"Do you think he'll ask me to the dance?"
Francis lays on his bed, legs dangling off as he looks at the ceiling longingly.
"Who?" Arthur asks.
"Alfred Jones." Francis sighs dreamily. "He's so sweet, have you seen his eyes? He could charm the pants off a tree. I want to go to the senior dance with him."
Arthur snorts. "It's three months away. Besides, who'd willingly dance with you? You're stupid." Arthur is the worst cousin ever.
"Shut up, I'll throw you out." Francis whines.
"This is my house, you dolt!" Arthur turns around, tossing his pencil at Francis's head.
"Oh yea- Ow!" The pencil lands on Francis's forehead. He sighs loudly.
"Will you stop that?" Arthur groans. "I'm trying to do my work!"
"I'm not doing anything!"
"You're breathing." Arthur points out. "And I don't like that."
"I hate you," Francis growls at his cousin.
"Likewise." Arthur grins cheekily. Francis wants to rip his teeth out.
"You're in high school, act like it." Francis turns onto his stomach, closing his eyes. He seriously regrets accepting Arthur's mother's offer of staying in their house.
"Hey," Arthur turns around once more. "Just talk to him, okay? That's what I did with Kiku, and look how we turned out," Arthur smiles at the thought of his dark-haired boyfriend.
Francis didn't know they were dating, but is surprised at the advice, nonetheless. "Yeah. Yeah, okay. I'll do that!" He gets off the bed and ruffles Arthur's hair, ducking when the shorter boy swings a fist at him. Francis smiles.
It takes Francis three days and incessant teasing to work up the courage to talk to Alfred.
And even then, it's a small, "Hey."
Alfred greets him back with a bright smile. Francis's heart flips.
Everyday after that, he makes a point of greeting Alfred whenever the two meet.
Then one day, as Francis eats lunch with Arthur, Alfred asks him for his name.
"Hey! What's your name?" Alfred waves enthusiastically, his eyes sparkling.
"Oh, I'm F-Francis." He curses himself for stuttering and glares daggers at Arthur who is desperately trying to stifle giggles.
"Hey, Francis." The way Alfred says his name makes him smile giddily. "I'm Alfred."
Alfred offers him a warm grin, and Francis turns gooey inside.
As soon as Alfred is out of sight, Francis buries his head in Arthur's shoulder and groans as his cousin snickers.
"I thought you were the master of l'amour?" Arthur teases.
"It was with girls, you rabbit. In case you haven't noticed, he's a guy!" Francis's voice cracks on the last word and Arthur is sent into peals of laughter, nearly falling off the bench.
Francis wants to yell at Arthur, but he settles for pouting miserably.
"Oh, don't look so down. I'm sure he'll find you attractive." Arthur purposely cracks his voice at the last word and falls off the bench, holding his stomach and wiping tears from his eyes.
Francis pouts even more. "I hate you."
A few weeks later, Alfred stops him in the parking lot as Francis walks to his car. "Hey, Francis!"
"Hey, Alfred," Francis smiles.
"My friends and I are having a horror movie marathon tonight. Wanna come?" Alfred asks.
"By friends, you mean ...?" Francis questions hesitantly.
"Just Ludwig, Feliciano, Arthur, Kiku, Ivan, and Lovino. Well, if Lovino is going then so will Antonio, and Gilbert probably would follow." Alfred looks at him brightly.
"Alright." How could he say no to that face?
"Yes!" Alfred fist-pumps the air. "It's going to be so awesome, man!" He slings an arm around Francis's shoulder. Francis's face burns, and he silently thanks his lucky stars.
Alfred's house is actually rather clean, which comes as a surprise to Francis.
As he lounges lazily on the couch, Alfred stands at the front of the room next to the plasma TV. Alfred is saying something and waving a CD case around, but Francis is only interested in watching Alfred's eyes sparkle.
"What do you think?" Alfred's gaze is on him.
"Y-yeah," Francis fumbles for something to say. Alfred beams. Francis's brain shuts down.
"See, Francey-pants here knows what's good!"
Francey-pants? What?
Arthur shoots a smirk at him. Francis glares back.
Francis is startled out of his thoughts as Alfred settles next to him, the movie starting to play an eerie sound track.
"Oh man, this is going to be awesome!" Alfred whispers excitedly.
Francis nods, smiling lightly.
This is absolutely not awesome. Francis is having trouble breathing with Alfred's tight hold around his middle.
Then again, Alfred is touching him. It's a little awesome.
A splatter sound echoes through the room and Alfred whimpers as he buries his face in Francis's shoulder, breathing harshly against his neck.
Oh. Francis squirms at the hot breaths tickling his collarbone, heat pooling in his stomach.
He closes his eyes tightly and tries to will the feeling away, but all he can think about is how close Alfred is, with his strong arms and soft lips and golden hair.
Merde.
"One second," he tells Alfred, and hurriedly slips into the hallway, pressing his back against the wall and sliding down with a miserable sigh.
When he returns, the movie is over and Alfred is inserting another disk. Alfred stands up and yawns, stretching his arms over his head. His shirt rides up to expose a sliver of perfectly tanned skin and taut muscles.
