Compared to his French counterpart Arthur was by no means a romantic. With him being from France it was certainly more Francis' area of expertise. But he himself had his moments.

"What is this…" Francis mumbled to himself as he noticed something sitting on the table by the couch. It was not very often anymore that he received a letter from Arthur, considering they now lived together, so he thought that this little surprise was awfully charming. His name was scrawled across the light blue envelope in the flowing cursive he knew so well. The Frenchman seated himself on the couch before opening the letter. It read:

Dear Francis,

'Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?' I know, I know, you must be sick of Shakespeare by now considering how many volumes I have scattered about. But really, to a summer's day there is no comparison. Your smile makes the brightest day seem as gray as the English sky.

Roses are red

What I say is true

You're an insufferable git

But even so

I love you

Happy anniversary

Yours truly,

Arthur Kirkland

Francis read and then re-read the piece of paper in his hand, and each time he smiled even more. It was not a particularly long letter, but even so it warmed his heart. It was not often that his petit lapin would show such affection. He stood from the couch, leaving the letter on the side table, and headed towards the study where he was sure to find Arthur working diligently on paperwork of some form or another. Sure enough, as he entered the room with the walls lined with books he was sitting at the large desk, hunched over his laptop. It was late, and the moon light streamed through the large window, illuminating his messy hair and glinting off the lenses of the glasses he wore when he typed. As quietly as possible Francis shuffled up behind him and laced his arms around the Brit's neck, resting his chin on his shoulder. Startled, Arthur quickly looked up.

"Hey! What makes you think you can just sneak up on me like that?" He asked in a huff, but still leaned back into the embrace.

"I got your letter cher." Francis purred into his ear, making the younger man shudder and blush.

"Oh…you did?"

"Oui, I did."

"A-and?" Arthur asked, immediately feeling embarrassed for writing something so ridiculously sappy and then giving it to his lover.

"It was wonderful amour. I always had a feeling you were a closet poet~" He tightened his hold on the Brit and lightly kissed his temple.

"Sod off you frog." Arthur replied as his blush intensified. "So what if I write poetry?"

Francis smirked at how easily flustered the other could become. "Like I said, it's absolutely wonderful." He then took the swivel chair Arthur was sitting in and spun it around so that they were facing one another. He pulled off his glasses, set them on the desk, and then grabbed his hand. Pulling him up, he silently led the Brit out of the study.

"Hey, I have stuff I have to finish!" But the conviction in his words was not there as it normally would have been. Ceasing the small struggle he had put up the Englishman let Francis lead him through the house, up the stairs and down the hall until they got to the bedroom. As soon as he opened the door the shorter man let out a surprised gasp. Oh yes, Francis was defiantly better at being a romantic. Light low with the glow of candles and rose petals scattered about, the old bed of theirs had never looked so appealing with fresh white sheets. Soft music played through the small stereo they had on one of their dressers and a sweet, inviting scent filled the air. It all took Arthur's breath away.

With out a word the taller blonde scooped up the Brit and slowly, brought them over to the mattress and laid him down. Immediately Francis began to kiss him tenderly and work open the buttons of his shirt. Before long both of their clothes lay in a heap on the floor.

As one would assume, it was not their first time together. Years of hatred and arguments had lead to angry, often times drunken, one-night stands. But among the spiteful words and aggravated clashes came surprisingly quiet, even peaceful spells. From that, then, had slowly grown this, and though they both had their moments, neither had ever gone back.

Today was a day to remember, their day. Francis took it slow. Not painfully slow as he sometimes did just to see Arthur's irritated reactions, but slow and sensual and loving in every way possible. Pure bliss.

The night wore on and their room became hot, scalding. The sheets tangled around them as they became closer than should have been humanly possible. If one had been standing outside the door they would have heard muffled moans and whimpers…and quiet proclamations of love…

The afterglow, both Francis and Arthur would admit, held a special sort of magic. They would simply lay there, reveling in each others presence. Like always, Arthur would snuggle up close to the other and Francis would in turn wrap his arms around his frame protectively.

"You always out do me." The scruffy-haired man said as he was begging to drift off to sleep in the others hold.

"What was that lapin?" The Frenchman asked, curious and amused at how cute the other was when he was half asleep.

"You're always better at being bloody romantic." Came his sleepy reply. And Francis smirked.

"Would you like me to stop?" He teased as he pulled the other closer, as if to emphasize the question.

"…no…" A chaste kiss was placed atop the younger man's head.

"Joyeux anniversaire mon amour, Je t'aime."

F.I.N.

Ok, so this was written for the Entente Cordiale. I have been typing this periodically over the last week and a half at school so I didnt get the chance to really hone and refine it as I would if I had done it all in one go. Meh, whatever. R & R plz!