Ok, so this is kind of like a second attempt at my writing assignment I had to do. It's a different story line for the most part and even though I don't think it's up to par, I think it's better than the last one (Deal With It.) So yeah, this is the one I ended up turning into my teacher.

R & R plz!

/OOO/

The sun was beginning to creep its way into the sky and break over the horizon as Arthur sat on the steps of his back porch over looking his lush garden. It had done very well this last spring. All of his flowers had bloomed full and colorfully, but truth be told, he liked the roses the best.

'No,' He told himself as he sipped his tea and contemplated the striking red blooms. 'I certainly don't care for them best because of him…'

As his tea cup became empty the sun crept its way higher still. As it stood the Brit could tell that it was going to be a hot day in spite of the slight coldness of the early morning. He lived in England after all. At some point in the day if it wasn't raining, it was cold.

At least that is what a certain Frenchman would say if you asked him.

'The weather here is miserable.' Arthur recalled him saying, far more than once. And he always replied with the same answer.

'You're right, the weather is much better back in your country. So you know, you don't have to stay.'

Arthur mused about all the times they had had the same conversation. It use to be a full blown argument but they had both fell so deep into the rhythm of it that it hardly took anything to produce the words anymore.

"Bon matin, mon petit Lapin~"

The Englishman turned his head as said man took the seat next to him on the stairs, letting his train of thought ebb away.

"Morning." He mumbled. He enjoyed the mornings just fine, but that did not mean he was a morning person. The scruffy-haired Brit and the long-haired taller man sat outside in relative silence for some time. Arthur knew that they both enjoyed times like this quite a lot. A time before the day became hectic, where they both could just marvel in each others company.

"We should go on a trip today, cher." Francis said as they got up and went inside, Arthur deciding it was time he clean up.

"Why?" He asked.

"Why not?" Francis responded with as he followed his friend up the stairs to the second floor hallway. Friend. He supposed that term could work well enough. Enemy could have worked at other times.

'It's a love-hate relationship between you two isn't it?' His friend Antonio had once asked him.

'I think it's pretty even,' His other friend Gilbert had interjected. 'You're all love and he's all hate.'

It did seem 'like that at times, he would have to admit.

'But,' He replied with a devilish grin. 'It is still a relationship, oui?'

"Come on, we could go to the beach, or the lake or river-"

"You stupid frog, why would I want to go to any of those places?" The Brit spat irritably. Francis recalled how he always became annoyed very easily, ever since their childhood days. Yes, they had known each other that long.

"Just because you can't swim doesn't mean you can't still enjoy yourself." By this time they had made it to the bathroom where Arthur firmly put the door between the two of them. The spell of the early morning had obviously worn off; leaving the Arthur that Francis was used to dealing with. The one he had somehow fallen head over heels for.

"I'll think about it." He heard from the other side of the door. "Go be useful and start breakfast or something." And to this he smiled. Through much struggle and debated he had at some point managed to convinced the bushy-browed Brit that, no he could NOT cook. And that he, being French, could cook far better, which he really could. It was a small victory, but an even bigger accomplishment when considering how stubborn the shorter man could be. It made him think that- maybe-there was more than just hate there.

"As you wish, mon amour."

Francis ventured back down the stairs to the room he considered to be his domain, the kitchen. He set to work grabbing out various pans, spoons and ingredients. Just as he was plating the final results of his cooking, eggs over easy and a side of fresh fruit, Arthur was plodding his way into the space. His hair was even spikier than normal after drying it with a towel and he wore a plain white button-up shirt with casual worn jeans.

"And he returns." Francis mused with a smile as he places a plate on the counter where he knows the Brit will sit.

"Of course I did, it's my home as well as yours." A fact that the Frenchman still marveled at to this day.

"The paper came." He said as he handed it to his companion "It seems there has been a terrible series of wind storms in the states."

"Hm." Was all Arthur replied as he flipped to the first inside page.

"And about going out?" Francis asked as he sat himself in the seat next to him.

The Brit glanced over the top of the paper.

"Where would you suppose we go? And no, no where with water."

"Not even a pool?"

"Not even."

Arthur had never learned how to swim and, being the stuffy Englishman that he was, refused to let anyone teach him. He had to much pride for that.

"To town it is then." Francis said as he fished his keys out of his pocket."

"Whatever."

It was one of those rare days that they both had off of work. Arthur was one of the head engineers at a downtown music studio and Francis was the head chef at a 5-star restaurant. They both did very well. On days like today when they could not decide on a way to spend their time they usually ended up just getting into one of their two cars and driving.

"Any requests?" Francis asked as they took one of the quiet back streets that lead away from their home. The morning fog had long since lifted, leaving the sunny day Arthur had expected it to be. The Brit looked out at the passing greenery.

"How about the air field?"

Francis smiled at this and steered the car to his desired destination. He had had a feeling his amour would eventually say that. He had always had a fascination with flight and flying things. He remembered back to a time when they were both just young kids…

The two young boys had been sitting out under the sky as the stars began to peek out of the dark blue.

'Look up there Francis, did you see that?'

'See what lapin?'

'The fairy!'

Francis chuckled at little at the smaller boy. 'Those are lightning bugs, cher.'

The younger boy crossed his arms in a huff. 'I like them better as fairies.'

'And why is that?'

Arthur considered the question for a moment 'Because fairies can fly anywhere they want to.'

Arthur got out of the car as soon as it was parked but waited for his companion to get out as well before walking to the small patch of grass that overlooked the runway. Testing his luck Francis reached for the shorter blonde's hand and was pleasantly surprised when he didn't pull away, like he usually would. They took a seat on the lawn and soon the same sweet silence was cast over them like they had enjoyed on their back steps after just waking. The Frenchman shifted closer to the Brit while they watched the small airplanes take off, and after a while he spoke.

"You know Arthur, an airplane could take you anywhere you wanted to go."

Arthur took a moment to look up at Francis' sky-blue eyes before closing his own forest-green ones and rested his head on the taller man's shoulders.

"Yeah I know, but it's no fun going anywhere without you."

F.I.N.

Meh, I guess it's alright….Sorry for any wrong French, I tried.