Francis nearly slams his head into a wall. This is going to be a long night.
"Hey!" Alfred sits down across from Francis, holding a tray in one hand and a drink in another.
"Hello, Alfred," Francis replies, looking up from his food. "What are you doing here?"
"What? Can't I sit with my best friend?" Alfred smiles cheekily.
"Since when am I your best friend?"
"Since now!" Alfred's eyes sparkle, and Francis is touched.
Somebody drops down into the seat next to Francis.
"Oh, hey Arthur!" Alfred waves.
"Hey," Arthur grumbles tiredly.
"Why are you so tired?" Alfred questions.
"Somebody kept me up last night." Arthur leans his head onto Francis's shoulder. Francis stiffens.
"What are you doing?" Francis whispers furiously.
"Helping you."
Francis catches a familiar mischievous twinkle in his cousin's eyes.
Arthur rubs his eyes and steals a tomato from Francis's salad. Francis catches Alfred stiffening.
"You're a crafty one, aren't you," Francis mutters to Arthur.
"You know it," Arthur winks. Alfred clears his throat, eyes flashing.
Francis's attention snaps to Alfred, and he smiles weakly at the American.
"So Francis, I've just bought a new game. Want to come over and play together?" Alfred asks.
"Sorry, Alfred, Francey-poo and I have plans." Arthur smiles, sickeningly sweet.
Francey-poo? Francis mouths to Arthur, baffled.
Arthur just grins.
Throughout the conversation, Alfred's face is steadily growing red. Francis's stomach ties itself into knots.
"Okay, bye! I have to go." Arthur stands up and plants a kiss on Francis's cheek before flouncing out of the cafeteria.
Eugh. Francis wipes his cheek. He spares a glance at Alfred.
Alfred's knuckles are white, his plastic spoon bent. He glares at the door before standing up and mumbling, "I've got to leave."
Alfred doesn't look at him for the rest of the week.
"Arthur!" Francis storms into their room, fuming.
"Yes?" Arthur asks innocently.
"You are the worst person in the world!" Francis growls.
Arthur fails to suppress his laughter.
Francis swings a fist at the shorter boy. Arthur ducks, grinning.
"I hate you!"
"He likes you," Arthur interrupts.
Francis's words stop in their tracks. "What?"
"He likes you," Arthur repeats. "Didn't you see how jealous he was?"
"What?"
"Alfred. Likes. You," Arthur says slowly. "He was jealous."
"Oh." It hits Francis. "Oh!"
"Yeah," Arthur smiles smugly. "You're welcome."
"He isn't talking to me though. All because of you," Francis says glumly.
Arthur rolls his eyes. "Just tell him we're cousins, idiot. Or kiss him."
Francis glares, but keeps in mind Arthur's words.
Francis can feel Alfred's gaze piercing through him. He tries to concentrate on the textbook in front of him, but he can't.
He rips out a sheet of paper. Meet me under the willow tree.
Francis crumples the note and throws it at Alfred, watching as Alfred unfolds it and sends an unreadable look towards him. The bell rings.
"What do you want," Alfred asks, gruffly.
"Why aren't you talking to me?" Francis questions.
"I thought you were busy with Arthur," Alfred spits.
"He's my cousin, and he's very stupid, Alfred." Francis sighs.
"Oh," Alfred looks startled. "I thought you two were dating?"
Francis cocks his head. "No, he's dating Kiku."
"Kiku?" Alfred's voice is disbelieving. "Kiku never told me."
"I doubt they'd want to exclaim it to the whole world. Besides, they're going to the dance together."
"They are?! Since when?" Alfred's voice is high.
"Since three days ago," Francis replies, cautiously.
"But Kiku's my best bud! Why didn't he tell me?" Alfred pouts.
"I thought I was your best friend!" Francis tries not feel offended.
"Oh, yeah. You are." Alfred shoots him a Hollywood grin.
"You're lucky your smile is pretty, boy," Francis mutters under his breath, hoping Alfred doesn't hear.
Alfred's grin grows brighter.
"Who are you taking to the dance?" The question is sudden. It startles Francis.
"I don't know, Alfred. I don't think I'm going." Why this topic? Francis's stomach decides to do a gymnastics routine.
"I don't know who to take, man." Alfred stretches out over his patriotic sheets, his head falling onto Francis's thighs. Francis swallows dryly.
Take me, he wants to say. But he doesn't.
"I mean, Feliciano asked Ludwig yesterday," Alfred continues.
"Everybody knew that was coming," Francis rolls his eyes.
"There's a pretty girl in math, you know."
"Really? Who?" Francis tries to suppress the heavy feeling in his throat.
"I think her name is Emma," Alfred smiles.
Francis shifts uneasily.
"But there's one person who I really want to take."
Could it be? Francis immediately squashes the hope. "Who?"
"I don't think they like me," Alfred sighs. Their eyes meet, and Francis coughs, looking away awkwardly.
"You are an idiot," Arthur says. "Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, idiot." He punctuates each word with a poke to Francis's forehead.
"Look, I don't really want to deal with this right now," Francis grumbles.
