"Prease," the Japanese man said, watching his friend, "I would be greatry honored if you could do this for me."

The Englishman looked at his friend with an uneasy expression, biting his lip. Sighing, he looked away slightly, running a hand through his hair, "I don't know… Would it be dangerous?" he said after a moment. "Not at arru," the Japanese man said, stumbling over the last word. The Englishman put his hand on his hip, scratching his head, "Well, alright… I'll have to ask Francis, though I'm sure the pervert will agree anyway…" The Japanese man bowed, face flushed with excitement, "Ah! Thank you!"

Arthur Kirkland lived in a small apartment complex, in the middle of a large-but-quite-poor city. He had lived there for a couple months with his husband, Francis Bonnefoy. The rent there was cheap too; meaning they had a lot of spending money.

The home was only temporary, for Francis worked as a full-time food and wine critic, so he travelled frequently for his job. Sometimes, Arthur would join him. Other times, the two would move to a different country, and stay there for a while. So far, the couple had been to Italy, Switzerland, Greece and Taiwan.

By the time Arthur got home his spouse had already started dinner. "You could've let me make dinner this time, you always seem to make dinner," Arthur said, pouting slightly as he pulled his brown, leather messenger bag over his head and dropped it onto a chair near the front door.

"Oui, well… " the Frenchman decided stop before he said anything to get his lover angry. As much as he loved seeing Arthur angry – he was so cute– he wanted to keep the man in a good mood today. Maybe he'd get some loving if he didn't piss the Englishman off too much.

"Were there any good wines today or were they all just plonk?"

"Non. Some were good."

The front door was one of those that opened onto the living room. A computer was sitting on the coffee table in the cramped living room, next to the couch. Arthur walked over to it, sighing slightly, and plopped down on the couch. He leaned back on the old loveseat, relaxing and closing his eyes. A pair of soft lips pressed against his forehead, and he opened his eyes slowly to what he knew to be Francis. Arthur pushed his husband back a little, murmuring with a blush, "Naff off, you wanker."

The Frenchman grinned, only persisting on annoying his lover by leaning down, kissing him lightly. "Oi, naff off," Arthur said, frowning at Francis. After a little laugh, the older man backed off, and sauntered back into the kitchen, which was also quite small. It was only about a 4x5 foot room, but it had a counter with a sink, jammed together with a rundown refrigerator and a stove. Across from that, as there were no doors between the kitchen, living room and dining room, was a round wooden table, with only two chairs sitting at either end. It was quite big for the place it resided in, but little in retrospect to others.

After a moment, the delightful smell of the Frenchman's cooking was too much, and Arthur got up, meandering over to peek into the kitchen. Francis turned, in each hand precariously holding something. In his left, two bowls of some kind of opaque soup, and in the other, a plate of bread slices. "Déplacer," the man said gracefully, and swept past the Englishman as he stepped out of the way. Arthur sat down at the table without a word, letting his husband serve him quietly. "What is zhis? You are very quiet," commented Francis lightly, looking up at Arthur with one of his sideways glances. "You are not usually zhis quiet, somezhing is wrong, no?"

"No, nothing is wrong," Arthur said, taking a spoonful of the cream-colored soup. "Oh, but zhere is, mon chéri," the Frenchman continued stubbornly, "What is it zhat is bothering you?"

"I said it's nothing, so it's nothing!" Arthur said, glaring up at Francis, slamming his spoon down on the table. Francis frowned at him, "Well, I was only trying to 'elp," he huffed. Arthur took up his spoon and began to eat again. They ate slowly and in complete silence, before Arthur sighed, putting down his silverware. He was going to have to ask him eventually, so he may as well do it now…

"Francis?"

"Hmm?" the Frenchman said, looking over at his husband, "Apologizing? Zhat isn't like you, Arthur~" he teased.

