Arthur had always been one to think scenarios through before he took any type of action that might affect him negatively. Example 1 may have been agreeing to go out with his high-school admirer, Francis Bonnefoy. Though he may deny it in front of his lover in the present period of time, he at least admits to himself the downs. Dating a flirt who had a record of cheating. Having to give up his creative writing groups to spend time with his partner. Taking criticism from the homophobes that seemed to infect the school, often asking if Arthur was indeed a masculine-looking female who happened to capture the famous teen's heart by wooing him with his precise fashion skills or sexy British accent- which was, surprisingly, one of the perks of living in America; Foreigners from the love countries tended to gain more popularity points than the average pupil.

Example 2 may have been wearing a wedding dress to his wedding. Francis' best friend since kindergarten had been supportive of the idea from the start. Though, Gilbert and Francis were perverts alike. It was no wonder he had pestered Arthur endlessly to get him in the white outfit. At least, before he agreed, he had thought it out. How important that was. Perks may have been having the chance for easy access, so, on their honeymoon, Arthur could be thrown onto the bed and ravished until he was screaming and writhing, awaiting the complaints from the hotel manager that morning, which would end up interrupting one of their many sessions, or the fact that Francis would finally be content with Arthur's level of appearance in something he had suggested. Not the half-assed effort he put into wearing the bunny costumes to bed, because the Frenchman simply asked him to. But whatever goes up, must come down, correct? So of course, there were downers. Like the fact that Arthur's own best friend had snapped pictures she blogged and re-blogged on every website she belonged to that allowed photos, making sure everyone had seen him. Especially his brothers, who were already dying of crooning as soon as Arthur had taken a step into view. You'd think they pictures would have been in good taste, Elizaveta being a wonderful photographer. But, no, instead every person in their circle of acquaintances were met with pictures of the under-side of Arthur's dress and close-ups of his high heels he wobbled along in as soon as they pressed the power button on their personal computers.

Then, we were met with the final predicament Arthur had been sure to think about. In fact, he was still contemplating the decision, and preparing to explain his answer to Francis, whom was at work. By peering at the clock, the Brit knew exactly where Francis had to be on the highway, and knew he had that long to figure out what he wished to do. Arthur had been stressing over this for a while now, since that magical day Francis had brought it up. 5 steps forward for Francis, and 5 back for Arthur.

Well, a visual may be required for his levels of inward debating to be portrayed.
Imagine a wide room- No, not confined, Arthur was not a lab-rat, though he sure felt like it at this point- with a queen bed set in the center, adorned with plushies of fairies, unicorns, and many mythical creatures that had been created or sustained in Arthur's mental capacities. There were several other furniture pieces spread around this space, though they weren't much importance now. The rose-embroidered covers that had been previously drawn against the surface to allow a formal structure to be let off were now were wrinkled and folded, sitting underside folded legs in a criss-cross-applesauce position. Silk pajama bottoms were cuffed along these milky-white legs, leading up to a matching, red, button-down shirt clinging to the torso of a certain man. His emerald eyes were tracing along the pages of a bound book laying on the covers in front of him, only slightly shielded by the sheen of reading glasses perched on a nose that was turned down, meaning the man's fingers were rotating between flipping pages in the book, and pushing the bridge back into it's spot so the frames wouldn't tumble to the blankets. His blond hair clung to his forehead, which was sweating, more from nervousness than warmth, however. It was in the midst of Autumn. There had yet to be a heat-wave wash over the city. Arthur simply brushed the hair from his eyes, the pearls he called teeth chewing mercilessly on his bottom lip.

And now, Arthur's true height of being uneasy has been revealed.

It was currently 5:50. Francis would be home in about 3 minutes. Meaning Arthur only had 3 minutes.

He continued to scan through the book, breathing heavily in distress. He wanted so bad to agree with Francis, and tell him it was a wonderful idea. The next step in their life. It would develop their relationship further than any other would have dreamed they'd gone if they had seen them together on their first date. At an ice-cream store. Arthur ordering a small vanilla cone, while Francis received his chocolate one. They both had yet to understand the reason for going to an ice-cream store: to buy flavors you'd never usually get. Although, the two still managed to have an awkwardly delightful time, both licking at the ice-cream whenever it got silent.

Within the first 10 minutes, their cones were gone.

Each tick of the clock was making Arthur tremble at a greater strength. His cheeks were dusted a light pink, and he waited anxiously, until outside the faint sound of a car traveling down the road on loose wheels preoccupied Arthur's mind. The sound made him jump involuntarily, and while he had been expecting it, it still took hims by surprise. Shockingly enough, the inching forward of the motor vehicle was agony for the Brit who was so terribly uneasy. It pounded in his head and chest, slowly spreading through his limbs, as if someone had lit a match and stuffed it down his throat. The fire poured across his being until it engulfed him, just as Francis pulled into the driveway.