"He likes you, you moron! Just ask him! I'm sick of your mindless pining."
"He's right, you know." Kiku's voice is soft. Francis whips towards the Japanese boy.
"How do you know?" Francis scrutinizes him.
"I'm his best friend. He talks about you a lot. About your-" Kiku coughs and turns red.
"About my what?" Francis asks eagerly.
"I think he's too little for that," Arthur smirks, striding over to Kiku. The dark-haired boy snorts and hides a smile.
"I'm not too little!" Still, Francis feels a bit warm inside. Had Alfred really said those things about him?
Francis can't wait to ask Alfred.
There are five days before the dance, and Francis still has not asked Alfred. Instead, they are sitting on Alfred's couch, playing video games.
Well, Alfred is playing a video game and Francis is absolutely failing.
"No, not like that! You press the X first and then push the joystick up!" Alfred is laughing as Francis's usually deft fingers slip all over the controller. Francis's character on the screen is twisting abnormally, and Francis bites his lip to keep from smiling.
"Ah!" Francis curses as his character dies, throwing down the controller and pouting dramatically.
"You really suck at this." Alfred wheezes with laughter, bright and jovial.
Francis sticks his lower lip further. Alfred's gaze slips from his eyes, just a tad lower, before connecting with Francis's stare.
"Uhm, I have -"
"Hey, Francis-"
They both start at the same time, before floundering and gesturing for the other to speak.
"You go first," Alfred motions.
"I have a question for you." Francis clears his throat.
"So do I," Alfred murmurs.
"What is it?" Francis tries to buy himself time, steeling his courage.
"Willyougotothedancewithme?"
"Huh?" Francis's heart thuds in his chest. Did he just-?
"Will you-" Alfred takes a deep breath. "Will you go to the dance with me?"
They are close, Francis notices. Alfred's feet are nearly tangled with his own, their thighs pressed together, fingers brushing. Francis burns wherever Alfred touches him, and blood pounds in his ears. Something rises within Francis, a deep, tingly warmth that blossoms in his chest like a spring flower. It spreads throughout his body, a soft glow that brings a light tilt of his lips.
"Yes."
Alfred's face lights up, brighter than a thousand Christmas lights. Francis feels a laugh bubble up in his throat, and he lets it spill from his lips, leaning forward and smiling, just wanting to get closer.
Francis has no idea what they are doing, all he knows is that he wants to be closer, near the brightness of Alfred and the smiles and laughter and happiness that radiates from the other boy.
Their noses bump and they let loose a fresh string of laughter, giddy and delighted. Alfred's arms are around him, and Francis presses a sloppy kiss to his cheek, burying his face in Alfred's neck. They are young and happy, and Francis knows that's all he wants.
Alfred keeps stumbling while dancing with Francis. His toes have been stepped on about 6 times in the past minute, and his polished shoes are nearly crying tears of misery.
Alfred winces. "Sorry, I can't do this kind of dancing very well."
Francis laughs softly. "Well, I guess I'll have to show you?" Francis rests his cheek on Alfred's shoulder, and it's the American's turn to blush a cherry red.
Francis catches Arthur snickering from the corner of his eyes and shifts his cheek on Alfred's shoulder just enough so that he can stick his tongue out at the English boy. Arthur returns the sentiment.
Francis turns to Alfred, but the tall boy has his face scrunched up rather cutely, focusing on the ground in order to make sure he doesn't step on Francis's feet again.
He's so sweet, Francis thinks, but it's not until Alfred has looked up at him with a startled expression and a light blush that he realized he said it out loud.
"Oh. Oops," Francis flounders, and in that moment, they lose their rhythm.
Alfred's foot has moved on with the dance while Francis's has stayed and he finds himself falling as Alfred tumbles over him. Francis's back is pressed to the floor and Alfred is on top of him, their noses inches away from each other.
Alfred's eyes are very blue, Francis notices. A deep, rich blue, just like sapphires. Francis swallows dryly as he sees Alfred's gaze flick down to his lips before rising. As their eyes lock, Francis feels himself burning, warmth falling over his shoulders like a blanket. Alfred is warm and snug and so very comfortable. Francis leans closer, laying a hand on Alfred's cheek.
Alfred bites his lower lip shyly, and Francis feels heat coiling in his chest.
"I guess you could say that I fell head over heels for you," Alfred jokes with a sheepish grin, his minty breath fanning out over Francis's lips.
"Shut up and kiss me," Francis murmurs fondly, before tilting his head and pressing their lips together softly.
It's rather magical, like kissing the sun. Of course, no one would be stupid enough to kiss the actual flaming mass of hydrogen, but it's warm and comforting, and Francis finds himself pressing closer.
They pull apart with a small gasp and Francis's eyes flutter open. Alfred is looking at him, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck, and Francis pulls him down for another kiss as Arthur wolf-whistles.
As they sit up, Francis notices Alfred flipping Arthur off, and the English boy falls into Kiku's lap with a dramatic gasp of pain.
Francis nearly claps, but he settles for laughing and burrowing into Alfred's gentle embrace as the lights on the dance floor twinkle.
Things couldn't be any better.