"I'm not apologizing!" Arthur spat in his defense, and then after a moment sighing, "…I did have something on my mind earlier. I met an ol' chum of mine today, Kiku Honda. Remember, the Japanese bloke? Anyway, he wanted to know… well, he's kind of been…" Arthur blushed, and looked down into the half-eaten soup. Francis waited patiently, knowing his little tsundere lover would spit it out eventually. "Oh, bollocks, you see well, Kiku is doing some research with DNA and such, and he thinks he has figured out a way to… to… What I mean to say is, for two gays to… have children…" Arthur shifted uncomfortably, knowing his pervert of a husband probably had a grin from ear to ear on his face… he didn't even want to look.

Francis was quite surprised by this, and while it was true he had a smug little grin on his face, he asked, "And so?"

Arthur hesitated, "And so… Kiku asked me if I could help with his research by because he knows that I'm…" the Englishman's face turned a little redder, "…married to you."

"Ohohon~ Do you want to have my children?" Francis teased, his smirk growing wider. Arthurs face turned a bright red, like one of their neighbor Antonio's tomatoes, and he stood up, "N-no way, you wanker! Who would ever want your children?" And he stormed off into their bedroom, slamming the door behind him. The Frenchman watched his husband leave, before standing up slowly, not wanting to finish his soup now. "Such a brute," Francis hummed, cleaning up the table slowly, and disposing of the dishes in the sink, deciding to clean them later.

When Francis was finally done with everything he needed to do, he eventually wandered over to the bedroom. It was small, and could only hold a bed and a medium-sized dresser, but it fit them well. Usually Francis would have some wine before he went to sleep, but he figured he should be completely sober to discuss an important matter with his husband.

Arthur was lying in the bed, curled into the covers so much that Francis couldn't have any of it. Francis sighed, and stripped, knowing that the Englishman was still awake, and that he was still fuming. The Frenchman slowly buttoned up his purple silk pajamas, and walked over to the bed, sitting down on it gracefully. Francis laid down on his side, facing Arthur, propping up his head with his arm, because it seemed Arthur had hidden his pillow somewhere too. "Arzhur…" he murmured, poking the bundle of blankets. It shifted slightly, but still did not turn his way. "Arzhur~" he hummed, watching the cocoon, "Arzhur, look, there's a fairy over here," In a flash, Arthur threw his covers off, most of them littering the floor now, as he looked around the room eagerly, "What? Where?" Francis gave a chuckle, and Arthur frowned instantly, knowing he had been duped. "You tosser! I really had thought one of my friends had come to visit me!" Arthur said, bitterly shoving Francis with his foot. The Frenchman laughed a little more before pushing himself up into a sitting position, and moving over to sit closer to Arthur. He took his arms, wrapping them around the Englishman, pulling him onto his lap. Francis tightened his hug on Arthur's waist as the younger man began to struggle slightly. "Get off me, you—" the Englishman's words were cut short by a little gasp as an unexpected kiss landed in the nape of his neck. Blushing, Arthur fell silent for a second, becoming completely still. Francis held his lover for a few minutes before striking up the conversation that was inevitable, "Arzhur, about zhe 'aving of children," There was no response from the Englishman, but Francis could tell even from behind the he was blushing. After a moment, Arthur spoke grudgingly, "We don't have to if you don't want to. I did tell Kiku I would have to ask you first." Francis' face split into a grin, as he couldn't usually keep serious for long, and he kissed Arthurs neck once more, "Let's do it. Compter sur moi." Arthur squirmed slightly in his husbands grasp, twisting around so he could see Francis' face. Even if all the seriousness had left Francis' face, his eyes shown with sincerity, and Arthur gave a little smile. "Alright, now get off me, you wanker," the Englishman said, his face becoming more serious, as he smacked Francis over the head. Francis only gave one of his lewd laughs, tightening his grip, leaning forward and kissing Arthur on the jaw. The Englishman blushed, trying to push his husband off him, "You pervert, let go of me!"

Francis smirked, running a hand up his husband's shirt, proceeding to kiss and touch the Englishman until late into the night.