A/N: Well, this is what happens when I'm feeling sentimental on a lazy Saturday, listening to my playlist of favorite ambient music! It's from Francis's POV, and sort of AU-ish; you can decide whether it is or not. The fluff in this is absolutely insane. The whole fic has a sort of dreamlike feeling to it, for want of a better word.

Anyway, enjoy!

Hugs from Maple

There are a million reasons why I love you.

As I look down at you in my lap, chest rising and falling with your soft, deep breaths, green eyes closed and golden lashes shining under the sunlight, I smile. You're always so peaceful—so beautiful—when you sleep. How could I not love such a beautiful creature? Your eyes are beautiful, your skin is beautiful, your lips are beautiful and your body is beautiful. You blot out ugliness like the sun chases away shadow.

You take my breath away.

I love you for your smile. When you smile, it's like the world lights up. All my doubts go away, and I can be caught up in the moment, and I kiss you—and you don't pull away. When you smile, I can't help but kiss you. Your smile is an absolutely priceless thing.

I love you for your habits. I love the way you call me 'frog' when you're miffed, but really just teasing, and I love the way you always steal all the covers, because then I can sleep with you curled up against my chest. I love how you always drink your tea with your pinky out. It's absolutely adorable.

I love the way you hurt me. Because even when you slam the door behind you, vowing it's over between us, you're just so beautiful that my heart breaks in half. And I cry myself to sleep, and sometimes it's weeks or months before I'll wake up to your warmth at my side again—but when I do, it's always worth the pain. And I fall deeper in love with you, all over again.

I love the way you're cautious. It's priceless and beautiful, how you won't let anyone else touch you. And even though sometimes I wish you could just let go, it makes me feel special to be beyond some of your walls, if not quite all.

I love your hands. Your hands are beautiful; your fingers are slim and long and smooth, and you have a little writer's bump on your right ring finger from holding your pencil wrong. Your nails are always bitten down, and even though I know how much stress you always put on yourself, and I hate to think of the toll it takes on you, I love it. It's part of what makes you you. I love you, Arthur.

I love how you always pretend to be angry when you're flustered. It's adorable. And I know you're not really angry, because your eyes give you away every time, and I smile and kiss you, and you pull away laughing. And everything's alright again.

I love that you blush when you hug me or kiss me, even though we've done so much more than that. Your blush just makes those moments all the more precious, with the way you're always so embarrassed about showing affection, but you do anyway. I love that blush, because it gets softer every day. I love that blush, because one day it will fade, and I'll know that you trust me completely. But until then, I'll wait patiently. I'm in no hurry, Arthur. I just want you to know that I love you.

I love how you worry. I love comforting you, and having you warm and soft in my arms, and kissing your face. I love telling you that it will be alright, and feeling you relax as you believe it. And I know it will, because we have each other, and I think you know it too.

I love how you play with your ring when you get home from work and I'm not here. I always walk in the front door to find you sitting at the kitchen table, staring down at the gold band of rose vines and running your finger over the tiny crystal bloom in the center. And the second you see me, you jump, blush and get up to greet me with a kiss. There are never any words for the joy I feel when I think of how lucky I am to have you.

I love how you run your hands through my hair when we pull the sheets up over us to hide the night's evidence, and cuddle in the afterglow. I love how you bury your face in it and kiss my forehead and then my lips. "I love you, Francis," you always whisper, and I can hear your smile.

"Je t'aime aussi," I always murmur back, with a soft kiss to your neck.

I can always feel your deep breathing against me, as you drift slowly off to sleep.

And as I look down at you now, radiant under the warm sunbeams falling onto our couch, I sigh quietly, shake my head, and plant a kiss on your forehead. You moan softly, and slowly, your golden eyelashes flicker open. Our gazes meet. Your green eyes are glazed from sleep, and you smile. I smile back, lean down, and capture your lips in a kiss.

There's a million reasons why I love you, Arthur.

The only thing I don't love is how you can't seem to see them in yourself.