Arthur was silent. There were no sounds around him. He stayed still, hoping- or maybe praying; Begging would be a fine word- that it was a dream and his lover was opting to come home later. When there was no response downstairs, Arthur himself began to believe it. Maybe Francis was working late. Maybe he had decided to go out with his friends- the ones Arthur wouldn't allow to enter the household without his close supervision- and was coming home later, enough time for the male in question to grab his belongings and flee with his decisions.
All nice dreams must come to an end, however, and this one soon did as the clicking of keys in a door violated the hopeful silence. The walls of glee Arthur had built shattered and crashed around him. Mocking him with their teasing sound.

"Mon cher, I've returned~"

The unmistakable voice of Francis Bonnefoy accompanied the offending sounds of presence downstairs. He paused and awaited an answer, freezing in his movements on the bottom floor in case he had missed it.

"Lapin? Are you here?"

Still, Arthur did not respond.

Footsteps started slowly towards the direction of Arthur, gaining speed once they reached the stairs. It was full out sprinting when he got to the top. The blond man stared at the wall that blocked him from the Frenchman, so terribly tempted to lock the door.

And then pack.

And then break the window and fall out.

And hopefully run then die in a random ditch that would conceal his body and train of thoughts with the dead.

But, no, in a worried pace, the other soon made it to the door and gently pushed it open, staring inside. His once tense body relaxed a pinch as the images of his cher entered his eyes. He was glad to see Arthur sitting on the bed and not gone, though strangely enough, Arthur seemed to be frozen. He simply sat and stared at Francis, seemingly too shocked to move.
"You're alright, oui?" Francis asked with a raised eyebrow and stepped into the room.

The eye contact Arthur made with Francis made him flinch.

"F-Fine, love." Arthur nodded without saying anything else, and continued to sit there with his lips forming an O shape.

"Shall I start dinner?"

Arthur blinked.

"What?"

"Shall I start dinner?" Francis asked again, a bit puzzled. Arthur, of course, was acting off, but he hadn't expected it to be to the point of Arthur day-dreaming. He looked a bit scared to face Francis.

"Oh. Do what you want, frog, I'm not your mother."

And there was Arthur.

"Lapin, we can always eat out. If you aren't comfortable having me cook-"

"I said go make the damn dinner! You're fine!" The man's face contorted to one of frustration, and he returned to his trance in that position and expression.

Yes, Francis had been quite bemused by now, and he stepped closer to Arthur, earning a quite confusing reaction. The Brit jumped back on the bed, smacking against the head frame rocking against the wall. Though the echo of the wood was apparent, and the impact generously ached Arthur's back, he did nothing to help it and instead settled tensely, as if ready to run, on the covers below.

Francis frowned, eyebrows forming an even crease that ran across the mass of his forehead. "Arthur, have I done something?" He gave no chance for the other to react as he planted himself at Arthur's feet.

The emerald-eyed blond instead sucked in a breath and turned his head away, folding his arms neatly across his chest as if he was pressing a blanket. "No, you're fine..." Now was as good a time as any to tell the other what really had been going on in his mind. But the scenarios he worked out in his head were frightening. Francis laughing at him. Francis telling him it was all a joke. Francis telling him he was a freak. Francis telling him to get lost. Though it was his imagination running wild, it all seemed to real. "But... I've been thinking..."

And he explained his answer.

As the story started, the listener simply watched him silently. He had no clear emotion until Arthur broke the news. Then his eyes widened, and an ever-gleeful grin monopolized his face. He clasped Arthur's hands in his own, pressing his lips to them in excitement.

"Oh, that is great, sourcils! I'm... so happy!" Francis bubbled and drew Arthur into his arms. "I shall find out about it tomorrow! You won't be sorry you did it!"

Francis, as quickly as he came, exited the room to make the necessary phone calls and arrangements to be required for the weeks ahead. Arthur was left alone, to paw at the books scattered all around him and think of the consequences resulting from what he had just agreed to do.

If this plan worked, Arthur would be traveling around the world for months.

"And I suppose...if you'd like to..." Arthur had said, looking Francis dead in the eyes. "I could be your test subject..."

He took a breath and scratched the side of his head, nervousness overwhelming and pulsing. "Francis... I guess... we'll do it. We'll complete your final items on your bucket list. Step 1... Have sex in every country of the world."

Oh, I've had this in my documents forever. This is only the third time I worked on it. I don't even know what this was going to be about when I started it.
Hopefully, I'll get my never-ending Spamano fanfic up and running soon, so I'll update this along with it. And if this works out the way I want it to, part two of this fanfic will be up with this, updated on the same day.
Thank you for reading. Please review~