Arthur sits at the dining table, head in hands. It's his husband's birthday today, but what does he have to show for it. Nothing.
No, that's not entirely true. He had purchased that designer jacket that Francis had been drooling over for ages, and he had picked up a gift card to Francis' favorite kitchen store. So why then did he feel as if he had failed at the whole birthday thing?
Because he wasn't Francis. The notion seemed strange even to him, but that was the closest thing he could think of to describe the anxious, guilty even, pit in his stomach feeling.
Arthur had been dreading this day since his own birthday back in April. It had been beautiful, romantic and sentimental. Francis knew how to create a well planed, magical experience and the Brit was the happiest man in the world that day to be married to such a person. And he himself couldn't pull any of that sort of stuff off to save his soul.
He wasn't romantic, he didn't know how to put together lavished occasions. He couldn't even cook his husband a decent meal on his birthday and it made him positively sick. So he sits, and he thinks, and at some point his hand lands on a shiny glass bottle, so he drinks. Maybe then he can think of something more, something better for Francis.
/OOO/
The Frenchman arrives home around 7:30. He had spent the greater part of the day celebrating his birthday with his closest friends, Antonio and Gilbert. It had been loads of fun, and he managed to stay sober (As sober as you can when with those particular people). But now he was happy to return home to his husband. He had asked Arthur if he wanted to join him and his friends, but he had declined claiming that the house needed cleaned and what not. So typical of him, so he had let it be. He sees now that he should not have.
Besides the house being in the same semi-cluttered state it had been in when he had left earlier this morning there are bottles strewn around the couch where his husband lays, curled in on himself.
"Mon Dieu..." He mutters to himself as he slides off his jacket and places it on the coat rack. 'Honestly,' He thinks to himself as he saunters over to where the Brit lays. 'Couldn't he have done this on any other day?'
"Arthur?" Francis shakes his shoulder a bit. "Arthur wake up." It takes a few more tries, but eventually the drunken Englishman comes to a groggy state of awareness.
"Oh," He says as he blinks a few times. "You're home."
"Oui." Francis says as he tries to maneuver Arthur into a standing position. "And you're wasted. How could you do that? It's my Birthday!"
"I know, I know," The Brit offers with a slur. "I'm sorry..."
"Well, whatever. Let's get you to bed." Francis tries to get him to take a few steps towards the stairs, but Arthur refuses.
"Wait wait wait!" He cries and stumbles back onto the couch, earning an irritated huff from the Frenchman.
"What is is it?" He asks, crossing his arms as if speaking to a child. When Arthur's drunk it cold almost be as if he was.
"It's...it is your birthday. Presents. I have to give you your gifts."
Francis looks down at his husband and his gaze softens just a tiny bit. Arthur stands and tentatively hobbles his way across the room to retrieve the box and envelope that the taller man hadn't even noticed before now.
"Open the this," Arthur points to the envelope. "Last."
Francis obeys and sits next to his husband on the couch (So he wont fall over) and opens the box. He is so surprised at what lays inside. He looks over the new jacket and then finds the gift card placed in one of the pockets. He is so pleased that he almost forgets that he had come home to Arthur completely smashed...that is until he opens the envelope. It's not a card like he had expected, but a letter instead. By the clarity of the writing the Brit hadn't been nearly as drunk when he had written it.
Dear Francis,
I hope that the gifts are nice enough because...that's all that I've got for you. I had wanted to make this night special, romantic, and memorable. But, I couldn't. I can't pull off fancy, love-dovey stuff like you. Or anything charming or the like. I wanted to make you a delicious meal like you do for me but...you know how that would have turned out. I want to give you something more than just an impersonal present for your birthday, but because I'm me, that's all you're going to get. I'm sorry. Happy Birthday dear.
Yours truly,
Arthur Kirkland
Francis looks up from the note to Arthur, who is looking away. When he turns to Francis there are tears slowly rolling down his face that, had he been sober, he probably would have been able to contain.
"Well," He says shakily, still a hint of drunken slur to his voice. "I think now I should probably go to bed." He makes to stand but Francis grabs hold of his wrist, preventing him from doing so.
"Arthur...Is this why you got drunk?" Said man tries to think of something, an excuse, but he is drunk and his head is hazy so he just nods confirmation.
/OOO/
Francis is sure that his heart had broken at that moment, but was also more happy than he could have ever described. This whole thing was just so...Arthur. That he would try to put so much thought into his birthday only to have his insecurities lead him to alcohol. Gently Francis reached over and wiped away the tears from his husband's eyes and silently pulled him into a hug. He could feel the slightly shorter man sob into his shoulder and he ran his fingers through his choppy hair.
"I'm sorry." Arthur mumbled and Francis pulled him away so he could look at him, eyes red and cheeks tear stained.
"Don't be." He responded, wiping more tears away from the others face. "You don't have anything to be sorry about."
"What? Of course I do! I ruined tonight by...by getting shitfaced and and it's your birthday and-"
Francis silenced him with his lips. He didn't want to hear how Arthur felt about it. He tried to convey everything to his Husband in that one kiss. Forgiveness, acceptance, caring and love.
"You didn't need to stress yourself out so much, mon cher. I don't need any of those things to have a 'Happy Birthday,'" He said when he pulled away to see the shocked and dazed look on the others face. He scooped the drunken mess of a man up into his arms and began to make his way to their room.
"Why is that?" The Brit asked groggily.
"Because, I've got you."
And Arthur will curse his husband silently in his head for making him feel so loved and special on a day that he should have done so for him instead. And when he is laid in bed he will kiss Francis and tell him a proper happy birthday before falling asleep. But what Arthur doesn't know is that he has made Francis feel special and loved, for who else would stress themselves out so much for a simple birthday. So Francis will kiss Arthur back and tell him how much he loves him and shall wrap his arms around him before falling asleep. He had planned on doing other things that night in the bedroom, but they could wait. And they would have to for at least two days considering the size of the hang over the Englishman would have the next day. Typical Arthur. And Francis would have him no other way.
/OOO/
Well, leave it to me to write an Arthur-centric fic for Francis' B'day...Sorry about that. But one of the prompts for my OTP challenge is Birthday, so I'll get a chance to redeem myself. Yes, I think that Arthur is an emotional drunk. If you don't, then...sorry again. Reviews? Oh, and HAPPY B'DAY FRANNY!