Sunlight streamed onto the face of Francis Bonnefoy, who was grinning into the mirror proudly. He wiggled his eyebrows at his reflection and cleared his throat. He was going to propose today. Maybe in the garden Arthur adored? Or maybe in front of his mansion?
"I've loved you forever Arthur, and I hope my love can make you stay with me. Arthur Kirkland, will you marry me?" The Frenchman pouted at his reflection, running a hand through his hair. "No, not good enough. Come on, Francis, get your head in the game." France fixed his tie, his pout turning into an uncharacteristic scowl. This was not going as planned.
"Good afternoon, Francis." Arthur waltzed into Francis's room, raising his eyebrow at the frustrated blonde. "You okay?"
"Oui, mon chere." Francis's mood escalated at the presence of his lover, which didn't go unnoticed by the Brit, who rolled his eyes. "Wanker."
The Frenchman chuckled and strided over to his adorable little lover. He leaned close to Arthur's ear, his hot breath fanning the shell of his ear. "Only if you want me to, mon ami." Arthur shivered, but quickly recovered and elbowed Francis in the stomach. "You son of a-"
Francis put a hand over Arthur's mouth, looking at the Brit teasingly. "I was kidding, cherie, unless you really want me to?" Arthur slapped Francis's hand away, glaring at the taller man. "Arse."
"J'taime." Francis kissed Arthur's forehead, turning the tea-loving man's cheeks a dusty pink.
Maybe he didn't have to rush his proposal. He just had to keep that damn American scum away.