south of his waistline—and probably some above, too. Arthur groaned and flopped onto his stomach, wincing at the fact that even his chest and arms felt a bit bruised. Maybe he'd been holding onto the sheets a bit too tightly...
Like every time.
"Like I got fucked by a frog," he mumbled into the pillow.
"I'm offended," Francis gasped dramatically, glaring at Arthur playfully. "Surely you didn't feel this way about it last night, Arthur!"
"Stupid Frenchie," the Brit muttered, blushing. "I-I didn't say I didn't like it."
Francis laughed, curling around him and trailing tickly kisses up and down his neck as his only reply, but pulling back abruptly when Arthur smacked him gently away and rolled over onto his back.
He chuckled, smirking. "So why wouldn't you want me to kiss you, cherie?" he asked mischievously, arms on either side of Arthur's head now. Arthur flushed deeper and glared up into that frog's beautiful blue eyes, feeling his anger melt away even as he tried to force it to stay alive.
A second later he simply hugged Francis, sighing resignedly. It was impossible to argue when they'd just spent a night as amazing as that together. And to top it off, he was in a cuddly mood. God dammit.
Francis hugged him too, smiling against his shoulder, but he pulled back and looked into Arthur's eyes all too soon, simply demanding an answer.
"Why won't you let me kiss you?" Francis asked again.
"Well, just—not like that..." Arthur blushed even deeper scarlet than before, looking off to the side a bit. "Be-because it..."
The last three words were too mumbled for Francis to hear, and he smirked, knowing that if Arthur was being this shy about it, then it must be something serious. He nuzzled Arthur's chin lovingly, coaxing the words out.
"What was that, cher?"
Arthur took a deep breath, looking off to one side, all evidence of his blush gone. Now he just looked sad.
"It reminds me of Alfred," he whispered.
There it was—his secret. Out in the open for Francis to see, for him to either accept or grow angry at. Arthur looked up hesitantly, not sure of what he would find, and winced as though he'd gotten a blow across the face when he saw how Francis's beautiful blue eyes had gone closed to his gaze. Suddenly a stream of words was pouring from his mouth, and Arthur was completely helpless to stop it.
"No, you're not the first, but Alfred and I only did it once. That was the only time, and the next morning I found out that he was cheating with Ivan, and I watched him get up, get dressed, and walk away with that bastard while he thought I was still asleep. It ripped my heart in half. He didn't give a shit about me, and he never will. But now... it doesn't hurt as much. I think... after last night, I'm ready to try again, or move on, or whatever you bloody frogs call it...
There—I told you everything." Arthur looked up pleadingly, his next question barely a whisper. His fists were clenched in the tangled sheets almost as tightly as the night before, a single tear sliding down his cheek from one of those green eyes. He couldn't survive being abandoned again.
"Do you still love me?"
A moment of dead silence. And then, the next thing Arthur knew, Francis's mouth was crashing down on his.
Suddenly it felt like a huge weight had been lifted from his chest, and he kissed back without even hesitating for once. He shut his eyes and just let the Frenchman take over, reveling in his scent and the hot, slick tongue invading his mouth. Finally Francis pulled away, blue eyes flaming and panting as though he hadn't really been the one in control. He leaned down to kiss each of Arthur's cheeks tenderly.
"Of course I still love you, mon belle..." he whispered. Francis lay gently down next to Arthur and pulled him into his arms, cuddling him close. "I couldn't not love you."
Arthur sighed and relaxed, realizing he had still been grabbing the sheets. He curled against Francis's chest, wrapping his legs around the Frenchman's waist and snuggling close.
"You're loving a bloody fool," he whispered, though he sounded content and relieved. Francis just hummed quietly in his ear, kissing softly over his jaw. For a long while they lay like that, enjoying each other's warmth and company, before Francis sighed and gently rubbed his hands over Arthur's perfect back.
"You want to know something, too, amour?" he asked quietly. Arthur just nodded, pulling away only enough to stare into the unfathomable depths of those blue eyes. Francis leaned down to whisper in his ear, smiling a little grin.
"When we were both little and you slept next to me, I would watch you just for the sake of it. And then, when I was sure you were asleep, I'd kiss you on the lips."
Arthur stared.
Francis nuzzled him. "I could never stop loving you. I've always loved you..."
Finally, Arthur snapped out of his little mindblown daze. It was a wonder he'd never been bloody raped...
But that didn't matter now. Coming to think of it, now Arthur knew what the odd feeling he'd gotten when they were very young had been—the flip of his stomach when Francis would attempt to brush his messy blond hair into submission, or the skip of his heart at the warm hug.
They'd been in love and not even known.
He smiled and nestled close to the Frenchman's warm, strong body. "I guess it was just a matter of time before we both realized it," he murmured. "I guess we could give this a try..."
Arthur looked up, and their eyes met. "Our little secret, frog?"
Francis smiled and leaned in to rest his forehead against Arthur's, closing his eyes peacefully. The Brit's heart fluttered, and he wanted to curse at how damn sensual this bloody frog could be.
He brushed his lips so lightly against Arthur's that it could barely count as a kiss.
"Our little secret."
A/N: Holy Maple, this is so... sappy... and corny... and cliched...
Oh well! Review?